Cleopatra Jones (Jack Starrett / U.S., 1973):

The strapping heroine (Tamara Dobson) steps out of a helicopter swathed in furs, a villain later on makes the connection: "Well, Wonder Woman." The camera pulls back from a grunting camel to pan across a rocky Turkish panorama, a torched poppy field cuts to the underworld queen (Shelley Winters) squawking wrathfully. The dope war hinges on a home for recovering addicts run by the secret agent's beau (Bernie Casey), combatants include corrupt cops and martial-arts brothers, the chanteuse moll (Brenda Sykes) and the dandified upstart (Antonio Fargas). "If Mommy wants trouble, I'm not exactly known as Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farms." Jack Starrett goes to town with comic-book extravagance in a profusion of speedy setups, doling out action while giving a snapshot of the city. (St. Cecilia altar and Pussycat Theater lobby give the range of the location shooting.) Dobson's wardrobe-changing amazon negotiates an airport ambush by riding the baggage carousel and karate-chopping henchmen, then turns a car chase into a hurtling chickie run on the Los Angeles River banks. "Next time he pulls a razor on me, he better shave." She's at home astride a dirt bike but a Corvette is her preferred transportation, it comes with a door panel for weapons and is protected by urchins when parked in a disreputable street. Marveling at the spectacle, the police chief can only wonder to an underling: "You ever have feelings of inadequacy?" The pièce de résistance is a black limo squeezed between two white trucks, the finale follows suit at an auto junkyard, expanding from an echo of Goldfinger. The sequel moves to Hong Kong, Chuck Bail rises to the occasion. "Ride on, sweet sister!" With Bill McKinney, Paul Koslo, Dan Frazer, Albert Popwell, Caro Kenyatta, and Esther Rolle.

--- Fernando F. Croce

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