Category: Review

The Killing Complex, by K.G. Leslie

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

There’s something to be said for sparse simplicity, and this delivers on that concept in spades. Except for occasional flashbacks, the entire things takes place in one location: a facility somewhere in Europe. It’s where Cassie ends up, locked in a cage, after being abducted while on a trip from Britain, intending to find herself. She’s then deposited in a hall and made to fight for the amusement, gambling or whatever of online spectators. She starts off facing animals, but through pharmaceutical treatment, her strength, speed and savagery are enhanced, and the opponents – both fauna and, eventually, her own species too – become more vicious. The shock collar around her neck ensures her compliance.

In the early going, much of this unfolds inside Cassie’s head, as she goes through what perhaps seems inspired by the five stages of grief, from rejecting the reality of her predicament, through anger, and ending up in a personal commitment to do whatever is necessary in order to survive – even if this comes at the cost of her own humanity. But just when she’s on the edge of becoming a soulless killing machine, she’s relocated, and placed next to another prisoner, Thomas. He was also abducted, but more recently, so hasn’t been ground down by his situation yet, and his optimism reignites Cassie’s own interest in life. But is everything quite what it seems, or are there other agendas at work?

Without giving them away, there are a couple of very effective twists here, which I did not see coming – and, indeed, I defy anyone to say they did. The first is something of a cheat, considering how much of the time to that point has been Cassie’s internal monologue, and this has carefully hid a key piece of information. But the second works particularly well, because it demonstrates that the bad guys here aren’t stupid: Carrie is going to need to do more than bludgeon her way out. Good though she certainly is at that, as is proven repeatedly. This isn’t a book for animal rights activists though, with Cassie working her way up from herbivores to the top of the food chain, in addition to her human opponents.

I do wonder quite why the people are wasting the remarkable drugs, which help Cassie survive massive damage as well as enhance her fighting abilities, on an inter-species fight club. I’d have said the military-industrial complex would pay better than Fanduel for that stuff. But sadistic perverts gonna pervert, I guess, and so here we are. By the end, I was galloping through the pages, staying up well past my usual bedtime to do the dreaded “one more chapter.” It does end on something of a cliffhanger: usually that’s something I don’t like, but I didn’t feel like I’d been sold half a story here, and can definitely see further entries appearing here down the road.

Author: K.G. Leslie
Publisher: Self published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the Killing saga.

Mehndi

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★★½
“This path she has chosen will burn her to ash.”

When judging film for inclusion here, I always want to take into account location and era. The bar is generally lower for older films, those from a time when action was largely male territory. And other cultures also have different opinions on gender norms, so what can seem very mild sauce here, can be pushing the envelope for women’s roles somewhere else. This would be a good example of the latter. In 1998, the year this came out, Hollywood was releasing the likes of Mulan, The X-Files and Wild Things. Bollywood… was not, and it’s important to remember this as we look at a heroine Lifetime might decline as too much of a doormat.

She is Pooja (Mukerji), who has just been married off into the Chaudhary family, and specifically to Niranjan (Khan). The problem is, they are much more interested in her dowry, and when this isn’t as big as they want, the abuse from her in-laws starts. It doesn’t help that her husband is no good, but Pooja remains loyal, even when after he is accused of murder. A mysterious man shows up, promising evidence to free Niranjan… if Pooja will spend one night with him. She does, though nothing sexual happens, and her husband is indeed acquitted. However, the Chaudharys now consider her “soiled”, toss her out and seek a divorce. 

Worse is to follow as, in court, her father pulls a gun and is shot down by another member of the Chaudhary clan [courtroom security in nineties India must have been really slack – later, an attorney stabs a defendant dead!] Finally, even Pooja has had enough, and vows to destroy every one of her in-laws. Though this being Bollywood, that includes a musical number, apparently titled The Evil In-Laws, where she turns the whole village against them with lyrics like, “The evil in-laws! They’ll make your life a living hell. The evil in-laws! They commit great sins.” It’s partly why the whole thing runs 160 minutes, and would be palpably improved at half the length. Bollywood is much better now at integrating the songs, and the occasional attempts at comedy are both utterly misplaced and thoroughly unfunny.

Why Pooja puts up with so much is explained by a line during the marriage ceremony: “My husband is my god.” But it’s a concept which seems utterly alien to a contemporary Western audience – and even to some in India now. The line is revisited later, Pooja now refuting it by saying, “No. My husband is a sinner and a demon.” Pity it took so long for her to realize what’s apparent to the audience almost from the start. There is some power in these later scenes, with Mukerni able to put over the character’s rage, and I liked the way the mysterious man returns to help her. It remains a shame that she appears to be considerably more interested in taking revenge for her father, than on her own account.

Dir: Hamid Ali Khan
Star: Rani Mukerji, Faraaz Khan, Pramod Moutho, Himani Shivpuri

Kiss of Death

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★★½
“Issues of trust”

The relationship between Mykah (Leason) and Jameson (Chandler) is quickly heading for the rocks, as the honesty between them has evaporated. He suspects her of lying to him and having an affair: and he’s half-right. For Mykah is misleading him about the reason for her odd hours, though it is work-related as she claims. It’s just that her job is as an assassin, who kills the husbands of battered women, assisted by family friend Lady (Frazier). After successfully offing a prospective politician, Mykah’s next job is Dyson (Jackson), after his wife Chantelle tearfully tells her story of abuse, and offers to pay half a million dollars for a job well done. 

Mykah is initially not keen on accepting the offer, partly because she’s trying to fix her marriage, partly because Dyson is a notorious crime boss. But it turns out Chantelle has incriminating footage of Mykah’s last hit, giving the assassin no option. As she gets closer to her target, things begin to get murkier. Dyson reveals he knows about Mykah’s early family life, which ended when her parents died in a murder-suicide. Or was that actually what happened? In addition, are Chantelle’s motives justice and escape, or are they considerably more mercenary? And will Mykah be able to get to the bottom of all this before Jameson stumbles to the entirely wrong conclusion and crashes the situation? It’s a lot of questions, and I did like the script here, which manages to keep a complex story clear.

However, it is fair to say that it does take way too long to get to the interesting stuff, with the first half being populated largely be banal chit-chat between Mykah and either Jameson or Dyson. Throw in a teenage daughter, and the soap-opera elements are in danger of toppling this over before it can get going. There’s definitely a shortage of action, between the opening murder and the final confronatation when the truth gets revealed. Virtually all we get is a brief fight between Mykah and a pair of Dyson’s minions, after he begins to suspects she is not what she seems to be. It’s okay: I liked Mykah pausing to remove her heels before going into battle. It just needs more.

Director Sesma has a fairly long track record of low-budget action, and technically it’s competent enough. That’s particularly true, when compared so some of the other urban genre entries we’ve seen here, and at least he avoids the obvious cliches of drugs and gangs. But if you compare this to, say, the Thai TV movies we’re previously reviewed, such as The Secret Weapon, also about an assassin, the gap in energy and action becomes inescapable. Perhaps it’s a budgetary thing. If this had not apparently been so reliant on the mantra that “talk is cheap,” then it could have been more than just an acceptable time-passer overall, with only the last third measuring up to scratch.

Dir: Christian Sesma
Star: Sheila Leason, Kevin Blake Chandler, Dontelle Jackson, Cheryl Frazier

The Squad

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★★½
“#SquadGoals: Try not to suck.”

I was braced for this to be terrible, based on IMDb user comments which were either scathing, or came from accounts with one review – a sure sign they were astroturfed. On that basis, I guess I was pleasantly surprised. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not great, and only occasionally brushes against good. But it’s semi-competent, at least once the director calms the hell down, and stops giving us musical montages in lieu of content. The titular trio are Gina (Carrasquillo), Bella (Hansinger), and Dani (Evans), orphans who grew up together and have now turned to a life of crime. In particular, this spring break is spent by a lake in Oklahoma, seeking to muscle in on the local drug trade.

If you have ever seen Ozark, you will know that such activities are never received kindly, and it’s not long before the expected trouble shows up. This is most notably in the shape of rival drug dealar J.C. (UFC fighter Avila), but she is only the tip of the problem-shaped iceberg. People want The Squad out of the way, and/or to provide the source of their supplies. Double-crosses, backstabbings, police activity, abductions, rescue and a fairly significant body count follow as a result, though largely in a by the numbers approach, all the way to an ending that is clearly hoping for this to become a franchise. I would not be holding my breath for this to come to fruition, shall we say.

The three leads are both the best thing this has to offer, and its biggest problem. They’re photogenic, and spent much of the time wearing bikinis, which is not a chore for this viewer. However, when it comes to being convincing drug dealers, the results are much less consistent. It’s only now and again that they succeed in projecting the necessary sense of threat when facing off against their rivals: Gina probably does best in this department. The rest of the time they feel more like coeds cosplaying as drug lords, and seem about as dangerous pushers as Ed from Shaun of the Dead. The whole orphan thing feels like padding, despite the short running time of seventy-eight minutes.

To a certain degree, it feels like it wants to be Charlie’s Angels for bad girls, though regrettably, seems more inspired by the “gritty” reboot version, than the fluffy concoction of the original movie. It’s also hampered by the lack of personality to be found here: there is only one character, sliced up thinly and divided across the three protagonists, where again, Gina seems to have co-opted the lioness’s share of proceedings. Despite a plot that does keep moving forward – occasionally, a little too forward – the action is nothing special, with the trio ending up having to be rescued by a man on more than one occasion. Not exactly empowering. Looks better than it sounds, and I think that applies to almost every aspect of this.

Dir: Rick Walker
Star: Meghan Carrasquillo, Alea Hansinger, Grace Evans, Julia Avila

Escape

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★★★
“Now, I always fight back…”

This feels almost like a throwback to the silent era, and ‘white slave’ films with titles like Traffic in Souls, combined with a significant fear of ‘the other’. As such, it’s both painfully simplistic, and endlessly fascinating in the layers of interpretation which can be read into it, should you be so inclined. On the most basic level, it’s your everyday tale of “good” girls, kidnapped for sale to the highest bidder, who need to fight to retain their modesty and virtue. [Though let the record show, at no point is there any bikini-wearing wielding of automatic weapons, despite what the poster clearly wants you to think. The heroines here prefer weapons of the blunt and/or pointy variety]

Director Ford is no stranger to this site, having previously given us Never Let Go and The Ledge. This is similarly workmanlike, benefiting from a straightforward approach and uncomplicated plot. Young, attractive women on holiday (this was filmed in the Canary Islands) are being abducted and sold off as sex slaves. The tactics used by Andras (Cronin) and his gang vary from luring their targets to a remote cabin, to barging into their vacation apartment and chloroforming them. The net result is the same: they end up in a cell, deep in the bowels of a remote building, awaiting shipment to a buyer, located somewhere even more foreign. The latest victims are Tamsin and nurse Karla (Marks), who join seven other girls in peril, including Lucy (Rankin).

As well as the clearly xenophobic approach – foreign places are bad, and foreigners worse – there’s also a notable class element here. All the girls appear “nice”, from middle- to upper-class families, while their captors are rough-hewn working-class thugs. The exception is Jude (James): also the only one with a conscience, he provides Karla and friends with the opportunity to free themselves. This mass escape definitely feels like it’s taken from women-in-prison films, the women turning the tables on their captors. Karla, in particular, initially intends to leave, but for reasons connected to her past (everyone here has issues – see the quote, top), decides to go back and make Andras pay, using the pointy weapons mentioned above.

This is the gnarliest, though not the only bit of violence here, and the film doesn’t hold back. Despite some digital blood, other effects are clearly practical and the audio work enhances the effect nicely. There’s an subplot about the search for the girls back in Britain, which is almost entirely superfluous, and could surely have been replaced with some gratuitous nudity. The film is so chastely moral in that department, it could almost pass the Hays Code. It feels like there are too many interchangeable victims as well, who sometimes blur together, especially when they are running in different directions. Is that Tamsin? Or Karla? But it’s rarely boring, and as a melodramatic throwback, pushes enough of the right buttons.

Dir: Howard J. Ford
Star: Sarah Alexandra Marks, Sophie Rankin, Sean Cronin, Louis James

Knuckle Girl

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★★★
“Punches below its weight.”

This film is based on a Korean webcomic, but has been relocated to Japan. I can’t help wondering if something was lost in the process, because it feels like I should have liked this more than I did. Ran Tachibana (Miyoshi) is a promising amateur boxer, who gets devastating news when the body of her sister Yuzuki is found inside a burned-out vehicle. The cops call it suicide and quickly close the case. Except Ran doesn’t believe the corpse is Yuzuki, and begins to investigate what might have happened. The search leads her to an underground fight club run by the brutal Nikaido (Ito), who is holding Yuzuki hostage. He makes Ran an offer: beat his undefeated champion, and he’ll let Yuzuki go.

Naturally, it’s not as simple as that, with Nikaido reneging on his word. Fortunately, Ran has help in the shape of bike mechanic Kamiya (Maeda) and hacker Naruse (Hosoda), who help her go after Nikaido and take down his operation. There’s also concerns on the criminal side, with Nikaido’s bosses feeling he’s a loose cannon. It all feels too much to cram into a single movie, and I suspect it might have been better served in the form of a TV series. As is, elements like Yuzuki’s “magic blood” don’t appear to have much purpose. They seem there purely so fans of the comic will go “Oh, yeah!” and make little or no sense to casual viewers like me.

I think it’s probably a case whee less would have been more in terms of plotting. Keep it simple, perhaps removing side characters like Kamiya or Naurse, and focus just on Ran infiltrating the fight club and working her way up through it. Sure, it wouldn’t score points for originality, but it might have sustained my attention better. As is, in between the action, I must confess this sometimes struggled to retain focus. Considering the obviously non-trivial amount of resources that went into the production, it’s a shame they didn’t put as much effort into the story. For this undeniably looks spiffy, with the underground arena, in the shape of an eye, well-designed, and I liked the over-perky pair of MCs as well.

But I’m here for the fights, and these were… decent enough. I appreciated that the film acknowledged the heroine’s lack of size, and explicitly discussed how she would need to use her speed and agility to beat larger opponents. That’s true, even with the equalizer of knuckle-dusters, given to her by Nikaido to even up the betting odds a little. Miyoshi only had a few months training, but it’s likely easier to train an actress to fake fight, than a fighter to fake act, and it’s adequately convincing. But there are really only three or four sequences in the whole thing, with the story having to rush past most of them, because it has to deal with all the other elements. It’s all okay, I suppose, yet definitely feels like a wasted opportunity.

Dir: Hong-Seung Yoon
Star: Ayaka Miyoshi, Gôki Maeda, Hideaki Ito, Kanata Hosoda

Caught in Crystal, by Patricia C. Wrede

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

One of my favorite fantasy authors, Patricia C. Wrede [pronounced as “Reedy”] began her writing career in the late 70s; this book, published in 1987, is part of one of her earliest bodies of work, the five-novel Lyra series. However, it’s essentially a stand-alone; though all five of the books are set in the author’s fantasy world of Lyra, they’re all about entirely different sets of characters, widely separated geographically or chronologically (or both –like Tolkien’s Middle Earth, Lyra has a very long fictional history), and are unrelated in their plots.

As is usual in traditional fantasy, Lyra is a low-tech world much like medieval Europe, except that magic really works there and is universally recognized as a reality. Also unlike medieval Europe, it has no equivalent of the Roman Catholic Church; such religion as it has is a vague polytheism that doesn’t bulk large in the story. It’s home to five races (at least some of which can interbreed): humans, the elven Shee; the furred Wyrds, who are somewhat cat-like, but are as big as small humans, use spoken language and have opposable thumbs; the mostly aquatic Neira; and the gray-skinned sklathran’sy, often referred to by humans as “demons,” but as in the work of such writers as Piers Anthony and Robert Asprin, not evil fallen angels but just a non-human race with a talent for magic. (In fact, all of the non-human Lyran races have a more natural affinity for magic than humans, and that factor plays a role in this novel and probably the series as a whole.)

Our protagonist is Kayl Larrinar, who when the book opens is a 36-year-old innkeeper in a back-water village, five years a widow, and a caring mom to two kids (Dara and Mark, ages 12 and 10). But (although we learn some of these details a bit more gradually), she’s not native to the place. Orphaned or at least separated from her parents young, she was first raised among Thar raiders but then taken in as a child by the Sisterhood of Stars, an all-female clerisy of warriors and sorceresses who wield considerable influence in much of Lyra. Trained as a swordswoman (though her sword is now buried beneath her hearth –but she still knows how to use it), she was one of the order’s best.

But she broke with the Sisterhood 15 years ago, after an ill-fated expedition to the mysterious and ill-omened Twisted Tower that stands in the remote and inhospitable Windhome Mountains (the expedition where she met her late husband, a Varnan wizard). She never wants to see that place again. Now, however, sorceress Elder Sister Corrana, one Glyndon shal Morag (another survivor of the expedition and a fellow wizard and friend of Kayl’s husband), and an unsavory gaggle of Magicseekers, a human organization determined to get their hands on magical power by any means, fair or foul, are all converging on the inn, and the Tower’s casting its shadow again.

When I first read this novel in the 90s (I’ve now read it twice), I was really impressed by the wonderfully textured world-building. As I know now, that’s helped by this being the fourth book set in the same world. But it’s still impressive! The magic systems (built in the case of the Sisterhood on the use of true names) also have some thought behind them.) Kayl’s a very relatable heroine, a good and conscientious mom whose relationship to her kids is developed well, and realistically; plenty of real-world single moms, I think, could easily identify with her. There’s an element of clean, low-key romance that was also a plus for me. Wrede tells her story at a deliberate pace that allows for character development; and while there are points of suspense and danger, serious violent action occurs only at the climax of the plot. Kayl can (and does) handle herself very well in combat, but that doesn’t take up much of the plot.

So as action-heroine fiction goes, this is on the low action side; but that element is there, and some baddies who tangle with Kayl won’t tangle with anybody else again. (She’s good with a sword, but her knife-throwing skill is jaw-dropping.) Readers who prefer more exoticism and less realism in their fantasy, a plot-driven and faster-paced story, and more violence and sexual steam won’t like this as much as both my wife and I do. But for my part, I appreciated this as an involving, serious fantasy tale that respected my intelligence as a reader. And the positive message of cross-racial and cross-cultural friendship and respect, and the negative view of prejudice, have grown more rather than less relevant in the ensuing decades.

For me, the primary enjoyment of this reading experience was in spending time with these three-dimensional, vital and likable main characters. Even though Lyra is well-realized, it’s not such a fascinating setting in itself that I feel any need to re-visit it centuries later with totally different characters. But I can enthusiastically recommend this as a great adventure for fantasy fans who want a stand-alone rather than a gargantuan series.

Author: Patricia C. Wrede
Publisher: Ace (paperback) and Open Road Media (e-book); available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a print book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Ebony Hustle 2: Ballistic Protection

  By

★★
“A slight improvement.”

There are times when I end up asking myself deep philosophical questions, like “Why am I doing this?” or “Isn’t there something else on which I can use my time?” In this case it, was “Who thought a sequel to the painful exercise which was Ebony Hustle was necessary?” To be fair though, this is an improvement. A half-star might be pushing it, to the point I did wonder about introducing a ★¾ rating. Or possibly a ★ and 11/16. It’s not good, to be clear. But it’s definitely less aggressively incompetent, with some of the most annoying rough edges smoothed down. For example, the audio this time mostly (although not entirely) lives around the same level, and there’s only one Facetime scene.

We are once more in the world of Ebony Howard (Lamb), a private eye who still doesn’t appear to be much private eye-ing. Of the three strands in this story, just one involves paying work, Ebony seeking to serve papers on a baby daddy to compel him to take a paternity test. There is also her investigation into the unexplained disappearance of Onyx, a friend from her strip-club days. This gets kicked up after she discovers Onyx’s phone with a video on it. Just do not expect closure for this thread, because the film ends in a way suggesting it will be a key element of Ebony Hustle 3: This Time We’re Semi-Competent, no doubt coming soon to a low-rent streaming service near you.

The bulk of it is, again, Ebony’ relationship drama. In this case, it’s with Mac (Howard), a promising basketball prospect who is being pressured to take performance-enhancing drugs by his manager, Bryan Calvin (Polo). This makes him become highly irritable, and causes Ebony so start digging into what’s going on, and Calvin does not take kindly to this interference with his meal ticket. With the help of her former strip-club boss, who is now a health guru, Ebony finds out the truth about what Mac is taking, and confronts Calvin. This is likely the only scene in which the film’s subtitle comes close to being relevant, as it’s the only time where the heroine wields a gun, or even gets physical.

The movie does a reasonably good job of managing the story, though the Onyx plot-line is largely ignored in the second half, until a late text message for sequel purposes. Lamb and Howard are not painful to watch, the latter being quite credible as a baller (though I notice the gender-neutral league he’s trying out for doesn’t appear to extend its equality to white women…). But there are way too many false steps, such as the lengthy scene which feels more like a presentation for a health supplement MLM, and the film remains in desperate need of more action and less dialogue.  At least you can now probably see Foxy Brown from here, though you remain in need of a telescope for that.

Dir: John Wayne S. III
Star: Michelle l Lamb, Jessica Mitchell, Jahaziel Howard, Polo

She season two

  By

★★★½
“Joining our story in progress…”

“Where’s season one?” you may be wondering. It’s a fair question: I thought I had reviewed it here, but there’s absolutely no sign of it on the site. Perhaps that one didn’t meet the necessary action quota? It is true that the first time the heroine shoots someone is the opening episode of the second part, and it thoroughly messes her up. Anyway, we’re here now. Said heroine is Indian policewoman Bhumika Pardeshi (Pohankar), who has been part of an operation to try and nail major narcotics dealer Nayak (Kumar). This involves her going undercover as a prostitute, in order to get into his circle and act as an informant there – obviously, this is a highly hazardous position for her. There’s a whole domestic situation to handle as well.

The first series was mostly about her relationship with one of Nayak’s lieutenants. In the second, she returns to the streets, with Nayak himself as the target. This alone also exposes Bhumika to danger, though she proves more than capable of taking care of herself against violent pimps. Indeed, this proves significant in the second half, after Nayak has supposedly been killed in a police operation. The truth is, he’s still operating, with Bhumika now his second-in-command, using the hookers to move drugs for him. Has she genuinely fallen for the crime boss? Or is this simply Bhumika embedding herself deeper, so his entire network can eventually be brought down?

This question is one which is at the core of the second series. How undercover is she, and how much is the experience going to change her as a result? By the end, the answer to the second part is clear. “A great deal”, to the point where Bhumika may not be able to resume her former life, either as a cop, or as a family woman. There’s a speech where she explains her feelings to Nayak, and how he gives her both love and respect, something she’d never received from a man before. It is thoroughly convincing, and gels with Bhumika not perhaps being “conventionally beautiful,” though she more than makes up for that in an intense and fiery charisma.

I suspect it probably counts as fairly raunchy by Bollywood standards, though this element would likely be PG-13 rated in the West. But it still doesn’t pull its punches, in its depiction of a society that is an enigmatic mix of old and new attitudes, both embracing and resisting change. I think I preferred this slightly more the first season, although without a grade to check, I can’t be certain! It feels like there is less emphasis on the domestic elements – the walking cliche who was Bhumika’s abusive and estranged husband, is barely there if at all. There’s definite scope for a third series, potentially pitting Bhumika directly against her commanding officer, Jason Fernandez (Kini). But before that, do I now need to go back and re-view season one? Stay tuned…

Creator: Imtiaz Ali
Star: Aaditi Pohankar, Kishore Kumar G, Vishwas Kini, Resh Limba

Miss Adrenaline: A Tale of Twins

  By

★★★
“Life going in cycles.”

The concept of twins, separated at birth, is one which has been used frequently in films and television. Sometimes for comedic effect, such as Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito in Twins, or the two Jackie Chans in Twin Dragons. But also for dramatic impact: the most famous example is probably that of Luke and Leia in the Star Wars franchise, who were parted in order to hide them from their father. In our genre, Orphan Black works along similar lines. But this Colombian telenovela goes full-bore into it, across almost the entire duration of its sixty-seven episodes, with the concept a young woman adopting her twin’s identity being at the core of the show.

It begins with Romina Paez (Molina), who is a BMX champion in the Mirla, a poor neighbourhood. After winning a race, she uses the interview to rail against the loan sharks who prey on the locals, offering much-needed money at extortionate rates, and extracting repayment with brutal violence. This interview has two results. Firstly, the Chitiva brothers who run the loan sharkage, are unimpressed, and decide Romina should pay. Secondly, it brings Romina to the attention of rich girl Laura Vélez (also Molina), who sees Romina is her spitting image. She goes to investigate, and finds that they actually have a common mother. Mom used to work for Laura’s dad, got pregnant and had them both. Dad took Laura to his family as “an adoptee”, while Romina remained with her natural mother.

These two elements clash, when the Chitiva brothers order the assassination of Romina and her mother. Except, it’s actually Laura is killed, while visiting her mother in the barrio. Romina escapes, and decides the best option is to pretend to be dead, and indeed, pretend to be Laura. However, Romina/Laura is intent on bringing those responsible for “her” death to justice, and it’s not long before reports of Romina’s ghost haunting her old stomping grounds are passing around. Investigating from the position of law is honest cop Cristobal “Whiz” Ruíz, who eventually comes to know Romina’s secret. But in another twist, the crime lord at the top of the tree, above the Chitivas… is Laura’s mother, Virgina Vélez (León).

Yeah, it’s a fairly ridiculous concept, and what unfolds over the rest of the show often teeters on the brink of implausibility. While I get the “twins” thing, the idea that after twenty entirely separate years of upbringing, in utterly different circumstances, they would still perfectly resemble each other physically, to the extent that even their own parents can’t tell them apart, strains credulity. Romina basically blames everything from the sudden loss of memory to her changes in personality on a head injury, and after a quick visit to the doctor, who naturally pronounces her right as rain, that’s the end of the matter. She still has to manage her double life, and the ever-expanding circle of people who know about it, on both sides of the class divide.

Inevitably, there’s a whole lot of soap-opera nonsense going on here, across the uniformly photogenic cast. Laura’s boyfriend falls for Romina, Whiz falls for Romina, Whiz’s colleague falls for him, and it all gets incredibly messy emotionally. This is probably the least interesting part of the show, though it does occasionally work. The final episode, for example, has Whiz pouring out heart in wedding karaoke, but it’s done with such obvious and heartfelt sincerity, that it powers past the obvious schmaltzy aspects, and I was genuinely happy for the man. On the other side, Leo Chitiva (Bury) is the most interesting of the low-level villains. He’s another one who loved Romina, but his criminal life is incompatible with that, leaving him with difficult, yet interesting, choices.

I say “low-level,” because I think my favourite character is likely Virginia, especially as the show proceeds and she needs to become increasingly ruthless (as shown, top) as she struggles to escape the net closing around her. I would love to have seen a prequal series, explaining in more details exactly how she went from humble origins, both to running a major criminal organization, and also marrying her, apparently utterly oblivious husband. I get that some spouses are oblivious to their other halves being a serial killer, and also there’s Virginia’s “charitable foundation” which probably operates as a front. Still, I suspect I’d have at least something of a clue, if Chris was running the Cuban mafia out of the office here.

There is a bit of weirdness here: the Colombian version of the show runs for 67 episodes, but there are only 65 on Netflix. It’s possible there may also be differences in the ordering, but I haven’t been able to confirm that. I’m not sure why two episodes would not be available on Netflix. While other streaming services have removed episodes for content (such as the blackface episodes on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I can’t think of anything here which would be so contentious. My instinct might be music rights: the show uses a lot of popular Colombian songs and artists, and getting clearance globally could have proved too problematic. I can’t say I noticed at the time, though it isn’t really the kind of show that demands 100% of your attention.

I would like to have seen Romina make more use of her BMX skills. This is significantly stressed earlier, but definitely fades out of the picture as we get deeper into things. But between Virginia and some of the other women characters, such as Whiz’s partner Alex Bedoya (Camila Rojas), who is occasionally a bit of a bad-ass, it does end up qualifying for the site. It ends more or less as you would expect, but if my somewhat shaky Spanish is to be believed, there is a second series on the way. Though with the Spanish language title perhaps being Romina Embarazada, which translates as “Pregnant Romina,” I’m not certain I’ll be writing about it here!

Dir: Rafael Martínez Moreno 
Star: Juanita Molina, David Palacio, Zharick León, Kevin Bury 
a.k.a. Romina Poderosa