All of us fanboys need our respective cinematic Holy Grails, and so help me, after losing sight of mine for nearly fifteen years, I have found it again at last. The party flick to end them all. An exploitation movie, history lesson, master film class, art-house gem and nad-bustin' drinking game all rolled into one. If you know not of which I speak, listen for the gentle sound of whispering winter wind emanating from the slashed jugular of your mortal enemy, and you will find the path to knowledge that is SHOGUN ASSASSIN.

I'm mostly kidding. Except for the drinking part. Just keep reading.

Now, before you purists start geeking out on me and call me a philistine for adoring the Readers' Digest Condensed Movie version of the original "Baby Cart" films, you'd better check your shit, cuz I'm funna throw down. For those of you already in whaddafuck mode, here's a quick primer:

In the early 1970s, one of the greatest Manga of all time was introduced to ravenous Japanese readers: the sprawling epic LONE WOLF AND CUB. The gigantic series (by Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima) detailed the surreal and violent adventures of rogue samurai Ogami Itto and his toddler son Daigoro - a team dubbed "Lone Wolf and Cub." After the death of Ogami's wife at the hands of the insane Shogun's henchmen, the pair travels the path of vengeance, father pushing son in a clunky wooden carriage that doubles as a rolling arsenal of James Bond weaponry.

Like many popular comics of its time, the series spawned a massive media crossover blitz, inspiring popular songs, a television show and, of course, a classy series of films. These were produced by ZATOICHI star Shintaro Katsu and starred his brother, Tomisaburo Wakayama. A big, burly Panzer tank of a man, Wakayama doesn't quite resemble the square-jawed hero of the books, but he's a compelling actor - and a veritable god with a sword, placing him in good company with his brother. Equally skillful is four-year-old Akihiro Tomikawa as Daigoro: sure, he's cute as a widdle button, but he also conveys wit and wisdom beyond his mere handful of years. Together, their adventures spanned six installments entitled the "Baby Cart" series, which retained the episodic nature of the comics, while tying some of their key scenes together with new, original narrative threads.

Okay, that's part one. Jump ahead a few years to 1980: The TV adaptation of James Clavell's SHOGUN had just turned on the American public to the surreal, violent and beautiful world of feudal-era Japan; Eric Van Lustbader's novel THE NINJA turned them on in different ways, bringing the Ninja mystique into the modern age with oodles of graphic violence and sex scenes straight out of Penthouse Forum. It was from this sweet-smelling stew of entertainment possibilities that an inventive filmmaker named Robert Houston emerged with a treasure heretofore unseen to Western eyes: the first of the BABY CART films, titled SWORD OF VENGEANCE. Seeing the untapped potential for a breakout hit among drive-in movie audiences, Houston and his producing partner David Weisman brought the series to the attention of New World Pictures honcho Roger Corman, who purchased the rights to SWORD and its first sequel, BABY CART AT THE RIVER STYX.

With this wealth of material at their hands, the partners set about an elaborate deconstruction and reinvention of the originals, dispensing with much of the exposition and numerous subplots involving the politics of the period, focusing instead on what really sets this series apart from other samurai films: BLOOD. Geysers of it. Thousands upon thousands of gallons of that really cool Japanese stage blood that looks kind of orange on camera. I mean, these movies should come with plastic raincoats for the first few rows. I'm not kidding. Lone Wolf's battles are lightning-swift, and about 98 percent of the time result in nothing more than slight abrasions for Ogami, and nothing less than near-total bodily dismemberment for his foes.

Anyway, the revamped version finally released to U.S. theaters came in at a lean, mean 82 minutes. It features a more simplified storyline, with some characters changed to lend them more significance to Ogami's revenge mission (for example, a rogue clan leader he is tasked with killing has been promoted to the lofty position of Shogun's brother). What little remains of SWORD is cleverly incorporated into flashbacks, revealing the choice of "life or death" Ogami poses to the infant Daigoro and his battle with one of the Shogun's sons. The rest is comprised of the main action from RIVER STYX, where Lone Wolf faces a team of deadly female ninja and squares off against the "Masters of Death" - a trio of bad-ass dudes, each of which sports his own favorite weapon: a spiked club, studded gauntlets and a set of (sniketty-snik) elongated steel claws.

While the two films' stunning action scenes are intact in all their gory glory, it's also noteworthy that Houston retained many of the slower-paced scenes that serve as thumbnail sketches of the relationship between Ogami and his son. With minimal dialogue, the actors convey a surprising emotional depth, and their silent understanding of a shared destiny is always present. The scene where Daigoro tries to sort out a way of bringing food and water to his wounded father is both humorous and touching; the wordless cues that pass between them as the boy faces death at the bottom of a well are brilliant. It's a clear indication that original director Kenji Masume had a fix on the story's emotional center, and built the action on that strong foundation. Visually, Masume has a taste for the surreal, and is expert at widescreen compositions (check out that sunset decap blood-fountain!). He also tips his big wicker hat to Spaghetti Westerns, probably the only genre that runs even remotely parallel to samurai films.

SHOGUN's English dubbing is carried off decently by a colorful troupe of voice actors, including Houston and Weisman themselves, cartoon voice veteran Marshall Efron and then-unknown Sandra Bernhard as Queen of the Ninjas (she has that creepy "anime laugh" down pat). Perhaps Houston's greatest coup is the choice of Weisman's own son as the voice of Daigoro, who narrates the entire story (in the original films, the boy barely utters a sound). The voice-over is eerie, haunting, and sometimes really damn funny. To wit: Daigoro explains to us how he's keeping count of his father's victims in order to pray for their souls. At the beginning of one scene, he tallies that number at three hundred and forty-two. At the end of the scene, as Daigoro throws a knowing glance at the camera, he alters that number to three hundred and forty-five.

To stir this heady concoction, Houston excised the funky score by Hideaki Sakuri and instead called on the musical talents of Mark Lindsay, formerly of Paul Revere and the Raiders, and W. Michael Lewis, best known for the beloved theme from the series "In Search Of." The result is a pulsing, Asian-flavored synth score that suits the surreal, dreamlike essence of the film and recalls the best work of Tangerine Dream at their creative peak. I'll admit there are a few detractors who consider this music dated and cheesy. I'll also admit that these people can kiss my Baka Gaijin ass-crack.

The movie hit theaters and drive-ins (mostly the latter) in late 1980, outraged mainstream critics, made a tidy profit for all involved, then made its way onto MCA Home Video, where it first made the acquaintance of me and my idiot friends, whereupon we devised a simple game of taking one shot for every opponent Lone Wolf & Cub decimate on- camera. To tell the truth, I was so bombed to bejeeezus belt on Everclear and Country Time lemonade mix that I couldn't remember the last hour until I watched it again two days later - still hung over and puking a rainbow of lemony freshness. (I strongly discourage any such practice. You really don't want to be like me when you grow up.)

Okay, that boomerangs us more or less to the present day: SHOGUN ASSASSIN is long out of print on VHS, has never surfaced on any U.S. DVD label, with almost no prospects in sight. Ironically, all six of the original Baby Cart films have been readily available on VHS, and are currently seeing the digital light thanks to AnimEigo. Sadly, no such luck for this lowly stepchild, the seemingly disgraced goodwill ambassador of gory samurai fun that served as one of Tarantino's inspirations for KILL BILL. Ah, for it is the doom of men that they forget. Bastards.

But for now, to those of us with PAL-compatible players (and if you aren't one of us, get with the damn program; the things cost about 65 bucks and a sloppy hand-job), there is the UK's little genre work-horse, Vipco. Released in 2001 on their "Cult Classics" label, this is about the best version you can get in widescreen with decent audio. The picture, while retaining the original TohoScope 2.35 ratio (well, sorta... it's more like 2.40 after my player's PAL conversion), sadly is a bit lacking - lots of print damage (big-time stretch marks in the beach scene) and not enough contrast. Night scenes are often too murky; shots of the ninja creeping through the underbrush are almost unrecognizable. Color levels are way too intense - closeups of faces often reveal orange complexions, and the whites of eyes are blue. The Dolby mono track is decent, though, with clean sound effects and good bumpin' bass on the music. Sometimes the dialogue is a little soft around the edges (I still bust up when I hear Daigoro's line that sounds a lot like "We had to take a shit").

Not much in the way of extras here, save for a brief picture gallery and the widescreen trailer, which is still pretty cool and puts the score to good use (don't start with me again). Also fun is Vipco's horrendously over-the- top box copy, which SCREAMS EVERY LINE IN CAPS WITH MULTIPLE EXCLAMATION POINTS AT THE END!!! "THE BLOOD GUSHES OUT ALL OVER THE SCREEN AS IF BEING HOSED INTO THE CAMERA!!!" Okay, so the soft-sell is something they need to work on. A little ritalin probably wouldn't hurt either.

I guess I'll have to make do with this one for now, and find solace in the assurance that I can always sell some more plasma and buy the entire original film series, including the aforementioned titles and the remaining sequels, BABY CART TO HADES (which used to air on cable as LIGHTNING SWORDS OF DEATH), BABY CART IN THE LAND OF DEMONS, BABY CART IN PERIL, and WHITE HEAVEN IN HELL. But no punk-ass muthafucka's gonna challenge the supreme coolness that is SHOGUN ASSASSIN.

So go ahead, send your ninja! I'll kill them all!