Author: Jim McLennan

Soni

  By

★★
“A policewoman’s lot, is not a happy one…”

This takes place in the Indian city of Delhi, and despite the title and the poster, is really about two policewomen, almost equally. Title billing goes to Soni (Ohlyan), a young  officer who is coming to terms with life after divorce from her husband, Naveen (Shukla). She is also the possessor of a fierce temper, which repeatedly gets her into trouble because she’s unable to keep her cool with suspects. Forced to play clean-up is her boss, superintendent Kalpana Ummat (Batra), who seems to see something of her younger self in Soni, as well as appreciating the junior cop’s potential. But there’s only so far she can protect Soni from the consequences of her outbursts.

Ayr is going for a documentary feel here, using a lot of hand-held camera and single takes, which makes it seem as if the movie is following the characters, rather than them acting as directed. The problem is that there just isn’t enough in the script to sustain interest: we are not, for example, following Soni through the investigation of one particular case which could have acted as a common thread, tying things together. Instead, we get a series of semi-random incidents, which are more or less the same. Soni gets involved in an incident. Soni loses her temper after a man says something bad to her. Soni hits the man. Her superior officer has to deal with the aftermath. There are at least three cycles of the above, which is probably two too many. She literally can’t even go to the bathroom, without a fight breaking out.

That said, the policing aspects are still quite interesting, and I don’t envy either of the women, doing what has to be a thankless job; if this depiction is correct, Indian society is still inhabiting the Stone Age as far as gender equality is concerned. But even that aside, you’re picking the bones out of cases which are rarely clear-cut. For instance, one alleged sexual assault here might be nothing more than a dispute about rent, as Soni suspects, or may be legitimate, as Kalpana reckons. Figuring out the truth in these situations is as much an art as a science, and it’s here, as well as in negotiating the shoals of political influence, where the movie works best.

Unfortunately, it’s dragged down heavily, by the weight of the two women’s personal lives, which are tedious and uninteresting. Soni’s ex-husband keeps trying to get them back together; Kalpana has to deal with a husband, also a police officer, who outranks her, and a mother-in-law who is demanding grandchildren. This is all sub-telenovela rubbish, and doesn’t seem to add any informative or enlightening angles to either character. It also becomes more than slightly monotonous in its gender depictions, with men shown almost inevitably as lecherous, venal, corrupt or, at the very least, blindly indifferent. The lack of any true conclusion may be “realistic,” yet instead provides a final nail in the coffin.

Dir: Ivan Ayr
Star: Geetika Vidya Ohlyan, Saloni Batra, Vikas Shukla, Mohit S. Chauhan

The Precipice

  By

★★
“Teeters on the edge of complete failure”

There’s nothing wrong, as such, with a film playing its hand close to its chest. However, you’ve got to give the audience enough information to keep them interested, and wanting to find out more. It’s here that this movie fails entirely, doggedly remaining so reluctant to tell you anything, I wanted to strap it down in a chair and start waterboarding. We don’t even get names for anyone involved, it’s that willfully unforthcoming. This begins in the aftermath of a shoot-out at a wind-farm, from which there are apparently only two survivors: a woman (Szep) and her captive (de Francesco). They head across the rural terrain towards a rendezvous with her allies, pursued not only by the captive’s allies, but also other interested parties.

I’ll fill in some of the background, since the movie is painfully averse to doing so. There is a looming, if not already happening, ecological catastrophe, which will result in the loss of all potable water. This may potentially lead to the collapse of civilization, particularly in the more crowded Northern hemisphere. The 1% are aware of the impending situation, and are plotting to head south, taking over resources there for their own benefit – in particular, a large underground water source. This is what the captive was involved in, and what the woman is attempting to prevent. Yet there may also be other, hidden agendas.

The interplay between the two leads is probably the best thing about this, with trust hard to come by on either side. For instance, just before bedding down, he asks her, “What makes you think I won’t slit your throat in the middle of the night?” Her reply, which genuinely made me LOL: “Probably the ketamine I laced your food with,” just as he falls unconscious. It’s a shame their relationship operates in such a vacuum, as far as reasons to care go. Both she and he clearly know what’s happening here: they’re just unwilling to share this data with the audience, and the result is a low-intensity apathy. Which is a bit of a pity, since Szep is decent, a low-rent version of Rhona Mitra, and the pursuing group is led by another unnamed woman (Walker). Say what you like about this dystopian future, at least it’s clearly an equal opportunity one.

The scenery is quite nice, and well-photographed too, though I was a bit confused by the lobbing in of some South African references. I guess it’s all Southern Hemisphere. There’s also a scene where the woman just lets her captive run off, because… Well, like just about everything else here, it goes unexplained. Perhaps the most telling point is, I actually ended up watching this twice, because the first time, I got an hour in and realized I had no real clue what was happening. I blamed this on my having been distracted somehow, so restarted it. Nope. A second viewing proved it was truly a case where it was the movie’s fault, and not mine.

Dir: Michael Hatch
Star: Paris Szep, Vito de Francesco, Alyson Walker, Benjamin Francis Pascoe

Guns Akimbo

  By

★★★★
“Don’t bring a spork to a gunfight!”

Harry Potter, this is not. If it’s difficult to separate Radcliffe from the hero of the movie franchise, this is the kind of film which should help considerably. He plays Miles, a computer programmer and online troll, who trolls the wrong people. Specifically, the ones who run Skizm, an increasingly popular and hyper-violent online streaming service, which broadcasts death-matches between contestants. For his sins, Miles is knocked out, and wakes to find himself with guns bolted to both hands. He is now Skizm’s latest contestant, going up against their reigning champion, Nix (Weaving). And to encourage him, the man who runs the game, Riktor (Dennehy), has kidnapped Miles’s intermittent girlfriend, Nova (Bordizzo). To survive, he’s going to need help from a most unusual source: Nix.

This is the kind of incessantly kinetic, brutal action film that you’ll probably either love or hate. I was pushed firmly into the latter company by Samara Weaving, who is a coke-snorting, chain-gun wielding, spiky package of undiluted and venomous awesome. While Miles is the nominal lead character, Nix was considerably more fun to watch, and also has the better character arc. For example, her actions have considerably better motivations, considering Miles is basically trolling for the LOLs. There’s plenty of her in action to appreciate too, pushing this out of the “supporting girl with gun” category into qualification. I haven’t yet seen Birds of Prey, but suspect Weaving would have been an admirable alternate to Margot Robbie.

I’m interested, if somewhat confused, about the moral message being sent here – or whether there is one at all. It’s both condemning the audience for violent entertainment… while, very clearly, feeding that same appetite. Any sense of intellectual superiority over the masses is similarly undercut by the extremely low-brow humour. Have you ever considered how hard it would be to go to the bathroom with your hands locked around firearms? Me neither. But with his writer’s cap on, Howden clearly has. Yet this does help insulate the film from suggestions of hypocrisy, its broken spiritual compass and disjointed one-liners a fitting match for the ADHD and morally bankrupt world it is depicting. Though the most implausible thing here, might be the way Miles’s fuzzy slippers stay on. I can’t even go down the stairs without mine making a bid for independence from my feet.

The action is almost non-stop, and the blood flows in rivers, to the point that it becomes almost a caricature of the more extreme end of video-gaming. It’s staged fairly well, though does occasionally topple over into the manic style of editing which is the bane of modern cinema. Things build towards the expected climax, in which Miles and Nix mount an all-out assault on Riktor’s headquarters, delivering one final shot of adrenaline-powered hyper-mayhem to your lizard brain. If not all the characters receive quite the fate you want, there’s enough here to make me believe Weaving has action heroine superstar potential.

Dir: Jason Lei Howden
Star: Daniel Radcliffe, Samara Weaving, Natasha Liu Bordizzo, Ned Dennehy

Satan’s Sword + Elven Blood, by Debra Dunbar

  By

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

The first volume in the Imp series, A Demon Bound, was one of the most entertaining books I’ve read of late. It told the story of Samantha Martin, the human vessel occupied by a demon “who has chosen to spend her life among us mortals, rather than in the underworld… largely because it’s more fun up here.” I was thus stoked to read the next two entries in the series, with Sam’s further adventures. She’d ended the series having been “bound” to an angel, Gregory, and in the subsequent parts, this is now causing issues for both of them. He is getting flak from his colleagues for his association with her, while she is experiencing unfamiliar emotions, such as loyalty and kindness.

It makes sense to cover both of these as one volume, as they combine to represent a significant story arc. The main thread in that is her hell-spawned brother, Dar, has got in the bad graces of upper-tier demon, Haagenti. Unfortunately, that escalates into Haagenti putting out an infernal hit on Sam – as well as those she cares about, in particular her all-too human boyfriend, Wyatt. To deal with that, she ends up taking on a job for an elven lord, locating the offspring of an unfortunate liaison between an elf and a succubus – the latter just happening to be Sam’s foster sister, Leethu.

The main problem, I felt, was Dunbar over-stuffed these books with ideas. If she’d stuck to the basic concept above, and developed it properly, it might have worked a bit better. Instead, there are any number of threads which feel undercooked, to a greater or less degree. For example, the serial killer targetting Sam’s slum tenants, or the teenage boys who managed to summon her, courtesy of a ritual they found on the Internet. The latter feels especially rife with potential, sadly never realized. Or the heavenly bureaucracy in which Sam gets entangled, complete with committee meetings and detailed reports. I’d rather have heard more about these fascinating and amusing ideas, than the detailed discussion concerning the breeding habits of elves we get.

Fortunately, the heroine remains as wonderfully twisted a character as ever. Though I must confess, the angel influence is a little worrying, given what made Sam so deliciously bad was her complete lack of scruples. For when you are all but immortal, you can afford to push other entity’s buttons – such as when she manages to goad another angel into an all-out brawl during one of those committee meetings. There may have been a stale Danish pastry involved. If this sardonic edge becomes dulled due to the angelic influence, it would be a real shame, since it’s one of the main things which makes Sam stand out in the field of literary action-heroines. We’ll see what happens as we go forward in the series.

Author: Debra Dunbar
Publisher: Volumes 1-3 are available as an omnibus from Anessa Books, available through Amazon, as an e-book
Books 1-3 of 10 in the Imp series.

Ghost Squad

  By

★★★½
“The real female Ghostbusters…”

I’ll confess, the headline above is a bit click-baity. This is perhaps closer to a female version of The Frighteners, the early Peter Jackson film in which Michael J. Fox could see dead people, and had to learn to work with them. The conduit in this case is Rika (Yanagi), a young woman who has been able to see ghosts since a young age. But an encounter with a trio of ghosts, all murder victims who are seeking revenge on their killers, opens a whole new realm. For, it turns out, whenever Rika is in a life-threatening situation, the spirits can take physical form. They can also draw energy from her, which can be used to create weapons, which range from the merely strange (the “meat hammer”) to the bat-shit insane. None more so there, than that of Akari (Mikado). She has a tendency to go into puppy mode when stressed, which involves her becoming… a bit licky. So inevitably her weapon transforms Akari’s hand into Grudge Dog, capable of ripping the face off her opponent.

For I didn’t yet mention, the director is also responsible for some of the finest examples in Japanese splatter, perhaps peaking with The Machine Girl (which may well have informed one of the weapons here, as shown in the trailer). But also including a hand in Mutant Girl Squad and Robogeisha. This is relatively restrained, though the key-word there is “relatively.” There’s certainly the same degree of lunatic inventiveness at work, although the arterial spurting is considerably lower pressure than you’d expect: the comparison above to early Peter Jackson is entirely deliberate.  For the most part it’s goofily endearing rather than outrageously offensive, and quite well thought out. Even if Rika is more a pipeline for vengeance, she tries to act as the group’s moral compass, for example refusing to let the ghosts take vengeance on the daughter of one culprit.

There are still a few scenes which seem a bit sleazy. Not least, that the energy transfer mentioned above is lip-to-lip. Basically, it’s a shallow excuse for some lesbo makeout sessions, which feels at odds with an approach which sometimes seems closer to Disney than extreme gore. And there’s some dancing in underwear which made me feel mildly uncomfortable; it seemed gratuitous, even by Iguchi’s standads. I was also surprised by the way the vengeance largely ended up compacted into a single battle; if this had been paced throughout the film (like Kill Bill), it might have been more effective and enjoyable. However, I still watched the vast bulk of this with a grin on my face, and laughed out loud more than once. It perhaps helped that, going in, I didn’t know who the director was; indeed, the poster above was about all I had to go on. My expectations were closer to a light comedy with action elements, and the imagination here definitely came as a pleasant surprise.

Dir: Noboru Iguchi
Star: Anna Yanagi, Sumire Ueno, Minori Mikado, Yuni Hong

Valentine: The Dark Avenger

  By

★★★½
“An unexpected Valentine’s gift.”

It’s always nice when a film manages to surpass expectations. Coming in, I was thinking this was going to be nothing but a low-rent, dubbed, caped crusader flick. And, to be honest, that is exactly what it is: a low-rent dubbed, caped crusader flick. But it proved considerably more entertaining than, say, Terminator: Dark Fate, which I saw the same weekend, and which cost roughly a thousand times as much to make.

It has an interesting hook. Waitress Srimaya (Linden) is recruited by a film-maker, Bono (Settle, the only American in the cast), who wants to make a superhero movie that will be a positive role-model for the citizens of crime-riddled Batavia City. With no producer willing to back him, Bono opts to go the viral route. When he sees Srimaya’s martial arts skills in action, he brings her on board to star in videos where she goes up against and beats robbers, muggers and other street punks, clad in a fetching little mask and cape designed by stylist friend Wawan (Dagienks). But her actions bring her to the attention of crime lord, Shadow, who is carrying out a vendetta against the local police.

There’s a nice sense of progression through the film, with the heroine’s gear and costume improving from the pretty basic to the impressively nifty, as she and Wawan learn from her experiences, e.g. add more padding. It also is willing to kill off people you didn’t expect, and if the true identity of Shadow is something you might well figure out before the end, the reasons behind it are unexpected and well-considered. Even the dubbing didn’t irritate me, in the way it usually does – though this may partly have been been because I still put English subtitles on!

The main appeal is the action, however. Indonesian films have a reputation of late for being remarkably impressive, and if this isn’t quite The Raid or The Night Comes For Us, choreographer Robert Suwandi delivers the goods. Linden in particular, is better than expected, and I also liked the Suicide Squad-like trio of female henchmen used by Shadow. The directorial style does tend a little too much to the hyper in terms of movement and cutting, yet it also does a good job of meshing practical and CGI – better, indeed, than Terminator: Dark Fate. For the CGI is used to enhance, rather than replace the physical effects, in particular during a car-chase following a bank robbery.

My interest in the Marvel Cinematic Universe has steadily waned as it has become an unstoppable behemoth. Films like this, however, I find considerably more interesting.  Not necessarily because the stories they tell are particularly novel, just that they seem created out of a desire to tell those stories, rather than as cold, calculated commercial entities. I’d rather see a film with rough edges here and there, made with passion, than one which is clearly just a job for those involved. This movie is a good indication of why.

Dir: Ubay Fox, Agus Pestol
Star: Estelle Linden, Matthew Settle, Arie Dagienkz, Fendy Pradana

Dispatch

  By

★★½
“Please continue to hold. Your call is very important to us.”

Christine McCullers (Gubelmann) is a new cop, out on patrol with her father, a long-time veteran of the force. A poor decision involving a robbery suspect leaves Dad dead and Christine crippled. Re-assigned to dispatch, things go from bad to worse, when she gets a call from a kid, which she takes to be some kind of prank. It’s very real, and the caller’s friend ends up murdered as a result. Crucified by social media – not least due to her popping of painkillers to deal with her injury – she’s suspended from duty. Believing the killers are not the victim’s parents as her colleagues think, Christine begins her own investigation to try and achieve redemption through finding the real murderer.

I liked the central character, precisely because she’s not the cookie-cutter, saintly heroine you’d probably expect. She’s severely flawed, easily angered and prone to jump to conclusions which may or may not be justified. Likeable? No. But certainly a bit more interesting than the usual Lifetime angel. Indeed, she has so many flaws, she feels closer to the heroine of a Nordic noir series. The plot, however, is nowhere near as structured or well-considered. Right from the start, the case against the parents is so weak as to be laughable, being based entirely off previous domestic abuse. It’s highly doubtful the cops would pounce in the manner necessary for the plot. Meanwhile, Christine is using her dead father’s badge and gun to continue her own investigation, something which would surely bring down the wrath of internal affairs, regardless of the evidence collected (and I’ve doubts about its resulting admissibility, too).

It all progresses, exactly in the way you’d expect. There is pleasure to be had in watching McCullers charging on through suspects like a (suspended) bull in a china shop. Director Moss was responsible for creating the Bad Ass franchise, starring Danny Trejo as a senior citizen vigilante, and there’s something of the same energy here. It’s certainly more entertaining than the tedious romance with a fellow cop (Fuller). And don’t get me started on the way Christine’s injury, which we learn at the beginning will take two further years to heal, is barely a factor. She tosses her walking aid away in a fit of pique, after being mimicked, mockingly, by a colleague, and is then all but miraculously healed.

There’s no surprises as to who the killer ends up being. Not least because they make the kind of clumsy mistake which only seem to be made by killers in TV movies. What would have been interesting, might have been if the parents had ended up guilty as charged, and McCullers was completely wrong all along, going off on a prescription drug-powered paranoid trip. That’d have been very Nordic noir. Just not very Lifetime, however, and this is instead as safe, basically competent and largely forgettable as most of its ilk.

Dir: Craig Moss
Star: Fiona Gubelmann, Drew Fuller, Scott Bailey, John Lee Ames
a.k.a. 911 Nightmare

High-Rise Rescue

  By

★★½
“All fired up.”

Architect Beth Davis (Bell) is just about to leave Chicago for a business meeting in Miami, when she hears there has been an explosion at the high-rise apartment building downtown, where she lives with husband Jack (Davis) and son Charlie (Arnold). Rushing back home, she finds the situation increasingly perilous, and the fire department unwilling to enter the unstable structure. Having been the person who designed the building, Beth is able to sneak in, with the aid of a sympathetic fireman, Ray Steele (Holmes, looking like a low-rent Tony Todd) on the outside, and begin the perilous climb to the 55th floor where Jack and Charlie are trapped in the bathroom.

When this sticks to the basic, Towering Inferno-like concept of Davis vs. fire, and the heroine making her way up through the burning building, this isn’t bad. There is some decent practical effects work, and although CGI is also used, it’s clear that someone is getting quite close to the flames – even if it’s unlikely to be Bell. The film switches focus frequently between her and her family, as the latter find themselves in increasing peril, despite the helpful advice offered over the phone by Ray. This is quite educational, and if ever I find myself trapped, six hundred feet above the ground and awaiting rescue, I feel I will be reasonably well-informed as to the best tactics for survival.

The problems are much more when the film attempts to build character through the backstory and dialogue, such as the subplot involving Beth and Jack’s shaky marriage, or their differences of opinion as to whether or not to have a second child (though in an admirable shift from what you’d expect, it’s Beth who is less than enthusiastic about the prospect). Watching them swapping dialogue which is so soapy, you could wash the floor with it, is painful – though likely still less cringeworthy than the scene where Ray reveals the personal life experience which resulted in him becoming a fireman. It’s ironic, since an early scene deliberately establishes that, “Fire doesn’t care who or what you are.” The same can probably be said for this viewer.

It’s all rather too implausible, from the moment live TV has a report on the explosion, within literally ten seconds of it taking place. I’m not sure the actions of the fire-brigade quite stand up to scrutiny either: the chief seems far too unconcerned about the civilians that are still present in the conflagration. I’d like to have seen them make more use of Beth’s position as the building’s architect, putting her specialist knowledge to good use, instead of all but forgetting about it, as soon as she enters the basement. The results just about skate by as a way to pass 90 minutes, mostly thanks to a decent performance from Bell. But it’s a long way short of being even disaster soft-porn, and will barely leave even a scorch mark on most surfaces.

Dir: Robert Vaughn
Star: Catherine Bell, Adrian Holmes, Greg Bryk, Sam Ashe Arnold

Charlie’s Angels (2019)

  By

★★
“Go woke, go broke”

Back in 2000, Charlie’s Angels came out of more or less nowhere to become an unexpected popular hit. Sure, the TV series was well-known, but by that point it had been off the air for close to two decades. Its stars, Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz and Lucy Liu, were to that point known, if at all, for playing the love interest in romantic comedies like The Wedding Singer or There’s Something About Mary. But driven by a heady mix of self-awareness and top-quality kung-fu (choreographed by Yuen Wo-Ping, who has had a hand in many of the best genre films, from The Matrix to Crouching Tiger), it became the year’s 12th biggest hit at the US box-office.

But even then, it gave the sense of having caught lightning in a bottle: I wrote “It works beautifully, despite its flaws, but it wouldn’t bear frequent repetition.” And so it proved in 2003. The lacklustre sequel, Full Throttle, came out, and we concluded, “There’s little point bothering with the new movie.” Few did. It lost 63% of its box-office in its second weekend, compared to 39% for its predecessor, and grossed less than Daddy Day Care, barely squeaking into the top thirty for the year. An attempt to return the franchise to its roots fared worse still in 2011. A televisual reboot was canceled after only four episodes had aired. 

But still, the lure of recapturing the popular and critical success of the 2000 movie remained. Sony began working on a new version as long ago as September 2015, with Elizabeth Banks coming on board as writer-director. To her credit, she didn’t seem to be attempting to recapture the vibe of its successful predecessor, opting to go in a different direction. Unfortunately, the main difference is that the original film is one of the few action heroine films which I, my wife, plus our (then-teenage) son and daughter all unironically like. The path Banks instead chose managed to appeal to very few. Turns out, almost nobody wanted to sit through an action film which she proudly announced, was “loaded with sneaky feminist ideas.” This is my unsurprised face.

If you were paying attention, there were multiple other examples of the screwed-up priorities to be found in this production. “One of the statements this movie makes is that you should probably believe women,” said Banks in a pre-release interview. “We’re taking on the patriarchy”, proclaimed star Kristen Stewart at the premiere. And she demanded her character be gay, because “It was important for Kristen to present herself as queer in the movie and I was all for it,” according to Banks. It apparently comes as a shock to the makers, that most people don’t go to the movies for this kind of thing. I know I certainly don’t. This is especially true in today’s fractured society, where social media has become a battleground between extremes, leaving the rest of us tired and seeking to escape from all-pervasive dogmatic yelling. If a film has a message, that’s one thing. If a film is a message, it’s quite another. 

And the very first line here is “I think women can do anything,” making it painfully obvious into which camp this version falls (and hardly counts as “sneaky”). Can you imagine Ellen Ripley, Imperator Furiosa or Alice coming out with that kind of fortune cookie/teen Disney nonsense? No. Because they are too busy being freakin’ awesome. They are action heroines after all, leading by example, not banal sloganeering. This is how effective messaging works in movies. Brave characters don’t win over the audience by just going around saying, “Anyone can be courageous.” Instead, they put their words into deeds, by doing brave things.

This concept is something which Banks’s Angels fail to understand. Instead, they set out their ‘woke’ stall inside five minutes with lines like, “Did you know that it takes men an additional seven seconds to perceive a woman as a threat compared to a man?” No, I did not. And nor do I care about this highly-dubious statement. Demonstrate you are a threat, then I’ll start paying attention. Otherwise, please make use of those seven seconds to go back in the kitchen and make me a damn sammich, babe. Not that Stewart, who delivers these lines, qualifies for the B-word, bearing a closer resemblance here to Justin Bieber after a three-day bender. The original film proved it was entirely possible for women to kick serious ass, while looking good doing it. Stewart manages to do neither, at one point apparently needing wire-work assistance to hop over a low fence. Very popular in the lesbian community though, I believe.

After an opening sequence featuring girls doing random stuff while grinning like they were on meth, because… [checks notes] Ah, yes: “sneaky feminist ideas,” it seemed there was no way back for this mess. Yet, I will say, that was likely the low-point. The rest recovered somewhat, albeit only to reach the low bar of mediocre Hollywood pap, applying a sheen of competent gloss to its poorly-conceived ideas. I guess that counts as a win, of sorts. If Stewart was thoroughly unimpressive, I did quite like Ella Balinska as co-Angel Jane Kano. She fares considerably better in the action area, particularly in her final fight against enemy assassin, Hodak. But that’s probably the only sequence which sticks at all in my mind, and even there, I’m writing this just 12 hours after finishing the film. I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you much about it by this time next week. There’s nothing to match, say, the four-way brawl between the Angels and Crispin Glover, while Smack My Bitch Up blasted on the soundtrack. Heck, even the music here firmly puts the rap in crap.

As the pic above shows, Jane does at least get to wield guns here, something Drew Barrymore almost entirely excised from her version (though I’d be hard pushed to say I missed them). It’s another small victory, in a film of generally staggering blandness. The plot, for instance, concerns some technological Macguffin, which can be used as a biological EMP weapon, and must be stopped – I’m dozing off as I type this – from falling into the hands of the bad guys. Emphasis on “guys” since, almost without exception, you can identify the villains by whether they stand up when they pee. I guess “men = treacherous perverts” is another one of those ‘sneaky feminist ideas’ on which the director was so woefully keen.

There’s no sense of escalation either, with pacing that’s poor. The film effectively ends a good thirty minutes before the credits roll, with a battle between the Angels and the villains in a rock quarry. It then limps on into a plot about a mole inside the organization, which feels entirely tacked on, because it doesn’t seem to have been any kind of real issue for the first hour and a half of the movie. It finishes with a lengthy training montage of Elena Houghlin (Scott), the computer wiz responsible for the Macguffin. We know she’s a wiz, because she says things like “All I need is root access.” She ends up getting recruited as an Angel, a good ninety minutes too late to provide any meaningful point for the character. The training sequence clearly just lets Banks get some of her pals into the film, to make cameo appearances.

It’s not often I want a film to flop, sight unseen. Even more rarely for an action heroine film. Still, I must confess, I was thoroughly gratified to hear the box-office speak, with a vengeance. In its entire nine week domestic run, Angels took just $17.8 million. That’s almost $10 million less than Full Throttle did… on its opening Friday and Saturday… at a time when the average ticket cost a third less than now. Ouch. So much for Banks’ statement: “If this movie doesn’t make money it reinforces a stereotype in Hollywood that men don’t go see women do action movies.” No, Lizzie. Men don’t go see women do bad action movies. And nor do women. For simply to shriek “Male chauvinism!” as a defense of the film doesn’t work, when it was named “Sequel or Remake That Shouldn’t Have Been Made” by the Alliance of Women Film Journalists, in their awards for 2019.

Coming on the heels of similarly “woke” flops like Terminator: Dark Fate, you wonder whether Hollywood might learn from their mistakes, and realize that they are employed by us for entertainment purposes, and not moral guidance. Unfortunately, I suspect that might require rather more self-awareness and humility than is usually to be found in Tinseltown.

Dir: Elizabeth Banks
Star: Kristen Stewart, Ella Balinska, Naomi Scott, Kristen Banks

Body at Brighton Rock

  By

★★
“Incompetence necessary to the plot.”

Proving not quite able to sustain its running time, this ends up collapsing under its own weight. The lead actress tries her best, and her character is likeable enough, but in her debut leading a feature, isn’t able to carry a film in which she is in virtually every scene. Fontes plays park ranger Wendy, whose duties are typically limited to handing out leaflets and lecturing small children about the dangers of forest fires. To help out a colleague, she takes on a more strenuous task, only to find herself lost in the great outdoors, as darkness approaches. She then stumbles across a body at the foot of a cliff: was it death by misadventure, or something more malicious?

It’s a nice performance from Fontes, who makes Wendy someone you want to see pull through. I enjoyed seeing the heroine have to dig into untapped reserves of self-reliance and bravery, and was rooting for her to make it through the long, dark night. However… sheesh, there are times where it seems the biggest threat to Wendy, is Wendy. She loses her map. She loses her way. She loses her radio. She almost falls off a cliff, taking a selfie. She actually does fall off a cliff. She even manages to pepper spray herself, after mis-judging what way the wind is blowing. I know she’s a novice in the park ranger world, but really… I’m impressed she even managed to get to work without sustaining a life-threatening injury, such is the low level of her everyday competence. There are plenty of natural threats in this environment too; fabricating them as this does, seems needlessly excessive.

After night falls, Wendy more or less loses her way, and unfortunately, so does the film too. I think it’s supposed to be depicting Wendy’s imagination being as much a threat to her, as anything tangible. All we get, is a lot of largely uninteresting thrashing around in the dark, in lieu of meaningful plot development. It’s only when dawn breaks that things move forward once more, though there just isn’t enough meat on the storyline to provide a satisfying meal. In an effort to generate tension which has been largely lacking, the makers drop in an arktos ex machina at the end, though the bear attack which follows would trigger nothing more than derisive snorts from Leonardo Di Caprio.

It’s not the lead actress’s fault, but she is left to bear [pun not intended] the burden of almost the entire film by herself. Relatable she may be – that’s not enough. Though many more experienced thespians would likely struggle with the amount of screen-time here – especially given no-one to act against save some trees, in the vast majority of their scenes. By the time the final twist shows up, it’s not going to trigger more than a shrug, and perhaps a roll of the eyes. Fontes deserves better, and hopefully will find it further into her career.

Dir: Roxanne Benjamin
Star: Karina Fontes, Casey Adams, Emily Althaus, Miranda Bailey