There’s something about the sound of rain pounding against the window that triggers a flood of memories for me. As a kid in the 80s, rainy days meant one thing: no playing outside. But they also meant something far more exciting – a trip to the local video store and the chance to immerse myself in the gloriously over-the-top world of Cannon Films.

For those who weren’t lucky enough to experience this unique slice of cinema history, Cannon was an independent film company that flourished in the 1980s under the leadership of two Israeli cousins, Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus. These two weren’t just film producers – they were hustlers, dreamers, and the most wonderfully unhinged movie moguls to ever storm through Hollywood.

I can still picture the layout of our local video store – the new releases along the wall, the dusty horror section in the back corner where I wasn’t supposed to go, and my personal favorite: the action section with its row upon row of lurid VHS box art featuring oily muscled dudes holding impossibly large guns, explosions, and promises of spectacle that no twelve-year-old could resist.

And dominating that section? Cannon Films. They weren’t making movies – they were manufacturing pure, unfiltered 80s insanity, often on budgets that wouldn’t cover the catering on a modern blockbuster.

The Cannon Experience

What made Cannon films so unique was their beautiful lack of restraint. While major studios were focused on formulas and marketing strategies, Golan and Globus were throwing everything at the wall – ninjas, breakdancers, Chuck Norris, Charles Bronson, arm-wrestling truckers, and whatever else might turn a profit. The results were often incoherent, almost always campy, and completely mesmerizing to my developing brain.

My childhood favorites included the deliriously bad but addictively entertaining “Ninja Trilogy” and “American Ninja” series, which convinced me (stupidly) that I too could become a master of martial arts if I just practiced in my backyard enough. I sprained my ankle trying to replicate a flying kick, but the injury was worth it for the story I would tell my mates.

Then there was “Invasion U.S.A.” starring Chuck Norris, fighting terrorists on American soil with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. The plot made little sense, but Chuck’s roundhouse kicks required no explanation – they were a universal language of badassery.

And who could forget “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo,” the breakdancing sequel that has given us the eternal punchline for any unnecessary sequel? I tried to breakdance after watching it. It did not go well. But in my mind, I was killing it.

The Magic of Golan-Globus

What I didn’t understand as a kid, but appreciate deeply now, was the fascinating story behind these films. Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus bought Cannon in 1979 for about $500,000 when the company was struggling financially. With pure chutzpah and a business model built on pre-selling foreign distribution rights, they turned it into a powerhouse that, at its peak, was releasing over 40 films per year.

Their strategy was brilliantly simple – make movies cheaply, market them aggressively with eye-catching posters (often created before the movies were even made), and sell them worldwide based on concept alone. Sometimes the resulting films barely resembled the original pitch, but that was part of the charm.

What’s remarkable is how these two outsiders managed to challenge Hollywood’s established order. While churning out B-movie fodder, they also financed films by prestigious directors like John Cassavetes, Franco Zeffirelli, and Jean-Luc Godard. The legendary film critic Roger Ebert once noted that “no other production organization in the world today—certainly not any of the seven Hollywood ‘majors’—has taken more chances with serious, marginal films than Cannon.”

This strange blend of lowbrow action and highbrow art perfectly captures the contradictions that made Cannon special. One week they’d release a Charles Bronson revenge fantasy, the next a prestigious literary adaptation. Only Golan and Globus would have the audacity to produce both “Death Wish 3” and an operatic adaptation of “Otello” in the same year.

The Decline

Like all great empires, Cannon eventually fell. The company overextended itself with bigger budgets and ambitious projects. Films like “Superman IV: The Quest for Peace” (which they notoriously underfunded) and “Masters of the Universe” were expensive flops that damaged the company’s reputation and finances.

By the late 80s, the Go-Go Boys (as they were known) had lost control of their company, and Cannon was eventually dissolved. But not before leaving an indelible mark on film history and the imaginations of rain-soaked kids like me.

Why I Miss Those Days

I miss those rainy-day trips to the video store – the tactile experience of picking up those oversized VHS boxes, studying the artwork, and making critical decisions about how to spend my precious rental allowance. Streaming is convenient, but it doesn’t give you the weight of a VHS in your hands, that satisfying clunk of the cassette entering the VCR, or the anticipation as you waited through the FBI warning and studio logos.

But mostly, I miss the earnest excess of Cannon films. They weren’t trying to win Oscars (mostly); they were trying to entertain, to provide an escape, to transport viewers to worlds where problems could be solved with spinning kicks and cool one-liners. There was an innocence to it all, even when the content was decidedly adult.

Today’s movies often feel focus-grouped to perfection – safer, more predictable, more concerned with setting up franchises than delivering self-contained thrills. Cannon’s approach was the opposite – throw everything at the screen and see what sticks. The results were messy, bizarre, occasionally brilliant, and never, ever boring.

So here’s to Cannon Films, to Golan and Globus, to rainy afternoons at the video store, and to the beautiful chaos they created. They made movies that no algorithm would ever recommend but that captured something essential about the joy of cinema at its most unrestrained.

And now, since it’s raining cats and hellhounds outside, I’ve got some Cannon classics queued up. Catch you later, weirdos.