Mystified? Have no fear. Only a very few of us aficionados would recognize these initials as belonging to "The Muscles From Brussels," world-class karate/kickboxing martial artist Jean-Claude Van Damme ("Bloodsport," "Time Cop" and "Desert Heat").

In this oddball serio-comic little gem, our hero, cleverly named Jean-Claude Van Damme (?!), has just arrived in Brussels and is unable to use his credit cards. He asks the cab driver to take him to the post office so he can negotiate a money transfer (he has, both in real life and in this pseudo-autobiographical movie, suffered financial setbacks due to ego problems, tax problems, alimony problems and child custody problems). The fellow at the door of the post office doesn't want to let him in. He recognizes who he is and is actually trying to spare him the trouble lurking behind that locked door.

Because Van Damme insists on coming in, he soon discovers that everyone in the post office has been taken hostage: employees, customers and all. Despite his heroic character on screen, in reality he is as frightened as his companions.

The fun starts as he is forced, at gunpoint, to speak with the hostage negotiator. When the negotiator realizes who is on the phone, he, the press, and the gathering throng of fans, think Mr. VD has snapped because of his personal tribulations, and is holding up the post office in an act of desperation.

In flash-backs, we see the perks and trials of celebrity, and how worthless it is in the face of real-life criminals. Various fans ask him questions which indicate that they faithfully read the tabloids. He keeps up a good front and tries to remain polite, but obviously is weary of this sort of byplay. For example, when he explains to the taxi driver that he is jet lagged and tired, she accuses him of playing the high and mighty movie star, too good to chat with the likes of her.

Van Damme does one notable (very lengthy) monologue in which, without cuts or editing, he describes the sad trajectory of a has-been movie star: The instant fame, the money, the ego, the women, the drugs and alcohol, and then the sad dwindling of available roles. Later come the inevitable financial battles as the buzzards pick over the bones of his ruined reputation.

The dialogue is very, very funny. His parents show up; on the phone his mother pleads with him to give himself up, she weeps that they still love him and they are sure things will work out. He has to admit to one of the robbers that even though the tabloids named him as the star of an upcoming martial arts film, Steven Seagal ended up getting the role because he cut off his ponytail. If you don't get THAT joke, this movie is NOT for you!

This unpredictable piece almost looks as though it was shot in black and white, but there is some muted color. The camera does NOT try to flatter Mr. VD, in fact, there is no camouflage of his aging: the bags beneath his eyes, etc., are right there for everyone to see. This is such an honest, funny, well-acted film, I wish more people would see it; but sadly, it will disappear without a trace in a week or two... too bad... I might own this one...