Outrageous violence abounds in a ruthless for-profit prison, where four superhuman crime bosses run things as they see fit and the posh administrators are perfectly happy to take a cut off the top. To this scene, we introduce a proficient young challenger: Ricky Ho, a fighting machine with hands of stone and torso cut from the same. He wastes no time in fighting fire with fire, dispensing a number of notorious sub-bosses and collecting a dedicated following amongst the tortured general population before drawing the ire of top-tier gangsters and wardens alike. He cuts a swath through them, too, often leaving his more substantial opponents with fresh gaping holes in their anatomy, but at least this new level of opposition provides him with a healthy degree of challenge and variety.

Based on an extraordinarily bloody serialized manga, the live-action rendition of _Riki-Oh_ does its best to emulate the comic’s explicit tone and brutal character on a rather low budget. The end result is a film that just goes for it: no idea too silly, no stunt too improbable. Like the early Troma films of Lloyd Kaufman, _The Story of Riki_ is told with unrestrained ambition and enthusiasm, tongue firmly planted in one cheek. And it’s just unimaginably gruesome; a stunning hit parade of “I can’t believe they just did that” killing blows lined up in rapid succession. The acting is terrible and the subtitles are even worse (one villain is inexplicably dubbed “Silly Lung”) but, if I’m honest, there’s very little need for either. If you’re here at all, it’s for the intertwining dance between ingenuity and carnage, and you’ll almost assuredly get more than you can handle. Even thirty years later, its bald lack of discretion is shocking. _Riki-Oh_ is gonna do some messed-up stuff, and you’re gonna watch with your mouth hung agape. If you’re like me, its corners will be turned in a grin.

Old school fans of _The Daily Show with Craig Kilborn_ will immediately remember this film, as a particularly hilarious clip of a pulpy exploding head was played in just about every episode. That two-second excerpt is a picture perfect appetizer, a proudly profane omen of what’s to come, should you choose to investigate any further. It’s a riotous good time, incredibly inept but also incredibly gratifying, and a surefire hit for party nights with similarly maladjusted friends. I can’t honestly score this any higher, but I don’t want to score it any lower. It’s as wonderful a bad movie as you’ll ever see.