Month: April 2020

Hooker With a Hacksaw

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★★
“Great title. Film? Not so much.”

There are times when I feel I need a ★¾ rating. Two stars here would suggest a degree of genuine competence, which this undeniably lacks. But on the other hand, ★½ suggests something which is largely unmemorable, and that isn’t the case either. You won’t forget this. In particular, you won’t forget the scene where the heroine yanks some (suspiciously sausagey) intestines out of a victim, rubs them over her face and then – there’s no other way to describe this – masturbates the intestines. That’s three words I never thought I would write in a row. On that basis (and that basis alone), I’ll err on the side of generous.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. S’funny, you wait ages for a movie about a phone-sex operator turned vigilante, and then two show up in a week. For after Barracuda, we get this  – despite the title, that’s the true day-job of Kirsten (Meltedhair, and I’m gonna go out on a limb here, presuming that’s a pseudonym). The problems do start when she agrees to meet one of her customers, which eventually brings her into contact with Raymond (Crowe) and his gang of ludicrously incompetent snuff-movie producers. After escaping from them, she tools up with the titular bit of hardware and vows to take revenge – especially after they kidnap her BFF, Ali (Herkert). As well as on any other abusers of women across whom she stumbles.

Farmer has been making cheap video flicks for over thirty years now, but on the evidence of this, he doesn’t seem to have learned much. Vast swathes of it are empty and meaningless padding, e.g. Kirsten goes to a “drive-in”. This sequence apparently exists purely so Farmer can insert footage of scream queen Linnea Quigley, going by her age, taken from a long-ago Donald Farmer movie. And it’s pretty clear Kirsten was just parked by the side of the road, not in an actual drive-in. So why bother, even if it does provide the only actual nudity here. For despite her supposed occupation, Ms. Meltedhair is clearly a serious actress, unwilling to pop her top for a cheap exploitation flick like this. I’ll leave the application of the appropriate amount of sarcasm to you.

Though, actually, she’s probably the best thing about this, not that it’s saying particular much. Kirsten has a likeable personality, once you get past a prickly exterior. And, in contrast to the heroine in Barracuda, she is justified in her vengeful actions, even if Raymond is never more than a caricature. When present, the gore is copious, yet also so amateurish to be much more amusing than horrific, and to the film’s credit, I think that this aspect is intentional. However, there’s far too much dead weight in the scenes between, for this to come close to passing muster. Any potential in the idea is all but entirely squandered, and even at a terse 70 minutes, this outstays its welcome. Hobo With a Shotgun, it most definitely is not.

Dir: Donald Farmer + Caroline Kopko
Star: Kasper Meltedhair, Jason Crowe, Colleen Herkert, Steve Guynn

Immortal Wars

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★½
“Batteries not included.”

For whatever reason – presumably misguided stylistic reasons – the great bulk of the film is buried in darkness. Seriously, three-quarters of the film feels like it’s illuminated solely by natural lighting. And given it mostly takes place underground, in rooms with no windows, this is a major problem. The movie reaches its literally darkest moment during an early scene where the camera pans over an underlit set to an even more underlit door where someone has entered to deliver a message. You cannot see who it is. You just hear a disembodied voice, before the camera pans back. It’s a horrible mis-step, whether due to poor shooting, a poor transfer, or a bit of both. It largely dooms the movie, to the point where even an energetic final third is unable to rescue proceedings. For how can you begin to enjoy something you can’t see?

The story takes place in a future world, now divided into ten sectors. A small fraction of the population, known as “deviants”, have developed superpowers, becoming the subject of fear and hatred by regular humans. For popular amusement, there’s an annual competition in which each of the ten sectors capture and nominate their top fighting deviant. They are then taken to a central location and made to battle each other to the death, in a globally-televised contest run by Dominion Harvey (Roberts), which is watched by just about everyone else. So, basically: The Hunger Games crossed with X-Men. On a very, very much smaller budget.

The main heroine is Trikalypse (Gerhardy), one of the ten combatants taking part in this year’s model. Though for the first hour, it’s more chatty, as she bonds with another of the fighters – inevitably, of course, one she ends up fighting later on. But it is refreshingly female-oriented, with both of the finalists being women, as well as the super-boss that the winner then has to take on. However, the film then ends – literally going to the end-credits – just as that fight starts. Fortunately, I didn’t watch this until after the sequel was also available, otherwise I would have been very annoyed. It’s the sort of cliff-hanger you expect from a free e-book on Amazon, not an actual feature film.

Despite the lack of originality, it’s a decent concept and I’d have forgiven this, if the fights had actually been better than mediocre. Instead, as well as the lighting problem, they’re not very well-choreographed, though do have occasional moments which are somewhat effective. I was most impressed with Cruz as bad bitch Dekay, who had the presence, the look and the apparent skills, to keep me at least somewhat interested. But this was small consolation for something which, far too often, crossed the boundary into being genuinely unwatchable. It even managed to waste the talents of Bill Oberst, who shows up for exactly one scene – though at least that’s in daylight – while Tom Sizemore also manages to cameo his way through the darkness. I’m not exactly eagerly looking forward to the sequel, but it’s there…

Dir: Joe Lujan
Star: Jackie Gerhardy, Lindsey Cruz, Eric Roberts, Taylor Kilgore

Danger’s Halo, by Amanda Carlson

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

In the late 22nd-century, Earth is pretty much screwed. The impact of a giant meteor killed a huge number of people, wiped out the everyday infrastructure, and sent the world into perpetual twilight. Thirty years ago, the wealthy upped and left, never to be seen again, abandoning the rest of the survivors to scramble in the ruins of civilization, simply trying to survive. Holly Danger is one of them, a salvager who lives by her wits in the labyrinth of a coastal city’s destruction. Which means dodging the seekers, addicts of the hyper-destructive drug, Plush, as well as the outskirts, those who come in to the city and raid it for supplies.

An encounter with a young kid, Daze, leads Holly into further trouble. He is in possession of a quantum drive belonging to Tandor, an outskirt who has kicked off a plan to take over the entire city. Holly and her allies represent one of the biggest impediments to Tandor’s plan, considering the authorities here are largely notable by their absence. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure they can’t interfere, and having his drive puts her in greater danger. If only she had the necessary gadget, called a ‘pico’, to read the drive…

It’s a really fascinating world, one which comes to life off the page and fully occupies your imagination. Even though the apocalypse has been over for generations by this point, it still determines every aspect of existence. People hang on by their fingernails, living on crappy, mass-produced food blocks and trying to make the best of things, however they can, with whatever they find. Paranoia is a very necessary order of the day: homes, possessions and even travel routes are typically highly booby-trapped, to prevent access by the unauthorized, making every day a potentially lethal one.

Holly, too, is a sharply-drawn and likeable lead character: loyal to a fault, once you have gained her trust, though this is something which can be exploited as a weakness by Tandor. It’s refreshingly romance-free – merely surviving occupies all her energy – though I get the feeling future volumes might drift in that direction. I do have to say, the plot at the core is perhaps a little thin, with the quantum drive more of a MacGuffin. If you want to find out what’s on it, folks, you have to buy the sequels! But at $2.99 for an omnibus containing the first three novels, I’m honestly very tempted. A little more evidence of the heroine’s combat talents might have been welcome, too.

These are relatively minor complaints, and this is the kind of book I’d love to see made into a film. It plays somewhat like a post-apocalyptic take on Tomb Raider, not least given Holly’s fondness for crossing the gaps between buildings on cable swings. Admittedly, simply re-creating the post-meteor cityscape, with its toppled and decapitated skyscrapers, would be far from cheap. Guess I maybe will have to pick up that omnibus.

Author: Amanda Carlson
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 6 in the Holly Danger series.

Assassinaut

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★★
“Over-stuffed to the point of bloat”

There are some very interesting ideas here. Unfortunately, probably too many of them. As a result, the end-product feels like a half-baked collection of semi-formed thoughts – none of which are explored to the extent they deserve. It begins with an apocalypse, apparently triggered in order to stave off an alien invasion. Fast-forward a few years, and we join Sarah (Hutchinson), one of four children who are shortly to be teleported to a space station orbiting around another planet, which is the target for future habitation, and where the President of Earth now resides. Except an alien sympathizer stages an assassination attempt, leaving the children dropped onto the planet’s surface, along with the Commanfer (Trigo), who had a role in the apocalypse seen earlier. But he ends up being taken over by a parasite which turns him psychotic and he begins hunting down the children. Who need to locate the President, who also crash-landed nearby, because…

Well, I’m still not sure about that. Or about a number of other things here. For the film seems to have the attention span of a goldfish, and ends up like an elevator pitch, hurling concept after concept at you, in the apparent hope that you’ll do the work of arranging them into something coherent and interesting. Because it appears writer-director Bolduc couldn’t be bothered. There’s no shortage of imagination here. Heck, you’ve got enough here for at least a trilogy of films, possibly more, covering territory from The Terminator to David Cronenberg’s They Came From Within. And I genuinely wanted to root for Sarah, a serious-minded and likeable girl, who is thrown in at the deep end, having not only to survive on an alien planet, but also keep the other three from bickering their way to death. While the alien planet looks suspiciously like Earth,  the effects are generally decent for the budget, save for one wobbly monster earlier on – and that’s in Sarah’s imagination, so probably deserves a pass.

But you’ll be left with far too many questions for this even to approach acceptability. Why does the terrorist set his bomb with a 15-minute delay? Why does the space station only seem to have a couple of escape pods? How can an alien fish parasite effortlessly infect and control a human host? Why does it want to hunt down the kids? What’s so important about this President? Is there any relevance to Sarah’s bed-ridden mother? How does this all tie together with the pre-apocalypse footage, where the Commander appears to play a key part in triggering Armageddon? There’s an apparently wilful failure to explain what is going on, which grew increasingly wearing on me, over even the relatively brisk 83-minute running time. In this aspect, it reminded me of another recent SF film with a teenage protagonist, Prospect. The two films’ directors should combine forces: maybe they could come up with one decent story between them.

Dir: Drew Bolduc
Star: Shannon Hutchinson, Vito Trigo, Jasmina Parent, Johnathan Newport

Barracuda

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★★
“Nice car. Shame about the film.”

Struggling artist Summer (Oldham) takes on a temporary job as a phone-sex operator to make ends meet. It gives her a very jaundiced view of men, having had to plunge into the worst and most sordid depths of their fantasies. After realizing that some pose a more direct threat, and funded by hush money from one of her customers, she buys the car of the title. and takes their information, along with the tapes she has recorded of them, on a little road-trip across the South and West of America. She’s heading towards her sister (Hinchley), bringing the perverts to justice as she goes, and seeking closure for her own past.

Technically, this is actually pretty good. It looks crisp, and even as someone whose interest in cars is limited to viewings of The Grand Tour, the Barracuda is an awesome vehicle. [I guess the movie’s budget didn’t stretch to licensing the Heart song. It would have been appropriate, with lyrics such as: “If the real thing don’t do the trick/You better make up something quick/You gonna burn, burn, burn, burn, burn to the wick/Oooo, Barracuda,”] However, the script and overall attitude is an endless series of misfires and jarring shifts in tone. Overall, it’s less empowering than self-indulgent and man-hating wish-fulfillment.

Oldham – who co-wrote and co-directed this, as well as starring in it – appears to be working through some issues. May I suggest therapy, rather than film-making? Because this kind of half-baked nonsense seems unlikely to help anyone. The script has holes you could drive the Barracuda through. Apparently, phone-sex lines require customers to provide their real names and home addresses to the operators; while the cops stand poised, ready to sweep immediately into action on receipt of an anonymous cassette. I could probably have got past most of this, if the film had fully embraced its inner darkness. Instead, we get abysmal efforts at “humour” – quotes used advisedly – such as someone smashing a cake into their own face. To quote the master of sarcasm, Edmund Blackadder: “I thank God I wore my corset, because I think my sides have split.”

The relentless parade of male caricatures quickly gets old, too, and don’t get me started on the feeble efforts at political commentary, or the surprisingly (for a film so proudly “woke”) casual racism. Of course, I stand diametrically opposed to the basic concept here. I fully endorse fantasy of any kind, however dark or sordid they may seem. Acting on them is entirely another thing, of course. But that’s not something which is an issue for the vast majority of men. Instead, they offer a safe escape-valve, and are something which should be encouraged rather than, as here, meriting punishment. That’s basically thoughtcrime – though I guess that’s par for the course these days. Rarely have I been so irritated by a film. Fortunately, it’s not one capable of leaving any permanent impression.

Dir: Christy Oldham, Shane Woodson
Star: Christy Oldham, Pippa Hinchley, Kaden Grave

Pussy Kills

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★★
“Coughs up a hairball.”

Despite a startling cover, this isn’t as sleazy as it seems. Indeed, even the title appears to be erring on the side of restraint, having apparently avoided the more obvious (and arguably, accurate) one of Killer Pussy. While the heroine certainly has an… interesting choice of costume, that’s as far as the film wants to go. It’s an odd approach: a sleeve like that sets up certain sets of expectations, which the movie has no apparent interest in matching. It’s not as if anyone of a sensitive nature is going to have got past the cover, so it seems odd to exercise such self-discipline when it comes to the content.

Anyway, it’s the story of Susie (Maya), whose parents were killed in a gang-related incident. Although both she and the cops know who was responsible, there isn’t enough evidence for the police to do anything. As a result, Susie begins her own surveillance operation, just before Halloween, only for the subjects to spot her. She is captured and raped by the gang, causing her already fragile sanity to crack. She manages to escape, and takes on the alternate persona of Pussy, her “sexy pussycat” Halloween costume. Wearing it, she tracks down the members of the gang who raped her, as well as their associates, and offs them in a variety of ways. She begins with some enthusiastic axe-work, then graduates to strangulation with a shoe-lace, and so on. But neither the gang nor the cops are enthusiastic about the corpses left in Pussy’s wake.

If only Catwoman had been like this. Well, if only this had had the budget of Catwoman, then it might have helped. At least, it might not have been a case where all the violence seems to occur just off-screen, accompanied by sprays of digital blood. You want to see vengeful savagery done properly? I Spit on Your Grave 3. There’s precious little sense of escalation or progress here, so for a good 45 minutes, it’s just one uninteresting kill after another. It may have started life as a web series, which may explain this over-episodic approach.

Still,  you’re clearly doing something wrong, when even Maya’s undeniably appealing butt begins to lose its charms… [Eventually… Probably after murder seven or so] Things do get slightly more interesting down the stretch, with the gang kidnapping Susie’s husband (Jia). There’s actually some drive to the narrative, rather than it being not much more than a loosely connected series of murders, intercut with shots of its leading lady’s booty. But even to reach that point, you also have to sit through the garish early going, where Black appears to be swapping lens filters on almost every shot, turning those scenes into a lurid, kaleidoscopic nightmare. When a director has to apply so much style, that’s usually an indication they have little or no confidence in the substance of their work. In this case, such concerns are largely justified.

Dir: Gabriel Black
Star: Lina Maya, Izzy Martinez, Kraig Million, Dave Jia

Blow a Kiss

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★★½
“Too little, too late.”

You could skip the first 30-45 minutes of this, and it really would not affect your enjoyment level significantly. It seems to be one of those cases where the director is far more in love with the dialogue and characters than they deserves, and so we have to sit through far too much flapping of jaws by the latter, delivering the former in inane and uninteresting conversation, before we get to the meat of the story. Which is, as follows.

Homeless, failed ballerina Joy Malone (Berkshire), who just lost custody of her child, is drowning her sorrows in a dive bar, when she encounters local meth dealer, Samantha (Tutor), who offers her a way out of her dire straits. For Sam is in a war with another dealer, Marcus Mitchell (Martinez), and needs a replacement killer after having recently discovered – in the bar’s bathroom – that one of her gang was actually working for the opposition. Sam offers to pay Joy all the money she needs to get her kid back. All she has to do is kill Mitchell. Of course, it’s never as easy as that.

I’ve not heard of Mauser, but turns out he’s a prolific film-maker, whose site lists Kiss as his 37th (!) feature. That’s impressive, almost regardless of quality. And it’s possible this might have appealed more if I’d seen the previous 36. For instance, I suspect the presence of a psychotic killer in a giant bunny costume here, is a nod to his Serial Rabbit franchise, which has reached five movies. [Who knew?] On its own, though, there wasn’t enough to sustain my interest. For example, while I’m always down for an all-girl gang, we first meet the one here in an extended interrogation sequence, trying to extract Mitchell’s location from one of his henchmen. I suspect this is trying to be Tarantino-esque. It is – only in that it’s incredibly annoying and self-indulgent.

Just when I was close to giving up on this entirely as a flick which didn’t require a microscope to detect any entertainment value… Joy and Sam connect, and the rest of the film is actually not too bad, for a low-budget romp. There are a couple of ways I thought this might go: the striking red hair of both Sam and Joy seemed so consciously similar, I expected some kind of impersonation twist. Instead, it’s just Joy having to make her way up against Mitchell – at least until the truth is revealed.

Avoiding spoilers for that last section, means I can’t say too much about the finale, which is probably the best, and certainly the most energetic (read: least chatty), part of proceedings. I did also like the way what appears to be a police interview of Joy in the wake of everything, turns out to be… not quite that. However, you need just too much patience to get to the decent stuff, and I certainly wouldn’t blame anyone who cut and ran after the first half-hour.

Dir: Brett William Mauser
Star: Dane Berkshire, Cassandra Tutor, Karen Roberge, Ernest Martinez

Trauma

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★★★½
“Parental advisory, to put it mildly.”

This is not an easy film to watch. The easily-offended should stay away. Indeed, even the hard to offend, which include myself, may find it rough going. To give you some idea, the opening scene is set in a 1978 Chilean torture chamber where a political dissident is being interrogated. When she won’t talk, her son is drugged and forced to rape his own mother. It actually goes on to get worse still, but that’ll give you some idea. In terms of disturbing opening scenes, I can’t think of many equivalents.

Fast forward to 2011, and four young women are on their way for a quiet weekend in a country house owned by one’s uncle. An unfortunate stop for directions in a local dive-bar puts them on the radar of Juan (Antivilo) and his son, Mario (Ríos). The former was the teenage boy of the opening sequence, and was clearly broken beyond repair by those and other events. He has passed that damage on to Mario, and the pair now form a father-son duo of staggering repugnance. When they subsequently show up on the doorstep, our four heroines are in for a very, very unpleasant night. But when they learn Juan has turned his attentions to pre-pubescent local girl, Yoya, they decide something must be done, and take the fight to Juan and Mario.

It’s brutally unpleasant stuff, with some (literally) mind-blowingly gory effects. But it’s acted and assembled well enough that it can’t be written off as mere torture porn, and some radical switches in tone actually work in its favour. For example, after the opening scene, we cut to some intense lesbian canoodling, provoking cinematic cognitive dissonance which is disturbing yet effective. And importantly, it’s not without a point. In that area, it’s like A Serbian Film, which used its cinematic atrocities as a parable about the break-up of Yugoslavia. I’d actually say this was rather more successful in terms of getting its message over, about the impact of the tyrannical Allende regime of the seventies and its impact over the decades.

The carnage likely reaches its peak near the middle when everyone returns to the bar, for a fight of disturbing savagery, even by this movie’s standards, which also affirms Juan’s status as completely above the law in the local community. The final battle, I have to say, did come across as rather confused in comparison, likely hindered by lighting which barely reached the level of murky. As a result, on more than one occasion, I went “Hang on, aren’t they dead already?” Considering how coolly clinical Rojas’s camera was in capturing the previous unpleasantness, this was disappointing.

If there’s a message here, it’s the one written by Edward Burke: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Or women, in this case, with Andrea (Martin) taking the lead. She’s an interesting character, with a certain standard of morality: for instance, she doesn’t like her sister’s girlfriend, though it’s unclear whether this is because of gender or personality. It’s Andrea who increasingly occupies centre-stage as events unfold, and occupies the film’s final frame. Though let’s just say, it’s not exactly what you would call a happy ending, even if there is some degree of catharsis to be found. It’s probably even harder to forget than to watch.

Dir: Lucio A. Rojas.
Star: Catalina Martin, Daniel Antivilo, Macarena Carrere, Felipe Ríos

Queendom of the Seven Lakes, by A B Endacott

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆½

There is an interesting set-up here: unfortunately, it’s one which truly doesn’t get developed far enough. Elen-Ai is a 21-year-old woman, who has been brought up since birth to be an assassin for hire, part of “The Family.” Her latest commission is a little different: it’s not to kill, but to protect. For she is hired to make sure that Gidyon, the teenage son of Latana, Queen of the Second Country, stays alive. This is a matriarchal society, where power passes down the female side. But Latana has only her son, and is set to upset the traditional apple-cart by proclaiming Gidyon as her heir apparent. This decision will potentially be rejected by some among the seven clans who comprise the queendom, and may make him a target for those who’d rather see him out of the way. Hence, Elen-Ai’s presence, to make sure that doesn’t happen, as he begins a national tour around their estates, seeking support for his position.

I suspect it’s pretty obvious where this will end up going, based on Gidyon’s plan to defuse the clans’ concerns by marrying someone outside of the nobility entirely. I would bet his bride ends up being Elen-Ai, given by the gobbets of unresolved romantic tension which pepper proceedings, together with the wild swings between like and dislike. Given his age though, we’re probably a few volumes away from that. For now, this is more of a travelogue than an action novel. There’s one assassination attempt on Gidyon while they’re on the road, but otherwise, Elen-Ai’s skills are more seen in the stealth department. As well as her abilities with weapons, she can make herself invisible, a useful talent when it comes to obtaining information regarding the conspiracies against Gidyon. However, she’s far from infallible; indeed, her momentary inattention proves to have tragic consequences.

Despite some interesting wrinkles, e.g. the identity of Gidyon’s father is a closely-guarded secret to avoid political repercussions and enforce neutrality, this doesn’t capitalize on the worldview. Indeed, by using a male heir instead, it largely negates much of the role reversal which has gone before. I’m also hard pushed to imagine Latana is the first ever queen who failed to have a daughter. The main issue though, is I really would have liked to know more about Elen-Ai. The very concept of the Family – a tacitly-accepted guild of assassins – merits considerably more exploration. How she reached the point of being commissioned by royalty as a bodyguard, seems considerably more interesting than her traipsing across country as some kind of lethally mobile baby-sitter. This seems like a sad waste of her talents, a bit like reading a Sherlock Holmes book devoted entirely to his post-retirement life as a bee-keeper. While I didn’t feel like I’d wasted the time, there wasn’t enough here to convince me to go further into the series.

Author: A B Endacott
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 6 in the Legends of the Godskissed Continent series.

Life Blood

  By

★★½
“Still a better love story than Twilight“

There’s a fascinating idea at the core here. Namely, that vampires were created by God, in order to mitigate mankind’s sin by preying on the most evil examples of humanity. They’re effectively angelic enforcers. The potential in this is great. The execution, however… Well, it largely comes down to two such vampire/angels sitting around a gas station for the majority of the running time. This isn’t the only aspect which is poorly considered. It starts in 1969, when lesbian couple Brooke (Lahiri) and Rhea (Monk) are at a New Year’s party. Brooke kills a rapist, stabbing him (literally) 87 times, and the pair then flee. In the desert, they are visited by God (model Angela Lindvall), who makes Rhea into one of her enforcers.

However, Rhea insists Brooke gets the same treatment. You’d think God, with all that infallibility and omniscience might figure out giving such power to someone who just stabbed someone (I repeat, literally) 87 times, might not be a good idea. But, whatevs. The pair then lie dormant in the desert sands for forty years, because… Er, I dunno. Reasons? Eventually surfacing, Brooke revels in her new found abilities and quickly turns them to murderous ends, while Rhea tries to restrain her lover, being more in the “with great power comes great responsibility” camp. God, meanwhile, is apparently otherwise engaged, probably writing a monograph on free will.

After Brooke has offed her first victim, an unfortunately passing hitch-hiker, they hijack a camper and hole up in the gas station mentioned. This is necessary in order to avoid daylight, which in this version, still has that unfortunate effect on vampires; quite why God didn’t address that in her wisdom is also unexplained. There, they are eventually located by local police officer, Sheriff Tillman (cult legend Napier), who has followed the trail of mayhem. Rhea is going to have to decide whether to stand with Brooke, or go against her.

It gets some of the little things right, and has an off-the-wall sensibility that’s kinda endearing, and rather trashy. For instance the Sherriff’s favourite TV show is Chicks Chasing Chickens, which is exactly what it sounds like, and is the most amusing fake TV show since Ow! My Balls! God turning up in an seethrough nightie from Victoria’s Secret was also… interesting. Lahiri seems to be having fun with her role too, all lip-gloss and gleeful violence.

Unfortunately, Lahiri is flat-out terrible – with the emphasis on “flat” – and the plot doesn’t have a clue what to do with itself for the middle hour [It may be relevant in terms of the apparent lack of plot direction, the original title was the inexplicable Pearblossom, then became Murder World before settling on the eventual title]. The two leads lurk around the gas-station, bickering with each other and the cashier (Renna, who could be a low-rent version of Sean Astin), while occasionally offing people who show up. It’s far short of enough, and leaves almost all that potential, sadly unfulfilled.

Dir: Ron Carlson
Star: Sophie Monk, Anya Lahiri, Charles Napier, Patrick Renna