The vigilante genre – especially ones that also dabble in Nam-sploitation – tend to be quite a grim prospect both in tone and in (pun not intended) execution. Morally complex and often jumping into the deep end of the violence pool, James Glickenhaus’ unrepentantly sleazy The Exterminator feels like the illegitimate dumpster baby of Taxi Driver and Death Wish. Once again, we find a New York of yesteryear virtually crawling with every assortment of scumbags and perverts that’s seemingly begging for a real rain to come and wash the streets clean, however, this particular version of NY looks like a nuclear warhead would do a far better job.
Unfortunately, a ten megaton blast isn’t available so we’ll have to settle for the righteous vengeance of John Eastland to straighten out the streets and he does so with brutal gusto. But can this squalid little thriller manage to find the sweet spot between escapist action and oppressive misery in a way that’s extraordinarily tough to do?
War is hell, but even by cinematic standards the Vietnam that John Eastland and his buddy Michael Jefferson managed to crawl out of, but after surviving a hellscape of gargantuan explosions, torture and graphic decapitations, the two since have settled in New York as they both work for the same warehouse. However, while their days of trading bullets with the Viet Cong are over, it seems that the street punks of the Big Apple aren’t anything to be sniffed at either after the two have a run in with a gang known as the Ghetto Ghouls. The two vets mamage to run the savage youths off, but later on, the gang take a terrible revenge when they jump Jefferson and break his neck and damage his spine in a cowardly attack
Left paralysed from his experience, Jefferson is visited by an outraged Eastland who quickly updates his to-do list to ensure that the Ghetto Ghouls have some of the most heinous deaths he can possibly devise. With his military experience leading the way, John wages a war first on the gang, but then starts crawling up the criminal food chain as he figures that wiping out as many crooked pieces of shit that he can can only be beneficial for everyone.
Graduating from punks, to perverts, to mob bosses, Eastland soon is gifted the catchy nickname “The Exterminator” by the media, but as an increasingly frustrated detective James Dalton tries to zero in on the merciless vigilante, it soon becomes clear that other forces aren’t taking kindly to an average joe stepping up a taking out random scumbags and will take their own steps to remove the Exterminator from the streets.
When the smoke clears and the blood is eventually washed away, will Eastland still be standing, or will he end up in the same state he’s left countless wrongdoers in – a bloody stain on the street?
Straight off the bat, I think it goes without saying that if you are on the more sensitive end of the scale politically speaking, an 80s exploitation concerning an ex soldier snapping and choosing obliterating animalistic criminals as his new lifestyle choice probably won’t be for you. Where films like Taxi Driver came with a certain amount of class with its violent look at PTSD and loneliness and the first Death Wish had the likes of Charles Bronson to up the star value, The Exterminator had far less prestige to back up its violent urges and was even distributed by Troma at one point. However, while there are many issues about Glickenhaus’ balls out plunge into the mire, I just can’t help but be impressed at how dedicated the film is in making you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.
Starting off with one of the most unapologetically spectacular flashbacks to Nam you’ve ever seen that features our lead hurled through the air by building-sized explosions and surprisingly graphic beheadings supplied by special effects legend Stan Winston, the director manages to cram a movie’s full of Rambo flashbacks into a simple opening sequence. As helicopters hurtle through flames while only a few feet front the ground, we’re introduced to our lead character who seems to spent the majority of his tour of duty being saved by his infinitely more capable buddy, who is played by future Cannon Pictures regular, Steve James. However, when we skip ahead to the supposedly civilised streets of the Big Apple, we soon find some distasteful elements rear their head – and I’m not talking about the unfortunate trope of having the black character bear the brunt of a savage beating in order to light a fire under our hero. Paralysed by the exact sort of city freaks Paul Kersey would have a high old time blowing out of their sneakers, Jefferson’s plight galvanises Eastland into taking the fight to the extravagantly clad gangs – but it’s here that Glickenhaus changes things up.
While Michael Winner’s Death Wish saw Bronson goad an endless string of street punks into giving him an excuse to plug them in the chest – Eastland not only employs more vindictive forms of murder, but actually opts to take out any other forms of organised crime he can find which sort of transforms The Exterminator into an extremely heavy handed and very unofficial adaptation of Marvel Comic’s The Punisher. In fact, there’s a certain amount of exploitative satisfaction to be had watching the Vietnam vet feed a local mobster into a giant meat grinder or shoot a child abuser in the dick, but some issues start to arise when you realise Glickenhaus has no intention of holding back on anything.
This mean that he focus just as much on the violence perpetrated on victims as he does on the villains and often his grim enthusiasm takes the film over the line from disturbing to distasteful. As if to balance out slow motion shots of crooks orgasmically blown through the air, we are “treated” to extended sequences where a young prostitute has her breasts burnt with a soldering iron and Eastland discovers a screaming, naked young man tied in a backroom after shooting a paedophile who’s later revealed to be state senator for New Jersey. While the director would probably declare these scenes necessary for artistic merit, it just feels like he’s pushing boundaries for shock value as he justifies the violent retribution his anti-hero takes.
However, what remains interesting is how a film like this has seemingly made it’s central character arguably one of the most dull looking vigilantes in movie history. Hardly blessed with typically movie star looks, Robert Ginty without his mustache tends to look more like someone’s alcoholic aunt rather than the oiled killing machine featured on the poster. Still, the fact that the Exterminator isn’t just a chisled lump of man muscle, saves the movie from glamorising matters too much even if Eastland at one point confoundedly uses the n-word to defend his crippled friend. There’s also a sense that rather than the need to be a hero, it’s pure PTSD that’s fueling Ginty’s continues actions and it proves to be far more intriguing than Christopher George’s tacked on cop subplot or a muddled finale that suggests Washington has targeted Eastland for termination.
Frequently nasty and occasionally vile, The Exterminator has no qualms pushing the sleaze to maximum levels. But while it’s savage charms will be lost on those that won’t make the distinction of it being a movie, James Glickenhaus’ trash credentials will no doubt carry it through with those who fancy trawling through the really wild side.
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