Author: Jim McLennan

Vesper

  By

★★★½
“Battle Angel Nausicaa”

As the above suggests, I was getting a strong manga influence, in particular from the works of Hayao Miyazaki: it feels like the script could have been something he’d have written on a gloomy Wednesday in January. Feisty teenage heroine? Check? Ecological message? Check. For this takes place after some kind of change in the world, which has left the bulk of the population clinging on to existence by their grubby fingernails, in a world now owned by bizarre flora. Vesper (Chapman) is one such, tending to her paralyzed father (Brake) whose consciousness has been transferred into a drone. She trades with her uncle, Jonas (Marsan), swapping blood for the seeds they need to survive.

Yet there’s also elements of Battle Angel Alita, with a sharp delineation between the haves and the have-nots. The latter live privileged lives in Citadels, served by artificial lifeforms called “jugs”, and as suppliers of the seeds, hold everyone else in their control. One day, a Citadel craft crashes near Vesper’s home, and she rescues Camelia (McEwen) from the wreckage. She promises to take Vesper and her father back to her home. Yet it eventually becomes clear that Camelia is not being 100% honest about her own situation either. On the other hand, she is potentially the key to liberating everyone from under the thumb of the Citadels, and ending their monopoly on the resources necessary for survival. It’s not something the rulers will give up easily, however.

This is rather ponderous in its progress, running close to two hours, and is clearly content to take its time getting to any of its points. If you’re willing to accept that, there’s a lot to appreciate here, not least some great visual style and world-building. This has to be one of the most fully convincing post-apocalyptic landscapes I’ve seen, a remarkable achievement considering its budget was a mere five million Euros. Vesper is a heroine right out of the Nausicaa playbook: someone who is smart and brave, rather than physically strong, devoted to her family, and who has an inherent affinity for the natural world. Her mother left the family, under circumstances best described as murky, and Camelia is a surrogate, to some extent.

It does feel as if the makers fell in love with their creation a little more than I did, and wanted to wallow in the imagination, at the expense of developing the plot. No-one seems in a particular hurry here, and for every scene which moves the story forward, there’s another that seems to exist purely as a visual showcase. I think it might work better at 90 minutes than 120 – or alternatively, expanded beyond the confines of a feature film. This is the kind of thing I could certainly imagine HBO developing into a series. The ending came close to toppling into “Eh?” territory, before a final shot where it made sense, and wrapped things up on easily the most optimistic note we’d heard. Miyazaki would likely approve.

Dir: Kristina Buozyte, Bruno Samper
Star: Raffiella Chapman, Rosy McEwen, Eddie Marsan, Richard Brake

Magic Warriors

  By

★★★
“Lin-sanity rides once again.”

I am going to be entirely upfront, and state that any factual statements regarding the plot here will be entirely cribbed from other sources. Because, on my own, I have close to no clue as to the details of what was going. I got that some girl dressed as a guy, Little Flying Dragon (Lin, inevitably) was trying to protect Golden Boy (Chan) from a bunch of very strangely dressed weirdos with even more bizarre powers. They want Golden Boy for some nefarious purpose on behalf of an evil sorcerer type, who laughs maniacally. A lot. Everyone involved wears wigs which look like they were bought in bulk from Hair Metal R Us. There’s an acid pit, into which Golden Boy’s father is unceremoniously dropped. His mother is called “Evil Lady” in the subtitles, though she isn’t really. At one point, there’s a song whose lyrics according to the subs go, “Little Flying Dragon, Little Flying Dragon, change all the time, power breads everything.”

You will understand my confusion.

Actually, I’m not going to bother with a more coherent description of the plot elements, because in the final analysis, they don’t particularly matter. It’d be like spending 500 words discussing background to the 1998 Hell in a Cell match, when what actually counts, is Mankind getting thrown off the cage and through a table. Any story here is simply an excuse for the usual combination of high-flying action and low-brow humour. We’ve seen them present in earlier, similar Lin-powered entries such as Magic of Spell, yet it feels like the makers felt the need to one-up themselves here, in both departments. The kung-fu feels more well-assembled and, though still significantly wire-powered, there’s clearly no shortage of skill from the performers. On the other hand, you get a steady stream of jokes about urine, farts and excrement: Golden Boy seems to have got his name from the first of these. If you find someone mistaking pee for tea the peak of comedy, you’re going to love this.

Me, not so much, and again, I find myself unable to figure out the target audience here. For every element which seems squarely targeted at a nine-year-old audience, there’s one which seems heavily inappropriate, such as Evil Lady projectile vomiting blood into a lake. Maybe the Taiwanese pre-teen audience is just considerably more resilient? It’s still not quite my cup of tea (or pee, I guess), with the more childish elements not to my taste. However, I think I did enjoy this one a bit more than Spell, with what felt like better pacing and a particularly rousing finale in the villain’s lair. I’d not be willing to take a test on the plot, what with people changing sides at the drop of a small child. Yet this is one of those cases where you simply need to, in the words of the great philosopher Adele, “Let it go, let it go…”

Dir: Yan-Chien Chuang, Tso Nam Lee
Star: Hsiao-Lao Lin, Chan Yin-Yu, Alexander Lo Rei, Chen Shan

Phoenix

  By

★½
“Tubi or not Tubi? NOT Tubi…”

Much though I love the streaming service, even I have to admit that “Tubi Originals” are a bit of a mixed bag, to put it mildly. For every Mercy Falls, an entertaining enough B-movie that punches above its weight, there is also… Well, things like this, which is filled wall-to-wall with non-actors trying to act, among a plethora of other, poor choices. Both heroine and villain are former WWE employees, being known there respectively at Eva Marie and Vladimir Kozlov. The latter comes off better, largely because he doesn’t have to do much more than be a menacing thug in his role as Maxim Vasiliiv, head of a Russian crime syndicate in Miami.

He’s involved in the death of Everett Grant (Couture), which is a bad move, since the corpse’s daughter, Fiona “Phoenix” Grant (Marie), is a combat trainer in the US Army, and does not believe her father killed himself. You can probably figure out the rest of the story without me needing to explain it. To be honest, my notes on the topic would not trouble a cigarette paper, such is the shallowness of the plot. The acting is no great shakes either. A lot of the supporting cast is filled out by people who are clearly more familiar with the inside of a gym, rather than the Actor’s Studio. Consequently, they look the part (even if it’s “Menacing Thug #4”), only for the illusion to be shattered when they deliver lines.

There are a couple of minor exceptions, though the real actors only show up the deficiencies elsewhere. Neal McDonough plays Fiona’s commanding officer, and the always welcome Bai Ling appears as a rather weird role, missing from her IMDb entry, most notable for lipstick and make-up which leaves her looking as if she came right from a booking as a kid’s party clown. All of which would be acceptable, if the film delivered copious amounts of over-the-top mayhem – as you’d expect given the two leads’ histories. The reality is, it’s almost forty minutes before you get Phoenix doing anything of significance. We do first get a shopping montage with her Aunt Grace (Camacho – a former cop who appeared on Survivor, apparently). So there’s that.

Things perk up somewhat thereafter, at least when those involved are kicking and punching each others. These sequences may not make a lot of – read, any – sense, yet they’re preferable to the makers’ feeble efforts in other departments. The scene where Fiona and Maxim have dinner and trade lscklustre barbs, may be the low-water point in this department, though any flashback involving Everett (“It’s Christmas Eve and Dad still hasn’t shown up – or called!”) is probably going to be ranked. When I saw the trailer for this, I was surprised by how little action it seemed to have. Turns out, the answer is definitely “not enough,” and the final ten minutes are not enough to rescue the situation.

Dir: Daniel Zirilli
Star: Natalie Eva Marie, Oleg Prudius, Jessie Camacho, Randy Couture

Heart of Stone

  By

★★
“Entertainment: Impossible”

The Great 2023 Void of Action Heroines continues on. The closest thing we’ve seen to one as a mainstream hit in the cinemas is… um, Barbie. Yeah. Not going there. I was looking at the box-office chart for the year, and excluding movies which were actually released in 2022 e.g. Everything Everywhere All at Once, there is only one single film in the top two hundred we have covered here. Polite Society sits outside the top hundred, at $1,.5m [We will get round to The Wrath of Becky in a bit. It’s #181, with a gross of $168,109.] Last year, we had Everything and The Woman King in the top thirty. 2021 gave us Black Widow; 2020, Birds of Prey and Wonder Woman 1984. The complete lack of tentpole heroines this year is disconcerting.

There has been no shortage of female supporting characters who have kicked butt. We already wrote about the The Women of Mission: Impossible, while John Wick 4 also delivered in this category, among quite a few other successful movies. But if you want to see a GWG take centre-stage, you will not find it in the movies. In some ways, it’s more convenient, to be able to sit at home, in your own comfy chair, with a choice of reasonably-priced snacks, and simply push a button on your remote control. But, it has to be said: quality wise, there’s often a good reason most of these films have gone straight to a streaming service. We’ve already covered a number here. The Mother. Furies. Mercy Falls. True Spirit. Some were decent. Yet none have achieved a seal of approval.

This one certainly won’t, barely reaching the level of acceptable entertainment, and sadly, continuing Gal Gadot’s streak of swings and misses. She blazed onto the scene in Wonder Woman back in 2017, and seemed set to take over the mantle as one of the top action actresses in Hollywood. But she has singularly failed to build on that foundation. She lost a lot of public goodwill for her tone-deaf Imagine video in the pandemic. WW84 was a flop, Red Notice was a quickly-forgotten Netflix Original, and her turn in Death on the Nile was widely-panned, becoming a meme. This, however, was a chance to correct course, putting her front and centre in a movie which, it was clearly hoped, would kick-start a franchise and become the female version of Mission: Impossible.

Ain’t gonna happen.

Two minutes in, Chris turned to me and said, “Is this a movie or a TV series?” and I can see her point. Having watched this just a couple of weeks after the undeniably cinematic Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One, the difference is obvious. Harper directed The Aeronauts, which was decent enough, but it seems he is incapable of scaling things up from a balloon basket, to the much larger scope needed here. Part of the problem with the action sequences in particular, is the VR enhancement gimmick the heroine wears, allowing her to get real-time updates from her handler. This too often leaves everything looking like it’s a video-game, and it rubs off on other sequences, such as her parachute jump, which feels thoroughly unconvincing.

The plot is perhaps an even greater weakness, a confusing and unengaging mess. Rachel Stone (Gadot) works for a group called Charter, who use hi-tech surveillance for good (yeah… about that…). She’s embedded as an agent in MI-5, for reasons that are never made clear. Wouldn’t you know it, one of the people on her team, Parker (Dornan), turns out to be plotting to steal The Heart, the super-computer on which Charter relies for their surveillance – and use it, presumably, not for good. He has teamed up with talented young hacker Keya Dhawan (Bhatt) to this end, and only Stone can stop them, recover The Heart, and save her colleagues at Charter, including Stone’s boss Nomad (Okenedo).

Dear god, I almost lost consciousness merely typing the previous paragraph. Reviewing the previous work of writers Greg Rucka and Allison Schroeder, what stands out is an almost complete lack of action movies. Rucka has worked mostly in comics (including the one which became The Old Guard), while Schroeder did, um, Christopher Robin and Hidden Figures. The lack of experience shows. Never mind not having written an action movie, it feels as if neither of them had seen an action movie. If so, they might have realized Stone’s handler flicking VR screen around by gesture, was done twenty years ago in Minority Report. The good ideas here are all like that, things you’ve seen elsewhere, and done better, while the ones the movie can call its own are uninspired in concept and/or execution.

It doesn’t help that the supporting cast are mostly bland. If Gadot does still have reasonable charisma, Dornan is completely forgettable. Bhatt is a thoroughly unconvincing hacker – I might trust her to reset my account password, and apologize for the inconvenience. That’s about it. The most irritating character though, is probably her handler. I get what they were going for, but almost every time he’s involved, it leaves the heroine feeling not much more than a meat-puppet, removing a significant degree of agency from her. I will say, some of the action set-pieces aren’t too bad. There’s a good car-chase through Lisbon, for example. But any secret organization which fills its airship with hydrogen, is certainly not going to remain secret for very long. That’s the level of idiocy we are dealing with in the writing here.

Long before the end, I had mentally checked out, as the film globe-trotted manically from [checks notes] the Alps to London to Portugal to Senegal to Iceland. There’s no denying there was a significant amount of resources expended on this production, though Netflix is notoriously tight-lipped on specific budgets. However, the film doesn’t so much jump the shark, as use it for a 3000-metre steeplechase, when the MI-5 spies have a dance break. Read the sentence again. Roll it around your brain. That it’s to a Lizzo song – unfortunate timing, that – makes it considerably worse. Everything thereafter feels like a waste of those resources, as well as the variable talents of those involved.

Dir: Tom Harper
Star: Gal Gadot, Jamie Dornan, Alia Bhatt, Sophie Okonedo

Magic of Spell

  By

★★½
“Spell-ing B-movie”

The best way to describe this, is perhaps to say that if I was nine years old, I would think it was the greatest movie I had ever seen. And I would likely be right, at the time. With the benefit of [redacted] more years, and several thousand additional movies under my belt… Not so much. Oh, it’s excessive, insanely imaginative and high energy, to be sure. However, it is also slapdash, incoherent and juvenile. Never mind appealing to nine-year-olds, it often feels like it was made by nine-year-olds. This explanation could be the most logical way to explain how the film manages to misspell its own name in the opening credits, calling itself Magic of Stell.

Let me attempt to summarize the more sane elements of the plot, as best I can. An evil wizard (Chen) seeks to reclaim his youth. This involves bathing in childrens’ blood, and eating the Ginseng King, who is played by a little kid dressed up to look like the herbal root in question. Out to stop him is Peach Boy (Lin, doing her usual unconvincing male character shtick), with the help of a bunch of friends, led by… some randomly wandering dude (Ku). Both sides are populated with bizarre characters, sporting even more bizarre abilities. For example, Peach Boy can summon a giant fruit which he can use like bowling-ball, and that occasionally shoots lasers out at her opponents.  Or one of his allies has an arm, which turns into an aggressive chicken on occasion and pecks peoples’ eyes out.

There are moments here which are “I can’t believe I just saw this.” If you saw the Indian film RRR, you’ll know the kind of thing I mean. Except, there is good reason why this has remained an underground item, rather than generating Oscar buzz. For there are also moments in this which appear to have strayed in from your local community theatre pantomime. I mean this in a number of ways: the quality of the performances, the juvenile humour, and the way you have both men playing women and women playing men. Not all of it works, to put it very, very mildly, and I’ve no idea who the target audience might have been.

Matters are likely not helped by the VCD release, which has the Cantonese audio track coming out of one speaker, and the Mandarin out of the other (how they used to do multiple-language media). So you’re listening to two different languages, simultaneously, and they are not in sync either, adding to the overall insanity. I think “exhausted” is the best single word for how the whole endeavour made me feel. It’s the cinematic version of a run-on sentence which lasts for 80 minutes, making copious use of the words “and then…” While I can appreciate the invention on view here, it doesn’t excuse an approach that seems to involve spraying the audience with a fire-hose, and hoping it slakes their thirst.

Dir: Chung-Hsing Chao
Star: Hsiao-Lao Lin, Chen Shan, Pao-Ming Ku, Mei Fang Yu

Panther of the Border

  By

★½
“A load of panths.”

There are times when I can look at a failure of a movie, and kinda see how the various elements could have been arranged to better effect. That’s the case here, where a poverty-row, Spanish-language (but made in Texas) production about rape, revenge and narcos, could potentially have worked. Except, it absolutely doesn’t. It’s the story of Carla Mendoza (Verastegui), who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, working for her boss, Pedro Camargo (Palomo), blissfully unaware he is a cartel leader. As a result, she’s arrested, and ends up spending seven years in prison, while daughter Nina is taken care by her grandmother.

On getting out, Carla vows to take revenge on everyone she considers responsible, which is not a short list. Beyond Camargo, who tried to have her put away for life, it also includes her previous boss (Soberón), who raped and then fired her; Camargo’s rival, La Cobra (played, according to the IMDb, by “La Cobra de Tamaulipas”, though my Internet sleuthing suggests she’s actually called Caty Gutiérrez); Camargo’s wife, who dissed Carla just before the arrest; and, quite probably, the doctor who doesn’t quite exhibit a top-tier beside manner, after Nina is shot when Camargo tries to take Carla out. Our heroine holds grudges like an elephant with a Rolodex (Kids! Ask your parents!), and has taken lessons in the necessary skills to exact payback from those on her list.

Unfortunately, the execution is terrible. The script is a complete mess, at one point repeating the entire sequence of events leading up to Carla’s arrest, which simply confused the hell out of me. Motivations for most characters are unclear, with things happening for no reason, out of thin air, or not at all, being simply described to us. For instance, Nina mounts an assault on La Cobra’s men, which we only hear about third-hand, through a report given to Camargo. This isn’t surprising, since the production values are woeful, with the “police station” and “hospital” battling it out, for the title of Least Convincing Facility. They’re still not as bad as Carla’s combat skills: my grandmother could do better, and she’s been dead for 40 years.

It feels as if the makers ran out of money or script pages, the film ending with Nina miraculously going from coma to 100% well again, followed by Verastegui giving a rousing karaoke rendition of the film’s theme song in a nightclub, before a crowd charitably numbering in double-digits. Even by the low standards of the Mexploitation films we’ve seen previously, this is bad. Yet as mentioned, arranged differently… I actually liked La Cobra, who genuinely acts like I feel a cartel leader would. If the whole film had been her against Carla, for some reason, it would have been on considerably stronger ground. Indeed, the performances in general are okay: most would not feel out of place in my narconovelas. Every other element though, ranges from poor to flat-out terrible.

Dir: Martin Palomo, Luis Antonio Rodriguez
Star: Carla Verastegui, Martin Palomo, La Cobra de Tamaulipas, Héctor Soberón
a.k.a. La Pantera de la Frontera

A Heroic Fight

  By

★★★
“Fight for your right to… fight.”

Well, this is certainly… a film. Indeed, of all the movies I’ve seen, it is unquestionably… one of them. Is it good? Bad? I’m still not sure. There are so many shifts in tone here, you’ll get whiplash. It’s clearly intended to be a parody of eighties Hong Kong cinema (even though it was made in Taiwan), yet is equally guilty of committing many of the same sins. I can’t deny the imagination here. A gangster, the unfortunately named Mr. Duh (Chao) is embroiled in a struggle for control of his empire with a lieutenant (Wei) who wants to start dealing drugs. To this end, the boss’s grand-daughter is kidnapped, only to be rescued by conveniently passing martial arts actor Hsiao-Long (Lin). He – and I’ll get back to that – is part of a film studio under his father (Yuen), who specializes in action and special effects. They end up hired by Duh, putting their skills to use to protect the grand-daughter and, at one point, fake the boss’s death.

It’s all a thin excuse for a variety of skits and action sequences, which run the gamut from cringey to very impressive. The former would include the prepubescent daughter doing slutty Madonna cosplay, in what’s basically an extended commercial for McDonalds, while Material Girl plays. Note: not a cover, the actual song. Jennifer Rush and the Yellow Magic Orchestra also have their catalogue plundered by the soundtrack here, which may explain why this has never seen an official Western release. The good stuff includes most of the action, which have so much imagination crammed into them, it almost hurts, from Hsiao-Long’s tricked-out BMX bike, to the final fight, in and around the film studio. Even the grandchild’s kidnapping involves a Mickey Mouse costume and use of helium balloons which I suspect would not pass close inspection, either by a scientist, or by Child Protective Services.

Lin’s skills, while wire-assisted, are notable. Though confusingly, it appears she is playing a male actor, who specializes in playing female roles. [Yes, but what are her preferred pronouns…] Given her career contained no shortage of male roles, this is quite meta, and her first scene appears to parody the kind of films in which she achieved fame. I would say that a lot of this has not dated well, with many references lost in the mists of time, even to those of us who have seen more eighties HK films than we’d like to admit. These are therefore left dangling to no particular point or reaction for a contemporary viewer. Fortunately, the action is probably as good as I’ve seen in a Taiwanese production. These often tend to come across as the poor relation of the work being put out by Hong Kong studios at the time: you’d be hard pushed to argue that’s the case here. Albeit only in spurts, this is every bit on par, and Lin’s tiny talents are enough to keep the pot bubbling.

Dir: Chung-Hsing Chao
Star: Hsiao-Lao Lin, Yuen Cheung-Yan, Dick Wei, Chung-Hsing Chao

Iron Jawed Angels

  By

★★
“Largely unable to get out the vote.”

There’s a fascinating story to be told about the struggle by American women to get the vote. Unfortunately, this isn’t it. Rather than being content to tell the story of the battle and those who fought in it, von Garnier (a German director who gave us Bandits)  seems to want to force these women from the 1910’s into modern feminist configurations. This position is set out particularly clearly in a deliberately anachronistic soundtrack, which at times makes the story feel more like Hamilton. And to be clear, that’s not a good thing. The focus is campaigner Alice Paul (Swank), beginning in 1912 when she returns from England, her passions set on fire by the work there of Emmeline Pankhurst, as documented in the rather better Suffragette.

Alice initially seeks to work with the leading American group, the National American Woman’s Suffrage Association, led by Carrie Chapman Catt (Huston), only to find their methods not radical enough for her tastes. This eventually causes her to form her own group, and begin protesting against President Woodrow Wilson, including a daily picket of the White House. Matters come to a head after the United States enters World War I, with such protests being seen as unpatriotic. This leads to Paul and other women being arrested on dubious charges, and after beginning a hunger strike in protest, the women are force-fed. Eventually, Wilson is convinced to support their cause, with the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote, being passed in 1920.

My main problem is that Paul never feels an authentic character. She comes over more like a 21st century woman transplanted to the time, which as result, makes her story feel almost like a bad episode from the current incarnation of Doctor Who. It chooses to manipulate history purely for dramatic purposes, such as shoehorning in a romantic relationship with a newspaper cartoonist. Yet for all the obviously liberal credentials inherent in the story, according to the film, only one black woman supported the suffrage movement – and just for a minute or two, before exiting the film. Awkward, that.

Despite the above, and the film in general being a stylistic mess, you’d have to try particularly hard to screw up the underlying story, which is generally an empowering and rousing one. You’d have to be a colder heart than I, not to feel aggrieved by the treatment Paul and the other women suffer in pursuit of their cause, and the film does manage to do these elements justice, simply by reining back in the attempts to jazz things up. I was amused (and slightly pleased) by the disdain of NAWSA towards their bomb-flinging sisters across the Atlantic, who were rather keener on direct action. Though the main moment which amazed me was the scene where President Wilson walked out of the front gate of the White House, tipping his hat to the protestors as he passed them. Truly a different era.

Dir: Katja von Garnier
Star: Hilary Swank, Frances O’Connor, Julia Ormond, Anjelica Huston

Injun

  By

★½
“I Spit on Your Movie.”

I never thought I’d find a film which would leave me yearning for the subtle and understated pleasures of the original I Spit on Your Grave, but here we are. 35 years on, and this cringeworthy copy was made, transplanting events to the old West. A further decade later: with a couple of re-titlings which jostle each other for inappropriateness, it’s out on a number of free movie streaming platforms. I’m here to tell you, not to bother. Even in the low-rent neighbourhood which is rape-revenge movies, you could close your eyes, pick a random entry, and be almost guaranteed to find something with a better script and general execution.

It begins on a bizarrely integrated farm, I’m guessing at some point after the end of the Civil War. Comanche adopted white girl Ana (Sawyer) lives there with her native American husband and their son, plus a Hispanic woman, a black guy and a geezer in glasses. Their names are not important. For onto the ranch ride six escaped convicts, led by former Confederate officer Jeb (Herrick). After some ominous banter with geezer in glasses, they kill everyone – told you their names weren’t important – except for Ana who is merely gang-raped, staked out and left for dead. Fortunately for her, she’s rescued by a conveniently passing man called Barfly (Neff). Nursed back to health over what must be a period of several hours, she sets out for revenge against the six escapees, who inexplicably decided to hang around the ranch.

You know me: I’m not exactly one to complain about questionable stereotypes. But even I had to wince on a number of occasions. It might have been Jeb’s Mexican sidekick, Chico (Venture), who sports an F-sized sombrero and droopy mustache. It might have been Ana’s squaw cosplay and whooping war-dance. It might have been the original title, with its even more dubious poster and tagline: “Payback’s an Indian bitch!” I’m all in favour of political incorrectness in order to make a point, or even simply to trigger certain folk. I get the feeling though, that everything here was done out of sheer ignorance. As such, this is no fun at all.

If you’re going to knock off I Spit on Your Grave so blatantly (down to there being a mentally-challenged member among the rapists), then you really need to put more effort into it. The rape here is a scoop of vanilla ice-cream compared to the intensity of the original. The revenge has almost no impact either, with third-rate special effects: the “scalping” is particularly unimpressive. Oh, hey: rather than cutting someone’s genitals off, she sets fire to them. That’s what passes for imagination and innovation here. The performances just about pass muster: indeed, there’s likely too much of them, especially with the gang sitting around the farmhouse and jawing, as their numbers steadily shrink. Your interest and attention will likely suffer a similar fate.

Dir: Bob Cook
Star: Amanda Elizabeth Sawyer, Robert Herrick, Tony Venture, Greg Neff
a.k.a. Scalped! or I Spit on Your Tombstone

Hit and Run, by Andy Maslen

  By

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

Detective Inspector Stella Cole has her life turned upside down when her lawyer husband is killed in a hit-and-run accident, leaving her to bring up daughter Lola on her own, and struggling with an addiction to both booze and painkillers – anything to numb the pain of everyday existence. Though the driver in question is arrested, he receives a paltry sentence of only three years, and Stella begins to plot taking her own revenge. This is brought up short when the perpetrator is killed in prison, and evidence begins to accumulate that her husband’s death may not have been accidental.

The more DI Cole investigates, the murkier things get, as she discovers evidence of a vigilante group, Pro Patria Mori, operating at the highest levels. They’re not exactly happy to have Cole circling them, and decide she needs to be dealt with. However, Stella has been preparing to deliver the most brutal payback she can imagine, when she finds the man responsible, and is no longer a soft target, but prepared for whatever – and whoever – PPM might throw at her. Despite Britain’s strict gun-controls, her job helps her obtain access to everything she needs, before she sets off to the Highlands of Scotland to carry out her vengeance, with absolutely no regard for what the personal cost might be.

Looking back on this, what will stick in my mind is probably a fairly mind-blowing twist at about the one-third point, which quite upends everything I’d believed, and was something I definitely did not see coming. Well played, Mr. Maslen. Well played. I also liked the nicely-detailed way in which Stella obtained her weaponry. Not being au fait with the finer details of police firearms procedure, I can’t comment on its practicality; however, it sounds like it could work, and that’s good enough for me. The action is fairly low-key for the most part, though ends in a rousing finale, with Stella’s assault on her target, who knows she’s coming and has made defensive preparations. Just not nearly enough of them.

There were some other plot aspects that didn’t convince. In the end, the person directly responsible for her husband’s death – as in, actually driving the car – is one of PPM’s top officials, which doesn’t seem to make sense. It’d be more logical to use the person who was actually sent to jail, and they clearly have no issues with throwing low-lives at problems, or access to the same. Similarly, it’d be more logical to have had her work up the chain of command. It still makes for a satisfying and vigorous tale of justice emphatically served, though I’m not certain how there can be six more books in the series. It feels as if Cole has burned an awful lot of bridges, with a return to her job seeming highly problematic. It’s certainly not a light read, yet perhaps is the better for unashamedly embracing the darkness in its topic and heroine.

Author: Andy Maslen
Publisher: Tyton Press, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 7 in the DI Stella Cole Thrillers series.