Recycling Maniac Cop’s slasher flick formula for anti-war satire, director William Lustig and screenwriter Larry Cohen unearth the grotesque underbelly of Fourth of July jingoism with Uncle Sam. The corpse of chopper pilot Sam Harper – burnt to a crisp during the first Gulf War – is returned home to small town U.S.A, where the deceased military man’s wimpy nephew Jody (Christopher Ogden) dreams of being G.I. Joe until Isaac Hayes’ one-legged vet explains to the kid that war is hell and that his beloved uncle was really a violent, misogynistic psycho. Such claims are soon confirmed by Sam himself once he rises from his casket (purple heart stuck to his blackened chest) to kill un-American idiots, a group that includes teenage punks who enjoy burning the Stars and Stripes, Timothy Bottoms’ cowardly draft-dodger, and a stilts-utilizing peeping tom decked out in an Uncle Sam costume that the undead soldier assumes as his primary disguise. The money-shot killings are, unfortunately, nothing to write home about, and though Lustig and Cohen are generous enough to take potshots at everyone along the political spectrum, one pines for a somewhat more finely tuned lampoon of the fervently flag-saluting. Still, between Cohen’s wicked sense of humor (such as his employment of a wheelchair-bound psychic kid who was crippled by Independence Day fireworks) and Lustig’s creepy widescreen portraits of Norman Rockwell-ish Middle America, Uncle Sam is the best kind of B-movie, one that reinvigorates stale horror clichés via both tongue-in-cheek social commentary and an unironic, unbridled love for blood-and-guts mayhem.