Robert Foster's "Hollywood Harry" was a pleasant, if unremarkable low-budget modern day homage to brooding old-fashion crime thrillers with a cartoon-like sensibility to it. The humour can be a little off putting and the superfluous script goes about providing some knowing film references, but where it really loses out was how unfocused and somewhat laborious the episodic narrative felt. Harold "Harry" Petry is a down-on-his-luck private eye who unwillingly takes on a job to find a millionaire's daughter, but at the same time his teenage niece rocks up to stay with him and wants to help him out with his work. When it wasn't centering on the skimpy investigation (which itself wasn't all that interesting), time was spent on love interests, alcohol abuse, dancing or family matters. It had that contemplative character build-up, but none of this felt all that fulfilling and to tell the truth I didn't really know what was going on. It only complicated matters, as it didn't know what it wanted to be, yet alone where it wanted to go. While it might seem there's a lot going on, not much eventuates. What it has going for it though is its scene-chewing performances. Outside of the systematically starch directing, Robert Foster would star. He's no hard-boiled private detective (like something Humphrey Bogart would portray), but a miserable slouch. Foster is great, then supporting him is his pal Joe Spinell in a colourfully terrific role as a fellow P.I. The two had originally worked together in the 1983 vigilante films "Walking the Edge" (which makes a quick appearance on a TV screen) and "Vigilante". His daughter Kate Forster plays his character's niece, but her tomboy attitude gives ample opportunity to set-up gags and provides much needed fire. Shannon Wilcox is the possible love interest. Then you got some neat roles for Redmond Gleeson, Peter Schrum and Read Morgan. Look out for small parts for Frank Pesce and Cynthia Thompson. Set in Los Angeles, easily the backdrop would be Hollywood with people wandering around with stars in their eyes and a soothing blues music score behind it all. A light-hearted, but quite limited and talkative crime comedy."I am not a character out of a god damn book".

Enthusiasts of Robert Forster's work will believe this rather amateurish film to be a reasonable attempt at creating a star vehicle for himself, but a majority of viewers will in all likelihood be disappointed with the production. Forster has discussed through interviews his pleasure in constructing a film of his own, from the ground up as it were, and also the struggle he underwent before the piece was completed and prepared for distribution, but this background proves to be more interesting than a movie that would seem to be stalling for time, as a series of complexities are piled onto a fragile narrative foundation. As a result, following a promising start, the film quickly begins to squander its watchable quality, due in large part to a plot that meanders overmuch. Forster has stated that Hollywood HARRY is designed as a "spoof" of the cinematic Detective Genre, and as is the case with any sort of pastiche or satire, clichés must be collected to meet the requirements of irony, but here they too often are lost amid the plot line's profusion of back stories. Harry Petry (Forster), a down at the heels private investigator has apparently lost motivation for his chosen profession, but plainly has retained enough of a good reputation to bring a lucrative assignment, he being hired to discover the whereabouts of a wealthy man's missing daughter who has reportedly cultivated a burgeoning career as an "actress" in pornographic films. At this juncture, Harry's young niece, also a runaway and performed here by Forster's own daughter, 16 year old Kathrine, moves in with her initially disinclined host uncle, therewith acquiring knowledge of the gumshoe game as an episodic film lapses into random action having little sense, finally becoming simply an unappealing hybrid with a difficult to follow storyline. In fact, any intention of Harry to locate the missing nymph is split away from the ongoing scenario, this element finally having only a mild effect upon the generally muddled goings-on. There are among the subplots some engaging, albeit brief, scenes, but the work becomes flat, largely due to a propensity for uncontrolled mugging on the part of many from the cast. Those fixes stemming from post-production editing are absent here for a film devised by Forster for less than $200,000 that, despite a transparent lack of either a point of view or taste, was able to entice over 25,000 video buyers within the first three months following its release. Notwithstanding the mentioned scenario disarrangement that will cause confusion in some viewers, there are two scenes that will appeal to many, contributed by Forster as dancer rather than as actor, first swing hoofing with the talented Shannon Wilcox, later with Kathrine Forster. This is not a successful film in most of its aspects, but the man can certainly dance!