A multi-racial trio of lethal and indestructible ace martial artist assassins - white guy (beefy Ron Marchini),black dude (brawny Joshua Johnson),Asian man (lithe Michael Chong) -- go around the city and bump off various folks for their evil dragon lady boss Madame Lee (a hysterically campy and vampy Mari Honjo, who can barely speak English and mumbles all her dialogue). Boy, does this deliciously dippy and dreadful dreck possess all the right wrong stuff to qualify as an enjoyably awful piece of gut-busting schlock: we've got fumbling (mis)direction by Paul Kyriazi (who also co-wrote the nonsensical script),lousy acting from a lame no-name cast, a token hot naked babe, crude cinematography by Donald Rust, hilariously inept fight choreography (sidesplitting highlights include the death machines wiping out an entire school of karate students, the white guy beating up dozens of cops while escaping from a police station, and our deadly threesome opening up a king-sized barrel of hurting on a biker gang in a diner),slipshod editing, excessively bloody tomato paste-style violence, and a stupid "it ain't over yet" sequel set-up (non)ending. Bonus booby points are in order for Chuck Katzakian's alarmingly overblown portrayal of hot-tempered crime boss Mr. Gioretti and the supremely wired'n'wonky zoned to the funky bone synthesizer score by Don Hulette. In fact, this uproariously messed-up movie often plays like an unintentional (?) parody of a cheesy 70's drive-in action flick. An absolute cruddy hoot.

Director Paul Kyriazis' "Death Machines" is so unrelentingly silly and incompetent as to rate as a true hall of fame see-it-to-believe-how-bad-it-is turkey. It's so silly, in fact, that one has to wonder if the filmmakers had their tongues in their cheeks the entire time. Now, granted, it could have been even more entertaining on a lovably clunky level, as it's somewhat overextended, but sometimes the padding is absurd enough to generate some real chuckles.

This martial arts / action / exploitation piece of sludge stars Ron Marchini, a student of Bruce Lee who also produced the film, as one of three "death machines" (the other two are a black and an Asian) who've been given a drug that controls their minds, and apparently also makes them impervious to bullets. Thus they make handy assassins for Madame Lee (Mari Honjo, who sports an enormous wig and whose facial expressions are truly gut busting),a dragon lady villainess. But when the trio of killers massacre the students at a karate school, the lone survivor, Frank Thomas (charisma-free John Lowe),vows vengeance. Good old Frank's not about to let the fact that they chopped off his hand deter him at all.

So much of this is gloriously goofy. Let's start with our "hero", Mr. Thomas, who actually gets his ass handed to him by a rowdy old barfly. Yet somehow this turns on Mr. Thomas' new lady friend! One incredibly, deliciously moronic set piece has Marchini sitting down for a nice nourishing burger at a restaurant and being hassled by annoying bikers. Another fine bit of comedy has a target for assassination, a bank manager, handcuffed to his file cabinet while a time bomb in his office ticks away - yet his secretary takes her sweet time while helping out.

From the super funky and funny music score by Don Hulette (dig that piano during a fight scene) to the thoroughly amateurish acting, "Death Machines" sizes up as a real hoot and a half. If you love silly schlock, you know you're going to be in for a good time with those opening credits. And it all leads up to a resolution that will leave you with a smile on your face. As low budget '70s cheese goes, this is a movie worth a look.

Seven out of 10.

Madam Lee (Mari Honjo) who is fun to listen to, creates three zombie "death machines" using a serum. She kills other assassins and corners the market on assassins for hire. A witness is left alive who proves irksome.

Not well acted. If you use a bazooka to kill people, do you really need zombies? One assassin drove an inconspicuous white Vette.

Guide: No F-words. Implied sex. FF nudity