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Fist of the North Star takes me back. I saw it in a Los Angeles cinema in 1992 where I marvelled at the mango-sized heads atop bodies of Arnold Schwarzenegger proportions. The plot unfortuntely is lost to me behind a veil of crimson spray and body dismemberment. I exited the theatre feeling like an extra caught standing too close to Sissy Spacek in Carrie.

Hero Kenshiro (well, in the movie anyway), was in fact left wandering the wastes searching … (read more)