Psycho Cop 2

In the wake of 1992’s LA riots, has there ever been a more pointed commentary on police brutality than the thought-provoking Psycho Cop 2: Psycho Cop Returns? Perhaps there is, but I don’t want to know about it.

It’s a sobering thought to think that a few minor infractions could have a power-mad police officer skewering you on a wall and painting a pentagram around you with your blood but according to this fact-based film that’s exactly what could happen. Two douchebags are talking about staging an after hours bachelor party at work for their douchebag buddy and another douchebag friend. On the menu are copious amounts of booze, pot, and strippers. Unfortunately for them, they are overheard by the PSYCHO COP who is munching slowly on a doughnut. The hypocrisy of this cop is made obvious because despite the fact that the inside of his squad car is littered with limbs and entrails and “666” is scribbled on the dashboard in blood—PLUS he just got done hacking up a house full of ugly teenagers in the previous film—he is out to punish these guys and their friends with extreme prejudice for some pretty harmless fun. And just to show that this sort of nightmare could happen to anyone, all the victims of this psycho cop’s brand of twisted justice are Caucasian. Take that, you stupid statistics!

Perhaps even more dehumanizing than the random violence perpetrated by Psycho Cop is the horribly offensive one-liners he spews. For instance, he gouges a security guard’s eyeball out with a pencil and then asks him to “keep an eye out.” And the misogyny… Oh dear, the misogyny! A stripper is thrown into a dumpster from the top of the office building and psycho cop says snarkily, “If you act like trash, you get treated like trash.” Is that what they teach you in cop school? I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m sorry but that just crosses a line.

In addition to Psycho Cop 2’s important message, it has loads of nice tits. Eight or so, I believe, and they are shown often. This includes Julie Strain’s rack. It takes real guts for a director like Adam Rifkin (The Invisible Maniac) to mix the titty element so deftly into a work with such powerful resonance but I daresay it has a positive effect. If only there were other filmmakers so daring. Godspeed, man, godspeed.