Several pounds of uncut heroin, derailed from their intended recipient by the 1967 Newark riots, attract the lethal attentions of a motley crew in Gibson’s debut thriller.
Woody and Vince Street, partners but not brothers, unexpectedly lose control of the Porsche they’re driving to a mob that has no idea what a fabulous cargo it contains. So, it’s left to DiShaun Smoot to claim it for his boss, old-time enforcer Julius Roth, whose own boss, paper millionaire Richard Mundi, is running a development partnership that can really use a shot in the arm. But since Angelo DiNoto, Woody and Vince’s employer, isn’t about to take the loss of $250,000 to $5 million—after it’s cut and distributed—lying down, he sends his own enforcers after Mundi. Mundi’s daughter Gloria sees the H as fuel for the amateur terrorism of the self-styled revolutionaries she’s been hanging around with. When Mundi hires private eye Walkaway Kelly to tail Gloria in order to separate her from Kevin Gallagher, the grandiose agitator she’s been closest to, Kelly gets the zany idea that the key to the troubled relationship between father and daughter is the death seven years ago of Agnes Day Mundi, Gloria’s actress mother. Nor are these the only wild cards in the deck. Harry Jarkey, the investigative journalist who doubles as an investigator for Kelly, soon develops his own interest. So does the Mailman, a messenger whose laryngeal cancer has left him talking through a blowhole in his neck. The Mailman doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but neither does the rest of this crowd. So it’s anyone’s guess who’ll be the last man (or woman) standing.
An overcaffeinated noir farce enlivened by many cartoon fatalities. Just the thing if you’re really stoned and don’t have to pass a quiz on the plot.