This extraordinarily tacky offering does at least have some interesting undercurrents. Shot in Santo Domingo (of all places), and featuring Helmut Berger (of all people) toting a machine-gun (of all things), the film on one level is a catalogue of ineptness: crude establishing shots, irrelevant music, jerky editing, and a plot (which has Berger blackmailed into working for a renegade police chief) that warrants little attention. What holds it together beneath the surface mess is a distinctly homosexual aura of sadism and masochism. Since this has nothing to do with the plot, one is surprised at the relentlessness of the smouldering looks and rippling torsos. In addition to some crude emphasis on phallic gunplay, the utter disposability of the women, and trials of strength and endurance, the film goes to outrageous lengths to have its star look disarranged or be beaten up.