The Base
Major Murphy, a US Army Investigator, has received a new assignment. Sgt. Gammon is suspected of dealing cocaine from his base, and Murphy must gather enough evidence to shut down Gammon and his entire operation. Along with his partner, Lt. Andrews, the Major goes undercover to infiltrate the gang and find out just how far up the chain of command these activities are going.
If you have ever laid awake at night wondering what would happen if the director of Commando (the legendary B-movie maestro Mark L. Lester) decided that the U.S. Army’s biggest tactical shortcoming was a lack of airborne spin-kicks, rejoice—The Base is the answer to your prayers. Leading this glorious late-90s slice of direct-to-video heaven is Marc Dacascos, a man blessed with such outrageous charisma and jaw-dropping martial arts fluidity that he could make reading a phonebook look like a tactical breach. Dacascos plays Army CID investigator John Murphy, who goes undercover at an isolated military outpost along the Mexican border, looking less like a stealthy bureaucrat and more like a bronze-sculpted hero who accidentally wandered onto a gun range in camouflage pants.
What follows is an absolute masterclass in delightfully unhinged military melodrama. The rogue unit Murphy is sent to infiltrate—captained by a magnificently unhinged, vein-popping Tim Abell—has turned border patrol into a vigilante side hustle, liquidating drug cartels and pocketing dirty millions with zero regard for military protocol, stealth, or indoor voices. Watching Dacascos try to blend into this pack of testosterone-fueled psychopaths while remaining fundamentally decent, shockingly handsome, and prone to breaking out backflips in the middle of standard firearm drills is pure comedy gold. Director Mark L. Lester never met a warehouse he didn’t want to blast into toothpicks, so the narrative moves at a blistering pace where every minor dispute is settled by an absurdly oversized fireball.
Is it scientifically plausible military doctrine? Not on your life. Does every grenade ignite with the radioactive fury of a mini supernova? You bet it does. Yet despite all the sweaty machismo and flying shrapnel, The Base is impossible to dislike because it treats the viewer to pure, unpretentious fun anchored by Dacascos’s earnest charm and peerless physical grace. It belongs to that golden, bygone era of video-store gems that were built purely to deliver ninety minutes of joy, muzzle flashes, and spinning heel kicks. Pop some popcorn, invite your best friends over, and surrender to the sheer, lovable chaos of it all.
