Author: Jim McLennan

The Legendary Adventures of the Pirate Queens, by James Grant Goldin

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

“Two women with swords was a sight that none of Vane’s men had ever imagined. It was like seeing a two-headed snake; one such monster would be a freak of nature, while two would indicate a terrible new species.”

Readers of the site should already be aware of Anne Bonney and Mary Read, as we covered them in our piece about women pirates a while back. They’re a good candidate for a story, because the known facts about them are relatively scant, allowing lots of scope for an author to fill in the blanks, however they wish. Goldin has no qualms on this front, freely admitting in the prologue, “A lot has just been made up.” This isn’t a bad thing, providing you’re looking for the “serio-comic novel” this is, not a recounting of the historical record. While based on the facts, and including both persona who existed and events which took place, Goldin does a good job of weaving them into a more complete narrative which, if unprovable at best, could have been how things happened.

After spending time in the military, and also becoming a widow, Mary Read is masquerading as “Martin” on a Dutch ship in the Caribbean when it is is captured by Calico Jack Rackham and his pirates. S/he and another member of the crew, Peter Meredith, defect to Rackham’s crew, where Read meets Bonney, the Captain’ lover. Subsequent issues include an encounter with Bonney’s ex-husband; Read’s daring rescue of Rackham and Bonney from New Providence, where Governor Woodes Rogers is trying to rid the colony of pirates; and the return of Rackham’s former boss, Captain Charles Vane. It ends with a grandstand finale, in which Vane seeks to recapture New Providence, only to find his ship facing a rather better-armed Spanish ship with the same aim, as Read (by this point “outed” as a woman) and Bonney try to spike the fortress’s guns.

Indeed, about all there isn’t, is much in the way of actual piracy, though only after it was all over did I notice this omission. And it’s occasionally educational. I never realized pirates were so… democratic. For according to the articles the crew sign, “The Captain shall be chosen by majority vote of the Company, and shall have supreme power during a battle. But before and after, every man shall have an equal vote in affairs of moment.” Who knew? [I’m presuming this is accurate, anyway: googling “pirates majority vote” led me down a rabbit-hole involving the Pirate Party of Iceland…] It makes for a fast, light read, driven by a bunch of engaging central characters who sound like they would be fun to be around, with unconventional quirks that play against pirate stereotype, e.g. Rackham’s desire to be considered witty.

Perhaps they’re too engaging? For the book sometimes feels in need of a true antagonist to balance the scales, a really hissable villain, with Governor Rogers and Captain Vane both turning out to be not entirely bad after all. Meredith also comes over a bit underdeveloped, a milquetoast romantic interest for Mary; it occasionally seems as if he’s there mostly to defuse any potential lesbian subtext between her and Anne. On the other hand, the relationship between Jack and Anne is spot-on, a fiery combination of steel and gunpowder which can go from volcanic passion to equally fiery confrontation in the blink of an eye. The novel was based off a script Goldin wrote for a prospective TV series, which makes sense, as it come across as visual in style, with the battles unfolding easily in your mind’s eye. Shame it wasn’t picked up: he says, “I really think the story bothers producers on some level. I also do think that, even now, the shadow of Cutthroat Island is long and dark.”

Still, we will always have the novel, and it was refreshing to read something which, for once, worked perfectly as a standalone story, rather than dropping the reader off a cliff-hanger, with an exhortation to buy the next in the series. A sequel is planned down the road, but Goldin got distracted by another series, on the children of the Norse gods. That should hopefully be finished by the end of 2018, then he promises to work on the further adventures of Anne and Mary. I’m looking forward to that.

Author: James Grant Goldin
Publisher: Basilisk Books, available through Amazon as both an e-book and a paperback.
A free copy of the book was supplied to me, in exchange for an honest review.

Avenge the Crows: The Legend of Loca

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★★★½
“Though I’m still not sure what the title means…”

This feels like a low-budget project in many ways, but manages to punch above its weight, in part due to an impressive supporting cast. While Lou Diamond Phillips, Danny Trejo and Steven Bauer are nowhere near as important as their names on the cover might suggest, their presence provide a solid foundation on which the less well-known members of the cast can build. In particular, Danay García as Loca; having bailed on Fear the Walking Dead after about two episodes, I wasn’t aware of her, but on the basis of this, she’s a name on whom we’ll be keeping an eye.

Gabaeff, as well, has some interesting shots in his directorial locker. At times, this almost reminded me of Memento in the structure: it’s only at the end that you are given the necessary knowledge to  understand all that has happened. Even on a smaller scale, the layout is often fractured. More than once, a character gets a phone-call, and the film then jumps back in time, and over to the person on the other end of the line, to show what led up to them making that call. As such, it takes a bit of getting your brain around – yet the payoff, in the “Aha!” moment where you realize how it connects, is gratifying.

An interesting twist is that Loca is not the executor of the revenge, as is usually the case – she’s the target for it. Casper (Phillips) is in prison, but a henchman there, Joker (the genuinely scary-looking Flores), is about to be released. Joker is told to “send a message” to Loca, through her niece, Cammy (Rivera). But he goes further than Casper intended, and rapes Cammy. That starts Loca on a search for protection, but the gun-dealer she visits to acquire weapons turns out to be targeted for some retribution of his own, and Loca is dragged into that as well. Handling all this will require her to navigate dangerous waters, and bring together enemies to face a common foe.

There’s a strong scent of grim reality here: I don’t know if the tattoos everyone is sporting were “real” or not (likely a mix), but I don’t think I’ve seen a more inked-up feature. You get the feeling the people involved are largely familiar with the environment in question – not least, of course, Trejo, whose background as a felon-turned-star actor deserves to become a movie of its own. Here, he plays the owner of the bar where Loca hangs out, and is as gloriously gruff and down to earth as ever. The rest of the cast all fit their roles well. If the eventual resolution (where Bauer eventually turns up, after we had virtually abandoned hope!) feels a little unlikely and convenient, given the complexities of what had gone before, this doesn’t undo the generally solid work here. It’s better than I expected going in.

Dir: Nathan Gabaeff
Star: Danay García, Emilio Rivera, Michael Flores, Angelique Rivera

Breakdown Lane

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★★
“In need of some roadside assistance.”

An initial twist on the zombie apocalypse and an appealing heroine aren’t enough to save this. By the end, while said heroine has transformed into a mayhem-dealing machine, any fresh elements have been discarded, for a low-budget rehash of ones which we’ve seen far too often already. It starts intriguingly, with Kirby Lane (Moore) “ambushed” by a woman in a camper with a sick man at a gas station, while on the way to meet her boyfriend (Cushing). When her car breaks down in the middle of absolutely nowhere, the only connection to the outside world is Max (Howell), the agent for her on-board emergency help provider. But things in the outside world are deteriorating rapidly, and the tow-truck Max dispatches… well, let’s just say, it might be a while. Meanwhile, Kirby has to handle the perils which threaten her, including humans both infected and cannibalistic, as she tries to fulfill her promise to link up with Max.

The combination of zombies and deserts reminded me of It Stains the Sands Red, which I’d recently seen. And, like there, the makers apparently realized half-way through that the remote setting they’d chosen couldn’t actually sustain a feature, and opted to revert back to over-familiar tropes. While ending with the same overall grade as Stains, it gets there in a rather different way. This clearly has a far smaller budget, and is significantly less technically-accomplished [if the faux comic-book interludes don’t annoy the hell out of you after ten minutes… Wait longer…] But unlike Stains, it has a heroine who comes over as genuine and likable. Courtesy of Moore’s performance, you want to see Kirby survive, and that goes some distance to help paper over the obvious cracks.

Some distance, however, remains short of enough. The contrivance of having Kirby push her car across the terrain, as shelter and so she can keep hanging out with Max, is flat-out ridiculous. And once she gets back to civilization, the film can do nothing except bang out the low-budget zombie notes with which any genre fan is already familiar. Kirby’s transition into a tooled-up bad-ass momentarily piqued interest here, except it comes out of nowhere – and serves no particular purpose either, since there isn’t enough time left for it to become a significant factor. By the end, it has largely dissolved into another cheap horror film, indistinguishable from the rest, and neither particularly good nor bad as such things are concerned.

Although, here’s something odd. The film makes much of its Canadian-ness in the end credits, but unless they’ve started growing saguaros up North, looks to me like it was largely filmed in an utterly uncredited Arizona. That applies both to the desert scenes and the later urban ones. In particular, there’s a garage which is located about three miles from GWG Towers here, and one of the post-apocalypse vehicles seems to belong to a cosplay group we’re familiar with, the Department of Zombie Defense. Sheesh, how’s a state supposed to grow its film industry?

Dir: Robert Conway, Bob Schultz
Star: Whitney Moore, Stephen Tyler Howell, Aric Cushing

Double Date

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★★★½
“They’re just girls, man. What’s there to be afraid of?”

Oh, be afraid… Be very afraid. For Lulu (Wenham) and Kitty (Groome) are not your average twenty-somethings. They are sisters, on a mission. A Satanic mission, to resurrect their dead father. All it needs is a series of human sacrifices, culminating in a ritual involving the death of a virgin. And wouldn’t you know it, they’ve found Jim (Morgan), who is about to turn 30 and has been looking for love in all the wrong places. That’s despite the best efforts of pal Alex (Socha) to help, until they encounter Lulu + Kitty, ladies who seem almost too good to be true. As should be clear, that’s exactly what they are. But a wrinkle occurs, when Kitty realizes Jim is a nice chap, and begins to have second thoughts.

If an unashamed B-movie, this has enough fun with the concepts to justify itself, not least gender-reversing the whole “sacrificial virgin” trope. That has been the territory of innocent damsels in distress for a century, so making it a gormless “bloke in distress” instead is a lovely idea. There’s a hint of Shaun of the Dead here as well, in that you have two friends who find themselves trapped in a lethal scenario, almost without noticing it. It helps that everyone here is likeable, in their own ways, not least in their loyalty to friends or relatives, and the women mirror the men, in there being a leader and a follower.

Even Lulu’s slaughter is born out of a familial bond, and the lengths to which she will go are almost touching. Kitty, meanwhile, gets the biggest arc; it’s during an unexpected birthday party at Jim’s house (where he’s off his face on pharmaceuticals!) where you can see a change come over her character. Credit the script, written by Morgan as well, since it hits most of its targets, though the aforementioned drugging feels a bit of a rapey misstep, to be honest. Otherwise, it’s a good balance of the emotional and the comic. In the latter department, I particularly loved the scene where an incredibly nervous Jim is trying to chat up the two not-so-ugly sisters, from a script sent through text message by Alex, only to be betrayed by the vagaries of auto-correct.

Save for that humour, it reminds me somewhat of 1974’s Vampyres, which also had a pair of women abduct people and take them back to their country manor house. Except here, in Wenham, we may potentially have a new British action star, too: if they’re looking to reboot the Underworld franchise and replace Kate Beckinsale, she would seem a viable candidate. Her early “kills” are brutal to the max, but things reach their peak near the end. She has an amazing brawl against Alex, which is one of the best inter-gender battles I’ve seen of late. His raw strength is balanced by her technique, and the results are both impressive and highly destructive of property in the area. Like the film in general, it was a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

Dir: Benjamin Barfoot
Star: ‎Kelly Wenham, Danny Morgan, ‎Michael Socha, Georgia Groome

The Last Dragonslayer

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★★★½
“Here be dragons. Well, a dragon, anyway…”

This slice of British televisual fantasy was offered up on Christmas Day, and provides a pleasant, warm and unchallenging slice of family fare. It takes place in a world where magic has ruled, but is gradually fading from consciousness and being replaced by technology. The magic appears connected to the dragons with which humanity shared the planet, uneasily. After previous battles, a kind of apartheid was set up, with the world divided into dragon and human areas. Overseeing the peace is the Dragonslayer, who is charged with killing any dragons who violate the treaty and attack humans or their territory. But some members of mankind are casting envious eyes on the unspoiled territory of the dragons, and would love an excuse to take it over.

Into this comes Jennifer Strange (Chappell), an orphan who was adopted as an apprentice by the magician Zambini (Buchan). A decade or so later, he vanishes suddenly, and while Jennifer is still coming to terms with that, a bigger shock occurs. Fate has decreed she is to become the Dragonslayer, the one prophesied to kill the final dragon. Having grown to love magic in all its forms, she’s extremely reluctant to do so. But how is a teenage girl supposed to escape what the apparently immutable finger of fate has written? And never mind, having to cope with all the other unwanted attention, from interview requests to merchandising deals, that comes to Jennifer along with the unexpected position.

It’s a nicely constructed alternate world, part steampunk, part modern and a declining part magical – wizards, for example, are now reduced to doing rewiring work for employment, such is the low demand for their skills. This offers scope for satirical elements, such as the Dragonslayer having to do adverts for a soft drink to pay off an unexpected tax debt. There are also any number of faces you’ll recognize if you watch much British TV: Buchan is familiar from Broadchurch; Bradley, who plays Jennifer’s sidekick Gordon, is best-known as Jon Snow’s wingman Samwell Tarly in Game of Thrones; and King Snodd is Matt Berry, who played a similarly mad boss in The I.T. Crowd. Richard E. Grant voices the final fire-breather, though is largely wasted in the role.

Chappell makes for a good, plucky heroine, even if her willingness to accept the hand dealt to her is a little fatalistic. Why not just walk away? Can’t kill the last dragon if you don’t pick up the sword – even if it does have your name engraved on it. While light in tone, this does have its action beats, not least when Jennifer has to fend off an assassination attempt, and an occasional moment of surprising poignancy. The finale perhaps asks more questions than it answers, and it’s clear the aim is an ongoing saga of films to follow the books (there are three volumes in the series by Jasper Fforde with a fourth in preparation). Yet if this does become a Christmas Day media tradition in Britain, it’s one to which I’d not object at all,

Dir: Jamie Magnus Stone
Star: Ellise Chappell, Anna Chancellor, Andrew Buchan, John Bradley

American Terrorist by Wesley Robert Lowe

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

This was a disappointment, and a real chore to get through. If it had been a film, I’d have been reduced to surfing Facebook distractedly on my phone for the majority of its running time. Unfortunately, you don’t get to leave a book on in the background. It’s a stylistic and literary mess, throwing at the reader Canadian Special Forces heroine Rayna Tan, without providing any real background or character building beyond an incident in the Middle East. It then randomly switches around between her, a brother/sister pair of Islamic terrorists, Ahmed and Fatima, and their startlingly incompetent American recruits, who appeared to have strayed in from Four Lions. Throw in some unsubtle politicizing – even if I don’t necessarily disagree with the ideas expressed, it’s not what I want to read in my fiction – and it feels more like a half-finished collection of ideas than a coherent novel.

For example, after quitting the military, Tan goes to work for a group called Fidelitas Capital. Their cover is that they’re a money management company with no qualms – except, when they discover evidence of wrongdoing, they also target the customers with their in-house super-secret group of former soldiers. It would be putting it mildly to say this raises more questions than it answers. Another problem, is that the “American Muslim Militia” whom Rayna and her pals are hunting are, as noted above, pretty crap as terrorists go, and likely pose a danger to themselves, more than any innocent bystanders in the USA. For comparison, the book briefly describes an attack by another group, who blow the top third off the Washington Monument using a fleet of twenty explosive-laden drones. Now, that’s what I call a terror attack. Why wasn’t the book about them?

I get that the author is trying to spin his narrative out of several threads, depicting both the terrorists and those who’re hunting them. Yet it’s all remarkably bitty, and lacking in any flow at all, such as when Rayna and her colleagues are suddenly the targets for some Japanese assassins. This seems to have strayed in from another book entirely, coming out of nowhere and going nowhere either. It all builds to a climax at Seattle’s Safeco Field, which sounded interesting because it’s a baseball park I visited last summer. As depicted here, I completely failed to recognize it. Lowe is no more adept at creating a sense of place, than he is at creating credible or interesting characters. I can also assure him that those who rent suites at a ballpark are not immune from all security searches, as is claimed.

According to the author, Rayna is “Smart—IQ off the charts. Lethal—more kills than Chris Kyle. Black belt martial artist. She’s sexy, vulnerable and complicated.” There are worthy aims. Shame there’s precious thin evidence of these traits to be found in this novel.

Author: Wesley Robert Lowe
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available from Amazon only as an e-book.
Book 1 of 2 (plus a prequel) in The Rayna Tan Action Thrillers series

Run Lola Run: 20 years on

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On August 20th, it will be twenty years since Run Lola Run – or as it was originally titled, Lola Rennt – was released in its native Germany. And, given the significance the number “20” has in the film, it seems appropriate to take a look back at it. Let’s be clear: this will not be a particularly critical analysis, more of an adoring reminiscence. For I love this film, and have since Chris first mailed me a bootleg copy (recorded in LP mode!) in 2000. I’d seen the poster outside an art-house cinema on Long Island, but knew little or nothing about it. Certainly, when I banged that VHS tape into the player, I had no clue I’d be watching a film which would become one of my all-time favourites.

Note: THERE WILL BE ENORMOUS SPOILERS BELOW THIS LINE

Why do I adore it? It’s amazingly rewatchable – we saw it in the cinema together for the first time a couple of months ago, at a 20th anniversary screening, and it was still near-perfect – perhaps because it works on so many levels. On one, it’s a simple action tale. Lola (Potente) has 20 minutes to come up with 100,000 Deutschmarks lost by her boyfriend, Manni (Bleibtreu), which belong to a crime boss. That, in itself, is a brilliant pitch for a thriller, and the first third unfolds in an incredibly stylish, yet straightforward way, as Lola runs across town, fails to convince her father (Knaup) to help, gets involved in Manni’s supermarket robbery… and then gunned down by a policeman in the subsequent stand-off.

Wait, what? We’re not half an hour in, and the title character is already bleeding out on a Berlin street? How the hell is Tykwer going to sustain this? And this is where the film pulls of its master stroke, which is breathtaking in its audacity. After a brief interlude of Lola and Manni lying in bed, the film simply resets. It goes back to the point where Lola left her apartment, and the story unfolds again. However, this time, we are introduced to another of the film’s main themes: chaos theory. A tiny change in initial circumstance has a knock-on effect – there’s a pointed shot of dominoes toppling – and leads us to a completely different conclusion.

It’s still not what Lola wants. And, as the old song goes, whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. So we reset once more, with a further slight tweak at the beginning, subsequently causing the dominoes to fall in another, radically different way. [The moment when you figure out what’s going on is perhaps the greatest “Holy shit!” moment I’ve ever had in my film-viewing career] This time, she not only raises the money, Manni recovers his as well, and the pair wander off. Happy ever after? Hard to say. The enigmatic look on Lola’s face when he asks her, “What’s in the bag?” suggests her hard-won ending and new-found skill-set might have broadened her horizons, beyond the slightly shady and scatterbrained current boyfriend.

It can be enjoyed simply on that level: a demonstration of how a tiny change at the right point can have an extraordinary effect. This impact isn’t limited to Lola. Throughout the film, as her path crosses with various other people, we see what happens to them in this version of the future, through a series of still photos preceded by an “And then…” caption. It’s another brilliant idea, conveying an entire story in a few seconds. Like so much in the film, there’s absolutely no fat. Tykwer can’t afford that: the entire film runs only 80 minutes, and has to tell three similar, yet divergent story-lines, so time is, literally, of the essence here. The film and its heroine, must keep moving forward.

As a purely kinetic spectacle, it’s great, powered in part by the pulsing techno soundtrack, crafted by Tykwer along with Johnny Klimek and Reinhold Heil. They had previously collaborated for the music on Tykwer’s second feature, Winter Sleepers, and hit the ball out of the park with this collection of electronica. There are only two movie soundtracks which I’ll listen to on a standalone basis: this and Bollywood comedy, Singh Is Kinng. With lyrical work by Potente, it’s no less ceaselessly in motion than the movie – except for one scene which flips the script, going into slo-mo as it crashes into the sultry jazz tones of Dinah Washington. “What a difference a day makes,” she tells us. What a difference, indeed.

But it’s only when you dive deeper you realize the film has layers, with aspects deliberately left open to the viewer’s interpretation. It sets its philosophical stall out early, opening with quotes on the cyclical nature of life from poet T.S. Eliot… and German football coach, Sepp Herberger. “After the game is before the game,” says the latter; or in the context of the film, after Lola’s run is before her run. There’s a voice-over, by Hans Paetsch (well-known in Germany as, appropriately, a narrator of fairy-tales), who poses a set of philosophical queries before revealing their semi-pointlessness since these are, “questions in search of an answer, an answer that will give rise to a new question, and the next answer will give rise to the next question and so on.”

Then it’s game on. Right from the start, it appears that Lola has “a very particular set of skills”. At the end of her conversation with Manni, she throws the phone into the air, only for it to land, neatly on the base. This is… not normal. There’s also her scream, which can shatter glass and perhaps alter the outcome of a roulette wheel: it’s her method to “take control of the chaos” which is threatening to overwhelm her life. And that’s not even getting into her ability to rewind time, and get a “do over”, a power which may be driven by her intense love for Manni, and refusal to accept being separated from him. I hypothesize that she may be a goddess of some kind, slumming it in the body of a young German punkette. It’s as valid a theory as any the film provides.

Nowhere is Lola’s dominance over petty reality more obvious than in the casino. She doesn’t have enough money to buy a chip, yet the cashier gives her one anyway. Her clothes are clearly at odds with the casino’s dress code, yet she’s allowed to take part. And when she’s about to be ejected after her first win, she turns to the employee, stares levelly at him and says “Just one more game.” This is not a request, or even a demand. It’s a statement of fact, utterly undeniable. There will be one more game. What happens subsequently is further proof that what we perceive as chance is Lola’s tool, and not the other way round.

Yet in that light, it’s worth noting she’s not immune to external forces. Indeed, the first domino is her descent of the staircase in her apartment block and an encounter with another resident and his dog. The resulting outcome begins the process of changing the timeline. These are also not complete “resets”. In the opening run, Manni has to show her how to operate the safety on a gun; in the second, she knows what to do. Nor is her power without limits, or Lola could simply go back and prevent her boyfriend from losing the money to begin with. There are, apparently, rules to this game, though who sets them and why, is not a topic addressed in the film.

I love the use Tykwer makes of colour in the film, in particular red, yellow and green [likely not by coincidence, the same ones used in traffic lights]. Once you’re primed to look for their use, you’ll see them appearing, over and over again. Interpreting their meaning is trickier; it’s not something the director appears to have addressed, even on the DVD commentary. Red is clearly the dominant shade, from Lola’s hair to the filters applied to the scenes between runs, where she and Manny are lying in bed. While often associated with danger, it is also a colour associated with love and passion, and both are highly significant elements here.

Meanwhile, Manny is linked to yellow, most obviously in his dyed hair, and the phone booth in and around which he spends much of his time. At a guess, I’d says this symbolizes his life grinding to a halt, Manny’s anxiety and subsequent inaction (particularly in comparison to Lola) and perhaps the cowardice of his refusal to ‘fess up to his boss and face the consequences of his incompetence. Also of note: the scenes in which the pair do not appear are, quite deliberately, shot on noticeably lower-quality stock than scenes with Lola and Manny: Tykwer said he wanted those scenes to seem less “real”.

Something else which shows up repeatedly are spirals: the staircase down which Lola runs, the bar outside which is Manni’s phone-box; even the slow descent into entropy of the ball on the roulette wheel. This seems to have been inspired by Tykwer’s love of Vertigo, something explicitly referenced in the casino. There, the mysterious painting on the wall, of the back of a woman, is a portrait of Kim Novak in the gallery from Hitchcock’s movie, whipped up in 15 minutes and from vague memory by the art director, to fill an annoying blank space on the wall. [It went on to hang in the director’s living-room!]

Chris and I love the film so much, that when we went to Berlin on honeymoon, one of the things we did was spend an afternoon visiting as many of the locations as possible. We discovered the film does play fast and loose with local geography. The settings are situated well beyond the capabilities of even an Olympic athlete to cover in 20 minutes, so we were not able to get to the supermarket, for instance. I do, however, still have pics of Chris “running” outside the bank (which is now the Hotel de Rome, with rooms starting at $300 per night…)

Though not the first feature for either Tykwer or Potente, this has become the one by which both are defined. Such is our love for Run Lola Run, we’ll pretty much watch anything they’re involved with, even though nothing has come close to matching it. Probably wisely, Tykwer hasn’t tried, even when re-uniting with his lead actress and soundtrack composers for The Princess and the Warrior. While their other works have certainly had their merits, it feels like this was the cinematic equivalent of catching lightning in a bottle. Small enough for the director to be allowed artistic control, yet large enough to be able to deliver it, it’s a film which is every bit as fresh and invigorating now as it was in 1998.

The upcoming Chinese remake, announced last year, will have some very large, black boots to fill…

 

Black Lagoon

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★★★½
“Black to basics.”

Thanks to Dieter for pointing me in the direction of this series, whose 24 episodes feel like a bit of a throwback to the days when watching anime felt hard-edged and dangerous, almost a subversive act. Mind you, this actually came out in 2006, so I guess it’s actually something of a throwback, full stop. [Random aside of no relevance to anything much: startled to realize today it’s more than eight years since Salt came out. Would have sworn it was only about three, tops] It’s hyper-violent, clearly for mature viewers only, and its multiple action heroines possess generally poor attitudes. Clearly up my street!

It takes place in what I’m going to assume is a somewhat alternate reality, where the Thai city of Roanapur has become a modern-day equivalent to Tortuga, the 17th-century pirate haven in the Caribbean. It’s a free-fire zone where organized crime operates with impunity, including Japanese, Chinese, Russian, Colombian and Italian groups, along with all the necessary “support services,” from gun-runners to brothels. Lagoon Company are one such, mostly specializing in smuggling goods, people or whatever needs to be moved quietly around. Into this setting falls the unfortunate Rock (Namikawa), a Japanese salaryman on business, whose ship is boarded by Lagoon, and he is taken hostage. After his company abandons him, to conceal the shady business they were doing, he joins Lagoon as an accountant-interpreter-negotiator-factotum. He’s in for a culture shock.

Leading the parade of counter-heroines is the Chinese-American Revy (Toyoguchi), who is Lagoon’s main enforcer, and loves her job, which she carries out enthusiastically, with the slightest provocation. She’s a fascinating character: Revy has absolutely no scruples about blowing away anybody who gets in her way, and in “normal” society would be far beyond the pale. However, in Roanapur, she’s just one among a myriad of similar types – there, scruples are likely to get you killed – and her unswerving loyalty to the rest of Lagoon, and Rock in particular, are a redeeming quality. She prefers to wield, with extreme prejudice and skill, a pair of modified Beretta 92FS’s, and Revy’s ambidextrous skill has earned her the nickname “Two Hand” around town.

If she were the only candidate, this might end up being a bit of a borderline entry, but over the 24 episodes in the two series (there’s another five-episode arc I haven’t seen, Roberta’s Blood Trail, which came out in 2010), Revy is joined by a number of other, morally ambiguous women, all of whom are more than comfortable with firearms:

  • “Balalaika” – the pseudonymous head of Hotel Moscow, the Russian crime group under whom Lagoon frequently operate. She’s a veteran of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, which left her with serious burns. She got her name from the sniper rifle which was her weapon of choice, and often calls upon her ex-Army colleagues when reinforcements are needed.
  • Eda – a drinking buddy of Revy, she’s a nun in the Church of Violence a.k.a. the Rip-off Church. They are perhaps the premier gun-running outfit in Roanapur, who count Lagoon among their customers, and you interfere with the Church or its leader Yolanda, at your own peril.
  • Roberta – the maid of the Lovelace family, one of the leading South American cartels. When its scion, Garcia, is kidnapped, Roberta goes on the hunt. Turns out she’s actually a former FARC guerrilla, who had been trained as an assassin in Cuba, and proves capable of fighting Revy to a time-limit draw.
  • Gretel – one of two Romanian orphans, who may be the most screwed-up characters in the whole show, due to their background in child porn and worse. [‘Snuff said, shall we say…] While life is generally cheap in this series, she and her brother Gretel take sadistic and visceral pleasure in torturing their victims, extreme even for this show.
  • Yukio Washimine – daughter of a yakuza boss. She takes over the group after the incumbent is killed by Balalaika, despite Rock’s efforts to prevent this.

There are all, in their own way, interesting (if largely damaged, in some cases severely) characters, who have enough potential that they could each merit their own series. Add them to Revy, and its an impressive line-up, even if some only appear for a couple of parts. The structure of the series generally has each arc occupying two episodes, though the Washimine storyline occupies the final six. It’s a good approach, allowing for a bit more expansion than the 25-minute format usually permits. My main gripe is the near-total lack of character development over the two seasons. Revy, Dutch and just about everyone else are the same at the end of the show as at the beginning. There’s no sense they’ve learned anything from their experiences, and even Rock has simply settled into his new life with barely a ripple. The show seems more interested in their past, than their future.

It is still a lot of fun to watch – admittedly, you need to suspend your disbelief in the way gun battles work. But if, like me, you’re a fan of John Woo films like A Better Tomorrow (an obvious and admitted influence), then the remarkable invulnerability to bullets shown by Revy, etc. will not be an issue. Having cut my anime fandom teeth on the likes of Wicked City and Vampire Hunter D, this plays like the organized crime equivalent, and provides an enjoyable blast from the past.

Dir: Sunao Katabuchi
Star (voice): Megumi Toyoguchi, Daisuke Namikawa, Tsutomu Isobe, Mami Koyama

I, Olga Hepnarova

  By

★★★
“Czech, please…”

I am a loner. A destroyed woman. A woman destroyed by people… I have a choice – to kill myself or to kill others. I choose TO PAY BACK MY HATERS. It would be too easy to leave this world as an unknown suicide victim. Society is too indifferent, rightly so. My verdict is: I, Olga Hepnarová, the victim of your bestiality, sentence you to death.

Women who kill are rare. Women who kill multiple victims at once, without male associates, are rarer still. Among the few who have been recorded as such was Olga Hepnarová, a 22-year-old Czech, who in 1973 deliberately drove a truck into a group of people waiting for a tram in Prague. Eight were killed, and a dozen injured. The day before she had sent a “manifesto” explaining her actions to two local newspapers. As the extract above suggests, she saw herself as a victim, inflicting punishment on the society which she blamed for bullying her. Hepnarová showed absolutely no remorse, and became the last woman executed in Czechoslovakia, being hung in December 1975.

This is all historical and documented fact, but helps lend this feature version of Hepnarová’s life a bleak relentlessness. Presuming you’re aware of the story (and one imagines most of the Czech audience would be, if not necessarily those in other countries), you know exactly where it’s going to end up – with a short drop, though the film takes the specifics of that as read. So there’s no suspense to be had, and to be fair, that isn’t the point at all. It’s more about trying to get inside the mind of Hepnarová: how does someone get to the stage where committing an act of mass murder becomes not only plausible, it also becomes inevitable?

It was clearly a combination of factors. Olga displayed signs of mental illness from a young age, including a suicide attempt by overdose in her early teens, and as depicted here, has severe difficulty forming any kind of relationship – though the lack of effort she puts into them from her side is notable. She seems to stand outside the human race, at one point saying, “I can’t talk to anybody. I’m alone everywhere. People just talk and gather and laugh even at things I don’t find funny at all,” and later bluntly stating “The world has no value.” I’m not sure if her comments come from court transcripts, medical documents or were invented for the purpose of the film, but according to the makers, “We didn’t write anything that we didn’t know to be true – if we didn’t know it for sure, we removed it from our script.”

There’s no denying it sometimes packs a wallop – not least given events subsequent to filming, in Nice and elsewhere, with terrorists taking enthusiastically to vehicular mayhem for their own causes – and the blank nihilism in Olszanska‘s performance is chilling. But I can’t say any real insight into the psychology of her psychopathy feels like it was obtained. It’s clear she was bullied, and that was a factor, but what is offered feels like a facile simplification: hell, I had more than my share of being bullied at school, and didn’t kill anyone. There is eloquence to her own words, and I wish there had been more of this. For despite black-and-white cinematography which makes it feel like a contemporary retelling, rather than four decades later, the rest feels flat and largely uninteresting.

Dir: Petr Kazda and Tomás Weinreb
Star: Michalina Olszanska, Martin Pechlát, Klára Melísková, Marika Soposká

She’s Crushed

  By

★★½
“An object lesson about not sticking your dick in crazy.”

Playing somewhat like a more brutal version of Fatal Attraction, this sees Ray (Norlén) help out the girl next door, Tara (Dickinson) with some heavy suitcases she’s trying to move into her car. From this eventually stems a one-night stand between the pair, made all the more unfortunate by Ray’s girlfriend, Maddy (Wehrle) being stranded by the side of the road with a flat, while the pair do the dirty deed. Ray then discovers Tara’s darker side: and when I say “darker side”, I mean she makes Alex Forrest of Fatal Attraction look like a bunny-boiling beginner. With the aid of a condom from their dangerous liaison, she frames him for the rape/murder of his boss, forcing him to help her get rid of the body. And Tara is only getting warmed up. Wait until she gets her hands on Maddy…

Unlike Attraction, there is never any sense of doubt as to the woman’s sanity. Right from the get-go, it’s perfectly clear that Tara is barking mad, and likely already a killer; those suitcases mentioned above seem to contain the body of a previous victim. There’s some backstory about a severely-abusive father – one whose abuse of Tara continues right to the present day – and a mother in an asylum. It’s not really necessary, especially following the scene where we see her shaving her armpits with a carving knife. After that, very little more has to be said. Of course, she’s a relatively high-functioning psycho, in that Tara can come over as perfectly normal in everyday conversation. This, and her physical attractiveness, do make Ray’s interest seem somewhat plausible, along with the shrewish nature of his current girlfriend, although there’s so little build-up to Tara’s night with Ray, it’s a bit eyebrow-raising.

Indeed, events unfold in a way that’s rather too obvious for the first hour, with Tara alternating wildly between over the top Generic Loony (TM) and eye-blinkingly adorable, without any particular impact or development. Only after she kidnaps both the target of her affection and his girlfriend, does this achieve a degree of disturbing brutality, far beyond what Attraction depicted. And that’s exactly the territory which low-budget films need to inhabit, in order to succeed (or, at least, be memorable): where Hollywood fears to tread. If you’re not crinkling your toes up by the end of that sequence, you’re not paying attention. Does that 10 minutes justify the existence of the entire film? I’d likely need some convincing of that, and for a supposed military veteran, Ray finds it remarkably difficult to escape from the clutches of not exactly powerful Tara. At least, until the plot requires it, anyway.

Bonus points to the makers, for their use of videos on a Youtube channel, “taraiscrushed”, as a viral promo for the film telling Tara’s backstory, beginning more than three years before it was released. That’s planning ahead…

Dir: Patrick Johnson
Star: Natalie Dickinson, Henrik Norlén, Caitlin Wehrle, Keith Malley
a.k.a. Crushed