Miami Connection: An Amazingly Bizarre Cult Gem

      Jack Gayer takes another look at the wild gem that is Miami Connection…

      Some films are such monumental disasters that they can only be appreciated with a sense of irony. After that initial appeal fades, you may find yourself dozing off. Cats (2019) falls into this category of mismanaged cinematic chaos, and no quantity of mind-altering substances can make watching it bearable.

      Conversely, there are certain cult films made with such earnestness that their enjoyment is rooted in genuine delight rather than irony. You may still marvel at the creator's mistakes, but what they’ve produced is so unapologetically unique that it becomes truly enjoyable. These films often feel as if they were crafted by extraterrestrials lacking even a basic grasp of human communication and storytelling. This odd perspective transforms them into gems. The Room (2003) is the quintessential example. Birdemic (2010) also ranks high on this list. Another lesser-known but equally fantastic, absurd, and hilarious film is Miami Connection (1987).

      So what exactly is Miami Connection? What isn’t it, you clueless fool? It’s a love story (or two or three, considering the brother's unhealthy obsession with his sister and one character's unrequited love for a bandmate). It's a crime drama, a musical, a martial arts film, and perhaps even a commentary on violence. Buckaroo Banzai (1984) paved the way for Miami Connection to feature ninjas running through swamps, meeting brutal ends. The film's over-the-top climax, which includes a graphic decapitation, is followed by a puzzling message against violence that is as nonsensical as it is uproariously funny. Throughout the movie, Miami Connection's protagonists dive headfirst into every fight, ruthlessly – often lethally – battling their karate foes. It could be argued that the film's stance on "anti-violence" is as authentic as the Jackass franchise's commitment to avoiding nut shots. Yet somehow, this film ends up being even more homoerotic and humorous than the entirety of the Jackass series.

      The film kicks off with a vibe reminiscent of Miami Vice, pulpy and campy, and takes a sharp turn upon the introduction of our first ninja just a minute and a half in. As the movie progresses, it only gets stranger – and you should relish that fact, because it’s simply a joy. You might expect to watch a gritty crime drama featuring ninjas, but when the opening credits roll, a song lays it all out for you, ensuring you grasp the plot in case you suffer from short-term memory loss. The villains are “bikers by day, ninjas by night” who “steal all your cocaine.” Got it? Good, because now it's time for our heroes to introduce themselves through song.

      Singing that introduction – followed by a tune about “friends forever” – are the protagonists, known as Dragon Sound, dressed in their karate gis; some without shirts. None of their instruments appear to be plugged in (they consistently seem to be unplugged). Their lyrics express sentiments like, “you’ve got a friend in me.” If that’s not sufficient, they reiterate, “When times get tough, you’ll see…you make me strong; I know I can depend on you…Friends for eternity, loyalty, honesty,” and so on. Is this song about friendship, codependence, or one band member's crush on another? It's left open to interpretation.

      And didn’t we just witness someone getting their arm chopped off? What’s up with this cheerful anthem of “friendship”? Amplifying the oddness is one gang leader, possibly sporting a fake beard, who becomes increasingly enraged as his (adult) sister dances with the band. Jeff (William Ergle) claims his sister “isn’t supposed to be at the club.” Why not? And why does Jeff have such a toxic relationship with her? Who knows. This brother-sister dynamic is reminiscent of Pin (1988).

      Jeff is meant to be menacing, but his attire resembles what Tobias Fünke would envision for a tough guy (a style that could easily apply to his gang members and ninja buddy). Ergle delivers his lines with an endearing anxiety, making it clear he's trying his utmost. This would be his sole acting credit.

      Jeff's crew exhibits a similar lack of direction, clearly unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing at any given moment. They often linger in the background, making vague, menacing gestures, akin to Jack Donaghy trying to act. These little quirks only add more layers of enjoyment.

      As you watch, you’ll find yourself repeatedly asking, “What’s the purpose of this scene?” Certainly not to advance the storyline or develop characters, which are the primary reasons for including a scene in a film. One can only assume the “filmmakers” were throwing in whatever scenes came to