Sunset Strip (1985) put me in mind of that transition period in video stores where DVDs were coming in, and old VHS stock was being sold off in $1 ex-rental bins. Uncovering and finding video boxes to films I’ve never heard with no recognisable actors, often only distinguished by an illustrated poster or a blown up still photo. Z-grade video shelf filler, which Sunset Strip definitely is.
Our motorcycle riding hero (Tom Elpin) is a photographer who is asked by an old friend (John Mayall!) to help out with their rock club, which is being extorted for thousands of dollars by a neighbourhood kingpin. Yet things go south, and our hero is wanted for a murder he didn’t commit, and thus is on the run, hunting for evidence that will put him in the clear. There’s an old flame who sings in the rock band, a bartender best friend, a hard-nosed cop who is after our hero, breakdancers, rival ethnic gangs, and a helpful piano-playing blues singer who says stuff like, “I’m on the sidelines of this thing, I can’t be involved.” And not one, but two scenes, where someone peeks a look through some film noir window slats at night.
Distinguished by a low budget, bad acting and plenty of cliches, I was charmed by Sunset Strip because of all this, especially the cliches. This plot that wouldn’t be out of place in a poverty row thriller from the 1950s, but because it was made in the 1980s, the film is stacked with on-location chase sequences, a villain who takes phone calls in a strip club as an excuse to include gratuitous nudity, and a wall-to-wall soundtrack of jams made by acts I’ve never heard of. There’s a lot of stylish value in having our hero ride a motorcycle through the sunset strip at night, with plenty of neon signs, darkened alleyways and L.A. shopfronts. Particularly when scored to a Tangerine Dream knock-off synth. Aesthetically it feels like Sunset Strip is vibing off the last act of 48 HRS or the Michael Mann pilot to Miami Vice – often a series of music videos with that L.A. flavour. The film’s charm comes from the low budget vibe, like the soundtrack that veers between new wave rock to early hip hop beats to power ballads, which all sound great but are marked by a lo-fi crunchiness rather than the high polish of a Bruckheimer and Simpson production.
I had fun, and it served me well during a sleepless night watching it on my phone, and it there’s no longer an ex-rental VHS bargain bin, then god bless Tubi as a streaming service for filling that need. Directed by William Webb who also made the yuppie serial killer flick, The Banker. Recommended.
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