Tag: j

Jolt

  By

★★★
“Crank-ette”

Certainly the kind of action film for which you need to suspend your disbelief. In this case, the closest parallel is, as the tag-line above implies, the Jason Statham vehicle, Crank. In it, Statham’s character was poisoned, and had to keep his adrenaline permanently up for the rest of the film. to avoid dying. Here, it’s almost the reverse. Beckinsale’s character, Lindy, was born with a rare condition, “intermittent explosive disorder”. This is pretty much what it sounds like: uncontrollable aggressive outbursts, like a physical version of Tourette’s. This is a real thing. Not so real? Lindy is also “blessed” with high levels of cortisol, which make her faster and stronger than anyone else. Somewhere in the middle? Lindy controls her IED with electric shocks from a handheld device given to her by her therapist, Dr. Munchin (Tucci). All told, I’m tagging this as SF. #ChangeMyMind

She’s just about coping with life, until her new boyfriend, accountant Justin (Courtney), turns up as a corpse. Turns out he was working for some very shady characters, and apparently paid the price. Time for Lindy to put her affliction to good use, despite the efforts of the cops, such as Detective Vicars (Cannavale) to prevent her. She works her way up the criminal food-chain towards Gareth Fizel (David Bradley – who played Walder Frey in Game of Thrones, so knows about getting hunted by single-minded young women!), cracking heads as appropriate. Yet, things may not quite be what they seem. Not least, after the opening narration by Susan Sarandon, we kept expecting her to show up. You’ll have a wait. It’s also obvious that someone like Lindy has her uses, as a blunt instrument with which to solve other people’s problems.

While the ending is very clearly trying to start a franchise, I’m not certain there would be much more to offer. It is a pleasure to see Beckinsale kicking butt, in a way we haven’t seen in a few years (probably since the last Underworld film, Blood Wars). However, I can’t help thinking she doesn’t seem “right” for this kind of characters, which I would have expected to be all rough edges, rather than Beckinsale’s smoothness. It almost feels as if it was, perhaps, originally written for the likes of low-budget action god Scott Adkins, only for them to do a quick search-replace of “he” with “she” in the script, after Beckinsale showed interest and they got more money. Even there, it might have been more convincing with somebody like Ruby Rose as Lindy, who could bring the necessary edge to proceedings.

To be honest, the action was a little disappointing too – perhaps more so in quantity than quality, as it does have a couple of decent, well-choreographed brawls. I didn’t feel particularly as if there was much sense of escalation to proceedings; I mean, it’s not as if Bradley is going to pose much of a threat, is it? I can’t help comparing it to Black Widow which, despite its flaws, did build to a rousing climax. Here, although I was never bored, it is kinda easy to see why this bypassed cinemas and went straight to Amazon Prime.

Dir: Tanya Wexler
Star: Kate Beckinsale, Bobby Cannavale, Stanley Tucci, Jai Courtney

Jesus I Was Evil

  By

★★★
“God told me to.”

While ultimately hamstrung, not least by its limited resources – this cost a mere five thousand dollars – it does what low-budget films should generally tend to do. That is, go where their better-off siblings dare not tread. In this case, that’s the forbidden territory of religion. Two young, female missionaries, Amber (Durand) and Martha (Crosland) are going door-to-door, seeking souls they can save and bring into the body of their church – clearly Mormon, going by the reference to Salt Lake City among other things, though operating under a pseudonym here! While their attractive shape proves successful at getting them in the door, the residents who don’t live up to the ladies’ high moral standards are in for a shock. For the two kill non-believers, with Amber in particular, having a zero tolerance policy. And she considers herself “saved”, basically giving her a free pass to do anything necessary in the name of the Lord.

Of course, inevitably there ends up being dissension in the ranks, when they encounter Christian (Price). For while he’s agnostic – and thus on Amber’s hit-list – Martha believes he’s a good person capable of being saved. His fate drives a wedge between the two women, and Martha has to decide what her faith really means, and whether loyalty to Amber is more important than her own personal convictions. Matters aren’t helped by the presence of an obnoxious Girl Guide (Welsh), also going door-to-door, selling cookies and crossing paths with the missionaries, or the creepy behaviour of the man in charge of the church.

It’s not exactly subtle, in terms of religious satire, with everyone in their group being portrayed as either a buffoon, hypocrite or flat-out insane. It’s a bit of a dead horse being flogged there. However, for the bulk of its running time, I found this surprisingly watchable. As you can perhaps see in the picture (right) Durand projects a vibe which reminded me of Katherine Isabelle. This is exactly the sort of wild-card personality you want for the role, and you could argue Amber is someone who is 100% committed to her cause. I guess in this light, you’ve got to respect that, even if the results are… a little excessive, shall we say?

It certainly doesn’t all work. There’s a subplot about Christian’s mother showing up, which doesn’t serve any purpose I could see. I was also a bit disappointed in the resolution of the Guide story-line, which everything indicated was going to go in a different direction. I was thinking (read: hoping!) for a hellacious catfight between Amber and her nemesis; instead, what we get feels almost as if they ran out of time and/or money, so had to wrap that thread up without enough of either. Yet for the price, hard to argue this isn’t good value. While not likely to change any minds, those with a suitably jaundiced view of religion going in, will likely get a good chuckle or two from its dark humour.

Dir: Calvin Morie McCarthy
Star: Airisa Durand, Melissa Crosland, Cameron Lee Price, Laura Welsh

Jesse

  By

★★½
“Second time around.”

Jesse (Finochio) is a Long Island cop on the edgeTM. Since losing custody of her kids, she has gone into a downward spiral of drinking, casual relationships and taking her anger out on any perps unfortunate enough to cross her path. She has driven her captain (Vario) to the edge of distraction, and is perpetually feuding with her mother and brother. The latter dies in a road accident – only his foot is found! – but when Jesse and Mom go to cash in his life insurance policy, they get a shock. The beneficiary has been changed to be Ralph Sirna (Trentacosta), a notorious local gangster. Suddenly, the accident seems rather less accidental, and nothing – not her boss nor Sirna’s “godfather”, Vince (Forsythe) – will be able to stop her.

If this plot sounds familiar, it’s because this is a remake of the director’s 2001 film, Marie, which we reviewed in November. With regard to the remake, we concluded “Maybe they did better second time around? I’m not inclined to bet on it.” However, while still suffering from obvious flaws, this actually is a palpable improvement. The main reason is the actress playing the heroine. Finochio is better knows as “Trinity,” under which name she wrestled for both the WWE and TNA, and has the necessary physical presence missing in her predecessor. There’s definitely the sense of barely-controlled rage that’s essential for the character, and when she’s barnstorming around, like a mascara’d bull in a china shop, the film proves quite watchable.

The main problem is, in the middle it feels like Carpenter suddenly decided he actually wanted to make Goodfellas instead, with the focus switching to Ralph, and his machinations as he seeks to replace Vince at the top of the organization. It’s not terrible, even if it feels like much of the dialogue was made up on the spot, which is (as is typically the case) a bit of a mixed blessing. It just feels like a pale impression of Martin Scorsese, and it doesn’t stand the comparison. There are also a couple of stunt cameos from obvious “send me the check” actors. Forsythe is less the problem there, even if he could perform this role in his sleep, than Armand Assante, in his one scene as an Internal Affairs officer, or Eric Roberts in two as a barman.

Having seem Marie, there are absolutely no surprises to be had here, least of the all the big one in the final act. I think the best which can be said, is at least there’s an interesting film here, trying to get out – that couldn’t be said for the original. For instance. the script could have given Jesse more of an arc, finishing off with her regaining custody of her children. That’s an event which happens in the middle, as so consequently feels thrown away, rather than the triumphant redemption it could have become. Maybe Carpenter will take another stab at the story: we’re about due, with it being ten further years since this remake came out.

Dir: Fred Carpenter
Star: Stephanie Finochio, Anthony Trentacosta, Paul Vario. William Forsythe

Jessi’s Girls

  By

★★★★
“And not a Rick Springfield in sight.”

It’s about the year 1880, and Jessica Hartwell (Currie) is heading out West in a wagon with her preacher husband. They encounter the gang of Frank Brock (Frank); they repeatedly rape Jessica, before shooting her husband fatally, and leaving her for dead. She survives, returning to health with the help of prospector Rufe, who sports an unfortunate, obviously fake beard, yet also teaches the young woman how to shoot. For Jessi has vengeance on her mind, and to assist her in this path, she liberates three other women from the custody of Sheriff Clay (Lund). There’s outlaw Rachel (Jennifer Bishop); saloon girl Claire (Regina Carrol); and Indian Kana (the not-exactly Indian Stern), who had been a part of Frank’s gang until he abandoned her.

While director Adamson was best known for his horror films, some of his work has been covered here before: The Female Bunch and I Spit on Your Corpse! This is his best entry yet, which is straightforward, short on pretension and all the better for it. It certainly doesn’t hang around; we’re barely a few minutes in before the reason for revenge is under way, and it’s not easy viewing. It sits particularly uncomfortably, since just a few minutes earlier, the audience was enjoying the sight of the lead actress (also seen in Mama’s Dirty Girls) skinny-dipping. For the film doesn’t forget the sex in exploitation. Jessi is surprisingly quick to forget her late husband and bed the Sheriff, with most of the other female cast similarly disrobing at some point.

On the other hand, there are occasionally surprising elements, such as Tana’s refusal to help a wounded Apache; often, films lump all native Americans together, forgetting that tribes were sometimes disparate groups, who hated each other. It’s a decision which causes conflict – of the muddy, cat-fight kind – between her and Claire, a diversion on the otherwise fairly straight arrow journey towards the expected and likely inevitable confrontation with Brock. This, along with other forms of more brutal attrition, do mean that by the time Jessica arrives at her target’s hideout, the film’s title is no longer accurate. Indeed, Jessi is back to ploughing an almost solitary furrow on her mission, made all the more hazardous by Frank knowing she’s on her way.

The supporting actresses are not exactly given more than simple sketches, yet manage to make them feel like actual people. The focus is firmly on Jessica, and I liked Currie in the role, with her managing to portray both a vulnerable side and a steely determination that will not be swayed from her intended path of retribution. Her coolest moment is probably at the end, lighting sticks of dynamite off her cheroot and tossing them to great effect. Admittedly, when it comes to the finale, Brock and his men tend to demonstrate all the shooting skills of Imperial Stormtroopers, and you wonder how they ever managed to rob anyone. A great ending though, with a twist I did not see coming, providing the icing on the cake of a unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

Dir: Al Adamson
Star: Sondra Currie, Ellyn Stern, Geoffrey Land, Ben Frank

Jet, by Russell Blake

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆

Born as Maya, the heroine here adopted the name of “Jet” when she became part of a seriously black ops group, part of the Israeli intelligence service known as the Mossad. There, she and her colleagues had carried out thoroughly deniable operations against… well, supposedly Israel’s enemies, though it’s not as if she asks questions. The secrecy wasn’t limited to her work, as she carried on an unsanctioned relationship with David, the man in charge of the group. But eventually, it all became too much: with David’s assistance, Jet faked her own death on a mission and vanished off the grid, re-appearing as “Carla” in Trinidad, where she enjoyed a quiet life for several years. That came to a sudden end when assassins make an attempt to terminate her new identity. Her cover has clearly been blown. The questions are: what happened, who is responsible, and how can Maya a.k.a. Jet a.k.a. Carla restore the balance?

Finding the answers apparently requires her to rack up the air miles, as the resulting narrative goes from Trinidad through Venezuela to Israel, then back via Cyprus to Belize, before finishing off in Monaco. And that’s not even including any globe-trotting in the flashbacks to her time as a Mossad agent. Still, I guess that’s one of the fun things about writing a novel: you don’t have a production budget! While this aspect feels reminiscent of a Bond book, I think Kill Bill is perhaps a greater inspiration here. This is apparent both in the fractured timeline, and in particular, the revelation at the end of the book, which clearly sets up Jet’s direction for the next volume. As well as her being an unstoppable bad-ass, of course.

If the book has a weakness, it’s likely David, whose actions don’t appear to be consistent with each other. It’s hard to be specific without spoilers for “that” revelation, but if he loved Jet as much as some things imply, why did he not quit his job and go be with her when she pulled her vanishing act? This question is somewhat addressed, but the argument, little more than “He’d taken an oath”, falls a long way short of being convincing. I think their relationship either needed to be depicted in considerably more nuanced depth, or considerably less. As an action fan, who tends to roll his eyes whenever romance crops up, I’m leaning towards the latter.

Jet just doesn’t feel like a person who needs anyone else, and Stone’s handle on the action – which is plentiful – is good enough that anything else feels like an unwanted distraction. I felt it was particularly strong at the beginning, as the heroine tried to get out of Trinidad, providing an excellent demonstration of Jet’s abilities. But the raid she and David carried out on the Belize compound was also impressive. Overall, I’d not be averse to reading more – though I’d probably rather wait for the movie instead.

Author: Russell Blake
Publisher: Reprobatio Limited, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 15 in the Jet series.

Jhansi Ki Rani

  By

★★★½
“I can only apologize.”

Not for the show, I should stress. But as a Brit… Wow, were were really such utter bastards to the Indians when the country was a colony? I was under the impression it was all tea and cricket. But the British, as depicted here, appear largely to be working entirely for the East Indian company, treating the local population with, at best, disdain, and often brutality. All the while, seeking to manipulate local politics (with, it must be said, the help of some Indians) to their own advantage. After 70 episodes of this, such is the guilt, I can barely enjoy my chicken tikka masala without giving it reparations.

I say 70 episodes, but the entire series is considerably longer. Wikipedia lists it as 408, but those are apparently 25-minute shows. Netflix seems to have doubled it up (bringing its length into line with the more traditional Hispanic telenovelas which I’ve previously reviewed). Yet even allowing for that, to this point they only seem to have about 30% of the show. They also shortened the title from its full name, Ek Veer Stree Ki Kahaani… Jhansi Ki Rani, which translates as Story of a Brave Woman… The Queen of Jhansi.

Simply based on the level of intrigue here, this feels like an Indian version of Game of Thrones. Albeit without the incest. Or the dragons. Or the budget. And is based on a real character, Lakshmibai. But it’s quite easy also to draw a line between Arya Stark and the teenage heroine here, Manikarnika (Gupta) a.k.a. Manu, neither caring one bit for ‘traditional’ behaviour. Manu, in particular, objects to the occupying British forces and their disrespectful treatment of the native population. So she crafts a secret identity, Kranti Guru, and uses this to fight back against the Brits, even (gasp!) desecrating the Union Jack. She’s helped by her mentor, Tatya Tope, who occasionally dons the mask as well, when necessary.

However, a literally stellar horoscope leads to Manu being betrothed to the Maharaja of Jhansi, Gangadhar Rao (Dharmadhikari). And this is my biggest issue. Cultural differences be damned, there is no way in which a prepubescent girl marrying a middle-aged man can seem appropriate, or other than incredibly creepy. Manu gets her first period in one of the final episodes, and the reaction of everyone can be summarised as, “Good, now you can give the king a heir.” [The reality was slightly less creepy: Lakshmibai did, indeed, marry the king at age 13. However, they didn’t have a son until she was in her twenties]

The British – already unhappy with Manu’s rebellious outbursts – are far from happy at the prospect of her marrying Gangadhar and continuing the line. Even before she arrives at the palace, there are backroom conspiracies involving some of his relatives (not least his own mother), who ally themselves with the colonialists for their mutual benefit. These schemes go up to and include multiple assassination plots against the king, and indeed, his bride-to-be. Time for Kranti Guru to come out again, particularly to face off against gold-toothed British psychopath Marshall (Verma). His relentless pursuit, without regard for who gets hurt, earns him Manu’s undying enmity. [Weirdly, he’s played by an Indian actor in “white face”, as are some – but not all – of the other English officers, some of whom are dubbed.]

To be honest, Manu’s action scenes are a bit crap, mostly consisting of her waving a sword around in severely choreographed battles. She’d last about two minutes against other teenage warrioresses, like Hanna or Hit-Girl. Still, she has a certain charm, not least for her razor-sharp intellect, which lets her argue with – and usually kick the mental ass of – religious scholars, politicians and the king. She also has an unshakeable faith that everyone is redeemable, and more than once, turns enemies into loyal allies. Most notable is dacoit (bandit) Samar Singh, initially hired to murder Manu. When the tables are turned, and she forgives him, he abandons his life of crime. That’s the level of devotion she inspires.

Run away, foreigner, run away!
This brave Manu riding the horse is Lakshmi Bai
Fire will rain on you, now you are doomed. 
Look at the colourful India, India will defeat you. 
She has come to claim your head, the Queen of Jhansi has come. 
Run away foreigner, the Queen of Jhansi has come!

Despite its origins, there are no song-and-dance numbers, though the music still plays a significant, if repetitive part. The song quoted above shows up in every other episode, and the re-use of certain cues could be turned into a drinking game, e.g. take a shot every time that “sad trombone”-like arpeggio sting is heard. However, the most defining style element is the reaction shot. It seems nothing dramatic can happen without everyone present in the scene subsequently being ready for their close-up – sometimes multiple times. And considering how often such moments happen in the king’s court… it takes a while. This does lighten the intellectual burden required to keep up. Chris was usually present for only about one-third of the screen time each day, yet she was able to hang in there, with only minor explanations from me.

For the great majority of the time, it’s light stuff, with Manu escaping every pitfall her enemies set for her. Then, the hammer drops: to extend the GoT comparison, it’s the Rani equivalent of the Red Wedding. Fewer bodies, to be sure – just one – yet the resulting emotional wallop was still brutal, sending me through multiple stages of grief during the subsequent fall-out. “No… Surely they haven’t… It’s got to be a dream sequence.” All told, it was easily the most impactful death in any of the telenovelas I’ve watched, regardless of their origin, and the repercussions ran on for multiple episodes. As do the reaction shots. So. Many. Reaction. Shots.

I wonder if the 70-episode cutoff point was chosen by Netflix, being the point at which Manu “grows up”. It appears she is played by an older actress (right) in the latter stages of the series. As it stands, however, it’s an interesting approach to have a series apparently aimed at adults, with a 14-year-old character as the lead. While I can’t say it was wholly successful, it proved a remarkably easy watch, and I was genuinely sorry when I ran out of episodes.

Creative Director: Sujata Rao
Star: Ulka Gupta, Sameer Dharmadhikari, Vikas Verma, Ashnoor Kaur

Johnnie Mae Gibson: FBI

  By

★★
“Not-so fair cop”

This 1986 TV movie was the first film made about an FBI agent while they were still active. Gibson was the fifth black female agent in the bureau’s history: she broke new ground by being the first such assigned to the Fugitive Matters department in the Miami branch, and was also the first to reach a supervisory level within the FBI. That would, however, be well after the story told in this film. It covers how she came to join the FBI, and her first major undercover operation, taking down a gun-running ring operated by ex-NFL star, Adam Prentice (Lawson). However, Gibson starts to find the lines between real-life and undercover work blurring, and begins feeling genuine affection for her target. This doesn’t sit well with her partner, TC (Rollins). If it sounds all very by the numbers… It is.

No less stereotypical are the other black men in Gibson’s life. Most notable are her sternly disciplinarian father, who thrashes Johnnie after she accepts a Thanksgiving gift on a surplus turkey from some white folks, and Marvin (Young), the husband she meets at college. The latter is thoroughly unimpressed when she announces – in a staggeringly clunky fashion, showing up in full uniform – that’s she going to join the police force. You can imagine his reaction to her becoming an FBI agent, and his perpetual whining is perhaps the film’s most annoying aspect. Though it has to be said, when it comes to caring for their daughter, Gibson is very much the absent mother.

All the background stuff is bounced over so quickly as to be little more than a parade of cliches. Yeah, we get it: she had to overcome some obstacles. Though based on the evidence here, racism wasn’t really one of them, and the way sexism is depicted has some flaws, for example when a fellow trainee at Quantico kicks her ass repeatedly in hand-to-hand training. For this begs an obvious question: would a criminal in the field go easy on an FBI agent trying to arrest them, because they were a woman? Of course not. From that viewpoint, this incident was actually less sexism than a reality check. It could have been welcomed as such, showing Johnnie she needs to use her brain rather than brawn, rather than a simplistic message of The Man Keeping A Woman Down (literally).

The undercover case is not much better in this department, trotting out the usual tropes before suddenly exploding into a gun-battle at the end, which even Gibson, in interviews at the time it was shown, noted was entirely fictional. The TV movie seems particularly guilty of trying to cram too much in, and would have been better served by focusing either on its subject’s journey to becoming an agent, or on her work thereafter. By attempting to cover both, it succeeds in covering neither adequately. While the subject is undeniably worthy, I can’t say that this treatment feels as if it does her justice.

Dir: Bill Duke
Star: Lynn Whitfield, William Allen Young, Howard Rollins, Richard Lawson

Johnny Guitar

  By

★★★½
“When a fire burns itself out, all you have left is ashes.”

Despite the male-oriented title, there’s no doubt who the star is: Vienna (Crawford), a former saloon girl who has clawed her way up to owning her own place, on the outskirts of an Arizona mining town. She has inside knowledge of the route the railroad is going to take, and chose her location with that in mind. But there’s stiff local opposition, from those who don’t want the railroad, or who object to her allowing the Dancing Kid (Brady) and his gang, suspects in a stagecoach robbery, to frequent her establishment. Leading those with a dim view of Vienna, is Emma Small (McCambridge), whose brother was killed in the robbery.

Vienna hires her former lover, who goes by the name of “Johnny Guitar” (Hayden) as security, only to be given 24 hours to get out of town by Emma and the disgruntled townsfolk. Matters aren’t helped when the Dancing Kid and his crew raid a local bank. A posse sets out to track them down, and Emma convinces the town-folk that Vienna – unfortunately in the bank at that point – was complicit in the Kid’s crime. The presence of Turkey, a wounded member of the gang who is hiding out in the saloon, doesn’t improve Vienna’s situation.

Crawford is magnificent, utterly commanding the screen with a blistering performance, despite off-screen issues between Crawford and other cast members – a situation not helped by McCambridge’s alcoholism at the time. But she wasn’t alone, Hayden infamously saying afterward, “There is not enough money in Hollywood to lure me into making another picture with Joan Crawford. And I like money.” However, it could perhaps have been worse: the director originally wanted Bette Davis for the role of Emma, but couldn’t afford her. Given subsequent events when Davis and Crawford starred together in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, Ray probably dodged a bullet.

Made in 1954, this is a not very disguised parable about McCarthyism and mob psychology: credited writer Philip Yordan often lent his name out to blacklisted colleagues, reportedly Ben Maddow in this case. For example, the Dancing Kid is innocent of the crime of which he’s accused, and driven to commit one as a result – he needs funds to get out of town and escape the lynch-mob. But it’s the scene where Turkey is interrogated by the mob and forced to implicate Vienna, which is the most obvious jab at the then-contemporary political situation. Perhaps the resistance to the railroad is also a metaphor for reactionary conservatism?

This is all largely secondary in terms of modern entertainment, especially when you can watch Vienna spitting out lines like, “Down there I sell whiskey and cards. All you can buy up these stairs is a bullet in the head. Now, which do you want?” In less confident hands, these could easily seem cheesy: in Crawford’s, they become an entirely credible threat. Vienna is a rare character, not only for the genre or the era, but also for her age. The tired veteran gunfighter who simply wants a peaceful life is a common Western trope; it’s just rarely if ever a middle-aged woman. Crawford was 49 at the time of its release, and there’s little or no attempt to play her as younger.

She’s so good, everyone else pales in comparison – and that’s a cast which includes the likes of Ernest Borgnine and John Carradine. Hayden and, particularly, Brady come over as bland, and their subplots are nowhere near as interesting. It’s possible they may simply have been necessary for the fifties, which could have been more than slightly unwilling to tolerate a film with a gun-toting fallen woman as the heroine. As she says, in another great speech, “A man can lie, steal and even kill. But as long as he hangs on to his pride, he’s still a man. All a woman has to do is slip – once. And she’s a tramp!” Tramp or not, she’s still capable of being the most fascinating character in a compelling tale which has, largely, stood the test of time well.

Dir: Nicholas Ray
Star: Joan Crawford, Sterling Hayden, Mercedes McCambridge, Scott Brady

Julia X

  By

★★★
“Battle of the sexes.”

juliaxA date appears to go badly wrong for Julia (Azlynn), when her companion (Sorbo) turns out to be a serial-killer who has been using Internet dating sites to find the young women he targets. However, it turns out the tables are eventually turned, for Julia and her sister Jessica (Willis) are every bit as monstrous, who have been luring in and killing men, as a result of the abuse they both suffered at the hands of their father. But Jessica is a bit fed up of taking a back seat to her big sis, and wanders across the street to kidnap a victim of her own (Moore). But Julia’s captive is not exactly prepared to give up his liberty without a fight.

Nice bit of casting against type for Sorbo, whom we’re used to seeing in more heroic roles. He’s quite effective in a Patrick Bateman-esque way (American Psycho, if you’d forgotten), and this is certainly an equal opportunity film, in terms of the copious violence inflicted both on and by women. The last third is not much more than the two leads battering each other forcefully through the entire house, with extreme and escalating aggression. It’s the kind of thing which I should love. So why does it all feel relatively unaffecting and forced?

It may be because the scenario unfolding requires almost industrial strength idiocy from the main characters. Sorbo’s killer, for example, is so sloppily incompetent, it’s a wonder he managed to pull off his first murder without accidentally killing himself. The sisters aren’t much better, and we’re not given much of a reason to root for Julia and Jessica either. I get the feeling the reveal of them being psychos as well is supposed to “matter”, but it has next to no impact at all. The backstory offered for the sisters is pretty trite and cliched too; maybe it would have been better off if they’d begun with that, and we’d been brought along with the siblings on their journey, to the point where murder apparently started to make sense.

What does work, fortunately, is the action, which is well-staged and crunchy. The film doesn’t linger on the pain with sadistic glee, as it could; this is wise, since if the makers did, some scenes would likely be hard to watch. Instead, there’s an almost Looney Tunes element to the mayhem, particularly in the way the protagonists are able to take a pounding, and bounce back with an even more enhanced vengeance, like a human version of an Itchy & Scratchy cartoon. On the whole, I’d not have minded at all to see this deliberately outrageous aspect played up, highlighted particularly by a beautifully ironic use of The Carpenters’ soft-pop anthem, Close To You. For the film arguably doesn’t do enough with its script or characters to make the viewer interested in taking them seriously.

Dir: P.J. Pettiette
Star: Valerie Azlynn, Kevin Sorbo, Alicia Leigh Willis, Joel David Moore

Judy

  By

★★½
“Insane Clown Posse”

judyAt first, I wondered if this was some kind of post-apocalyptic work, with Ursula (Giorgi) the leader of a face-painted tribe, enforcing discipline with extreme brutality on her minions. But it turns out to be everyday society: she actually heads a group of “street performers” [I guess; not quite sure what they do, but it’s likely something between mime and a freak show]. who survive by extracting money from members of the public. Ursula’s next target is Mary (Babusci), who pulls over in her car to have a phone conversation (an admirably safe approach, it has to be said), only to find herself being menaced by Ursula. Panicking, Mary pulls a gun on the whey-faced loonette, and drives off. Despite making it safely back to the apartment where she lives with her dog, Judy, it becomes increasingly apparent that Ursula has not taken kindly to her rejection at gunpoint, and will have her revenge – both on Mary and Judy.

What’s particularly interesting here is, this is a horror film almost entirely without male characters. There isn’t a single speaking, on-screen male role: there is a emergency dispatcher whom Mary calls on her cellphone (before Ursula’s blocker kicks in), and one of the villains could be male, since they wear a mask and never speak. But otherwise, not just protagonist and antagonist but all the supporting roles – hell, even the dog! – are female. That’s not common in any genre; it’s likely entirely unique in the “home invasion” sub-division of horror. De Santi sets the table well, quickly establishing both the ruthless brutality of Ursula as well as her mercurial nature: Giorgi does very well at putting over the idea that her character could explode into savage violence at any second.

Significantly less effective is the middle section, which largely consists of Mary pottering around her flat. There are attempts at building menace, such as a creepy-looking robe in the bathroom, or incoming phone-calls consisting of almost dead-air. However, there’s no real sense of escalation or progression to these, and they appear little more than trivial gimmicks. Things ramp up appreciably when Judy goes missing from the locked apartment. Mary goes to look for her canine on the beach, but the answer to the mystery may be closer to home than she initially thinks, and when she discovers that… Hoo-boy. There’s also the question of what, exactly, Ursula keeps in that manacled, spike-encrusted box (and, perhaps, also the one of how the hell she got it up all those stairs).

To call the ending abrupt, on the other hand, would be the understatement of the year. Admittedly, it doesn’t seem like there’s anywhere else the story could go, at the point when the credits roll; yet there’s usually at least a momentary coda at the end of most movies. Here? Not so much. All told, it would likely have worked better as a short film, in the 15-20 minute range, which gives you an idea of how much padding is present. Still, given the low budget, it is certainly better than some I’ve endured, and is helped by a creepy central premise, especially if you suffer from coulrophobia. Look it up…

Dir: Emanuele De Santi
Star: Orietta Babusci, Marlagrazia Giorgi