Author: Jim McLennan

Act of Vengeance

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★★½
“How do you feel about forming a rape squad?”

By pure coincidence, I watched this the same day as Asking for It, and despite this being close to fifty years older and very, very dated, it’s still the superior movie. It ain’t great – or even good, to be clear. But as the poster suggests, it has no other aim than being a straightforward rabble-rousing group vigilante flick. Vengeance was released hot on the heels of Death Wish, which came out just a few weeks earlier in the summer of 1974. Here, Linda (Harris) is a victim of a serial rapist, who wears a hockey mask (six years before Jason in Friday the 13th) and makes his victims sing Jingle Bells (!).

‘The police are less than helpful, all but blaming her for the attack. However, when attending an identity line-up, Linda is able to meet other victims, and they band together to form a support group for women. Initially, this is through a phone helpline, accompanying victims to the police station, etc. They also take a self-defense class from a woman with a black belt in karate, Tiny (Lada Edmund Jr., who would go on to become, allegedly, the highest-paid stuntwoman in Hollywood). The women then escalate to taking direct action against a man who date-raped a woman, coating his dick in permanent blue dye (!!). But the group’s actions have drawn the attention of Mr. Hockey Mask.

His behaviour escalates as a result, attacking and strangling to death one of their friends, and he then begins targeting the squad specifically. He lures the women to an abandoned zoo – apparently, with some vague intention of pulling a five-for-one special, though the film is vague on the details. This is a bit of a problem throughout the film, with a number of points at which characters act in ways which are more necessary for the plot to happen, than in any way real people might behave. I’m also startled by the apparent complete lack of firearms in seventies America. Then there’s the film’s desire to be both empowering and sexy, e.g. the women plan their activities while lolling around topless in a hot-tub (!!! – and that’s enough exclamation points, I think).

Certainly, the assaults that pepper the early going in the film are likely more disturbing now, because they almost seem intended to be titillating – they are the reason why the film is still unavailable in the UK without cuts. The film is on better, and certainly more entertaining ground, when they are actively engaging with the enemy, such as a pimp roughing up one of his stable of women. There’s no moral ambiguity or depth to be found here: this is a bludgeon of a film, which likely would be unable to spell the word “subtlety.” It may be most effective as a time-capsule of the mid-seventies, and does showcase how society has probably improved since them – at least slightly. 

Dir: Bob Kelljan
Star: Jo Ann Harris, Peter Brown, Jennifer Lee, Connie Strickland
a.k.a. Rape Squad

The Ghosts Omnibus 1, by Jonathan Moeller

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

I previously reviewed an entry from the middle of this series, Ghost in the Cowl, and – probably unsurprisingly – a major complaint was the sensation of being dropped into the middle of the series. This was to some extent due to the book not being clear about it being the tenth (or eleventh, depending on source) entry, since the cover said “Ghost Exile #1”. But I’m not one to hold a grudge, and accepted the chance to pick up the actual first three parts for less than a dollar. It definitely helps, following the story from the beginning. Though at 1,134 pages, you’ll understand why it took four years from purchase to review publication. 

When it begins, the young heroine Caina Amalas is living a somewhat unhappy life, mostly due to her mother being borderline abusive. Eventually, there’s nothing “borderline”, as Mom uses dark magic to turn her husband into a vegetable, and sells his daughter off to sorcerer Maglarion. Caina’s virgin blood is very powerful for his arts, and she is “milked” for all she can provide, kept just this side of death. Fortunately, while the wizard is out, an attack on the facility frees Caina, and she is recruited and trained by the near-mythical group responsible, the Ghosts. These are the Emperor’s spies and assassins, who swear an oath to counter his enemies, by any means necessary.

In particular over these three books, the enemies are those who practice necromancy, beginning in Child of the Ghosts with Maglarion. Now an adult, Caina is very keen to see him receive his just deserts, although in that time, he has become much more powerful. He’s now working towards a ritual which will render him immortal – albeit at the cost of a city-wide human sacrifice. The second book, Ghost in the Flames, sees Caina investigate an increasingly disturbing trend of pyromancy in the city of Rasadda. Finally, in Ghost in the Blood, she has to stop a plot to open a pit under Marsis, which has been sealed for thousands of years – for very good reason. All of these require her to use her talents, both in combat and disguise.

It actually might be a case where reading them one after the other works against them, because they might be a little too similar. I get it is Caina’s specialty, due to her heritage. Yet is there no other threat to the Empire except for power-obsessed magicians? That minor quibble aside, this was a very enjoyable trilogy. The characters on both sides are particularly well-done, with Caina and her allies very likeable: she may not be the biggest bad-ass in the group, an honour likely reserved for Ark. The villains are also suitably terrible people, and there’s almost a Lovecraftian bent to some of the horrors which are unleashed. More will likely follow. Let’s just hope some other adversaries are found for Caina. 

Author: Jonathan Moeller
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, available through Amazon, as an e-book only.
Books 1-3 of 19 in the Ghosts series, plus a bonus short story.

Asking For It (2021)

  By

★
“Just say no.”

Not to be confused with the other film of the same title, it’s likely significant it took me over three years to cover this, after mentioning it in the earlier review. I suspect I kept seeing the spectacularly bad reviews and finding more enjoyable things to do. That cat-litter box ain’t gonna clean itself, folks. Eventually, though, I bit the bullet, and… Well, by the end, a bullet would have been welcome. For debut director O’Rourke has made a rape-revenge film, without managing either to build on the tropes of the genre, or find anything new to say. It’s the kind of film which could only have come out of the brief period when #MeToo was considered relevant.

It has not aged well. In particular, casting Ezra Miller as a men’s rights activist, because they (to use preferred pronouns, albeit sarcastically) are now spectacularly cancelled. Instead of watching the movie, I recommend instead going down the Wikipedia rabbit-hole for amusement. My favourite sentence: “Miller believed people criticized their relationship with Iron Eyes because she is “an apocalyptic Native American spider goddess” who, along with Miller as Jesus Christ, will bring about an Indigenous revolution.” Alright then. Mind you, those reviews I mentioned suggest the film was poorly received at the time too. I suppose I should discuss it. I’d rather not. Can’t I just continue lobbing snark grenades from afar? [Monty Python voice: Get on with it!]

Joey (Clemons) gets date-raped. Through Regina (Shipp), a regular at the diner where she works, she is introduced to an all-female vigilante group, the Cherry Bombers. Their mission is to make any abusive men pay – naturally, they are the judge, jury and executioners of what constitutes “abuse”. The group’s Public Enemy #1 is Mark Vanderhill (Miller) who, conveniently, is about to stage a major rally for his Men’s First Movement. Oscar Wilde once described fox-hunting as “The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.” That’s entirely appropriate for this film too. Vanderhill is a pantomime villain, and the Cherry Bombers are an all-you-can-eat buffet of alphabet soup and minority groups, smugly sure of their righteous mission. I’m not sure who I hated more. 

The whole thing feels entirely like a vehicle for O’Rourke to tout his creds as an “ally”. The end credits even include a lengthy statement about native land and its use, for additional right-on points. And yet, O’Rourke was arrested for punching a trans woman in 2022. Awkward. I am equally sure these beliefs in no way qualify him as a movie-maker, and there is precious little indication here of relevant skill. Not in O’Rourke, nor the thirty-six credited producers of various kinds. Bandwagon much? At one point, a movie marquee in the background has screenings listed for Thelma & Louise and Switchblade Sisters. Unless “There’s nothin’ I love more than watching grown men squeal” (an actual line here) is your idea of moral philosophy, those are films for which this is not fit to make a sandwich. 

Dir: Eamon O’Rourke
Star: Kiersey Clemons, Vanessa Hudgens, Alexandra Shipp, Ezra Miller

Oklahoma Annie

  By

★★★
“Annie, forget your gun.”

Judy Canova, known as ‘Queen of the Cowgirls’, was a popular star of radio and screen in the forties and fifties. She had a certain schtick: a homely but honest country gal, who stumbled into trouble – often with singing involved. I admit, the mere title of one such entity, Joan of Ozark, made me laugh. Here – despite the title – she plays a character called Judy, as she often did. The film’s name comes from Judy’s grandmother, who had been a much-feared sheriff. According to Judy, “The bad men in these parts were so scared of her, that they either plum reformed, or hung themselves by way of cooperating.” Judy now runs a trading post.

She is deputized by the town’s new sheriff Dan Fraser (Russell), after Judy captures a bank robber, Curt Walker (Barcroft), using her store and its contents in a way which reminded me of Home Alone. But after Fraser heads off to get a judge to try the case, leaving Judy in charge, her lack of relevant experience becomes problematic. She knows her way around a horse: law enforcement, not so much. However, in a remarkably progressive story-line considering the era, she rounds up the women of the town, who then ride off to save the day, and Fraser. I guess that could be considered a spoiler. But if you think a fifties Western was ever going to do anything except have good prevail… 

I found myself liking Judy Canova – both the actress and the character – more than I would have expected. If the latter is clearly short on book learnin’, and hardly what you would call a classical beauty, she makes for an appealing heroine, being brave, honest and warm-hearted. I’d like to have seem more of her – and, say, less of the two prospectors who are supporting characters, try to steal her success, and whose comic relief mugging certainly outstayed its welcome. Canova falling for Fraser (and his newfangled auto-mo-beel), causing her pigtails to go independent, is the stuff of classic slapstick. I didn’t even mind the three songs she sings: they are kept brief, and the one where there are four Judys, courtesy of a set of mirrors, harmonising with each other, is genuinely well-done and charming.

Of course, between the light-hearted tone in general, and the fact this is well over seventy years old, you won’t get anything like modern GWG action. But considering these factors, it’s surprisingly ahead of its time. What stood out for me was Canova, who is massively against type of almost any other Western heroine. Maybe heroine in any genre: Melissa McCarthy in Spy might be the closest, though she’s considerably smarter. I could see Canova as a goofy sidekick, not the central character. Yet I undeniably found myself rooting for her, charmed by her innocence and unstoppable good nature. If not something I’d want as a regular diet, it was a refreshing way to clean my palate.

Dir: R. G. Springsteen
Star: Judy Canova, John Russell, Grant Withers, Roy Barcroft

Sayara

  By

★★★★
“Turkish delight.”

Well, “delight” might not quite be the right word. But who am I to let facts get in the way of a good review tagline? It’s more of a Turkish nightmare, probably the most brutal rape-revenge movie I’ve seen since… Well, probably Revenge. The director is best-known for Baskin, generally considered the best horror movie from Turkey. Though, full disclosure, I wasn’t that impressed by it: strong on atmosphere, but short on a coherent storyline. That’s not an accusation which can be levelled at this. However, the level of savagery and bloodshed arguably puts this into the horror genre as well. It’s the story of two Turkmenistan sisters, Sayara (Kocabiyik) and Yonca (Kosar), both of whom are involved, in different ways, with gym owner Bariş Ataberk (Kizilirmak).

Yonca is having an affair with the married man. But she has been able to leverage this into getting a job at the facility, as a cleaner, for the much quieter Sayara. Bariş offers Sayara a job as a trainer, teaching female clients self-defense, knowing of her skills in this area, but she declines. Worse follows, when Yonca catches Bariş cheating, and threatens to reveal all to his wife. This does not go down well, and ends in Yonca’s death, which is called a suicide officially. It helps that Bariş’s father, Halil Ataberk (Inal), is a senator with a lot of political pull, and can ensure no action is taken against his son.

No official action, anyway. While Sayara may have seemed the quiet and meek sister, we see in flashbacks the relationship she had with her soldier father – now, notably absent. One senses a lot of darkness there. Indeed, he tells his daughter. “I committed many great sins. It doesn’t matter. The darkness in me, is in you too, Sayara. But if someone crosses that line – to you, or your mother, or to your sister – you will go all the way, without blinking. You will go to the bottom of that darkness.” And Sayara does. Boy, does she. Not just against Bariş, but all those involved, even tangentially, and using every weapon at her disposal, from fire to her teeth. The latter provides the film’s most horrific scene.

This establishes its direction early. The first spoken line is “Son of a whore!” and it’s something of a mix of social complaints thereafter. Class, nationality and gender all come into play here in the power dynamics. Though it’s not as one-side as it might seem: Yonca is hardly blameless, and seems to have a fondness for S&M games, as well as no respect for the sanctity of marriage. However, “blurred lines” hardly excuse what happens to her subsequently, and you’ll be firmly behind Sayara on her relentless quest for the bottom of that darkness. You may not find the ending fully satisfying, in the traditional sense. But I’m hard-pushed to deny it’s appropriate, and you will certainly remember it. 

Dir: Can Evrenol
Star: Duygu Kocabiyik, Emre Kizilirmak, Özgül Kosar, Levent Inal

Razor Days

  By

★★
“Just not sharp enough, I’m afraid.”

This was certainly not what I expected. That, in itself, would not have been a problem – I’m quite used to, and indeed do not mind, films which confound my preconceptions. I respect what this is attempting to do as well, which is a different take on the revenge movie. The problem here is fumbled execution: more on the directorial, writing and technical fronts, though in some of the performances too. Even allowing for the obviously limited resources this had to play with, by the end, it was definitely a struggle to get through, with a lack of narrative thrust in particular, meaning it failed to hold my attention. That’s a bit of a shame. Only a bit, mind you.

There are three central characters here: Anita (Best), Jessamay (Rochon) and Rena (Monahan). Two of them have severe cases of post-traumatic stress disorder, resulting from their kidnapping and savage treatment at the hands of a rural family, the Logans, who may have cannibalistic tendencies. Jessamay, in particular, suffered brutally, losing an eye and being left with a badly-scarred face. Rena, meanwhile, has largely retired from society. But with the reluctant help of Anita, Jessamay tracks her down and convinces Rena to join them as they head to the Logan farm. As Jessamay puts it, “Time to tell God that he can’t fuck with us and not have any repercussions.” But this does not exactly have the healing consequences for which the trio were hoping. 

And that’s the point: revenge is not clean or cathartic. Indeed, part of the message here seems to be that it can end up turning you into the monster too. To quote Friedrich Nietzsche, “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” If someone optioned that line and made a movie of it, you’d probably end up with this. Which works for Rochon’s character, because she has the necessary acting chops to pull it off. Despite her reputation as a “scream queen”, she has always been a cut above that in her talent. The others though? Not nearly so much.

Not helping: bad audio, which will either have you leaping for the remote or, in my case, turning it almost all the way down and relying on the subtitles. There are interesting ideas for a revenge film, such as that we don’t see the victims’ ordeal until after the revenge – and even then, it’s through Jessamay’s dreams, an unreliable narrator if ever there were one. Unfortunately, the execution is sloppy and dilutes the points the movie is trying to make. It’s an interesting contrast to the recently reviewed Undercover, where the story was nothing new, but it did it brilliantly. Here, there’s no shortage of innovation, but Watt doesn’t know how to go about getting them off the page and onto the screen. 

Dir: Mike Watt
Star: Amy Lynn Best, Debbie Rochon, Bette Cassatt, Jeff Monahan

Extremities

  By

★★★
“Not so extreme.”

In the mid-eighties, Farrah Fawcett underwent a bit of sharp change in career path. The previous decade had seen her become one of the biggest sex symbols of the seventies, a star in the first season of Charlie’s Angels, and selling millions of posters a year. But here and in 1984’s TV movie The Burning Bed, which addressed the largely taboo topic of domestic abuse, Fawcett’s work took on a pro-feminist tone. While Bed hit screens before this, her connection to Extremities predated it. The concept was originally a stage play, and Fawcett appeared in the original New York production – incidentally, replacing Susan Sarandon (Karen Allen, Ellen Barkin and Helen Mirren have also taken on the lead role). 

She was thus an easy choice for the film adaptation, to a mixed reception. While nominated for a Golden Globe, critics Siskel & Ebert called it one of the worst movies of the year – alongside the brilliance of The Hitcher, so I’m ignoring them. The origins on-stage are fairly obvious. The bulk of this takes place in the house shared by Marjorie (Fawcett), Terry (Scarwid) and Pattie (Woodard). Marjorie is recovering from narrowly escaping a rape attempt. With the attacker wearing a mask, the police are unable to act, and she is now living in fear, knowing her attacker has her wallet, and so knows where she lives. Rightfully so, for when Joe (Russo) shows up on her doorstep, it’s not with good intentions. 

With the help of a convenient can of wasp spray, she is able to turn the tables on her attacker. Joe is knocked out and tied up, while Marjorie prepares her own brand of justice, digging a grave in the garden, in which he will be buried alive. However, the return of first Terry and then Pattie to the house complicate matters, not least because Joe claims he’s the victim, and he and Marjorie knew each other before. Using information he had found in the mail-box, he’s able to spread dissension in the ranks, with Pattie – a social worker, so clearly a do-gooder on the side of the criminal – particularly averse to Marjorie’s plans. We also learn about an incident in Terry’s past, which colours her opinion.

In contrast to other entries like Hard Candy, there’s no doubt as to the antagonist’s guilt, and that certainty makes it a bit less interesting to me. I was impressed with Fawcett’s performance – the switch from victim to relentless avenging angel is sudden, yet does not feel unwarranted. Russo also deserves credit, for playing a compelling slimeball, who is also convincing enough when pleading innocence. The strong leads help counter what feels unnecessarily restrained, compared to other eighties entries in the genre, both in terms of the rape and the revenge: there were points where I wondered if this was a TV movie. The ending would be one such. I guess we discover that the way to a rapist’s heart, involves his crotch, a sharp blade and threats in lieu of actual mutilation.

Dir: Robert M. Young
Star: Farrah Fawcett, James Russo, Diana Scarwid, Alfre Woodard

Take the Shot, by J.T. Skye

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

To a certain extent, this feels like two separate novels joined at the hip, albeit sharing the same protagonist. The first half takes place on the planet of  Hoganth, which is a gritty urban dystopia, with teenage heroine Rishi Tremayne trying desperately to survive, as she is ruthlessly hunted by a powerful family with ambitious aspirations. The second, however, largely takes place in outer space, as she becomes the weapons operator on a ship piloted by Earthman Derek Hamilton, as they try to shutdown the plot. There are a lot of space battles, and I have to say, I found it rather more generic, and consequently less interesting. But let’s rewind.

With her mother and brother too sick to work, Rishi is the family sole provider, and even that is on shaky grounds. However, she has found work as a data processor, looking for space junk which could potentially be recycled. She finds what appears to be a giant asteroid, and dutifully files a report. Except, it’s actually a two-kilo long spaceship, secretly being built by House Forsythe in preparation for a coup attempt against the Empress. They’re not happy about its discovery, and send forces to wipe out everyone who knows about it, which includes a drone bombing Rishi’s apartment. Fortunately, a retired warrioress, Aun Twil, lives nearby and comes to Rishi’s rescue – except, this puts her on the Forsythe radar too.

It’s this section which is the most entertaining, Aun using her skills to help Rishi avoid meeting the same fate as her employers. This initially involves trying to get out of town, avoiding or defeating the Forsythe agents sent, with increasing aggression, to finish the job. It takes a while before Rishi is able to figure out why she’s being targeted for elimination. When she does, the goal becomes to get Rishi to someone who can act on what she knows, and Aum is able to use her contacts to get the young woman into the Empress’s inner circle. It’s a little implausible a street rat like Rishi would be accepted, rather than (at best!) thanked for the information and sent on her way, while the adults solve the problem. 

She does manage to hang around, and weirdly, the assassination attempts continue: seems a bit pointless by this point, and although there’s the death of a significant character, it has weirdly little emotional weight. Still, Rishi has to stick around, for her role in a climax which might well remind you of a certain well-known SF movie, also requiring an “impossible” shot to destroy a massive superweapon… It certainly did me. On the positive side, the lack of much romance beyond an odd passing attraction is appreciated, and the world-building here is decent. But by the end, I was getting rather bored of dogfights in space, where I felt I needed a chart to keep track of proceedings.

Author: J.T. Skye
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Stand-alone novel, though part of the Trigellian Universe.

Natassa

  By

★★½
“A blonde, not having more fun.”

I am reluctant to be overly harsh on this one, because I suspect I didn’t get to see this in its best format. The fact it feels very choppy and disjointed could potentially be a result of the IMDb giving this a running time of 136 minutes, but the only print available ran a good half-hour less. It was also dubbed from Greek into English and pan-and-scanned. Pretty much the holy trinity of cinematic suckage, right there. It’s the story of Natassa Arseni (Vougiouklaki), who lives in Greece when the Nazis invade during World War II. She’s initially largely unconcerned, but gradually becomes involved in the local resistance.

There are two men in her life. A former college friend, Max (Karras), followed his father’s German heritage, and is now a member of the occupying forces, who has feelings for Natassa. Her affections are elsewhere, haven fallen in love at first sight with Orestis (Papamichael), a partisan dedicated to ridding his home country of the occupying forces. She marries him and throws her lot in with the resistance, but is captured by the Nazis, and tortured for information. Except, this was a cold-blooded decision to sacrifice them, in order to provide false information to Germany about the location of a future Allied invasion. Orestis escapes capture, and hatches a daring plan to disguise himself and his men as the Nazi firing squad sent to execute Natassa. Fate, however, has other plans.

There are some good ideas here. The character of Max, with a foot in both camps is an interesting one, and I liked how there are biggest issues at play, requiring sacrifices – unwittingly, admittedly – from those on the front lines. Some scenes are very effective. The wedding of Orestis and Natassa, where they are ambushed on the way to the church, and she pushes through with the ceremony despite being shot, would be one. Then again, I’m a sucker for a bloodstained wedding dress. Vougiouklaki is strikingly blonde, and rather unGreek. However – again, perhaps due to the editing down to the most dramatic scenes, or maybe the dubbing – it feels as if she has her acting permanently set at a level of “11”, occasionally toppling over into overacting.

There are points where this is justified: I mean, you’re being interrogated and tortured (even if Max points out, “I’m not in the Gestapo, I’m in the SS” – not sure that makes much difference…), a little hysteria would seem fair enough. But when it seems most scenes are played out like that, it reduces the impact when it’s needed most. There are also moments which dangle awkwardly, such as the opening, where a post-war Natassa visits Dachau, or when she’s a singer, bursting into(presumably patriotic?) song when the Nazis show up. That feels like a knock-off of the Marseillaise bit from Casablanca. I don’t recall the heroine wielding an automatic weapon at any point, as the poster suggests, either. I’ve read that this was the biggest-grossing local movie in Greece for years after its release. Needs a remake, I’d say. 

Dir: Nikos Foskolos
Star: Aliki Vougiouklaki, Dimitris Papamichael, Kostas Karras, Kakia Panagiotou
a.k.a. Lieutenant Natassja or Battlefield Constantinople

The Protector

  By

★★½
“Post-apocalypse, talk will still be in abundant supply.”

[Note: not to be confused with Protector] The year is 2042. A plague knows as The Rot has decimated the land, and those who survived it are in a precarious state, with the water supply having almost run out. There is one source left: an underground aquifer which has enough water for a century. Needless to say, its highly coveted, but access to it has been cut off by the native American tribe under whose land it sits, with the road heavily mined by Chief Brand (Greene, in what must have been close to his final role before passing away). Warlord Gael (Aryeh-Or) lets Key (Moreau) out of jail, knowing she has a map through the minefield and can give him control of the aquifer.

But, wait! There’s more! Because another issue facing society is mass infertility, with children almost non-existent since The Rot. Key finds herself acting as guardian to one rare kid, Kellan (Lane) on her journey. Oh, and there’s also a mad pastime called “Dirt-Joust”, which is like jousting, only with hot-rods replacing horses – it appears fuel is not hard to come by – on which the combatants ride on the bonnet. It’s not a career choice with a pension plan, shall we say. To be honest, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of this sport, since the scene we do get is kinda rad. But then, doing so would have only been possible by cutting out the many, many scenes of chit-chat. 

That’s the main problem here, I found. The obvious point of comparison is Mad Max, and in its female protagonist, particularly the new iterations of the franchise, such as Fury Road. However, there, the plot was basically there to act as a delivery mechanism for jaw-dropping action scenes. Here, it’s as a vehicle for moral lectures, pontification and general conversation. It feels as if writer-director Gasteazoro did not understand the assignment, or the rules of the sub-genre. It’s a shame, because there are elements here which work. Not the least of which is Moreau, who looks the part of a world-weary heroine who has had it up to here, and carries herself well, on the rare occasions when she is called into action. 

The film also looks pretty nifty. I haven’t been able to find out the budget: it likely wasn’t a huge amount, yet unlike things like Road Wars: Max Fury, it rarely if ever looks cheap. Some wobbly CGI flames are about the worst element on offer. It instead feels like the film is mostly intended to be a vehicle – pun not intended – for Gasteazoro’s liberal views on a variety of topics, from ecology, through the rights of indigenous people, to same-sex marriage. I would venture to suggest that a post-apocalyptic film might not be the best route to change minds and influence people on these subjects. Give me ninety minutes of dirt-jousting instead, and I might be prepared to listen to you. 

Dir: Raul Gasteazoro
Star: Marguerite Moreau, Aryeh-Or, Mark Lane III, Graham Grene