Author: Jim McLennan

Diamond Dawgs

  By

★★
“Car trouble.”

It’s hard to believe a film rated two stars exceeded expectations, but when I saw this had scored just 1.7 out of ten on the IMDb, I was braced for something much worse. I mean, cross off the friends of the cast and crew who scored it a “10”, and 72% of voters have given it the lowest mark possible. Make no mistake, this isn’t great. It’s not even good. But this is not quite as irredeemably bad as that score would imply.

The story concerns the car thief gang of the title, including Ciara (Johnson) and Pretty (Manning), who work under the heavy thumb of South Central (Núñez). They target a party being held by rappers High Rollaz, not realizing the trunk of one car lifted contains the only copy of a master tape for the High Rollas latest album. The trio, led by Millions (Green), start to follow the Dawgs’s trail, only for things to get complicated when Ciara and one of the High Rollaz fall for each other.

Made in 2009, the production values here are shaky at best, with the video in particular not having aged well. You could likely record better quality footage on a medium-end phone these days, and the sound might well be improved, too. The story is woefully thin: there are scenes which either stay far beyond their purpose (unless that purpose was to showcase one of the rap songs on the soundtrack), or don’t appear to serve any purpose at all. The action, such as it is, is very poorly-executed: the Dawgs do very little actual crime after the opening sequence. Basically, rob the party and that’s it.

And, yet… On a couple of occasions, the film did surprise me. For instance, there’s one scene where South Central forces one of his minions to play Russian Roulette, and it’s genuinely disturbing. Núñez’s acting experience is apparent, and weirdly, his performance here reminded me of Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s portrayal of Negan in The Walking Dead (which, obviously, it well pre-dates). There’s the same sense he’s entirely unhinged, and could go off into insane violence at any moment. We also get the Most Unexpected Star Trek Reference of All-Time, when a drug dealer says of his product that it will, “Get you high, like Captain Kirk… The young Kirk, the one getting all the alien pussy.” I laughed, anyway.

I’m certainly not the intended audience here, yet I can’t imagine even its target would be able to look past the shoddier aspects, despite what feels like a certain veneer of urban authenticity to the dialogue and characters. It plods on, entirely as you’d expect, to the final face-off, when the High Rollaz try to execute a deal with South Central and his crew, for the return of their tape. I sense the actresses here were chosen more for their visual appeal – it seems most of them were models – rather than their acting ability. Though since they get precious little to do here, it’s very difficult to tell whether or not they have any talent. They do nail the “looking pretty” thing, close to impeccably.

Dir: Chris Rogers
Star: Sherina Manning, Azur-De Johnson, Will Green, Miguel A. Núñez Jr.

Hate Story

  By

★★★
“Hate trumps love.”

After exposing construction company Cementec as involved in corruption, journalist Kavya Krishna (Dam) is surprised to get a call from Siddharth Dhanrajgir (Devaiya), son of the company’s owner. He ends up offering her a job at far above her previous salary, and the two eventually grow into a relationship. However, it’s all a ruse: Siddharth dumps and firing Kayva, saying, “I fuck those who fuck with me.” When she tries to strike back by telling him she’s pregnant, he has her kidnapped and forced to have an abortion, which leaves Kavya permanently unable to have children. She vows to destroy Siddharth and his company, by any means necessary, using her investigative skills – and no shortage of feminine wiles – to get the information required.

An enjoyable pot-boiler, this has some of the traditional aspects of Bollywood cinema, not least a lengthy running-time of 139 minutes. It is, likely fortunately, light on the musical numbers; though the songs clearly play a significant part, there’s only one scene in a night-club which comes close to what you’d expect from Indian cinema. It’s also an odd mix, which I can best describe as “chaste raunchiness”. This is a film, after all, about a woman prepared to go to absolutely any length for vengeance, crammed chock full of sexual situations… Yet the movie contains no nudity beyond the PG-13 level, and not so much as a kiss. Even Siddharth’s trademark line, frequently repeated in English, is far more politely (and inaccurately!) rendered in the subtitles as “I ruin the people who mess with me.”

I largely tracked this down, because I saw that Hate Story 2 was on Netflix at the time, and not the original.  I feel it’s perhaps the kind of story which would be better served by a Western remake, which wouldn’t have to abide by the strict censorship rules of India. [I’m reminded there is apparently a Bollywood version of Basic Instinct, which I can only imagine!] There may not be anything quite like the poster present in the film, and some of the plot contrivances are, frankly, incredible. For instance, Kayva ends up on the board of Cementec, a position obtained almost solely by making doe-eyes at a cabinet minister for an extended period.

However, it’s still a thoroughly satisfying tale of a woman, abused by a powerful man, turning to strike back at him; a tale of sexual harassment and its reversal like has more resonance now, than when released in 2012. Dam cuts a striking figure, and I thoroughly enjoyed the scheming interplay between Kayva and Siddharth. For example, he sends his investigator to bug her house, only for her to find the audio-visual devices and use them to send disinformation back at him. Then he releases the steamy tapes to the media, framing her for the murder of her lover. I was impressed with the ending, too – it’s moral and grim at the same time. Despite the extended duration, the time sped by: while the sequel is no longer on Netflix, you should still expect a review, sooner rather than later.

Dir: Vivek Agnihotri
Star: Paoli Dam, Gulshan Devaiya, Nikhil Dwivedi, Joy Sengupta

Gia in the City of the Dead, by Kristi Belcamino

  By

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

Gia Valentina Santella is the daughter of a rich Italian family in California. She doesn’t seem to do much with the bountiful hand fate has dealt her: drinking, casual sex and designer labels appear to be her main interests. But her easy life is rudely disrupted after her parents die in a fire at their estate in Switzerland (!). In the aftermath, she is sent a letter from the man who carried out their autopsies, confessing that he was paid off to conceal the real, much less accidental cause of death. As Gia starts to dig into the past, seeking the truth, it soon becomes apparent that it was a good deal murkier than initially appears. And also, that someone has a strong, vested interest in ensuring it stays covered.

Goddamn, this is bland: I finished it only a couple of days ago, and am struggling to recall much more than the basic details. I do recall being rather annoyed, however, that the heroine endlessly quotes gobbets of Budo philosophy… but appears largely clueless when it comes to putting any of her allegedly extensive training into practice. She seems to have endless resources, for example, funding a rather convoluted scheme to make her adversaries believe she has left the company. But these are not matched by her resourcefulness – she then blows the gaff by a ridiculously ill-advised trip to a funeral home. [And don’t even get me started on that particular corpse, which also meets a highly-suspicious end, yet is all but ignored by Gia, at least in this volume]

It just feels as if so many of the incidents here were thrown in without sufficient thought. For example, at one point, someone sets the apartment building where Gia is hiding out on fire, when she’s not in it. Even at the end of the book, when the truth is finally revealed, there’s no logical motivation for this. If it was to get rid of a bit of evidence, then breaking in and taking it would have made more sense. The heroine… Well, she seems to have a good heart in there, somewhere, but this felt more like reading about the misadventures of one of the Hilton sisters: not exactly the smartest knife in the kitchen-block, shall we say.

According to the author, “Gia Santella is my alter ego, the woman I might have been in a different life.” And that apparently unrestrained wish-fulfillment is perhaps a good part of the problem here. For example, there is absolutely no reason why she needs to drive a red Ferrari, yet she does. We get sentences such as, “I spotted five Ferraris, including one Ferrari 458 Italia Spider, three Lamborghinis Gallardo LP 560-4 Bicolores, and even a McLaren MP4-12C.” If I wanted to amuse myself with an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, I would do so. At least The Grand Tour has Jeremy Clarkson being snarky about the sports cars.

Author: Kristi Belcamino
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon as an e-book only.
Book 1 of 4 in the Gia Santella Crime Thriller series.

Negative

  By

★★½
“a.k.a. We’ve Got a Drone And We’re Gonna Use It”

This is a very cunning title. For when you Google “Negative film review”, all you get are a lot of articles about Bright. Hohoho. [In five years time, people will probably have to Google “Bright” to understand this reference] Actually, it refers to a photographic negative, casually taken by Rodney (Roché) in the park. What he doesn’t realize at the time, is that he has accidentally captured the face of Natalie (Winter), a former MI-5 agent who is on the run. She turns up on his doorstep, demanding he turn over the photo to her, but before she can leave, the two Colombian assassins after her, also show up, and she has no choice but to take (the thoroughly confused and largely unwilling) Rodney with her. Together, they head for Phoenix and a safe house owned by Natalie’s former associate, Hollis (Quaterman), with the Colombians in pursuit.

First things first. I was startled to learn some people apparently still take pictures on film requiring an actual darkroom to develop it: personally, this left the movie already feeling like a throwback to the eighties, about as out of time as Phone Booth is now. [References to The Honeymooners and I Love Lucy don’t exactly help there] Moving past that, it all feels rather too understated. Apart from some blood-spatter, we don’t get any real evidence of Natalie’s qualifications as a bad-ass until an hour into the movie – she’s more about evasion than confrontation, save for a drunk guy at a motel. This may have been a function of a relatively small budget – only $100K, and to the credit of Caldwell and its crew, the overall look generally doesn’t show it. [There are some interesting interviews with the director online, explaining how this was possible. They’re worth a read, since he seems a smart guy]

Resources may also explain why it’s pretty dialogue-heavy: two people in a car is about as cheap as it gets. Though the dialogue isn’t terrible, it just isn’t good enough to carry the film, which it needs to do. As the tag-line above suggests, you could play a drinking game based on the number of drone shots: it got the the point where, on more than one occasion, we accurately predicted the next such showing up. And the “Phoenix” the film depicts… Well, let’s just say, there were rather too many palm trees, and not enough cacti for that aspect to ring true. It offers little or no sense of place, with generic suburbia and desert, which feel like they could be anywhere West of the Rockies. 

Everything progresses much as you’d expect, if you’ve seen this kind of film before, eventually reaching the expected gun-battle against the Colombians. This unfolds at night, and it’s tough to figure out what exactly is going on. There’s likely a bigger problem though: by the time you reach it, I still hadn’t quite been given a real reason to care. While I’d like to see more from Winter (the story of how her character got to this point, might potentially have been more interesting than the one actually told), the film likely works better as a technical exercise than an emotional experience.

Dir: Joshua Caldwell
Star: Katia Winter, Sebastian Roché, Simon Quarterman

12 Feet Deep: Trapped Sisters

  By

★★½
“Drowning, not waving.”

There aren’t many films which will be reviewed both here and on aquaticsintl.com, a site offering “Commercial swimming pool and waterpark industry news” [their opinion: a “woefully inaccurate portrayal of pool technology”]. But then, if you see only one film about sisters trapped underneath a swimming-pool cover this year… Yeah, it’s highly likely to be this one. Eskandari deserves some credit for taking a paper-thin and highly dubious premise and almost stretching it out to feature length. But even he eventually runs out of steam at about the hour mark, and derisive snorting will take over from there. 

Siblings Bree (Noone) and Jonna (Park) are the victims, after trying to retrieve the former’s engagement ring from the bottom of the pool. Lackadaisical pool manager (Bell, recognizable to horror fans from the Saw franchise) closes the giant fibreglass pool cover on them – though I defer to the experts at aquaticsintl.com, who said, “There is no way that would possibly ever meet any ASTM standards for pool safety covers used in the U.S.” Having flagrantly disregarded ASTM standards, he then locks up shop, leaving the pair trapped underneath over a long holiday weekend. Their only hope is the pool’s cleaner, Clara (Farr), but she’s not long out of prison, and the felon sees Bree and Jonna as a moist, trapped meal ticket. Her demands to free them begin with the PIN for Bree’s phone, and escalate from there, as the sisters strive for their own escape.

This feels like a descendant of 47 Meters Down, which was the spawn of The Shallows, which called back to Open Water, all using drowning as the main threat. At least here, “being eaten” isn’t on the menu, and the story has to contrive a number of other elements to stretch things out. Thus we (eventually) get the truth about the death of Brie and Jonna’s father, and the latter’s jealousy about the former’s engagement leads to significant quantities of sibling bickering. Jonna initially comes across as quite the bitch, though we eventually discover there are reasons for her being a curmudgeon. Oh, and did I mention that Bree is a diabetic, who needs an insulin shot, like now?

Supposedly “based on true events” – I can hear derisive laughter from acquaticsintl.com as I write – you’d probably need an especially forgiving nature to get past the “I’m so sure” moments here, such as why they bother to tread water for much of the film, when they could just head to the shallow end and stand there [as well as getting much better leverage for their breakout efforts]. In the first half, things are executed with enough energy as to paper over the cracks, and the series of unfortunate events by which the two women end up trapped is more plausible than I expected. However, I can’t helped thinking it would have been much improved, had Bell returned as his Jigsaw character at the half-way point, and released some sharks into the pool.

Dir: Matt Eskandari
Star: Alexandra Park, Nora-Jane Noone, Diane Farr, Tobin Bell

It Stains the Sands Red

  By

★★
“Aunt Ruby goes on a trip.”

As the world goes through the zombie apocalypse, Molly (Allen) and boyfriend Nick (Mondesir) are elsewhere. Specifically, driving through the desert near Las Vegas, heading towards an airfield where they are going to catch a flight to Mexico – and, hopefully, safely. After their car gets stuck in the sand, Nick is attacked by a lone zombie (Riedinger), Molly flees on foot, striking out in the hopes of getting to the airfield, and pursued by the relentless creature. For it turns out the heroine is having her period, which allows the zombie to track her – and also lends a rather different meaning to the film’s title…

It’s the kind of idea which would have made a strong short film, but falls apart when stretched to feature length. To reach that duration, the story has to bolt on all manner of additional elements, most of which don’t work, while also leaving some gaping plotholes, through which an entire army of the undead could stumble. For instance, there are moments where the zombie is just feet behind Molly; then, in the next scene, she’s far enough ahead to be able to stop for a snooze. Given she seems to have no athletic ability and is clad in shoes which are as far from desert-traversing footwear as imaginable, it feels as if she’s teleporting ahead of her pursuer. Similarly, when she reaches her destination, the script is flipped, and this coke-snorting bitch suddenly becomes a devoted mother, desperate to return to Las Vegas and be re-united with her child. It’s a startlingly unconvincing development.

The aspect that perhaps works best is a surprising one: the relationship between Molly and her pursuer, in particular after he saves her from an unpleasant fate. It’s largely unwitting – just his nature in action – and requires more suspension of disbelief in the way he suddenly can apparently enter stealth mode. But it adds a nice wrinkle, albeit one which is rapidly discarded for the film’s change in direction over the final third. There, the film abandons any effort at inventiveness, and returns to the same furrow which has pretty much been ploughed into the ground [admittedly, where you would expect to find a furrow] by the multitude of zombie films, TV shows, books and games churned out over the past decade or so.

To the makers’ credit, they did at least realize they needed to find something new, a different direction which would help their creation stand out from the walking dead crowd. It’s unfortunate they managed to screw things up in almost every direction once they got past that decision, beginning with a heroine who is startlingly unlikable for the vast bulk of its running time. At one point, she whines at her pursuer, “You’re like every guy I’ve ever met a bar!” I couldn’t help thinking, that’s the kind of comment which says more about the person making it, than the target. You might find yourself rooting for the zombie.

Dir: Colin Minihan
Star: Brittany Allen, Juan Riedinger, Merwin Mondesir

Blue Line

  By

★★½
“Behind the masks”

Small world. Well, small-ish. I used to work for the same online media company as one of the scriptwriters of this, though our paths there never crossed in any meaningful sense. That’s probably about as interesting a factoid i.e. “not very”, as this film. Indeed, outside of some gratuitous strip-club breasts, it feels like it could have strayed in from a slow weekend on Hallmark. Battered wife Lindsay (Ladd) teams up with longtime stripper friend Nicole (Moore), and commit a string of armed robberies around their local area in Connecticut, their identities hidden with Halloween masks and voice-changers. They’re building up towards a big score, which will involve relieving Lindsay’s abusive husband, Seth (DeNucci) of a crisp $1.8 million dollars in cash. But increasingly, sniffing around the robberies is Detective Broza (Sizemore), a city cop who has recently been transferred to the town: Nicole starts a relationship with him, ostensibly to see how the investigation is going. But is that her real motive?

There’s not very much logic to the script here. If the women are going to get away with $1.8 million, why are they bothering to hold-up convenience stores, especially since they torch the loot. Is this supposed to be some kind of practice? It’s entirely counter-productive, since all it does it bring down the full force of local law enforcement (which admittedly, is not much!), and puts potential targets on their guard. From the get-go, beginning with the raid on the store, and progressing through their  robbery of a private poker game (one of whose participants is, amusingly, former WWE and nWo star, Kevin Nash!), these appear to be there simply to try and enliven the cinematic proceedings, rather than because they make sense. Much the same goes for Nicole’s day-job as a stripper. This exists, purely for titillation (and not very much titillation at that; if Moore herself actually got naked at any point, I must have blinked and missed it).

I can, at least, see where the makers were trying to go with the relationship between Lindsay and Nicole: aiming for a twisted version on the “Thelma & Louise” partnership, with two contrasting personalities which have bonded, in part through common adversity. Ladd plays the quieter and more cautious member of the pair, clearly wounded by the dysfunctional relationship in which she’s trapped. Moore is, however, a bit more fun to watch, clearly perfectly willing to manipulate anyone necessary, including both her partner and Det. Broza. But the two items never quite gel with that T&L synergy, this duo eventually ending up as rather less than the sum of their parts. It might have been better if they’d concentrated on one or the other, combining the effective aspects of each character into one truly captivating person, rather than the slightly interesting ones, who struggle to hold the viewer’s attention, especially fighting to escape the gravitational pull of the more doubtful plot elements.

Dir: Jacob Cooney
Star: Jordan Ladd, Nikki Moore, Tom Sizemore, Tom DeNucci
a.k.a. The Assault

Rain Dance by D.N. Erikson

  By

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

The saying, “You only live twice,” is supposed to be a metaphor, but for Eden Hunter, it ends up being very much a statement of fact. She’s a former con-artist, dragged back from beyond the grave by vampire warlord, Aldric. He puts her to work on a hidden island as his personal soul-harvester, with a strict quota per week. It’s not great work, but it’s steady – at least until Eden’s beach-front house is attacked by a werewolf with murder on its furry mind. She then finds herself seen by the FBI as their prime suspect after an old partner in confidence tricks turns up dead on her doorstep. But, wait! There’s more! She has to deal with the rain goddess – presumably, the source of the title – to whom Eden is also in thrall, and whose rules she just broke. A gang involved in robbing her boss of millions in gold bullion. Her dead sister. A serial-killer politician. Oh, and a talking cat.

Overall, the main problem is that this feels like Book 2, rather than Book 1. Rather than starting off at what might be considered the more logical point of Eden’s first death, it joins her career as a reaper, already well in progress, opening with the werewolf attack. There is a fair amount of information – and quite important data, at that – which is not provided to the reader until some distance into the story. As the paragraph above suggests, there’s not exactly a shortage of plot threads either: as a result, some of them inevitably end up feeling under-developed. The goddess, for example, seems to show up at the end, purely to provide an adversary for the heroine’s boss, and I’m still not sure about the point of the politician. Conversely, some things feel under-explained. The island is supposedly hidden… yet the FBI know where it is? Who delivers – oh, I dunno – milk to it? It has an awkward sense of being something which looked a good idea at the time, only was never thought through properly.

It’s probably not the book’s fault, but there was a sense of deja vu too for me. Only a couple of months ago, I read Fugitive of Magic by Linsey Hall. It was also a story told in first-person perspective, about a paranormal heroine accused of a murder she didn’t commit, who has to find the real perpetrator in order to prove her innocence. Having recently read that story, I didn’t find a revised version of it especially interesting. The main positive is Eden herself, who made for a decent central character. There was a nice moral sense of grey about her choices, with her trying to do the right thing, even though those choices were frequently constrained by the unfortunate circumstances which she inhabited. If we’d been brought along with Eden on her resurrection, rather than being dumped into the middle of it, this would likely have been a more worthwhile story.

Author: D.N. Erikson
Publisher: Watchfire Press, available through Amazon as both a paperback and an e-book.
Book 1 of 3 (to date) in the Sunshine & Scythes series.

Run Coyote Run

  By

★
“Coyote ugly.”

runcoyoteI must have masochistic tendencies. For having seen Bryan’s Lady Streetfighter, which I described as “Legitimately terrible, among the worst films I’ve ever seen,” I inexplicably decided to watch this half-sequel, half-remake, from the same director. It was Sunday and I was bored. What can I say? This isn’t quite as awful. Emphasis on the “quite,” however, for it’s still very, very bad.

That lack of quality begins right from the thoroughly confusing concept, which has the same actress as in Streetfighter (Harmon), portraying psychic Interpol agent Anne Wellington, who is the sister of the character she played previously, Linda Wellington. Anne is looking into the mysterious death of Linda, and discovers that her sister was close to acquiring a highly-incriminating cassette, in which an organized crime source spills the beans, naming names. Needless to say, the local mob are keen for this tape not to fall into the hands of the authorities, and send a hitman biker priest (Neuhaus) after Anne.

The whole “psychic” angle appears largely an excuse to re-use scenes of Linda taken from Streetfighter, which Anne sees in her dreams. This is perhaps credibly economical, and fits in with the plot. But those more familiar with the director’s work than I ever want to be, report that Coyote also includes footage out of other, entirely unconnected Bryan films. Perhaps he’s relying on the idea that nobody would notice – which makes sense, since it would require someone to watch more than one of his movies. Guess he under-estimated the hardiness of true bad-movie fans.

For, make no mistake, this is every bit as bad, as you would almost inevitably expect a film to be which consists of scenes taken from multiple different features, spliced together with entirely new footage. [I added the word “almost”, having remembered the incredible Final Cut: Ladies & Gentlemen, which puts together clips from 450 movies into a story that’s not just coherent, but also emotionally engaging] It peaks early, with an opening gun-battle and resulting car-chase that borders on the competent, for Bryan’s strength seems to be when he is not having to handle dialogue.

Or plot. Or acting. For it then plunges downhill thereafter, to a finale where the bad guys get blown up because they spend their time banging on a closed door, rather than – oh, I dunno – snuffing out the fuse on the dynamite which is sitting on the table beside them. Harmon’s thick, middle-European accent returns, and at least they made the effort this time to give her an overseas back-story, Shame they didn’t also make her a cyborg psychic Interpol agent, which would have helped explain her monotone delivery. If this does anything positive, it’s re-calibrating my genre scale: it’s comforting to realize that, 14 years into this site, I can still identify the garbage which borders on unwatchable.

Dir: James Bryan
Star: Renee Harmon, Frank Neuhaus, Timothy De Haas, William A. Luce

Revengeful Swordswoman

  By

★★½
“Can’t argue with the title, certainly.”

There’s no hanging around here. Virtually as we meet our heroine, Hsiang Ying (Lee), she’s getting tossed off a cliff by her kung-fu teacher, into a pack of wolves. Having survived that and made her way back – perhaps assuming this was all some terrible misunderstanding – her master then disavows her, announces he was the man responsible for killing her father, and locks her up in a cage. This all happens within, literally, three minutes of the film starting. Fortunately, a passing stranger sees fit to free her from the cage, and the ‘Heartless Lady’, as she becomes known, can go on her way, with the eventual aim of being exactly what the title suggests: revengeful.

Not much in the way of surprises either, although there’s no shortage of action, some of which might possibly be quite good. I am, unfortunately, not able to speak with authority, as there does not appear to be any version of this available which comes close to approximating the correct aspect ratio. This is “pan and scan” at its most annoying – and making matters worse, there’s no panning. You simply get the middle chunk of the screen, regardless of relevance. Which leads to a surreal moment later on, where there’s a discussion between two characters, both of whom have managed to be cropped out of the picture, leaving an entirely unoccupied frame. Antique still life: Chinese room, with conversation.

I might be inclined to give the film the benefit of the doubt, except for the hideous attempts at “comedy” – and, please, take the quotes there as necessary. For some reason, the script decides to give Hsiang a buffoon for a side-kick: he’s named “Clown” in the English dub, more in hope than an accurate reflection of any amusement gained from his presence. For virtually any scene in which he appears, will have you wishing the cropping of the print had been even more extreme. This reaches the pits in a scene at a brothel, where he and Hsiang are seeking information about their target, and is so painfully unfunny as to be borderline offensive. When one aspect of a film sucks so badly, it’s harder to believe it’s good anywhere else.

Yet, there are occasional moments – maybe no more than three or four consecutive seconds, when Lee is shot from far enough way that she fits completely on the screen – which are almost impressive enough to make you go. “I should try and track a good-quality copy of this.” Lee is fluid and graceful in motion, not dissimilar from her Hong Kong contemporary, Angela Mao, although the supporting cast here is more knock-off, and fails to make anything of an impression. In the end, this is all just too generic, from the title through the environment to, pretty much, the entire plot. As noted elsewhere, I watched this the same day as another film made in approximately the same time and place: the two have already merged into one Taiwanese blob of fu.

Dir: Artis Chow
Star: Judy Lee, Wen Chiang-lung, Man Kong Lung, Li Tung