Steven Seagal expands his responsibilities from those of the mere star to those of the star-director (like Clint Eastwood, like Jerry Lewis), and it hasn't expanded his humility: his initial entrance on screen is heralded by the line, "Oh, thank God," and the camera thereupon kisses his boots and caresses its way up the length of his entire body to his trademark ponytail. He'd only have wanted to put on the director's hat, he is quoted in the press notes, for a project he could "care deeply about" -- namely something to do with the pollution of Mother Earth by oil companies. He cares about this so deeply, in fact, that he would just like to get his hands on the polluters and break their fingers, arms, knees; hit them with lead pipes; stick knives in their heads; shoot them; blow them up; and most poetically, fry them in oil. All this he does, and much, much, much, much, much, much more. With Joan Chen and Michael Caine. (1994) — Duncan Shepherd
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