Tag: netflix

Rebel Moon – Part Two: The Scargiver

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★★
“The law of diminishing returns.”

And that rating is from someone who, unlike most critics, really didn’t mind the first part. I’m a fan of big, bombastic science-fiction, best exemplified by The Chronicles of Riddick. [Why nobody has ever thrown $150 million at Michael Bay for that kind of thing, I don’t know. And, no, the Transformers franchise does not count. And neither does Armageddon] I want to see square-jawed heroes or heroines, going toe-to-toe with irredeemably unpleasant villains, as burning spaceships fall from the sky behind them, onto the surface of an exotic planet. While Part One of this was heavy on the world-building and character development, at least we got all that out of the way, and could look forward to a second half of non-stop action.

Couldn’t we?

Um. Well. About that… All I can say is, combine the two, give them to a enthusiastic editor, who can merge them into a single, coherent movie of round about two hours, and you could well be onto something. Now, I like Snyder: or, rather, I used to. 300 is great, and I will honestly defend Sucker Punch as a genuinely good movie, especially in the director’s cut. But since then? Nothing has come up to the early work. You eventually reach this, the poster child for what happens when you give someone $166 million, and let them do whatever they want creatively, without apparent significant oversight. A visually impressive, but bloated and self-indulgent mess, lacking any significant heart. 

Things follow quickly on from its predecessor, Kota (Boutella) returning to Veldt with the warriors accumulated in Part One, who will protect her settlement from the evil Admiral Noble (Skrein) and his forces. For Noble is not as dead as Kota hoped at the end of the first half, which is a nasty surprise to her. Inevitably, we get the “training the locals for battle” sequence, but we also get an extended “bringing in the harvest” sequence, and a very extended “why don’t we all sit around and reveal secrets about our dark past and what the hell is Snyder doing, can’t he hurry up and get to the fighting” sequence. My attention and interest dwindled steadily throughout the first hour and more.

Eventually – and I stress that, eventually – we get to the cool stuff, and it’s not bad. Snyder does undeniably retain an eye for spectacle, and this does deliver eye-candy for those fond of giant fireballs (hey, sue me). However, it’s all empty: sound and fury, signifying nothing, and you’re left to try and work around wonky plotting which has a few farmers taking down the galactic rulers after a couple of lessons, going little further than “Stick ’em with the pointy end.” It helps, I suppose that Noble’s craft have a tendency to explode so easily, I suspect a recall from the manufacturer’s is in order. I imagine this may end up taking Snyder’s plans for a Rebel Moon Universe with it.

Dir: Zack Snyder
Star: Sofia Boutella, Ed Skrein, Charlie Hunnam, Michiel Huisman

Furies: Season one

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★★★½
“Hell hath no Furies…”

Not to be mixed up with Furie, The Furies or even Furies – the last of which also showed up on Netflix recently. Confusion seems almost inevitable (and I’m not helping, by largely recycling the tagline for Furie). However, those three are all films – two Vietnamese, one Australian – while this is an eight episode TV series from France. It begins with Lyna Guerrab (El Arabi) living a fairly idyllic, and certainly well-heeled life, with no bigger issue than whether or not to marry her cop boyfriend Elie (Nadeau). Things get upended in no uncertain fashion, when her accountant father is assassinated. Turns out, he kept the books for certain criminal organizations, and someone wanted him very dead.

Lyna vows to find whoever was responsible for her father’s demise, and make them responsible. That opens up a whole can of worms, as she has to venture into the domain of the Parisian criminal underworld, which is far more expansive and influential than expected. To a degree, it feels like the system shown in the John Wick franchise, with six crime families, working in different areas, e.g. prostitution, robbery, etc. who govern things and make sure nobody does anything that would upset their highly lucrative apple-cart. As their collective enforcer is a woman, Selma (Fois), known as the Fury, a hereditary position, passed down the matriarchal line, and she has the skills to keep everyone else in line.

Or does she? Because as Lyna enters the game, it becomes apparent that someone is out to disturb the balance of the system. Coming under the Fury’s patronage, as a possible successor, may not be enough to save her from the war which is becoming increasingly inevitable. As well as John Wick, there are quite a few elements here which feel inspired by Luc Besson in one way or another: the world-weary assassin who takes on a feisty young apprentice, for example, could be straight out of Leon. The fight scenes are well-crafted, slick and hard-hitting: I vaguely recall action director Jude Poyer as part of the Eastern Heroes crew in London, back in the nineties, so nice to see him kicking professional ass.

It does sometimes feel too over-stuffed, trying to juggle too many threads and characters. The script solution to any problem seems to be, throw in another subplot. The makers also deserve a demerit for ending on a horrendous cliffhanger. The streaming service have made no announcement regarding a second series: the show seems to have done reasonably well, but Netflix gonna Netflix. If that doesn’t happen, you should whack off a full star, since the way it ends is definitely not satisfying. But there does remain a good deal here to admire. I particularly liked the performance of Foïs, who brings a lot of nuance to a character that initially seems one-dimensional. The extended duration allows her to develop, though all told, it might have been better as a two-hour self-contained Besson flick.

Creators: Cedric Nicolas-Troyan, Jean-Yves Arnaud, Yoann Legave
Star: Lina El Arabi, Marina Foïs, Mathieu Kassovitz, Jeremy Nadeau

Blue Eye Samurai

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Jim: ★★★
Dieter: ★★★★
“You can’t die. You don’t know how.”

Plot. Mizu (Erskine) has a grudge. She’s a mixed-race young woman living in 17th-century Japan, a position which leaves her at the bottom of society. But she has dragged herself up to become an onna-musha, a warrior with ferocious sword skills, courtesy of Master Eiji (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa), the blind swordsmith who raised her. Now, she’s on the hunt to take revenge on the man she believes is her father, Abijah Fowler (Branagh). He’s an Irish smuggler, who is upsetting the delicate balance of Japanese society, closed to foreigners, by importing firearms. He’s involved in planning a coup to overthrow the current shogun.

[Editor’s note: the original plan was for Dieter and I to review it independently, then combine the two pieces. But Dieter went into rather more detail! So most of what follows is his opinion, with my thoughts sprinkled as garnish, in italics]

I have to admit my opinion on this show has changed a couple of times while watching it. First, there was the enthusiasm of a Japan-based-action series with a female main character. After that I thought about the “wokeness” of the show (after all, it’s Netflix), something that hardly can be overlooked. And finally, I recognized the strong effort that went into the storytelling, the visual beauty, and small details of the show and realized that while definitely a “woke” story, these elements are neither too strong nor too dominant to destroy the genuine pleasure I had when watching it.

I liked this, but it’s probably fair to say I didn’t love it. I tend to have a blind-spot with regard to animated action. Personally, I find it’s a medium that dilutes the intensity of fight scenes, because it applies a distancing effect to it. I’m always aware that I’m watching drawings or pixels beating the heck out of each other, which is intrinsically going to be less impressive than people “really” doing so. If this had been live-action, and equally gory, it could have been awesome. There’s also a weird visual choice here in that Mizu’s nose is typically shadowed. This has the unfortunate effect of making her look to me either as if she has a bad head cold, or if she is a habitual alcoholic.

But first things first: despite its title and the location (Japan in 1657 in the Edo era) Blue Eye Samurai is – an American product, so certain allowances have to be made. While I do love a story of female persistence, this 8-part show pushes the limits of believability. We have to accept that, at a time when foreigners are forbidden to be in Japan, not only there is such a person living there, but also this man fathered a daughter. This means she is half-Caucasian, half-Japanese and therefore considered a “demon”, harassed by pure-blood Japanese who have never seen such a stranger in their country. She will then become a trained “samurai” – quotes used advisedly, as we’ll see – with the appropriate sword skills.

It’s a stretch, though still in the reign of possibility, since there have been, real swordswomen in Japan. That woman then going on a rampage, hell-bent on revenge for… well… her own creation? This does not make much sense to me. After all, should we not all be happy we exist? But then, my own life, like most, has been peaceful and harmonious. In contrast, the main character, Mizu, has led a life of misery, constantly been harassed, pursued with hatred, endangered and betrayed. It’s not difficult to imagine, if you grew up that way, you would sooner or later start to hate the man responsible for your very existence. Though strangely, she doesn’t seem to hold a similar grudge against the mother who gave birth to her,

Mizu’s path leads her to Ringo, the son of a innkeeper, who has no hands (remember, this is Netflix!). After being saved by her, he becomes her servant. There’s also Taigen, a samurai-in-training, who once lived in the same town as Mizu and almost succeeded in killing her as a child. After she beat him in battle, he feels his honour is insulted and follows Mizu to challenge her to a rematch. But his revenge has to wait. A further complication arises in Japanese noblewoman Akemi, who is in love with Taigen and would like to marry him. Though her father has other marriage plans and Taigen is not ready to marry her until he has regained his honor. None of them know (yet) that Mizu is a woman. And as Mizu mercilessly pursues her path of revenge, Ringo and Taigen become her allies, with some indication of a mutual attraction between Mizu and Taigen.

Blue Eye Samurai is a French-American animated show by Blue Spirit for Netflix, created by Michael Green (the screenwriter for Logan and Blade Runner 2049) and Amber Noizumi. They were inspired by their daughter, who was born 15 years ago with blue eyes. Noizumi spoke about how she, herself biracial, wondered what it would have been like to lived as a biracial person in 17th-century Japan, when Japan’s borders were closed to the outside world and strangers from abroad would have no chance to be accepted in society. Another, unconfirmed inspiration might be British navigator William Adams who travelled to Japan in 1600, and was called “the blue-eyed samurai”. He also inspired the ever-popular series Shogun, which Netflix just remade. What a coincidence.

Other influences, according to Noizumi, were movies such as Kill Bill, Lady Snowblood, and… Yentl, Barbara Streisand’s musical about a Jewish woman who wants to study and has to take on a male identity. It has been confirmed by Noizumi that Mizu was inspired by Clint Eastwood’s break-out Man with No Name role in the famous Dollars trilogy by Sergio Leone, This fits, because the show often reminded me less of a typical Japanese jidaigeki (historical drama) or chanbara (sword-fighting movie with a historical background), but more a Western in disguise. If the mix between East and West was intended, whether this makes it “the best of two worlds” or a travesty is up to you. But it’s not really the first of its kind, considering Tom Cruise’s The Last Samurai.

I personally don’t like it when words like “emancipation” or “discrimination” are thrown around in relation to a show mainly meant to entertain. But in this case, they are justified given the very basis of the show, in medieval Japan. This setting is different to current Western countries, being one with a mostly homogeneous population, traditional conservative values and what feminists nowadays like to call “patriarchal”, as a background for a story of female emancipation and racist discrimination. You may question what “woke propaganda” Netflix is tossing at an innocent viewer this time. But it’s a relief that any messaging comes, not in heavy-handed preaching, as is typical for many Netflix shows, but mostly carefully integrated into the show, rather than feeling like they were bolted on.

The show certainly ticks all the diversity check-boxes with its characters. We have a biracial female who taught herself everything, a repressed (though in the context of the era “spoiled” might be more accurate?) lord’s daughter, a helpful assistant born with no hands, a blind sword-maker, while an old white man is the perverse, cruel villain, and women have no say in society, serving as servants or prostitutes. Did I forget anything? Despite it all, this feels acceptable given the time and place in which the story occurs.

As noted, in choosing this kind of story, time and place, the creators often stretch the limits of believability. In particular, with Akemi, the daughter of a powerful lord who wants to marry her to the son of the shogun. She is in love with Taigen, so absolutely resists that idea. Akemi comes across the entire series as enormously stubborn, resisting advice and always wanting to get her way. I have to shake my head in disbelief, knowing that the idea of “marriage for love” was in those times rare both in Japan and Europe (Historians say the idea of what we call today “romantic love” was born around 1850). People married due to sharing social class, to keep property within a circle of families, or because their business-partnered parents decided so, sometimes even before they were born.

Even more unbelievable for the time, is the idea a Japanese woman would have been allowed to voice her wishes or opinion in the blunt manner depicted here. Quite honestly, I think if any woman would have behaved so disrespectfully to an older man, giving strong, vocal objections or even slapping the shogun’s son, she would have immediately been beheaded or drowned in the nearest pond. The wish of the creators to have another strong female character in the show backfires here. Akemi is what you would expect a modern, Western young woman to be, not a Japanese woman from the Edo era. This is fan-fiction at best, bad research at worst.

Probably my least favourite aspect was this significant side-plot involving noble samurai Taigen (Barnet), and his true love, the Princess Akemi (Branda Song), who is about to be married off against her will. Neither of those characters seemed significant, and it felt like this sometimes became an excuse for male-bashing. Brothel madam Kaji (Ming-Na Wen) was the worst for that: look, nobody is keeping you a prostitute. Get out of the profession or quit complaining about your customers. Oh, and if men are bad, white men as embodied by Fowler are the absolute worst.

A word of warning to the uninitiated. The show does not hold back in the depiction of violence. The slicing-off of extremities sometimes made me wonder if the victims’ bodies were made out of styrofoam, and I also found a bit excessive, the arterial blood spray. How many litres does the human body contain? The same goes for sexuality, though less often. I personally have seen more extreme things, but this is Western animation, and the audience may not be quite prepared for the graphic content. But I guess anyone going to watch the show would probably know beforehand it is not a show for children. You wouldn’t expect kid-friendly content from an Akira Kurosawa samurai movie, wouldn’t you?

This was not a problem for me. Indeed, I would have been disappointed had it been any other way! The “garden hose” approach to blood has long been a mainstay of Japanese cinema, certainly back as far as the early seventies and the Lone Wolf & Cub films – a staple of Western VHS stores under the title of Shogun Assassin. Realism isn’t a factor, and this is an area where animation can really push the pedal to the metal, being unconstrained by the limits of latex and Karo syrup.

Ah, yes… samurai, that’s a key word: after all, it’s in the title and is mentioned several times. I should stress here, Mizu definitely is no samurai by the traditional definition. He would usually act in service of a daimo, a feudal landlord serving the shogun. This usually comes with certain obligations and behaviour that would be seen as a code of honor. Mizu quite definitely doesn’t fit the description. However, many of Kurosawa’s “samurai” don’t either, including The Seven Samurai or the character Toshiro Mifune plays in Yojimbo and Sanjuro (which, cycling back, served as inspiration for Eastwood’s Man with No Name). But the writers of the show were really smart, and address it within the story. When Ringo complains she doesn’t act like a samurai would, she turns and angrily shouts: “I never said I am one.” It’s a sign of well thought-out screenwriting, and I like it very much. Kudos to the storytellers: now, will they make the show eventually deliver what the title promises?

I was less impressed with the music. More than once the people responsible seemed to think, “As long as it’s cool, everything is fine” – an attitude I personally don’t agree with at all. For example, in a training montage of Mizu, the famous “Battle Without Honor Or Humanity” by Tomoyasu Hotei plays. Sure, a cool tune from a Japanese composer. But it’s modern music and – though first used somewhere else – so closely associated with Kill Bill, it really felt like a misstep. Other popular pieces, e.g. by the Black Cats or Metallica, have even less justification. You tell a story in 17th century Japan, please apply music that fits the time period. And partly the show feels like a check-list of everything you ever heard or saw in the West about classic Japanese culture, from bunraku (classical puppet theatre) through geishas, samurai, Zen-like philosophy, sword-making, kimonos, calligraphy and so on and on. You name it, they have it.

With regard to the cultural depictions, I wasn’t happy with the fact these obviously Japanese characters were speaking in English, to the point I even checked for a Japanese dub option (no luck). It felt like the creators sent out a casting call for any Hollywood voice talent with somewhat Asian origins, e.g. Song, born in California to Thai parents, and having Kenneth Branagh putting on a dodgy Irish accent doesn’t help. Were all genuinely Celtic actors unavailable? 

Episode 6 really knocked my socks off. It played virtually like a computer game: think Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft going through different levels of the game, plus elements from Resident Evil for good measure. I’m not saying it was bad. so much as unexpected. It’s also a point when it became harder to suspend my disbelief concerning Mizu’s abilities. I mean, how many people can you still fight, after one of your feet gets perforated? Or fighting a dozen-plus armed men without a weapon? Or carrying a man on her back, hanging from her sword on a stone wall, then climbing with said sword in her mouth (!) to safety on higher ground? Are we really sure she is not the child of a supernatural monster? I’m willing to believe this woman is exceptional, but this was a bit much. Mizu gets dangerously close to the superheroes of popular comic-book movies who can do anything, and usually do.

Part 6 was my favourite of the entire show, because it removed all the extraneous elements (hello, Taigen, Ringo and Akemi!), leaving it a blow-dart episode – all it had was point, simply Mizu fighting her way inexorably towards her goal. Which was what I came here to see, frankly.

What saves the character’s depiction again and again, is the makers never make it easy for her. She bleeds a lot over the course of the story. Mizu is shown making mistakes, and is not a hero since, as much as you sympathize with her goal, it is in the end selfish. I attribute the fact she survives this season to her remarkable physical skills, absolute die-hard dedication to her self-set cause, the help of her (very often smarter) allies and an enormous portion of luck. Which… works for me, though I’d have wished for a bit more realism in a show that explicitly is not fantasy. What is impressive is the visual style. A lot of work went into the landscapes, the backgrounds, and probably researching how ancient Japanese houses, buildings and temples looked. There are a lot of little details that you may overlook when watching the show for the first time. Also, as expected, the voice performances by actors such as Erskine, Takei, Branagh, Tagawa and many others are excellent.

I agree, the animation was great, especially in the action scenes, which were probably as good as anything I’ve seen this side of a Miyazaki movie. Fluid, and assembled in a way that certainly seemed cinematic. It was often easy to forget you were watching animation, and that’s close to the highest praise I can give the medium. Plot-wise, the main storyline was also excellent. I loved the fact that Mizu is single-mindedly focused on her revenge. That it might help avoid the Shogun being overthrown is utterly irrelevant to her.

It must be said that Mizu herself is a character ‘work in progress’. As mentioned, less a hero, than driven by years of abuse, mistreatment, non-acceptance, anxiety and sheer hatred. I guess any little boy with red hair and glasses who was harassed in class can understand her. The feeling of not being part of society or a group, of being rejected due to just being how you are, is something many people will identify with. Though again: does it justify a violent rampage on a merciless one-woman war against the person that fathered you? Hardly. The feeling is softened by the fact Abijah Fowler, who may be her biological father, is a real piece of abhorrent trash. He is a disgusting, almost inhuman, pervert, who deserves his just deserts.

Interestingly, the final fight between Mizu and Fowler is the catalyst for the fire of 1657 which devastated Edo (today’s Tokyo). Perhaps the message here is, if you follow only your own egotistic trail – Mizu’s wish for revenge and Fowler’s to take over Japan – you risk turning into a destructive force that causes more harm than good. I hope Mizu might realize her thirst for revenge is not the best motive, but rather acting to prevent the mayhem Fowler and his people would bring to the world if allowed to run it. This would make Mizu a real heroine and earn her my respect. Perhaps indicators for such a development can be spotted when Mizu decides to save her “frenemy” Taigen from death. If the show is willing to follow this developing character trait, it could evolve into something very beautiful and extra-ordinary. We will see.

It ends on something of a cliff-hanger, without much resolved. Yet where it’s going has me genuinely interested, and it’s quite possible the (already announced) second season may end up addressing most of the issues. In particular, some of the more annoying characters look likely to be left behind!

In a time where female protagonists get everything they need or want on a platter, without having to do the hard work, make difficult decisions or sacrifices, a character like Mizu feels different. She has character flaws, feels pain and has to become a better person, not just to achieve her own goals, but better the world around her. That is what popular fiction needs right now, and Hollywood screenwriters should take notice. That’s how you should write a character: flawed, not perfect. If your character can already do everything and is perfect you end up with boring, bland characters like Rey or Captain Marvel. So, while still a bit too superwoman and “Xena-ish” for me, Mizu is a big step in the right direction. Despite some complaints, the show as a whole exceeds the large majority of current female-centered TV and films. I hope it might inspire other producers to learn from its example. This is how you do female empowerment right, without hitting both sexes of your audience on the head with messages or propaganda.

Creators: Amber Noizumi and Michael Green
Star (voice): Maya Erskine, Masi Oka, Kenneth Branagh, Darren Barnet

Damsel

  By

★★★
“Dis dress in distress.”

Brown is definitely among Netflix’s golden girls. After breaking out with an ensemble role in Stranger Things, she has taken an action turn, starring in Enola Holmes plus its sequel, and now is in this unconventional fable. If I was feeling snarky, I’d say I liked this better the first time I saw it, when it was called The Princess. That’s a little harsh, though I did feel it was superior. For example, this feels like it takes longer to get going, with Princess Elodie (Brown), daughter of a poor kingdom, married off by her father, Lord Bayford (Winstone), to Prince Henry, the scion of the rich land of Aurea, in a fairy-tale wedding. 

If you’ve seen the trailer you’ll know this isn’t as nice as it seems. Turns out Elodie is (eventually) intended as the latest in a long line of human sacrifices, for the dragon living in a nearby mountain, to keep it from torching Aurea. But she has no interest in going down in flames, and will do whatever it takes to survive and escape. This mostly involves ripping off bits from her wedding dress, to the point I wondered if it’d end with a nude Elodie, storming the Aurea castle, with a dagger in her teeth [Pauses to check we’re on legal turf with that mental image… Yep, please proceed] But she also discovers things are more complex than they seem, with the dragon having her own motivation. 

Bits of this work very well. The fire effects are often spectacular, and whoever cast Aghdashloo as the dragon deserves a raise. Her voice, which sounds like she has gargled battery acid for a decade, is just perfect. Fresnadillo has a decent visual style as well, although the CGI world is sometimes a little too obvious. However, the narrative doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. We have to believe the whole human sacrifice thing, or even the dragon, are a secret unknown to anyone outside the kingdom. Then there’s the way – spoiler alert – Elodie and the dragon end up on the same side, even after it kills her father. And a key plot point sees the dragon hurt by its own fire. Y’know, the stuff it has been repeatedly gargling?

The message here is fairly misanthropic too, none of the male characters being worth a shredded wedding dress. [Its release on International Women’s Day was particularly cringe] Should be no surprise that it ends in her basically going full Daenerys Targaryen, though much as in Enola, Brown’s character feels rather anachronistic. I’d like to have more of the supporting cast, in particular Queen Isabelle of Aurea (Robin Wright, evoking memories of her role in The Princess Bride), and Elodie’s stepmother, Lady Bayford (Angela Bassett). The former in particular is fun to watch. I’d rather have seen her play the heroine: “Hello, my name is Princess Buttercup. You tried to feed me to a dragon. Prepare to die.” Oh, well: guess this will have to do.

Dir: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo
Star: Millie Bobby Brown, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Ray Winstone, Brooke Carter

Fool Me Once

  By

★★★½
“An elegant exercise in plate-spinning.”

Maya Stern (Keegan) is having a rough patch. A former helicopter pilot in the military, she was sent home and discharged under murky circumstances. While she was away, her sister was killed in what looks like a botched burglary, and not long after her return, husband Joe is also shot and killed in front of Maya, when they are walking in the park. But is everything what it seems? Because when checking the nanny-cam monitoring her young daughter, Maya sees a shocking site: her supposedly dead husband visiting the house. This kicks Maya into an unrelenting search for the truth, which will send her down a rabbit-hole and uncover a lot of sordid secrets, dating back decades.

I have to admire the script here, which takes an entire loom-ful of plot threads, and manages adeptly to keep them functioning, instead of collapsing into a Gordian knot. As well as all of Maya’s difficulties, there’s [deep breath]: the ongoing health issues of investigating officer, DC Marty McGreggor (Fetscher), who might or might not be corrupt; her nephew and niece discovering they have a half-brother; the supposed suicide of Joe’s brother decades previously; mysterious phone-calls from a video arcade; a dead body in a freezer; and the business shenanigans of Joe’s family, who run a pharmaceutical company under the watchful gaze of matriarch Judith Burkett (Lumley). I was genuinely impressed it all tied together by the end of the eighth episode.

Admittedly, the twists might prove to be excessive for some tastes, and I did spot the big one at the end before it arrived (it’s something I’ve seen in various forms a number of times elsewhere). But I enjoy the almost melodramatic approach, even if the relocation of the story from the United States to Britain required some twistiness around the topic of firearms. Keegan delivers a committed performance as Maya, who is far from perfect, yet relentless in pursuit of “justice” – and quotes used very advisedly there. I also loved seeing Lumley, who was my first celeb crush – longer ago than I like to think, back in her New Avengers days. Now 77 and still awesome, someone needs to make her a Dame, alongside Judi and Helen.

I was uncertain about whether or not this qualified here, but I think the final episode delivered the necessary amount of bad-assery from Maya. It does suffer from an unnecessary coda, set eighteen years (!) after the plot basically finished, and therefore presumably at some point in the future. Still no flying cars, unfortunately. I’ve not read the book on which this is based, but this is certainly much more engaging than the turgid Hulu mystery, Murder at the End of the World. I’d definitely not be averse to watching other adaptations of Harlan Coben work. Turns out this is the eighth made by Netflix, though the others are presumably Maya free, because… well, let’s just say “reasons”, and leave it at that!

Creator: Danny Brocklehurst
Star:  Michelle Keegan, Dino Fetscher, Joanna Lumley. Dänya Griver

Griselda

  By

★★★★
“Calor blanco”

This is far from the first time we’ve covered films, series or documentaries about Griselda Blanco, the drug boss who ruled Miami with a lead fist in the eighties. There was Colombia narconovela La Viuda Negra. Lifetime TVM Cocaine Godmother, starring the not exactly Colombian, Catherine Zeta-Jones. And there was factual retelling, Queen of Cocaine. Now, we get the highest-profile version, made by Netflix and starring probably Colombia’s best-known actress. Albeit best-known for her role in long-running sitcom, Modern Family. We saw her here previously in the underwhelming Hot Pursuit, but this is a very different kettle of fish. Concern was understandable. Would she be up to the dramatic lifting required for such a heavy and complex role?

Yes. That’s the short answer. She does a fine job of depicting a character whose defining trait, in this rendition, is single-minded determination. It’s an aspect apparent from the start, where she flees her abusive husband in Medellin. Griselda arrives in Miami with her three kids, and little more than the clothes on her back. Oh, and the kilo of top-shelf cocaine, swiped from her spouse. Through sheer refusal to take no for an answer, she finds a buyer and convinces him to give her a shot [she meets him in Miami’s Mutiny club – Chris was actually a member there back in the day!]. When he stiffs her, she reels in a Colombian supplier, convinces him to front her 100 kilos, then creates her own market and network of dealers.

It’s kinda inspiring, weirdly. Early on, the series can be seen a twisted version of the American dream, where an immigrant can come to America, pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and anyone can achieve success if they work hard. The reality is, Blanco didn’t arrive in Miami seeking asylum from domestic abuse, but fleeing increased law-enforcement heat for drug trafficking in New York. Not exactly what Vergara described the show as, depicting “How beyond all odds, a poor uneducated woman from Colombia managed to create a massive, multi-billion dollar empire in a male-dominated industry, in a country that was not her own.” You go, #girlboss! #slay!

Often literally. For her chosen profession here is thoroughly illegal, and the hard work involves ordering brutal violence against your rivals and enemies. This might be a cause for concern. But who are we to quibble? The makers have said they didn’t want to make a hero(ine) out of her. Neither did Brian de Palma, and yet, you can buy Scarface T-shirts. The market decides for you, and the way it depicts the violence for which Blanco is responsible seems more like an attempt at plausible deniability. It’s the usual double standard of Hollywood: making disapproving noises, while also depicting Griselda strutting glamourously out of the Mutiny, blood spattered on her cheek from a recent victim. 

Griselda has a strict zero-tolerance for anyone who thinks she is a soft mark because she’s a woman. Especially in the early part of her career, was quite willing to wield a baseball bat or gun to that end. Later on… well, she had people for that sort of thing. But as we head into the second half, things get progressively darker. Griselda starts to become paranoid, suspecting the people around her – an attitude not helped by her taste for smoking crack. She believes there’s an informant in her circle, and takes brutal action against those who she thinksit might be. Things peak at a birthday party for Dario (Guerra), her third husband. It ends in Griselda letting loose with her gold-plated MAC-10 (top).

The irony is, there’s no informant: just good police work. For on the other side of the law, the series gives us June Hawkins (Martinez, bottom), intelligence analyst and detective in the local police force. She was also a real person, one who played a significant role in the pursuit and capture of Griselda, being one of the first to realize a woman had taken over the drug trade in Miami. I suspect her role was likely inflated somewhat, in order to act as a counterpoint to her target: co-creator Doug Miro admitted about the character, “There’s a fair amount of artistic license.” That applies to the whole series, though I’m not inclined to complain.

It is a fairly straightforward rise-and-fall, charting first Griselda’s path up to the top, when she was earning $80 million per month. This is followed by the slow but likely inevitable collapse, as her business rivals and law enforcement catch up with her. We know how the story eventually ends – in a pool of blood outside a Medellin butcher’s shop. The series doesn’t bother going all the way to the end. It finishes with Blanco released from jail, sitting on the beach. But it’s not a happy ending, having just been told that she has lost almost everything for which she worked: three of her four sons have been murdered. Conventional morality wins out in the end.

In terms of production value, this is definitely several slices above the other efforts, even if Los Angeles stood in entirely for Miami (the latter no longer resembling what it was at the time). Of particular note is the make-up work on Vergara. It must have been a challenge, because events unfold over a significant number of years: your lead is, obviously, more or less fixed at a point in time. Initially, there’s little of note, but it gradually builds up, in a way that’s so subtle you might not notice. Until, by the end, you suddenly realize the character no longer looks like the actress. Though still rather prettier than the real Griselda.

I highly doubt this will end up being the final or even the definitive version of the Griselda Blanco story. The last surviving son, Michael Corleone, filed suit against Netflix, and reports indicate he has his own version of the family story he would like to tell. For now, however, this is the best adaptation of her life. If obviously skewed towards a questionable message of feminist “empowerment” which the makers wanted to send, Vargas’s strong performance holds the strands together and makes for a captivating experience. 

Dir: Andrés Baiz
Star: Sofía Vergara, Alberto Guerra, Martin Rodriguez, Juliana Aidén Martinez

Mother’s Day (2023)

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★★★½
“Everybody has issues.”

I’d be the first to admit, those issues likely extend beyond the characters in the movie, and probably extend to the script writers, because there are certainly… well, let’s just say, some novel concepts here. The heroine is Nina Nowak (Grochowska), a former Special Ops soldier, who had to fake her own death and give her son Maks up to adoption, for both their security. She’s been keeping an eye on Maks (Delikta) from afar, but after he’s abducted at the request of a gangster Nina took down, she needs to become considerably more hands-on. Rescuing Maks, however, will bring her into contact with a number of rather odd  people, on both sides of the law.

In particular, there’s Igor (Delikta), her contact inside the establishment, who is divorced, and has a fragile relationship with his daughter that he desperately wants to repair. On the other side is the very strange Woltomierz (Wróblewski), a gangster who keeps the severed head of his father in a jar on his mantelpiece, and is known as “Volto” for his habit of tazing incompetent henchmen to death. Getting, and keeping, Maks out of his grasp is going to be a challenge for Nina. Although her bad-ass credentials are firmly established after she takes on a group of men outside a convenience store, armed with nothing more lethal than a six-pack of beer. Nina literally knocks one of them out of his shoes.

This is not to be confused with any of the other similarly titled films, not least the 2010 movie starring Rebecca de Mornay. Nor should it be confused with another recently released Netflix movie about a mother with special skills, looking for her abducted child, The Mother, starring Jennifer Lopez. With that said, the look and feel of this is impressive, the fight scenes in particular being well-staged and imaginative – though fair warning, do not expect realism. or anything approaching it. I’m unaware of Grochowska having any particular action background, yet she still delivers on that front.  Most notably, she stabs someone in the head with a pair of carrots: I’ve not seen that since the equally bonkers Clive Owen movie, Shoot ‘Em Up.

The whole film is lit in a sickly green palette, which does a great job of making the city in which it takes place, look like a terrible place to live. Less successful are the attempts at drama. The Nina/Maks relationship is flat and unconvincing, and the rest of the cast largely seem to be weird for weirdness’s sake. They’re not as interesting as the makers think they are. The best way to look at this is perhaps as a female-fronted version of Crank: a deliberately excessive action flick, clearly not intended to be taken seriously. As such, I think it is a better effort than Jolt, another Netflix movie which seemed to be aiming along similar lines. The ending hints at a sequel and, truth be told, I wouldn’t mind one.

Dir: Mateusz Rakowicz
Star: Agnieszka Grochowska, Adrian Delikta, Dariusz Chojnacki, Szymon Wróblewski

Rebel Moon: A Child of Fire – Part One

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★★★
“Don’t call it Star Wars…”

Despite critical derision, this is actually perfectly serviceable pulp SF. Sure, it’s derivative as hell. But the critics getting all huffy about the similarities to Star Wars seem to have forgotten George Lucas only made his film, after failing to acquire the rights to Flash Gordon. This is Snyder’s equivalent to The Fifth Element, in that it’s a long-gestating SF idea, originally conceived well before he became a director. “The Dirty Dozen in space” was the high concept, although there is no denying the SW similarities, especially in the early going. I mean, young orphan on a backwater farming planet gets sucked in to galaxy-hopping adventures, joining a rebellion against an evil empire? Yeah, a little more originality would be welcome. 

It is a bit more “adult”, though the PG-13 certificate holds it back. I still want to see a hard-R take on the concept. Here, it’s limited to stiffer violence and a sprinkling of sexual assault. [An R-rated cut will follow: presumably with more blackjack and hookers.] The heroine is Kota (Boutella), rescued from a crashed spaceship and now living a quiet life on Veldt. That ends when Admiral Atticus Noble (Skrein) and his forces arrive, hunting rebels against the Motherworld. We know they’re the bad guys, because they shop for clothes at some kind of Nazi Outlet Mall. Soon, Kota and fellow farmer Gunnar (Huisman) are on galactic tour, seeking warriors who help defend Veldt, and joining up with the rebels.

If all fairly basic, that’s not a bad thing. I got significant Chronicles of Riddick vibes, though it had a stronger central character. This isn’t necessarily Boutella’s fault, more a result of there being so many to handle here. Editing would have helped: for example, there’s one lengthy animal training scene which feels like it wandered in from Avatar. As you would expect from Snyder, it looks very nice, certainly an improvement in this area over Army of the Dead. There is a similar theme – you could call it’s predecessor “The Dirty Dozen in Vegas, with zombies”. But outside of Kota, not many of the characters here make much impression. Save perhaps the regrettable Oirish accent sported by mercenary pilot Kai (Hunnam).

It does suffer from part-one-itis – the inevitable lack of any conclusion, with nothing of significance being decided. Even the apparent death of a major character ends up being a fake out. But it does rather better than, say, Dune, in terms of narrative division. The action is generally nifty too: Boutella has had her moments before, and gets to build on that experience here, especially in her final battle against Admiral Noble. Doona Bae makes a good impression as cyborg swordmistress Nemesis, not least in a hellacious fight against – and this is a phrase I did not expect 2023 to bring me – an arachnid Jena Malone. Bottom line is, I was entertained for two hours, and have enough interest in seeing part two in April. Good enough for me.

Dir: Zack Snyder
Star: Sofia Boutella, Ed Skrein,  Charlie Hunnam, Michiel Huisman

[This review originally appeared on Film Blitz]

Wingwomen

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★★
“A wing and not much prayer.”

Netflix describes this as “Charlie’s Angels meets Lupin, with a dash of Killing Eve.” Um. About that… While I haven’t seen Lupin, I can confidently state any similarity to the others is tangential at best. For example, the only thing this really has in connection with Charlie’s Angels, is that there’s three of them. But here, it’s more like 2.25, since the third member is largely useless. It’s almost entirely the story of Carole (Laurent) and Alex (Exarchopoulos), two thieves who work for the enigmatic Marraine (Adjani). But Carole has discovered she’s pregnant and wants out of the business. Marraine is not happy, but agrees, providing Carole does that hoariest of film clichés: One Last Job.

This involves stealing a piece of art from a church, and they ordered to bring a getaway driver on board. She is Sam (Bresch), and is entirely pointless. Carole does the actual thieving, and Alex is a crack shot. But Sam? I can only presume she’s there to fulfill some kind of diversity quota. Because she has no talent past driving, and at no point in the movie subsequently is a quick getaway required. The same goes for other elements. There’s a John Wick-like thread where Alex’s bunny is killed. But the film forgets all about it for an hour, before suddenly remembering. Only to dispose of it in a scene, that seems to exist more so Carole and Sam can do a spot of flamenco.

Laurent has been here before, albeit a while ago. Back in 2011, we reviewed Requiem pour une Tueuse, in which she played an assassin who goes on… [all together!] ONE LAST MISSION! So it’s ironic to see her now directing a movie based around the same trope. It is very focused on the Alex/Carole dynamic, and that might be where the Killing Eve comparisons come from. But there’s nothing remotely adversarial about things here. It is nicely handled, the pair possessing the easy dynamic that only results from long familiarity and comfort with each other. However, this arguably sits closer to Thelma & Louise than anything, and certainly is more intense than you’d find on the male side of the genre. 

To be honest, Laurent seems to prefer this aspect to the action. For instance, she cuts from the meat of a fight between Alex and an assassin, to (presumably!) his tarpaulin wrapped corpse being dropped into the ocean. The stuff which is present, is not especially memorable. Even the art heist turns into more of a comedy of errors, as the target has become the location of a movie shoot. While there are some cool ideas – the stunningly well-disguised hideout in the middle of a forest being one – this feels like a relationship drama disguised as an action movie. It’s especially so at the end, when it almost topples over into hysteria. Give me an Alex solo film instead, and I would probably have been more interested and entertained.

Dir: Mélanie Laurent
Star: Mélanie Laurent, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Manon Bresch, Isabelle Adjani
a.k.a. Voleuses

Ballerina (2023)

  By

★★★
“It is very chilly in Korea.”

I should be clear, this is not to be confused with next year’s action movie about a female killer called Ballerina. That one will be part of the John Wick universe. This South Korean film isn’t. Indeed, it’s very much its own creature – perhaps too much so. It feels like a hit-woman film directed by Nicolas Winding Refn: it’s all neon lights and understated emotions, to the point of coldness. For some reason, it feels as if everything past getting out of bed is a chore for the characters here, with almost every action feeling as it it were preceded by an imaginary sigh. The ennui is overpowering, to steal a line from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galazy.

The heroine is Okju (Jeon), a bodyguard whose best friend Min-hee (Park) kills herself after being abused by serial predator and sex trafficker, Choi Pro (Kim). Okju makes it her own, personal mission to take revenge on Choi. It’s a difficult job, due to the protection he’s afforded by being part of a larger criminal enterprise, run by Chief Jo (Kim). Min-hee realizes edged weapons aren’t enough, and needs a firearm – something which proves considerably more difficult to obtain locally, than in your typical action movie. On the other hand, Jo is increasingly tired of Choi’s attitude, as he becomes more trouble than he’s worth. Still, giving up a member to an outsider isn’t something any gang leader does casually.

It does feel like this is very much a case of style over substance. After an opening which sees Okju utterly unfazed when wandering through a convenience store robbery in progress, you will have quite a while to wait for the next slice of action. That takes place after she has convinced Choi to take her to a seedy motel, after she has discovered the horrific truth about his activities. The subsequent set-piece illustrates an odd tendency for the film to shift into comedy, as someone attacks Okju with a chainsaw, only for an unfortunately timed door opening to derail the attack. More successful is the later scene where she buys weapons from a travelling husband and wife, which has a quirky charm that’s endearing. I’d watch Adventures of the Gun-Running Van.

The rest is occasionally successful, and occasionally not. The action is over-sharply edited, though does stay on this side of coherence. However, there just wasn’t sufficient emotional connection for me. Admittedly, this may have partly been deliberate. It felt we were never given much reason to get on board with Okju’s guest for vengeance: her revenge seems more of a job than a passion project. She shows up, does what’s necessary, then clocks out and goes home, to stare blankly off into the distance, illuminated by a pastel glow. I’m hopeful 2024’s Ballerina – the title here refers to the best friend, incidentally, not the protagonist – will be more memorable than than this well-crafted piece of neon fluff.

Dir: Lee Chung-hyun
Star: Jeon Jong-seo, Kim Ji-hoon, Park Yu-rim, Mu-Yeol Kim