Author: Jim McLennan

Alone

  By

★★
“Getting away from it all.”

Jessica (Willcox) is making a break from her new life, packing up her possessions and driving away from her home and family in the big city. However, it’s not long before her journey through the countryside begins to hit bumps in the road. Specifically, in the shape of another driver (Menchaca), whose actions against Jessica veer between the aggressively hostile and the creepily over-friendly. The two encounter each other on a number of occasions, the incidents escalating until he finally drugs and kidnaps her. She wakes to find herself locked in the basement of a remote cabin, and needs to find a way to avoid a fate which, it appears, others before her have suffered.

A remake of Swedish film Gone, the major failing here is not enough happening to sustain the running time. The story needs to spend significantly less time on the build-up; for example, by cutting out the background stuff about exactly what it is, that Jessica is escaping from. We are given no reason to care, and it has little or no relevance to the movie’s central conflict. Similarly, there are likely too many encounters between her and him, before he finally abducts her. We get the picture after virtually the first one – and I have to say, the sensible thing for anyone to do thereafter, would have been to reject any further attempts, rather than engage in additional contact.

Of course, logic and common sense tend to be anathema to this genre, though there are times here where Jessica does behave credibly. For instance, her method of getting out of the basement is genuinely smart. I also liked the scene where, after her escape, she finds a hunter in the woods – only for the man to show up, and claim she’s his mentally-ill sister (an idea made plausible by her understandably hysterical reaction). But for every one of these positives, there are two negatives, such as her getting hold of his phone and calling… his wife, to let her know she’s married to a predator. While I admire the spirit of sisterhood there, I’d have suggested self-preservation might have been a better use of those cellphone minutes.

Eventually, we get to a finale, which has some more credibility speed-humps. Firstly, the coincidence that, in this gigantic forest, he buries a body right next to where she is hiding. And secondly, that when someone attacks you from the back seat of your car, you will immediately accelerate away which simultaneously fighting them, driving at top speed down a narrow forest track until the inevitable accident. Okay… This does lead to a half-decent brawl between them, on the scorched earth of a patch of cleared forest, with the crash having acted as a nice equalizer (despite the apparent lack of seat-belts!). It is, however, very much the definition of “too little, too late”, and can’t rescue this from the multiple missteps which have preceded it.

Dir: John Hyams
Star: Jules Willcox, Marc Menchaca, Anthony Heald

Dead Shot by Ethan Johnson

  By

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

I did get through this, but there were times when it was on thin ice, and it certainly didn’t work for me. At first, it seemed the heroine, Diana, was maybe eight or nine, going by the way she acts, and how her survivalist father treats her. [The first sentence is, “Diana Fellner stood over her suitcase, clutching a worn teddy bear”] Turns out, she’s actually 23. He abandons her at a roadside diner, for reasons that never become clear, and she is suddenly forced into adult life. With the help of a waitress at the diner, she ends up heading for Newark, and despite her lack of paperwork, gets a job in a shop. Then, all hell breaks loose, with a massive, coordinated series of terrorist attacks and subsequent riots, on what becomes known as Arbor Day. Diane turns vigilante, using the skills her father provided, and after the carnage, ends up joining what’s left of the police force. She has to overcome blatant sexism and a dangerous new world on the streets, as she finds herself – and also deal with her past catching up with her.

I think there was one particular moment where Diane jumped the shark for me. It’s on Arbor Day, when she basically executes a police officer, who has taken exception to her style of summary justice. The lack of real justification for the act, and any significant guilt or regret apparently felt by Diana after it, was rather troubling. Indeed, many of the events on that day themselves seem severely implausible. At the end of chapter 2, her father says, “I’ve got to teach you how to shoot,” for she has never fired live rounds, just a BB gun, before her abandonment. Yet she later proves capable of eliminating an entire mob of gang-bangers, virtually single-handed. Given she was brought up in a remote rural lifestyle, and kept almost in isolation, how did Diana become such an apparent expert in urban combat and pacification techniques? 

The world-building is a bit spartan as well. There’s not even any theories offered as to who was behind the events of Arbor Day – maybe that proves relevant in further volumes? – and the sudden collapse of society into anarchy and chaos seemed more convenient than plausible. I remember 9/11 and the country actually came together after those attacks, rather than immediately descending into The Purge. Diana – who inexplicably changes her name to DianE at the end, as if that’s a radical change – doesn’t seem to be a very nice person, with an apparent zero tolerance for anyone else’s flaws. However, it has to be said, the supporting cast are more annoying than endearing, so the reader is left with, basically, no-one likeable in the book. That isn’t necessarily an impossible block to overcome. However, Johnson doesn’t have the ability to do so, and I was left with no interest in going further.

Author: Ethan Johnson
Publisher: Independently published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 3 in the Diane Pembrook novel series.

Till Death

  By

★★½
“Women don’t sweat, they glisten.”

I kinda agonized, for far longer than I should have, over whether this was a 3-star or 2½-star film. It’s probably 2¾. Or perhaps 2 5/8. No, 2 11/16. In the end though, it doesn’t matter. It’s just another in Megan Fox’s attempts to become the next Angelina Jolie, following in the footsteps of the similarly okay but not exactly memorable Rogue. Indeed, I initially thought this was by the same director, but turns out it’s a different director who uses initials in lieu of a first name. Anyway, with this one now available on Netflix, it will likely raise Fox’s action-actress profile. In terms of current rankings, she probably moves ahead of Ruby Rose in the rankings. Though that’s not exactly difficult.

The problems here are mostly pacing, with the movie being too slow to get to the main course. Emma (Fox) is unhappily married to Mark (Macken), an over-controlling lawyer, and is having an affair with one of Mark’s colleagues. After an excess of scenes belabouring these points, e.g. Mark orders her dessert after she has declined it (what a bastard!), on their 10th anniversary, Mark takes her out to a remote lakehouse. She wakes the next morning to find herself handcuffed to him, and Mark then blows his brains out. Turns out, his life was about to fall apart, but he has a plan to wreck Emma’s life from beyond the grave. This involves sending two thugs (Mulvey and Roth) to the house, one of whom has a beef with her, due to Emma having cost him his eye.

Our heroine, therefore, has to elude the home invaders while chained to a 180-lb (literal) dead weight, in a house from which all sharp objects have been carefully removed. This is kinda distracting, as I found myself figuring out alternative methods of separation, such as slamming the corpse’s wrist repeatedly in a car-door. But that’s perhaps for the best, as a distraction from too many shots of Emma dragging Mark’s body around the house, using her wedding-dress as a tarp (I’ll take “Over-obvious symbolism” for $400, please, Alex). Naturally, this unwanted connection lasts only until the plot decides it needs to be discarded, when it becomes a more standard home-invasion thriller.

It does perk up on the arrival of the villains, and there are some reasonably clever twists thereafter. To be honest, Mark’s warped imagination was almost impressive. Though if I was going to such lengths to extract revenge, I’d probably want to be there to see it. Where’s the fun otherwise? Fox does put in the effort, even if as Chris noted, Emma remains remarkably shevelled (as opposed to dishevelled) over the course of proceedings. Her hair and lipstick remain almost pristine despite crawling across grubby floors and snowy landscapes. I’m reminded of the old line quoted at the top; if you can still look hawt when drenched in blood and brains, your make-up artist deserves some kind of award.

Dir: S.K. Dale
Star: Megan Fox, Callan Mulvey, Jack Roth, Eoin Macken

The Devil to Pay

  By

★★★★

“The hills have eyes. And hands, apparently.”

In the Appalachian Mountains, the residents are fiercely, even ferociously independent. They live by their own rules, known as the Creed. It’s a harsh, Old Testament version of law, which replaces conventional society. The lifestyle is well explained in a quote from a census taker which opens the film: “They want nothing from you, and God help you if you try to interfere.” It’s in this world that Lemon Cassidy (Deadwyler) lives with her young son on their smallholding. Her husband has gone off, but this seems not abnormal. At least, until Lemon gets a summons from Tommy Runion (Dyer), matriarch of her clan. Turns out Mr. Cassidy had owed her, and agreed to carry out a task in payment. His disappearance means the debt falls on Lemon, and if she won’t do Tommy’s bidding… Well, see the film’s title. 

The deeper Lemon gets, the more apparent it becomes she is not intended to get out alive, becoming the patsy in a long-running feud between the Runions and another mountain family. Escaping the fate intended for her will require guts, tenacity, a commitment to violence (when necessary) and the unlikely help of a local religious cult, who are… A bit different, even by the high standards of that term in Appalachian society. We have seen this kind of society before, such as in Winter’s Bone. However, what we have here is so alien, it almost beggars belief that this forms part of the contemporary United States of America. Indeed, some elements, such as the cult, are so out there, it’s positively distracting, taking attention away from the core storyline and characters. I must admit, there were several points where I felt additional explanation – in a format suitable for foreigners like myself – would have been quite welcome. 

The husband and wife duo of the Skyes also wrote Becky, one of 2020’s most effective works, and the script here is similarly impressive. It avoids the typical hillbilly stereotypes; while these people may be different to us city folk, they are clearly not idiots. But the key to the film’s success is Deadwyler, who is extremely good in her role. She’s black, and initially I did have qualms about this; given the setting, I wondered how much her character would be defined by her race. The answer? Not at all, and no-one else even mentions it, the material again choosing to avoid the easy route in its source of conflict. This is simply a non-issue, which you quickly forget about entirely,  and the film is all the better for that. Plaudits must also go to Dyer. She only has a few scenes, yet crafts a scary presence in a woman who can go from discussing the finer points of biscuit making, to threatening to bury you alive in a sentence or two. It’s a casual approach to violence, which makes it all the more frightening. 

Dir: Lane Skye, Ruckus Skye
Star: Danielle Deadwyler, Catherine Dyer, Jayson Warner Smith, Adam Boyer
a.k.a. Reckoning

Kate

  By

★★★
“Dying to kill you.”

The action heroine plotline of a woman defending a child – sometimes her own, but more often an acquired kid – is a common one. The “Mama Bear”, as TV Tropes called it, was most famously used in Aliens, but shows up with some regularity in our genre. See also Ultraviolet, Furie and The Long Kiss Goodnight (have I really never reviewed that?), while Gunpowder Milkshake was the most recent example. Of course, it’s not just heroines to whom it can apply; indeed there’s another page on TV Tropes called “Badass and Child“, covering the likes of Leon: The Professional. But the pairing of an action heroine with a (usually female) child has particular resonances, that perhaps merit general discussion, before we get into the specifics of Kate.

Firstly, it offers an easy justification for any and all subsequent violence. In Western society, women are not supposed to be aggressive. They are seen as the caring, nurturing gender, but protecting their offspring is one of the few times when they are “allowed” to engage their inner monsters. Again, it’s not limited to the female sex (think Taken), but male characters tend to have a wider range of potential motivations e.g. patriotism, personal power, so you don’t see paternal protection as often. [And that’s quite enough P’s.] In most cases – Ripley being an exception – the mother figure is already something of a bad-ass, so has that “very particular set of skills” necessary. It’s just the specific direction of her targets which is a result of the threat to her offspring. 

There is also, quite often, some kind of emotional resonance, in the cases where the child is not biologically related [when that is the case, you don’t typically need or get any more explanation, blood being thicker than water]. Maybe the kid acts as a surrogate, a replacement for one previously lost (Alien), or the heroine could never have. Or if a girl, the protagonist can perhaps see a younger version of herself. The other common theme is the use of the child as a key, to unlock the adult. Often, the latter has lost her humanity, typically through harsh circumstances, becoming largely a lone figure, with her emotions suppressed. The “childlike innocence” of the young person, to use a cliché, can be used as a psychological crowbar, pricing open the hard shell of the grown-up, allowing them to reconnect with their humanity. The more emotionally-driven immaturity also stands in contrast to the adult’s stoicism, often to an extreme degree. 

Which brings us to Kate, since the film demonstrates most of the above, to a certain degree. It is, to some extent, an unfortunate victim of its own timing. Probably safe to say, I would have enjoyed this more, had it not come out almost immediately on the heels of both Gunpowder Milkshake and The Protégé – films with which it has rather too much in common. All three movies are about female assassins, who find themselves at a crossroads in their professional and personal lives. In Kate and Milkshake, the protagonists find themselves, more or less unwillingly, in charge of a young girl. In Kate and The Protégé, they operate under the guidance of an older, male veteran killer, who trained them since childhood, but may or may not have their best interests at heart. Throw in to this, the “investigating your own murder” plot-line from classic film noir D.O.A., and you’ll understand why this seemed over familiar. 

It begins in Osaka, where Kate (Winstead) takes out a yakuza boss, despite qualms over the presence of his daughter. She tells her mentor, Varrick (Harrelson), she will do one last mission before she retires – yeah, that cliché. But before it happens, she’s poisoned with radioactive polonium, which will kill her in a few hours. Intent on extracting vengeance, she finds it was apparently ordered by Kijima, brother of her previous victim. To try and lure him out, Kate abduct his niece, Ani (Martineau), the girl who was there when Kate killed her father. But Ani becomes a target as well, due to a power struggle within the criminal syndicate, and Kate her unwilling protector. This makes the whole “I killed your father, actually” thing more than a bit awkward, especially as Kate needs Anu’s help if she’s to discover the truth about her own assassination. For that is even more disturbing than she expects.

As you can probably tell, there’s nothing new in the story. This doesn’t mean it’s devoid of merit, for the execution is solid.  Nicolas-Troyan, previously here for The Huntsman: Winter’s War, brings a perpetual neon sheen to Japanese urban life, leaving half the film feeling like cut scenes from Blade Runner. While lovely to look at, this is very much a foreigner’s view of Japan, which makes Kate’s familiarity with the culture a bit jarring; she speaks Japanese, and is obsessed with ‘Boom Boom Lemon’, a (fictional) local soft-drink. The heroine could have done with more of this kind of humanizing quirk; for much of the movie, she seems more like a machine for revenge, rather than a woman clinging to her last hours of life, as the perfectly-machined tool of her body increasingly betrays its owner.

The other positive is the action, which is well-handled, and occasionally savage to an almost extreme degree. The peak is likely an early battle between Kate and a large number of gang members, culminating in Kate stabbing an opponent up under the chin, the blade coming out through his nose. I have not seen that before. However, the keyword there is “early”. The film probably needs a better sense of escalation, and the lack here stands in contrast to the likes of the John Wick franchise. I can’t say I was ever bored here. However, I didn’t feel there was enough to make it stand out from the (recently very sizable) crowd. I suspect this will likely vanish into the crowd of Netflix originals, and quickly be forgotten.

Dir: Cedric Nicolas-Troyan
Star: Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Miku Martineau, Woody Harrelson, Tadanobu Asano

Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl

  By

★★½
“In plane sight.”

This is the story of Gunjan Saxena (Kapoor), one of the first women to be admitted into the Indian Air Force as a pilot. Near the beginning is a rather effective scene in which she’s taken up to the cockpit of the jet on which she is flying with her father (Tripathi). The look of wonder on the young girl’s face as she sees the flight deck does a better job of putting over the sheer joy of flying than all the many montages that will be crammed in over the next 110 minutes. It’s a “Miyazaki moment”, if you are familiar with the work of Hayao Miyazaki, which often features sequences that capture the same joy.

She wants initially to be a commercial pilot, against the wishes in particular of her older brother Anshuman  (Bedi) and her mother. But her father is encouraging and sympathetic, even when her career diverts Gunjan into the Air Force, part of the first batch of female recruits. The rest of the film is notable most for its well-crafted and polished predictability. She has to overcome barriers, both physical (she’s too short to become a helicopter pilot – fortunately, she has long arms. No, really: that’s literally the get out) and those of a military culture which is not yet prepared to treat women as equals. Inevitably, there’s a commanding officer who takes the recruit under his wing, and Gunjan overcomes her own self-doubt, with the help of her father’s encouragement.

She is sent into battle as part of the Kargil war in 1999 (more of a spat, really, lasting a couple of months on the border between India and Pakistan), but public concern over her possible fate as a POW forces her removal from the front lines. It all ends up looping back to the scene at the beginning where, equally inevitably, an emergency gives her the chance to redeem herself, on a mercy mission to rescue injured colleagues who are under enemy fire. Apparently, disobeying orders in the Indian military gets you feted for your initiative, which would seem to be something more likely to happen in movies about the military, than the actual armed forces. 

There have been significant complaints about this being an unfair depiction, with the Air Force writing to the Indian censors objecting to the way it was portrayed. That may explain the lengthy pre-film disclaimer, including this odd paragraph:

The producers, directors, artists or others associated with this film are all law-abiding citizens and have not created this film to incite any disorder or lawlessness.

Saxena herself said she never experienced discrimination at the organization level, only from individuals. Obviously, I can’t speak to that, and my concerns are more about the very obvious and cliched nature of the script. There is a good point to be made, about the importance of chasing your dreams, in the face of adversity, and Kapoor’s depiction is winning and likable enough. I certainly can’t complain about the technical aspects, especially in the flying sequences, which are also well constructed. It’s just that the “woman overcomes the adversity of being a woman” story is a cinematic dead horse, and this has little or nothing new to add to it.

Dir: Sharan Sharma
Star: Janhvi Kapoor, Pankaj Tripathi, Manav Vij, Angad Bedi

Cowgirls vs. Pterodactyls

  By

★★½
“Where the deer and the pterodactyls play.”

A title like this is inevitably going to come with all manner of expectations, and these will largely be things that any film is ill-equipped to fulfill. That’s all the more the case, when your movie is clearly a super low-budget endeavour. By most objective standards, this could be seen as terrible, and I wouldn’t argue with you. But for all the flaws, and enthusiasm that exceeds technical ability, this is made with clear affection for its elements. That goes quite some way in mind to excusing the problems. In particular, there’s a love for the world of stop-motion dinosaurs, which I share. For example, the narrator is Martine Beswick, who co-starred in the classic stop-motion dino epic, One Million Years B.C. I presume Raquel Welch was unavailable…

Truth be told though, there’s only one “actual” cowgirl here. That’s Bunny Parker (Vienhage), who is hired by schoolmistress Rebecca Crawford (Wiley), after her husband is snatched and taken away by a pterodactyl. No-one believes her, flying reptiles not exactly being native to to the wild West, which is why she turns to Parker for a search and rescue mission. Also along for the ride is saloon madam Debbie Dukes Riley Masterson III (Vega), who has come into possession of a satchel of pterodactyl eggs, which may help explain the creature’s aggressiveness. After a long trek through the wilderness, they reach the cave complex where the beasts make their home. Let battle – involving guns and a convenient, large box of dynamite – commence!

I did enjoy the stop-motion work by Ryan Lengyel. Even if it’s not up to the standards of Ray Harryhausen, to put it mildly, the work involved is still apparent, and his models’ interactions with the human cast were particularly well done. Kennedy matches this footage with larger models and puppets, and the results were worthy of praise, given the clearly limited resources. That said, other aspects are embarrassingly sloppy. Would it have killed one actress to have removed her glaringly anachronistic nose-ring? Some of the guns, too, look like they came out of a Christmas cracker. Period pieces like this are particularly unsuited to low-budget work, and it seems fair to suggest that Kennedy bit off more than he could chew.

However, he wisely keeps things moving, and at 71 minutes, this isn’t likely to outstay its welcome. Well, providing you do have the necessary tolerance for movies where imagination greatly outstrips the budget. The three leads all go at their roles similarly i.e. perhaps with more enthusiasm than talent, though it’s an approach appropriate to the overall attitude. Less successful is import scream queen Thompson, whose character Doris Yates seems to serve little real purpose. She may well have emailed her scenes in. I went into this thinking, “It’s probably going to suck, but I hope it does so in a reasonably entertaining way.” Overall, I’d say that nailed it, with just about enough moments where we were laughing with the film, rather than mocking it.

Dir: Joshua Kennedy
Star: Madelyn Wiley, Haley Zega, Carmen Vienhage, Dani Thompson

The Retreat

  By

★½
“Striking a blow for equality. With an ax.”

After the unexpected pleasures of What Keeps You Alive, I guess what this proves, is that film-makers are able to make shitty lesbian horror movies every bit as badly as straight ones. Truly, a lack of talent is blind with regard to sexual orientation. This begins in a way not dissimilar to Alive, with a lesbian couple whose relationship is on shaky ground, heading out into the wilderness.  Sadly, things then diverge in just about every metric of quality. In this case, it’s Renee (Pirie) and Valerie (Allen), who are heading off to a country B&B to meet up with two gay friends.  Except, when they get there, the friends are nowhere to be seen. The new arrivals then proceed to ignore more red flags than would be found on May Day 1980 in Moscow, until they get kidnapped by the local homophobic psychos. They have a thriving business in live-streaming snuff films, and welcome the arrival of some fresh meat.

Well, until Renee and Valerie escape, and rather than hightailing it out of there – you know, like any normal, sensible person would do – opt to take on their attackers, because Rural Homophobes Must Die. Oddly, those subsequent deaths are shown in a degree of detail that borders on the gloating, while the murders of their victims take place out of frame. Hmm. Well, when I say “shown”, I’m talking loosely, because this has to be close to the most atrociously-lit film I have ever seen. At one point, our heroines are enjoying a nice picnic in broad daylight. Just a few minutes in story time later, it’s either the middle of the night, or an unexpected total solar eclipse popped up. Because the audience are left peering into darkness, trying to figure out which vague, blobby shadow is doing what, and to which other vague, blobby shadow. I don’t know whether it’s bad film-making, or a really bad transfer, but it’s borderline unwatchable.

From what I could determine, peering into the gloom, it doesn’t have anything much new to offer either. But then, the specific sexual orientation of horror movie characters is rarely relevant: I just don’t care. The film, meanwhile, seems to think that putting lesbians in, is enough to allow them to trot out any number of overused elements everywhere else. They’re wrong. A poorly filmed, cliched horror movie does not become any better because its two heroines are sleeping with each other. Dangling ends abound, such as Renee’s easy familiarity with firearms, which serves no notable point, and there is precisely one (1) decent kill. It even fails as a commentary on society, being far too obvious and simplistic to work on that level. To succeed, a film like this typically needs to have at least one of the following body-parts: a brain, a heart, or guts. Trying to replace all three with a vagina isn’t a recipe for success.

Dir: Pat Mills
Star: Sarah Allen, Tommie-Amber Pirie, Aaron Ashmore, Munro Chambers,

Hamlet: The Drama of Vengeance

  By

★★★
“To she, or not to she…”

Asta Nielsen was not the first woman to play the part of Hamlet, even on film. As we’ve mentioned before, a short reel of Sarah Bernhardt performing the role was made as early as 1900. But this silent Danish movie, celebrating its centenary at the time of posting, is the first full-length feature to gender switch the role. It was inspired by Edward P. Vining’s book The Mystery of Hamlet, published in 1881, which suggested that the character made a lot more sense if you considered Hamlet to be a woman. An interesting idea, to be sure, and obviously changes significantly the relationship between Hamlet and both best friend Horatio, and Ophelia.

Of necessity, there are therefore some changes to the story. It begins with a prelude in which Hamlet’s father is away at war when his wife Gertrude gives birth. Fearing for her husband’s life, and wanting to secure the throne’s succession, she announces the girl child as a boy [a similar plotline was used in the Indian fllm, Rudhramadevi]. On her husband’s return, they vow to keep up the pretense. We also see more of Hamlet’s youth, attending the University of Wittenberg and forming her relationship with Horatio (Stieda), before being called back to Denmark. That happens when the king is murdered by her uncle, Claudius (von Winterstein), who has quickly married her mother, Queen Gertrude (Brandt). The supernatural element of the ghost of Hamlet’s father is also removed, in favour of Hamlet discovering Claudius’s knife in suspicious circumstances.

Thereafter, however, it follows familiar lines, with Hamlet faking madness in order to be able to investigate freely, and not be considered a threat. It’s probably this version’s weakest section, since it doesn’t seem she does much actual investigating, and watching someone pretend to be insane is kinda dull, especially in a silent version, with the inevitable tendency towards the over- side of acting. There’s also an absence of the Bard’s classic dialogue, for obvious reasons: no “To be, or not to be” in this version. When Hamlet stages a play re-enacting the death of her father, things perk up and head towards the rousing if tragic finale [spoiler: just about everyone dies].

This is not quite the oldest film reviewed here, Joan the Woman preceding its 1921 release by five years. Hamlet isn’t as successful, replacing the rousing battle scenes of Joan with some fairly stagey sequences of emoting by Nielsen, which at times did struggle to hold my interest. That said, Nielsen is actually very good in the role, and some scenes have power, such as her intense slithering across the floor to watch Claudius’s reaction to the play. I’ve queued up some of her other performances for later perusal. There’s something endearingly Goth about the production here, with her Hamlet being all dressed in black, with floppy hair and eye make-up. At times it almost looks like a promo video for The Cure. But other elements, such as Ophelia’s funeral, are highly Expressionist, with the film using bold tints to indicate location.

If what has been written above has piqued your interest, the whole thing is available on YouTube. While probably not something I’ll re-visit, I can’t say I felt like my two hours were wasted. It’s certainly an interesting take on a character which continues to fascinate and provoke debate, over 400 years after the play was first published.

Dir: Svend Gade and Heinz Schall.
Star: Asta Nielsen, Eduard von Winterstein, Mathilde Brandt, Heinz Stieda

Lady Mobster

  By

★★★
“Because ‘Lady Accountant’ wouldn’t have sold as well…”

The salacious sleeve promises considerably more than this can deliver. For we are actually talking a TV movie from the eighties here, with all the limitations that imposes on content and execution. Yet, if sold a lot more on sizzle than steak, and it did come very close to not qualifying here – likely the last scene being when it finally reached the finish line – I can say I was never bored.

Long-time soap opera queen Lucci plays Laurel, the young daughter of a mob family, who witnesses her parents being killed as part of a war between Mafia groups, over whether or not to go legitimate. She’s then taken in by one of her father’s allies, Victor Castle (Wiseman), and grows up as part of his family, becoming a lawyer and eventually marrying his son, Robert (Born). Castle has never given up the dream of getting out of the mob world, and with Laurel’s help is working towards that goal. However, the more traditional families are no less reluctant than they were decades previously, and the resulting feud comes once again to Laurel’s house and loved ones. She ends up taking over as the head of the family, and is now determined to find both those who killed her parents, and those intent on perpetuating the beef now.

It does play like a low-rent version of The Godfather, with Lucci playing the Michael Corleone role of someone who doesn’t really want to get involved in the criminal enterprise, yet finds herself increasingly drawn into it. As such, she’s good in the role, exuding the necessary confidence to make her facing down a room of Mafia dons at least plausible, if still somewhat unlikely. There’s an effective scene early on, when she has a meeting with a prospective partner of the Castles, and rips him a new one for false accounting and fraud. This establishes her character as at least a financial bad-ass, even if there’s precious little gun-play for her to do over the first 85 or so minutes.

Still, director Moxey has been doing this kind of thing for what seems like forever – he directed the original Charlie’s Angels pilot – and keeps the story-line progressing consistently. Certainly, Lauren’s resulting character arc is the best thing the film has going for it, as we see her develop over the course of the film. If this does resemble a pilot episode for a series that never happened, the way it finishes makes it one I would be more than slightly interested in watching. It feels a bit like an eighties version of La Reina Del Sur, with its story of a woman whose family ties to organized crime prove eventually to be a critical formative influence in her life. At the time, that was positively radical, and even if the treatment here is undeniably milder than I’d have preferred, I wasn’t left feeling like I’d been too badly deceived by the cover.

Dir: John Llewellyn Moxey
Star: Susan Lucci, Michael Nader, Roscoe Born, Joseph Wiseman