Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films

I loved this documentary so much as it shows the passion of this movie company but at the same time shows all of the things a movie company should and shouldn't do. Was really entertaining to see how some of these films were made and also shows how Cannon Films really influenced the movie industry for future years.

If you love movie, then this is a must-watch.

This one gets 3 stars alone just for all the nostalgia...the fourth because of the funny anecdotes about a couple of guys that aimed big, but never really got to where they wanted. They provided a lot of entertainment, though...what would my VHS collection be without Cannon?

Cannon Films were low budget, high action B-movies with names that became famous on the back of it or got a shot in the arm to a failing career.

This is a interesting and harrowing look behind the curtain.

It's a solid enough documentary but the message is beaten to death. Two relatives who aimed for the stars and reached the clouds. For what they accomplished, I salute them.


The movies they were responsible for have not aged well. They were barely passable at the time of the VHS rental market boom!

But the impact Cannon had has lasted and informs a lot of the crappy action-led fodder we are fed today. You cannot polish a turd but you can sprinkle 200 million dollars on one and sell it as part of a multi-picture anthology (hint, hint: Marvel)

The groundwork laid here lives on.


7/10

Even if you don't think you know Cannon Films, you know Cannon Films. They're the low-budget, rapid-fire movie studio who filled out countless VHS rental shelves throughout the 1980s. Under their banner, Chuck Norris became the king of the B action movie. Charles Bronson blasted his way through three Death Wish sequels. Jean-Claude Van Damme fell into overnight stardom.

The studio specialized in schlock, there's no two ways about it. Schlock and imaginative, bold, blunt promotional artwork with only a loose connection to the movie itself. Yet, because they were so anxious to flood the market, Cannon was also something of an artistic paradise. So long as a director came in under budget and on time, they'd usually have carte-blanche. Naturally, this led to some wild swings and misses (like 1980's The Apple, a self-professed science fiction / comedy / musical that defies explanation), but that freedom also bore fruit that wouldn't have otherwise existed (see 1984's open-hearted urban snapshot Breakin'). It's an interesting paradox, and a tempting what-if story, considering the studio's ultimate demise after a ruinous series of big budget mainstream efforts. Remember Superman IV or Masters of the Universe? These guys still wish they could forget.

A fun target for a documentary, with a surprising cache of familiar names hanging around to reminisce about the murkier portions of their respective filmographies, but it feels incomplete without either of the head honchos present to share the serious dirt. They, of course, caught wind of the film's pending release and raced to create their own, competing, retrospective.

Better than watching a cannon movie.