Review
From the moment ex-cop Tiger Sharp steps off the bus in his small Georgia hometown, trouble starts bubbling like moonshine in a copper still. Blastfighter is a howling, beer-sweat-soaked ode to revenge cinema, cranking every knob until it rattles. Lamberto Bava takes what could have been just another backwoods shoot-'em-up and injects it with high-octane Italian exploitation madness. The first half simmers with tension: redneck poachers skinning the wilderness alive, sleazy businessmen treating the town like their personal hunting ground, and Tiger trying, really trying, to keep his cool. But once they cross the line and take away the only thing he loves, the movie kicks into overdrive. Out comes the hardware: shotguns, crossbows, and yes, the most gratuitously satisfying rocket launcher this side of a video store action section. Limbs fly, cabins burn, and the soundtrack wails like a pack of Southern-fried banshees. Blastfighter is part Rambo, part Deliverance, and part fever dream you’d have after falling asleep in front of a stack of grindhouse trailers. It’s sweaty, it’s loud, and it’s got enough backwoods carnage to make you want to hose off afterward. And that rocket launcher finale? Pure fried gold.