“You were supposed to read me my rights.”

Drake’s rating: Not to be confused with Weiner Bounty, Pickleville Bounty, or Buttzville Bounty*

Drake’s review: Sybill Danning should be a familiar name to most cult movie fans, thanks to her work in everything from Italian giallos to Roger Corman scifi romps. She was never exactly a star, but was well-known enough to be a familiar name, and had the presence to be a menacing heavy in flicks like Chained Heat and Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf. But a definitive role as an action lead must have been something that Danning felt she was missing, because she took it upon herself to co-write and co-produce L.A. Heat, giving her the chance to take center stage as a truck drivin’, shotgun shootin’ ex-cop looking for revenge.

I mean, it’s the ‘80s here. You don’t really need more plot than that.

Still, L.A. Bounty does expand on the convention a bit, as “law-and-order” mayoral candidate Mike Rhodes is kidnapped by masked men, with his wife Kelly (Lenore Kasdorf, Missing in Action) is the only witness. Ruger (Danning) shows up to shotgun two of the men, then broods over a wanted poster of a man named Cavanaugh (perennial baddie Wings Hauser, Beastmaster 2: Through the Portal of Time). Cavanaugh is the man who killed her partner years ago, and she’s been on his trail ever since.

But taking down a Wings Hauser character is never that easy, so Ruger stays busy with car chases and gunfights, whittling down Cavanaugh’s forces while he hangs out in his hidden supervillain lair, berating his men, and painting nudes. And also occasionally going into a psychotic rage and killing a stool pigeon, but again, it’s Wings Hauser. He’s just gonna do stuff like that.

L.A. Bounty is a decent low-budget action flick from the decade that practically defined the genre, but that’s all it is. While Danning does her best to establish Ruger as a serious presence and a threat to the much more dynamic Cavanaugh, one of the problems is that she’s so over-the-top serious that her character is simply no fun. Ruger is all deadly intensity, and with no sidekick or wisecracking partner to lighten the mood we’re left with an action flick that simply feels like it should be more entertaining than it actually is.

L.A. Bounty isn’t a bad flick, but it is a formulaic one. The novelty of a female-led action lead wears pretty thin once you realize that Danning isn’t going to expand the part past what any of her male counterparts could do, which is honestly a shame. This is especially true when someone like the great Pam Grier would have really run with a character like Ruger, making her an authentic badass but with personality to spare. Or, taking it forward a few years, Cynthis Rothrock made some very similar films but with the added bonus of real physicality and impressive martial arts.

Lacking any of that, L.A. Bounty works well enough as a basic action flick with a few nice stunt pieces. It’s not a movie you’ll necessarily regret watching, but it’s also not one you’re likely to revisit. While this unfortunately ended Sybill Danning’s time as a lead actress, she did go on to make a few appearances here and there, including in Rob Zombie’s trailer for the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino Grindhouse double-feature.

And I’m probably not alone in thinking that it’s a crime against cult cinema that we never got Zombie’s full Werewolf Women of the S.S. movie. No, we got The Munsters instead. Man, this really is the darkest timeline.

*All real town names, because we here at Mutant Reviewers value authenticity in our reviews of trash cinema.

Intermission!

• Wings Hauser is an artist, so he’s obviously unhinged. Ask me how I know.
• Ruger drinks Miller beer. I’m sure there should be a good joke here, but I’m not a beer guy. Feel free to insert your own.
• Man, this music veers between Miami Vice and To Live & Die in L.A. with every new scene.
• They’re gonna call that guy “Lefty” from now on.
• You probably shouldn’t have the TV that close to your hot tub.
• The fake bear attack worked better in Road House.
• The cinematographer is our old friend and Orson Welles collaborator Gary Graver. I was pretty sure that hot tub scene looked familiar.