I saw this movie before reading any reviews, and I thought it was very funny. I was very surprised to see the overwhelmingly negative reviews this film received from critics.

This is a coming of age storyline that you've seen in one form or another for decades. It takes a truly unique voice to make yet another one worth watching.

The movie's not perfect, but it sticks the landing of its message. It was engaging - thrilling at times - and I personally thought it was a great time.

One of the film's great tricks is that, for a time, you think it will go down a rabbit hole of unrealistic glorification.

Unexplained murders of gang bangers shock the community of Colorado Springs.The police is baffled and don't know what to do.A German scientist tries to warn police forces about Demonic Cop-a police officers who suffers from a strange blood disease which turns him into unstoppable killing machine.Extremely illogical and hard to follow piece of low-budget crap.The characters are poorly developed and various sub-plots are strikingly idiotic.The only reason to watch this disaster is cameo of Cameron Mitchell as an unpleasant psychiatrist.The acting is awful and hackneyed script is even worse.Watch "Demon Cop" only if you are a true masochist.3 dead gang bangers out of 10.

One night on an independent channel famous for showing off-the-wall films was aired this monstrosity. Though tempted to turn it off, we watched it to the bitter end, hoping to see some semblance of redeeming value. Alas, there was none. Absolutely nothing. The film quality was cheap; the soundtrack was muddy; the editing was ridiculous. Then again, there was precious little to salvage. After a few minutes of Cameron Mitchell's doctor character narrating about some patient of his, the viewer is tortured by no plot, pathetic writing, abysmally terrible acting, and an utter lack of cohesion and continuity. The rotting cherry on top of this fetid mess was the most horrendous "special effects" and "makeup" to ever disgrace the screen, even for television. The main character stumbles through his role in a dimestore rubber mask and a pair of dishwashing gloves which appear to have been dipped in glue and rolled in beads. Perhaps the poor lighting and gag-worthy film quality were attempting to cover up how bad-to-the-tenth-power the makeup was. One can only hope that at least one deliberate decision was made in the course of this hopelessly amateurish video. Seriously, a handful of three-year-old kids could've produced a better project. At the end, poor Mr. Mitchell returns (how desperate he must've been for money!) and drones out some nonsense that's supposed to connect this pile of crap with the AIDS epidemic. Please spare you and your loved ones the inhuman cruelty of sitting through this. It was so bad, even Mystery Science Theater 3000 couldn't have salvaged it.

As I was flipping through the channel I came to a channel 124. It is an urban channel. I saw this movie on and decided to give it a try. I almost became a mass murderer due to this film. I have done home movies and they are oscar quality compared to this huge mass of Dookie. The lighting was terrible and the acting was absolutely unrelentlessly bad. I would rather watch Star Crystal....... Holy cow maybe that is not a good example. The main question I have about this film is... Was it to be a morality film? the reason why I ask is because ther was one line where this lady in a wheelchair says " I would have been another gang statistic" Oh my head is starting to hurt. After hearing that line I went into the kitchen and pulled out a knife ready to stab anyone who dared watch this movie. But some sense kicked in and I just changed the channel to watch the man with the afro paint. Well that is all I have to say about this movie. If you want to endure this pain go ahead but not recommended for those with short fuses or a bad case of tourettes

Where does one begin with a film so sublime, so subtle, so tender and so good-natured? Well, one would *not* begin, were the subject of one's meditation this film. One would be stuck. One would stumble right out of the gate when writing about this travesty, this weirdly unintentionally brilliant piece of garbage called "Demon Cop." This is doubtless an entertaining little piece of horror bombast, but it is highly suggested that you imbibe copious amounts of illegal drugs or cheap wine before viewing, so that something else can be attributed to the inevitable destruction of your precious brain cells. It might also make it even more enjoyable viewing. Or at least tolerable. Or else you will be able to forget it quickly. Would that I had planned ahead. Seeing it as I just have, in the stark raving mad light of day, without benefit of mood- or cinema altering substances, soberly I was unable to consider the glittering, decadently awful "Demon Cop" for the peculiar gem it perhaps might be. More rather, for the gigantic train wreck of a waste of celluloid (rather, video) it most certainly is.For all eternity, I will never know the plot, nor will I understand the motivation behind wasting the money to commit this to eternity and to an eternity of late, late night cable runs (although, in my case, not nearly late enough). But it has something to do with a cop, who is a demon because his blood is bad, and an understanding girlfriend. There appears to be a script, but nothing stands out that I can point to. To the writer's credit, tasteless AIDS jokes abound. There is a savage murder rampage then, several savage murderous rampages and voice-overs later, there is a girl in a wheelchair; several cops who don't wear uniforms; strange, suburban Los Angeles ranch style housing; and a laughably awful demon latex costume that is topped by a Geri-curled wig stolen straight out of an early LaToya Jackson video. Spirit gum must have gone missing, because that darned demon latex costume keeps peeling off. All of the above combines to create a vivid impression. At least it would be vivid, if the video quality weren't so bad. The hyphenate behind this production, a madman named Rocco Karega, perhaps walks our streets even this very night. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid. But in that Ed Wood way, one does admire him. And by "admire," I mean stand very, very far away and observe from a distance, hopefully with bars between you, and a security detail. The earnest, "like me, please, oh, God, like me" quality that permeates the performances throughout are nowhere matched in their, well, permeability, than the stunning central, electrifying one of writer-director-producer-star-costumer-caterer Rocco Karega. There is nothing in film that this man thinks he cannot do. Alas, writing, directing, producing and starring are not any of them. To his credit, I am sure this film was catered adequately, as everybody seemed reasonably well fed, if not mostly pale. The costumes were provided by the cast, and it looks like everybody has washing machines. So there's that. Wherever you are tonight, Rocco Karega, rest well, knowing your 1991 masterpiece continues to enchant future generations, bringing joy and AIDS jokes to countless admirers. God bless you, Rocco Karega. God bless you richly.