Review of Mean Johnny Barrows

Decent and valiant Vietnam war veteran Johnny Barrows (a credible and engaging performance by stunningly handsome and charismatic 70's blaxploitation icon Fred Williamson) gets dishonorably discharged after striking an antagonistic superior officer (a pleasingly nasty cameo by Aaron Banks). Barrows goes back to his hometown and winds up totally destitute after two muggers steal all his money. Worse yet, Barrows has great difficulty finding gainful employment. Crusty Mafia don Luther Adler and his suave son Stuart Whitman offer Barrows a gig as an enforcer, but he politely declines their offer. Instead Barrows takes a demeaning job working as a janitor at a gas station owned by an odious racist redneck jerk (expertly played by the great R.G. Armstrong). Barrows gets arrested by the cops after getting into an ugly fight with Armstrong over his paltry salary. Worse yet, Adler gets rubbed out and Whitman winds up in the hospital after both of them are gunned down by rival drug-dealing gangster Anthony Caruso and his two no-count sons Mike Henry (foul-mouthed hothead) and Roddy McDowall (effiminate toady). Whitman offers Barrows $100,000 dollars to bump off Caruso and his sons. Now what do think Johnny's going to do? Although severely marred by poky pacing, a stupefying surplus of tedious talk, a meandering narrative, and an often painfully conspicuous low budget, there's nonetheless a definite sincerity apparent here that's both strangely endearing and weirdly engrossing. Williamson's direction never transcends the merely competent, but he does show a fair amount of flair, a modicum of style, and, most importantly, a true sense of earnest ambition. The opening third is a very clunky chore to endure, but things fortunately pick up in the exciting third act and culminate in an extremely shocking surprise bummer ending which packs quite a punch. Moreover, the music is properly funky, the theme song is a groovy blast, there are a few sharp, snappy edits, and Robert Carimico's laudably polished cinematography makes artful use of fades, dissolves and super-impositions. Elliott Gould contributes an amusingly droll special appearance as a flaky philosophical homeless man who shows Barrows the ropes on how to scrape by as a bum. Jenny Sherman also impresses as Whitman's lovely and loyal girlfriend. The climactic martial arts fight between Banks and Williamson is an absolute hoot. Moral: Peace is hell. All in all, "Mean Johnny Barrows" rates as a pretty good, but flawed effort that's worth checking out if you're a Fred Williamson fan.