My Duck Is Dead

A Sicilian mob hit-man winds up in Hollywood, shooting pimps, hookers, rivals, and lackeys in one of the most deliriously gonzo grindhouse epics of the 1970s. Much time is spent on dinner conversation, wherein gut-busting hilarious dialog is delivered with little motivation (one memorably clamarous censure involving an old lady's hands is a howler of awkwardly earnest sentiment). Add to that a heaping helping of very nasty gun violence, and you've got yourself one totally screwball, and, despite itself, extremely entertaining schlock film (with a few genuinely poignant moments).