Disco Godfather (1979) Transvue Pictures/Action RT: 97 minutes Rated R (language, violence, suggestive material, drugs) Director: J. Robert Wagoner Screenplay: Cliff Roquemore and J. Robert Wagoner Music: Ernie Fields Jr. Cinematography: Arledge Armenaki Release date: September 1979 (US) Cast: Rudy Ray Moore, Carol Speed, Jimmy Lynch, Jerry Jones, Lady Reed, Hawthorne James (as “James H. Hawthorne”), Frank Finn, Fitz Houston, Julius Carry (as “Julius J. Carry III”), Bishop Pat Patterson, William Nutting, Hazel Spears, Theodis Williams, West Gale, Pucci Jhones. Box Office: N/A
Rating: *** ½
Before fentanyl and before crack, angel dust (aka PCP or “wack”) was America’s number one drug problem. It was the killer drug that PSAs, TV movies and afterschool specials warned us about in the late 70s/early 80s. The one I remember most is Desperate Lives, the TV movie where a young Helen Hunt jumps through a glass window while under the influence. All of them had one thing in common. They conveyed that using angel dust, even just one time, automatically makes the user go violently insane. It’s the same way the makers of the 1936 cult classic Reefer Madness depicted marijuana.
The nuttiest of all the anti-angel dust movies is Disco Godfather (sometimes known as The Avenging Disco Godfather). The blaxploitation take on the subject, it’s a real scream. It’s a message movie disguised as an urban action flick. It also has disco dancing, a lot of it. If Reefer Madness and Saturday Night Fever had a love child, it would be Disco Godfather.
It stars Rudy Ray Moore, better known as black action hero Dolemite, as ex-cop Tucker Williams who traded in his badge and gun for gaudy outfits and platform shoes as the owner/MC of the Blueberry Hills discotheque. The “Disco Godfather”, as he’s commonly known, really knows how to make an entrance. He comes in dancing (badly, I might add) to a tune called “He’s the Godfather of the Disco”. I assume that’s the title; it’s the only lyric and it’s repeated like 20 times. When he finally reaches the booth, he implores his customers to “Put yo’ weight on it!”
Tuck declares war on angel dust and all who deal in it after his nephew Bucky (Carry, The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh) freaks out while under the influence. He vows to “personally come down on the suckers that’s [sic] producing this s***“. The main sucker is Stinger Ray (James, I’m Gonna Git You Sucka), the fancily dressed sleazebag who provided the dope that turned Bucky into a raving maniac in full view of the clientele at his uncle’s disco. After stopping by the police station to officially “reactivate his reserve status” (whatever the f*** that means!), he hits the streets to rid the ghetto of the scourge of angel dust.
There is so much hilarious craziness in Disco Godfather, I hardly know where to begin. Actually, I do. After his nephew is taken to the hospital, Tuck is invited to take a tour of the ward where they keep the patients affected by angel dust. It’s a literal madhouse populated by dope fiends in various stages of withdrawal. He looks on in horror as they moan, twitch and writhe around on the floor. I’ve never seen this much bad overacting in one room. Wait, it gets worse. The doctor (Jones, Dolemite) tells Tuck the horrific backstory of a female patient who mistook her baby for the Christmas ham, cooked him in the oven and served him to her family while under the influence. Oh, let’s not forget the poor girl who’s so bad off, the doctors can’t do anything for her. Her mother, clearly a firm believer in the power of prayer, shows up with her priest and a group of chanting church ladies to perform some sort of exorcism. I swear I’m not making any of this up.
Moore’s tradition of fake kung fu continues in Disco Godfather. A martial artist he’s not! The terrible editing only makes it funnier. He has several fights, but the one that stands out is when he goes up against a crazed cowboy hitman with a whip. I don’t have to tell you who the winner of this match is, do I? Next, let’s talk about the warehouse scene where Tuck is assisted by some random guy who happens to be jogging by when all hell is breaking loose. When he learns the bad guys are dope dealers, he declares “Let’s kick some ass then!” before joining the fight. Stuff like this happens every day, right? These are the highlights (lowlights?) in Tuck’s war on drugs.
I already mentioned Tuck’s visit to his old workplace where he gets the okay to do his thing by his old boss, Lt. Hayes (Finn). I didn’t tell you what happens after he leaves. In a scene that defies logic and explanation, the LT goes into his office, picks up the phone and delivers a brief monologue before hanging up without calling anybody. He says, and I quote, “There’s only three things you can do to that man to get him uptight. One of them is to mess with his family. He’s going to turn over every stone in this city until he finds the main man. When he does, all hell is going to break loose.” Thanks for the plot summary, LT! Nice to know somebody read the script beforehand. BTW, there’s a dirty cop among Tuck’s former colleagues (of course there is) and it isn’t hard to pick him out (of course it’s not).
I saved the best for last. The psychedelic PCP trip-outs have to be seen to be believed, especially at the end when Tuck is forced to inhale PCP through a gas mask by a big mean mother of a henchman. He freaks out. He has hallucinations of his mother and the “Angel of Death” before his final confrontation with Stinger. I won’t say what happens with that exactly, but the cheesy animated effects make it extra trippy and extra gut-busting.
As you can see, I had a blast watching Disco Godfather. I first saw it in ’94 and hated it. That was before I became familiar with Rudy Ray Moore. Now that I know how he works, it’s different. I rewatched it the other night on Tubi and LOVED it! Oh, it’s a bad movie alright. The acting, writing, dialogue, editing, music, choreography and everything else; all of it is sloppy, amateurish and unintentionally hilarious. Every now and then, the action stops for a random dance interlude, one featuring disco dancers on roller skates. It’s laughable in its attempts to warn audiences of the dangers of angel dust. At one point, Tuck takes time out from his mission of revenge to participate in a rally led by an activist, played by Carol Speed of the blaxploitation Exorcist knock-off Abby, urging everybody to “attack the wack”. Catchy slogan, no? NO!
I’ve reached a point in my life where I prefer cheesy exploitation movies from the 70s and 80s to today’s hollow offerings at multiplexes. I had more fun watching Disco Godfather than the latest Indiana Jones adventure. How can I possibly dislike a movie with lines like “Move and I’ll blow your Afro off!” and such? Or, another great line, when Tuck says to the hitman he catches bugging his office phone, “Telephone man, I’m gonna see you don’t ring no more bells.” Such bad dialogue is absolutely priceless. This is why I always go back to movies like Disco Godfather. They have a purity that’s lacking in today’s movies. I only wish I could have seen them in a crummy grindhouse theater in Times Square.
