We’re back with more buried treasure from the Lost and Found, and once again we’re wallowing in the supremely sleazy streets of early ‘80s downtown Los Angeles. Clearly a favorite genre of mine, nighttime-set, neo-noirs rarely let me down, and Gary Sherman’s Vice Squad (1982) is an especially rewarding example of the genre at its sordid, exploitative best. The streets of LA come alive, thanks largely to cinematographer John Alcott, who lensed several films for Stanley Kubrick. Here, his docudrama style captures the electricity of LA’s Skid Row, where the whores, pimps, johns, and all manner of late night denizens interact.
Vice Squad focuses on prostitute Princess (a sensational Season Hubley) being threatened with prison time by vice squad Detective Tom Walsh (a serviceable Gary Walsh) if she doesn’t go undercover to help the cops catch a psychotic, homicidal pimp named Ramrod (a scary-as-hell Wings Hauser). In reality, it’s a dubious plan—the police don’t often put civilians’ lives in danger by enlisting them to go undercover—but it’s a fantastic premise for an exploitation movie. As you might expect, things go horribly awry, after which Ramrod remains on the loose, and now he’s targeting Princess for death.
Our heroine Princess is a down-on-her-luck businesswoman and single mother who’s taken to selling her body to care for her daughter. At the start of the movie, she sends the young girl off to visit her grandmother, then takes to the streets. Mama’s gotta a little mouth to feed, after all! Of course, her work with Detective Walsh is strictly pro bono, but at least it keeps her out of prison. She wears a wire and sets out to lure Ramrod into saying something incriminating. Because the police in this movie are aggressively stupid though, everything they try blows up in their faces. But if the cops were smarter in Vice Squad, then the movie would only be about thirty minutes long, and not nearly as interesting.
This was at least Hubley’s second go-round as a hooker with a heart of gold, having also played one in Paul Schrader’s relentlessly bleak Hardcore (1979). In Vice Squad, she’s put through the wringer but performs admirably under such harrowing circumstances. She’s viciously beaten several times by Hauser in scenes that look disturbingly realistic. After Princess has been smacked around and bonked on the head with a stool, she simply goes back to workin’ the streets a few minutes later, as if nothing happened. She’s a tough broad! She’s also very sexy, and Sherman politely obliges our need to see Hubley in lingerie by helpfully providing lingering shots of her exceedingly sexy stems in silk stockings and garter belts.
Look, we can sit here all day objectifying Season Hubely, and we probably will because, ya know, she’s a smokin’ hot mama here, but let’s also commend her for a fantastic and deeply committed performance. She really throws herself into the emotional scenes with reckless abandon. Whether it be shouting matches with Detective Walsh or taking smackdowns from Hauser’s Ramrod, Hubley believably conveys Princess’s anger, frustration, and fear. She’s also really funny in the lighter moments, like when a john offers her a six pack and $100 if she’ll let him give her a “golden shower” to which she replies, “You also got yourself a date with Princess Running Water,” before hopping in his car to go get wet. Sploosh!
After making several memorable guest spots on ‘70s and early ‘80s television series—his electrifying turn opposite Tom Selleck in a 1981 episode of Magnum P.I. is unforgettable—Wings Hauser made an indelible first impression on the silver screen as the menacing Ramrod. To say he dominates the movie would be an understatement: the ripples of his unhinged malevolence are felt in scenes where he doesn’t even appear. He’s that good. As Ramrod, Hauser rampages across LA’s Skid Row, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. The vicious pimp set the template for the crazy, morally reprehensible characters Hauser would become known for playing. He almost plays them too well, but that’s why he’s like the postman of cult movies: he always delivers! Oh, and did I mention that not only is Wings Hauser a powerhouse in the film, but also contributes snarling vocals to the punk-infused song that plays over the opening and closing credits, the magnificently titled “Neon Smile.”
The supporting cast is rounded out by absurdly watchable bit players, each of whom brings to life a wide array of colorful nighttime characters. MTV VJ Nina Blackwood shines as a Ramrod’s first onscreen victim. Longtime actress and producer Beverly Todd is one cool cat as Detective Louise Williams. There’s even a brief, but memorable appearance by Fred “Rerun” Berry, of What’s Happening!! fame. There are a ton of strange and goofy characters in Vice Squad, and the actors playing them give it their all in these one- or two-scene roles. These eccentric performances make the film’s version of the seedier side of early ‘80s LA come alive.
Vice Squad was not received very well upon release in ‘82. Allegedly—my source is IMDb trivia—during a Paramount Pictures dinner function that year, Martin Scorsese got into a heated debate with motion picture marketing exec Dawn Steel about the merits of the film. No surprise, Marty came down firmly in the movie’s corner, even going so far as to declare it the year’s best movie (!). Needless to say, Scorsese mostly stood alone on that opinion at the time, as the movie was roundly criticized and summarily dismissed as exploitation trash. These days, as happens to many maligned movies of yesteryear, Vice Squad has been reappraised and certified by film connoisseurs all over the internet as a much-revered cult classic. As one of these “connoisseurs”—ahem—I endorse this message. The ‘80s were overflowing with hard-edged stories of life on the mean streets; many were forgettable, but several were truly great. Of those, few were as great as Vice Squad.
Vice Squad is streaming on Tubi, but be warned: it’s an absolutely atrocious pan and scan. You’re much butter served seeking out a copy of Shout Factory!’s excellent Blu-ray from a few years ago. It’s the best way to fully appreciate John Alcott’s exquisite cinematography.
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