Category: Review

The Aeronauts

  By

★★★
“Full of hot air.”

I was genuinely stoked when I got to the end of this one, which details the derring-do of 19th-century pioneers James Glaisher (Redmayne) and Amelia Wren (Jones). The former is a scientist in the fledgling field of meteorology, who wants to obtain data from the upper atmosphere. The latter is a balloon pilot, carrying on despite the death of her husband on a previous flight. Together, they team up, to fly higher than any person had ever gone before. Indeed, further than even they wanted to go, as a frozen valve prevents them from descending when they need to do so. With Glaisher out of commission through oxygen deprivation, it’s up to Wren to climb, by herself, up the outside of the balloon, in order to reach the top and clear the valve.

The in-flight entertainment is excellent, right from the take-off, in front of a sizable crowd of onlookers, to whom Wren is delighted to play. But as they rise up, you do get a real sense of the appeal of flight, in a way which feels almost like a Hayao Miyazaki film. That matters, having gone into this wondering why someone would willingly dangle from a wicker basket, below what is effectively a large bomb (here, lifted by inflammable coal gas). But the beauty of the air is well-captured, as well as its immense scale, with any number of shots depicting the giant balloon reduced to little more than a speck, beside the massive clouds. And Wren’s solo ascent is the stuff of heroic legend.

But that’s also the problem. For she never existed. Oh, Glaisher did. And so did his flight, in 1862. It set an altitude record for any craft of 36,000 feet, which would endure for more than sixty years. And after Glaisher lost consciousness, his companion did end up needing to pull the release valve by mouth, having lost all feeling in his limbs. Yeah: his. Because it was professional balloonist Henry Coxwell who was the hero in fact. Now, I get that cinema will play fast and loose with facts. But swapping out a real person for a fictional one of the opposite gender? Really? There weren’t any actual aeronautical heroines about whom a film could be made? Oh, hang on: there were. Most obviously, Sophie Blanchard, a Frenchwoman on whom the character of Wren was partially-based, and who was Napoleon’s head of aeronautics. A future feature on her may beckon.

The more grounded stuff in the film also doesn’t work as well. There’s a narrative conceit which holds back information about the circumstances surrounding Mr. Wren’s death. And background stuff on Glaisher’s struggles to raise funds for his expedition into the sky, as well as his relationship with his father (Courtenay), don’t add much to proceedings. I’d have been happier with a real-time recounting, purely focused on the flight up and down. The contrast between the staid Glaisher and show-womanship of Wren, offers enough fuel to keep things going, until the latter’s perilous ascent is needed. Just don’t ask why neither of them thought to pack a pair of gloves.

Dir: Tom Harper
Star: Felicity Jones, Eddie Redmayne, Himesh Patel, Tom Courtenay

Merciless Charity by Wayne Stinnett

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

To be charitable (pun not intended), this might perhaps have come across better if I were familiar with the “Caribbean Adventure” series by the same author, featuring the exploits of ex-marine Jesse McDermitt. That long-running franchise saw its sixteenth(!) entry published in November, and this volume appears to be the first in a spin-off series from the same universe. This may be why the early going is really tough. Explanations of who people are and their relationships, are notable by their absence, and if it’s tacitly presumed you know them from his other work, that would make sense.

In particular, there’s an early plot thread where our heroine, Charity Styles, help track down kidnappers on their boat. But it’s a while before we discover who was abducted, and the whole thread seems to go absolutely nowhere, with Charity dropping people and then flying off. Only after then do we get to the main story, where she vanishes off the grid, in order to sail a boat from Miami to Mexico, make her way up the side of a volcano, and take out the terrorist cell who have set up a training camp there, preparing for an attack in Texas. None of which makes a great deal of logical sense. Why sail, rather than fly? Hell, take a submarine. And why is the US government pussyfooting around with an ocean-going sniper, when a well-placed Hellfire missile or two would be just as effective, and considerably quicker?

Regardless, this means that more than half the book is taken up with the 1,200 nautical mile sailing trip, including a particularly irrelevant side mission to rescue some Cuban refugees. As ocean-going travelogue, it’s actually not bad, and almost makes me want to buy a yacht. But as action-heroine fiction goes? It’s mild stuff indeed, and until she reaches the terrorist camp, the sole incident of note is an encounter with a would-be mugger. It seems a bit of a waste of a violent background, which saw Charity captured after the helicopter she was piloting was shot down in Afghanistan. She was held by a Taliban group, and brutally violated by them, over an extended period, before escaping, taking revenge and being rescued. That’s an entire hold’s worth of baggage which could potentially be unpacked into her character, yet it never happens.

Things do perk up in the final battle, where we finally see the unleashed savagery of which Charity is capable, living up to the title of the book. The terrorists don’t have a chance, to put it mildly. Though they’re not just up against a lethal sniper, but what can only be described as a volcano ex machina. It’s too little, too late, and I must confess I was glad this was a quick read, coming in at only 224 pages. There’s nothing here to make me want to delve any further into these warm waters.

Author: Wayne Stinnett
Publisher: Down Island Press, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 5 in Caribbean Thriller Series.

Sisters in Law

  By

★★½
“Law and disorder”

This is exactly the kind of “mismatched cop” film in which you’d expect to see Melissa McCarthy, if it was ever remade by Hollywood. Though since two decades later, McCarthy would star in The Heat, they probably don’t need to bother. Here, the trope of tough, world-weary cop Jacky, is played by Ng – inexplicably, the subtitles repeatedly call her Joan, which confused the heck out of me for a bit. She gets an unwelcome new partner in the shape of idealistic and by-the-book Mary (Chan). Of course, there’s the inevitable friction before the pair come to respect each other.

After being accidentally involved in a jewellery heist, they get to investigate the case. The robbery was actually staged by the gems’ owner, Hanks Lee (Kong) for insurance purposes, which is why the robbers start turning up dead. Jacky and Mary have to locate the last survivor, with the unwilling help of his girlfriend (Hung), before the loose end he represents can be tidied up. Complicating matters is the growing relationship between Jacky and Hanks, to the concern of her partner. While in her own sub-plot, Mary has issues with her widowed mother’s new boyfriend, because he’s a supposedly reformed gangster.

It’s so incredibly generic, it’s hard to think of a time when this would have seemed the slightest bit original – even back in 1992, when this was made. There are no surprises at all to be found in the plot or characters, save perhaps the caricatured male colleagues who get their come-uppance at the end… by being assigned to the Gay Crimes department. Laughter all round! Every aspect of that angle is incredibly nineties, and so impossible to imagine in a modern film, it becomes kinda refreshingly incorrect. On the other hand, safe to say it’s probably not the element which the makers most wanted to stick in the viewer’s memory. The two leads do have a nice chemistry though, and that keeps things chugging along pleasantly enough, covering over the paper-thin nature of the story.

Still, it’s one of eighteen films listed in the IMDb for Ng this year, and you certainly get the sense this was something put together and churned out with no great regard for quality. There isn’t even that much action, save for the jewel robbery. Things do perk up at the end, after they locate the last robber in a closed amusement park – only for Jacky unwittingly to spill the beans on his location to Hanks, leading to him sending his posse there. Fortunately, Mary’s impending father-in-law is there, to draw on his old, very particular set of skills. It’s quite energetic and well-staged, though falls some way short of doing enough to move the needle far. There’s no doubt that just about everyone involved has been part of significantly better films. Though if you are in the mood for something entirely undemanding and light, this would probably pass muster.

Dir: Andy Chin
Star: Sandra Ng, Charine Chan, Kong Wa, Catherine Hung

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil

  By

★★★
“An industrial sized box of eye-candy.”

Dear god, the scenery in this is almost unutterably lovely to look at. It’s the kind of film which left me wishing I’d seen it at the cinema, even if I fear my head would have exploded at the beauty of it all. Right from the opening sequence, featuring an insane swooping shot which seems to last forever, it is just gorgeous. The final battle is so lush, a war occurring in a castle the approximate size of Bavaria, against a back-drop of exploding red-clouds made from fae genocide dust, it should be bottled and sold in the skin-care aisle.

The other big positive comes from leading ladies Jolie and Pfeiffer. As we mentioned in our original review, Angelina was born to play Maleficent, and that hasn’t changed. Here, Michelle gives her an excellent foil to go up against. I couldn’t help feeling Pfeiffer’s performance was influenced by Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons – a film in which she also appeared, apparently taking notes. Their scenes opposite each other, such as the Most Uncomfortable Dinner Party Ever, are a delight to watch.

The problem? Uh, basically everything else, beginning with Fanning and Dickinson as the world’s blandest couple, who manage to suck the life from every scene they inhabit. The former is Aurora, now monarch of the magical kingdom, the Moors. She falls for Prince Philip (Dickinson), heir to the throne of Ulstead, and everyone is delighted that their impending marriage will seal peace forever between the two realms. Everyone bar Philip’s mom, Queen Ingrith (Pfeiffer), who has other plans. Basically, starting a war and blaming it on Maleficent, whose PR person must have been asleep since the first film, since Mal is now back to being generally despised. Ingrith then intends to use the fae genocide dust mentioned above to emerge victorious, allowing her to sweep in and annex the Moors.

Meanwhile in a sub-plot which is both superfluous and ham-handed, Maleficent is reconnecting with the family she never knew she had. Their leader is played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, a fine actor. However, remember what I said about Jolie being born for the role? Ejiofor isn’t, and looks more embarrassed than anything else, to be stomping around in those oversized horns. It’s all filled with Obvious Commentary on bigotry, diversity, racism and so forth. Poor Maleficent is largely relegated to a supporting role in her own franchise, before returning to hurl green lightning at the end, and engage in some behaviour which can only be described as Christ-like. Have you a moment to talk about your lord and saviour, Angelina Jolie?

You can’t argue the $185 million budget was ill-spent though. Rønning was previously co-director on Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, the [pauses to check notes] fifth installment in that franchise, and clearly knows his way around a nine-figure price-tag. It’s not enough to match its predecessor: more the kind of film I’ll dip into if I see it on cable, rather than rush to embrace on Blu-Ray.

Dir: Joachim Rønning
Star: Angelina Jolie, Michelle Pfeiffer. Elle Fanning, Harris Dickinson

Dead in the Water

  By

★★½
“Becalmed”

My heart sank in the first few seconds, when I discovered that this was a SyFy Original Movie. The really poor CGI, of a ship sailing on the ocean, seemed to confirm that I was in for one of their bottom of the barrel productions. In the end, however, this was… just about okay. Incredibly derivative, to be sure, and that’s not its only problem. Yet it still just about sustained my interest. That’s certainly not always the case for SyFy Original Movies, to put it mildly.

This takes place almost entirely on the not-so-good ship Amphitrite, an eco-warrior vessel engaged in tracking illegal Chinese trawlers. Its engine breaks down, right in the path of an incoming storm. They then pick up a survivor out of the water, who turns out to be infected with… something. Which is why he’s telling the crew, “Kill me… Then kill yourselves.” Needless to say, they don’t quite follow his suggestion. Before you can say “Alien rip-off“, they’re moving slowly around the dimly-lit corridors of the ship in search of… something. And before you can say “Thing rip-off,” they’re watching video off the survivor’s phone, and getting paranoid about who among them might, or might not, be infected.

It’s an all-female crew, which is why the film is here, and it’s admirable that no-one explicitly mentions this or makes a fuss about it. They are what they are, seven women who are competent at their jobs – and of course, it’s a reflection of the all-male cast in John Carpenter’s The Thing. The problem is that there isn’t enough effort put into differentiating them, or establishing them as individuals. I’m not certain I could tell you most of their names, or identify them even with a particular characteristic. I’m going to guess the one called “Sparks” was the ship’s engineer. Otherwise, they seemed entirely interchangeable.

The other problem was already mentioned in passing: the remarkable lack of lighting. Look, I get that the ship “lost power”. I understand that your creature budget of 15 South African Rand probably can’t stand up to the harsh glare of daylight. But there is a limit to how much sloth-like meandering along corridors by near-candlelight I can tolerate. And this film reaches that quota inside the first 30 minutes, then keeps right on meandering. Inevitably, the dwindling band of survivors eventually figure out what exactly they are going to do, and how they are going to stop the creature from reaching the all-you-can-infect buffet which is civilization. To the movie’s credit, it doesn’t shy away from the downbeat conclusion of The Thing, though as appears inevitable with SyFy Original Movies, there’s a coda which leaves the door open to a sequel no-one wants or needs.

In the end, the problem is as always: if you steal from the best, you’ll be compared to the best. And Dead in the Water comes up short of The Thing and Alien, by the width of several oceans.

Dir: Sheldon Wilson
Star: Nikohl Boosheri, Christia Visser, Tanya Van Geaan, Bianca Simone Mannie

Captain Marvel

  By

★★½
“Hardly marvel-lous”

I had a couple of potential concerns going into this. Firstly, my general unfamiliarity with the Marvel Cinematic Universe. This was film #21 in their Infinity Saga. I had seen seven. Would this be like trying to follow Game of Thrones‘s penultimate episode, after having missed two-thirds of what preceded it? Secondly, Brie Larson’s press complaints about movie critics being “overwhelmingly white male.” Yep, guilty as charged, m’lord. Would this questionable attitude – that your skin colour and genital configuration matter more than what you do or say – carry over into the movie?

Fortunately, neither turned out to be a significant issue. On the other hand, it’s still not a very good movie.

Oh, it’s occasionally amusing and sometimes reaches the level of moderately impressive spectacle. But the longer it went on, the less involved I was in it. By the time Vers (Larson), a.k.a. Air Force pilot Carol Danvers enters goddess mode and becomes Captain Marvel, all I could think of was, “That’s a silly-looking helmet.” To reach that point, we follow her as alien Vers gets captured by the enemies of her Kree species, the Skrulls. Their brainwashing attempts succeed in partially re-awakening repressed memories of life on Earth as Danvers. The Krulls are after a light-speed engine being developed there by Danvers’s mentor, Dr. Wendy Lawson (Bening). It’s up to Vers to stop them. Except, almost nothing is quite what it seems at first.

My biggest complaint is how the film relies entirely on dramatically convenient amnesia. I found it painfully obvious, the way Vers’s memories repeatedly dribble back in exactly the manner most appropriate for the plot. The most important elements left are until last, because story-line. The period setting of 1995 turns out to be largely pointless, beyond an excuse to throw a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt onto Larson. [I’ll admit, we did pause the Blockbuster Video scene, to try and recognize some of the VHS sleeves, such as Hook and Jumping Jack Flash] It could just as easily have been set now, considering Marvel vanishes at the end, not returning until Avengers: Endgame, as a mid-credits sequence makes clear.

The above would have been okay if the action had been top-drawer, and it isn’t. This is probably the area in which Battle Angel kicks Captain Marvel’s ass the hardest: almost nothing here has any impact, physically or emotionally. Overall, it just feels lazy: look no further than the most obvious choice of  No Doubt’s Just a Girl as the backing track for the final fight. That was about as cringey as the empowerment got; rather more annoying was the political subtext, of “What if we were the real terrorists?” I watched this literally immediately after seeing Ricky Gervais’s beautifully savage assault on Hollywood at the Golden Globes: “You’re in no position to lecture the public about anything. You know nothing about the real world.” This film would seem to prove his point.

Dir: Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck
Star: Brie Larson, Samuel L. Jackson, Ben Mendelsohn, Annette Bening

Agent Jade Black

  By

★½
“Someone should go Black to basics.”

This originally was going to be included in my preview for the year, since it showed up in the IMDb with a release date of January 7, 2020. But on Googling, I found it already had seeped out on Tubi, a free movie channel. At time of writing, this would appear to be the first review written about it anywhere, though it should be considered less a preview than a dire advance warning. Indeed, I could condense the whole thing into one word: “Don’t.” For a more pedestrian, poorly-executed excuse for an action film, you’d be hard pushed to find. Right down to the initials of its lead character and the tag-line on the poster (right), this possesses aspirations it fails miserably to achieve. On the plus side, 2020 can really only go up from here.

Jade Black (Burgess) is a globe-trotting agent, working for a clandestine department of the US government under her boss, Malcolm (Flack). Initially tasked with bringing a scientist in from Italy, that mission goes pear-shaped, and the target killed. His laptop survives, and opens the door to a looming plot. He was working on a biological weapon known as “Juliet”, triggered by chemicals the body releases during sex. The shadowy Darrian group are plotting to use this, and the related antidote, for… the usual nefarious purposes in which shadowy groups in C-grade movies engage, including the release of Juliet at a political fundraiser. Front and center in opposition to Jade is Darrian operative Elle (Franklin), another former acolyte of Malcolm. Like Jade, she was rescued by him from sex traffickers as a teenager. Only, in Elle’s case, the psychological damage suffered was too great to overcome, and she went rogue instead.

The above actually sounds kinda interesting – certainly, considerably more so than it is in execution. Part of the problem is the resources are incapable of delivering anything the script asks of them. “Italy” for example, appears entirely depicted by the scientist using an espresso maker. There’s not even any token stock-footage of Rome. When your film is shot entirely in Oklahoma, why mention Italy at all? This kind of ludicrous over-reach peppers the whole movie, considering it can only depict Malcolm’s office by tacking a couple of maps to the wall of a generic room. Spears’ direction is also terrible, though it may be more of an editorial issue. Both individual shots and entire scenes appear to have been cut with a blunt butter-knife, ending too soon or going on too long.

There’s absolutely no rhythm or pacing, with the film lurching and juddering from one moment to the next, and the players exchange one-liners that are less groan-worthy than induce actual nausea. It rapidly becomes painful to watch, despite the best efforts of the cast, who aren’t as relentlessly terrible as the direction or writing. Franklin comes out best, sinking her teeth effectively into her bad-girl role. But you could have had Meryl Streep in this, and she would have been unable to salvage it.

Dir: Terry Spears
Star: Katie Burgess, Sidney Flack, Connie Franklin, Taylor Reich

No Shelter, by Robert Swartwood

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

“Meet Holly Lin. Nanny by day, assassin by night.” That was the tagline here, and you’ll understand why it jumped off the Amazon page and onto my Kindle. I was expecting something like Mary Poppins crossed with Atomic Blonde [“A spoonful of C-4 helps the terrorists go down…”], which is a great concept. However, I guess I’m going to have to write that book myself, because this isn’t it. I suppose, technically it is, though may be closer to like “vaguely nannies some times, assassin at others”. It certainly helps in terms of workplace schedule flexibility, that she nannies for her government boss. So it’s apparently fine when she has to abandon her charges and jet off from Washington to Las Vegas to assassinate someone selling a flash drive, on which is… Well, we’ll get back to that.

Holly also had a tendency to go off-mission, riding off into the Nevada desert on her own to rescue a bunch of sex-trafficked women. That’s a decision that comes back to haunt her later on, though it’s extraordinarily convenient how all the bad guys seem to know and work with each other. They must have a villains’ Facebook group or something. The other major issue is the shift in focus. In the second half, the main antagonist becomes someone who was only mentioned in flashback/passing in the first. There’s little or no emotional resonance to the conflict as a result. Though if you can’t guess the identity of the mysterious figure who spares Holly’s life in an alley, you probably need to read more of this genre.

Swartwood has a better handle on the action, with a number of well-written and fast-paced set pieces, and a heroine who has no problem using brutal violence as a tool. However, the underlying logic on both sides is often questionable. The climax occurs after Holly’s charges are kidnapped and ransomed, held in exchange for that pesky flash drive. Yet the way in which she goes about retrieving it, seems more designed for spectacle than good sense – and she needn’t even have bothered, since the villain agrees to meet her without requiring any kind of proof she has it. These kind of missteps bedevil the story. Though I did appreciate the final, savage payoff to the running thread about the elevator in her apartment building being slow or out of order.

There just isn’t enough here to make it stand out from the pack of other assassins-with-a-heart-of-gold-and-a-troubled-past books. If it had played up the “double life” concept – making Holly some kind of bad-ass baby-sitter – this could have been a novel angle. Instead, it hardly gets much of a look-in, and as a final insult [probably a spoiler, but I don’t care] Swartwood can’t even be bothered to tell us what is actually on the flash drive to cause such mayhem and bloodshed. It’s a complete McGuffin. Unfortunately, this author is no Hitchcock.

Author: Robert Swartwood
Publisher: RMS Press, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the Holly Lin series.

Rudhramadevi

  By

★★½
“A two and a half-hour gender reveal party.”

Not unlike the saga of Manakarnika and its various adaptations, this is based on a figure from Indian history: Rani Rudrama Devi, who ruled over the southern Indian area called Kakatiya in the second half of the 13th century. Her father had no genuine male heirs, so to ensure succession, declared her legally to be his son. When the king passed away, some nobles attempted to rebel against being ruled by a woman, but she and her army prevailed, and she subsequently sat on the throne for 30 years. That’s very loosely echoed in the story here. However, King Ganapatideva (Raju) carries out the pretense from the birth of Rudrama Devi (Shetty), with only a few aware of her true gender.

It is successfully hidden for 25 years, until mounting pressure forces Ganapatideva to get his “son” married off. Probably inevitably, this leads to the secret becoming discovered by his enemies. Murari Devudu (Adithya Menon) and Hari Hara Devudu, nobles long opposed to Ganapatideva’s rule, attempt to use it to force the king out. He tries to gets ahead of them by revealing it first, but a disgruntled population allows Murari and Hari to stage a coup. Their harsh rule allows Rudrama, with the help of childhood friend and long-term rebel, Gona Ganna Reddy (Arjun), to gather her own army. She prepares an assault on the heavily-fortified capital where her enemies lie in wait.

At 158 minutes, including a clunky wrap-around sequence involving… uh, Marco Polo, this certainly takes its time to get going, and only redeems itself with a somewhat impressive finale. Beyond the problems of the pacing, there are a bevy of issues on the technical side. This was made in 3-D, and it’s often painfully obvious, in a House of Wax way. There are also a lot of digital effects, most of which are second-tier in quality. They’re the sort which work fine off in the distance, such as the finale where army formations take the shape of snakes and eagles. But these are much less effective close-up, such as the CGI elephant which Rudrama has to tame. Overall, it’s severely jarring, and much less successful than Manakarnika, due to the obviously digital nature of many of the elements here.

Shetty doesn’t really have the presence necessary to command the screen. Arjun does a much better job, though it was nice that Reddy steps aside at the end, allowing the title character to take center stage. Her sidekick even explicitly explains himself: “If I killed him it is not a big deal. The Kakatiya people who dreamt a male royal heir will protect them, their expectations should be met by a woman. In no way is a woman
any less brave… So Rudrama must kill him.” It’s a shame the rest of the players, and indeed the film-makers, didn’t realize this over the first 145 minuts of the film, and give their heroine room. Instead, I’m left with no real explanation of why she is still remembered, 650 years after she took the throne.

Dir: Gunasekhar
Star: Anushka Shetty, Allu Arjun, Adithya Menon, Krishnam Raju

Tiffany Jones

  By

★★½
“Immodesty Blaise.”

Fashion model Tiffany Jones (Hempel) finds herself dropped into the middle of international intrigue, after President Boris Jabal (Pohlmann), leader of the Eastern European state of Zirdana, takes a shine to her during a state visit to Britain. It’s supposed to be a trade negotiation, but is really to allow Jabal to broken an arms deal with some shady Americans. Her meeting the President brings her to the attention of two factions of Zirdanian rebels.

The nice is led by Prince Salvator (Thomas), the ruler in exile. The not-so-nice are a more aggressive faction, operating out of a restaurant kitchen. Both wonder what Tiffany is doing with Jabal, and are keen to use her to achieve their ends. Which is fine by her, since she has no love for the authoritarian regime which controls Zirdana. So Tiffany agrees to a plan where Jabal will be distracted, preventing from seeing the arms dealers, and a substitute will take the meeting in his place.

Walker is better know for his S&M horror films, with titles such as House of Whipcord, and it’s safe to say saucy comedy like this is not his strong suit. There’s no shortage of sauce, to be sure. It’s reported that Hempel (now known as Lady Weinberg, through marriage) bought up the rights to the film, as well as her work with Russ Meyer, Black Snake, for showing rather too much of her. And that’s before we get to the garden party she throws for Jabal, populated by a flock of 1970’s dolly-birds, who shed their clothes enthusiastically at the drop of a cocktail napkin. The whole thing – a plot to get sexually compromising material on a visiting foreign leader – does still have contemporary resonance…

It’s the comedy angles which are a horrible failure, with virtually every attempted joke falling flatter than Hempel’s chest [quite how she ended up in a Meyer film escapes me, given his fondness for the more-endowed end of the feminine spectrum. Then again, he said later of Hempel, “We had a stand-in for the tits and wouldn’t let her speak.”] It’s not just the passage of time, for the Carry On films of the same era have endured very well: I suspect this was simply not very funny to begin with, and appears to have tanked at the box-office. Like Modesty Blaise, it was based on a British newspaper comic-strip, which ran from 1964-77. Unusually for the era, it was created by two women, Pat Tourret and Jenny Butterworth, though I suspect the newspaper version was likely less salacious.

The main redeeming aspect here is Hempel, who has a lovely, breezy charm which manages to sail above the leaden material, almost redeeming it. She portrays Jones with an endearing mix of savviness and innocence, as she dodges the (literal) grasp of President Jabal, and the more fanatical of his opponents, while working to help the Prince regain his throne. Probably wisely, the morality of replacing an absolute, unelected leader with another absolute unelected leader, simply because the latter is younger and cuter, is never addressed. Hempel is not quite enough to rescue this, and it’s perfectly understandable why this vanished into obscurity, with or without the lead actress’s help.

Dir: Pete Walker
Star: Anouska Hempel, Eric Pohlmann, Damien Thomas, Susan Sheers