Category: Review

Betsy

  By

★★
“Dog People”

On her way home one night, Betsy (Ryan) is attacked by a mystery assailant and badly injured. While she recovers, she’s traumatized by the events, with nightmares that even her attendance at a support group can’t help. She is also increasingly plagued by violent outbursts against her supportive but increasingly concerned roommate Kayte (Osborne), and physical changes. If you are at all familiar with horror movies, you’ll know the symptoms: Betsy’s attacker was a werewolf, and she’s now in the process of becoming one. This throws a spanner in her growing relationship with Sam (Miller), made worse because he’s a policeman, investigating the recent spate of “animal attack” murders around town.

There’s seems to be a strong inspiration from Paul Schrader’s remake of Cat People here, not least in that it’s sexual activity which seems to bring out the beast in Betsy, rather than the phase of the moon. Her first transformation occurs after a sexual assault, and another after a session of love-making with Sam. It’s never quite clear whether she needs, as in Cat People, to kill in order to regain her human form: there’s no-one here who can tell her the rules by which she is now operating. Indeed, nor is it clear what happened to her original attacker, who seems to infect her, then leaves the film entirely. But this will suffer in any comparison with Cat People. With all respect to Ryan, she’s no Nastassja Kinski, and its transformations are far superior. Sure, that had a much bigger budget: it also predates this by 35 years.

This isn’t entirely without merit, though it is definitely in the slow-burn category – we’re about half-way through before the heroine’s feral instincts properly kick in. In fact, the best thing about this might be the scene tucked away in the (lengthy – after all, there are 28 producers of one kind or another to thank!) closing credits, in which we discover that Betsy is no longer alone. I definitely wanted to see where it might have gone from there. Trimming minutes from her early group therapy sessions, etc. would have offered scope to develop that, and helped this feel more like its own beast, if you see what I mean.

However, I’ve definitely seen far worse low-budget horror. Director Burkett also wrote and edited this, and seems to know where to point the camera and how to capture audible sound. These are skills not to be pooh-poohed in the field, and it’s also to his credit that the film usually is aware of its limits, and doesn’t over-stretch itself. An interesting twist is using a different actress to play Betsy, post-transformation. perhaps making this also influenced by another horror classic, Dr. Jekyll. While the flaws here are too hard to ignore, there are quite a few positives as well, and I’m interested in seeing what Burkett could do with a larger budget, and perhaps a more original idea.

Dir: Shawn Burkett
Star: Erin R. Ryan, Josh Miller, Marylee Osborne, Justin Beahm

Crimson, by Arthur Slade

  By

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

The world of Illium has enjoyed a millennium of peace under its powerful queen Servilia. Though “enjoyed” might be the wrong word, since it has come at the cost of freedom, and harsh justice. A victim of the latter is 15-year old Fen, who four years previously, had her hand lopped off for stealing a trinket from a merchant’s stall. Worse follows, as she wakes up to find her hair has turned red, the sign of a “wildmage” – someone who has magical powers, an ability Servilia seeks to extinguish before it can pose a threat to her rule.

Fen is forced to leave her family, and seek sanctuary in the forest of Helwood which provides the only area outside the queen’s control. She meets another wildmage, Ithak, with the talent of invisibility, who brings her to the legendary Mansren, who lives in the centre of Helwood. History had told her he was evil incarnate, overthrown by the queen after a violent war, a thousand years earlier. But how accurate is that version? For he offers to help Fen free her sister from Servilia’s dungeon, if she helps him become whole again. But is the reward worth the cost – both personally to Fen, and for Illium?

This is a well-written page-turner, which I found myself looking forward to reading each night. It poses some interesting more dilemmas, without ever getting bogged down in them, such as the limits of personal responsibility, the veracity of the past (as Ithak says, “Those who win wars write the histories”) and the balancing of evils against each other. Fen is initially prepared to do anything to rescue her sibling; however, she gradually realizes that by doing so, she may have unleashed a more destructive force on the entire world. For Mansren’s mind has been imprisoned by Servilia in the middle of a lava lake for centuries, which hasn’t exactly improved his state of sanity, charming and eloquent as he may be.

I will say that the means by which the dilemma is resolved is perhaps a little bit of a stretch. Perhaps a greater emphasis on the powers locked within Helwood, and how Fen taps into them, might have been better. The setting also appears to be Chinese, though I’m not sure why; I was quite surprised when this suddenly cropped up. I certainly wouldn’t have guessed this from the cover, and it’s little more than window-dressing. However, the story does a lot of things right, bringing us along with Fen on her heroic arc, as she grows into her powers and learns that everything she has been told may not necessarily be the truth. Though she’s “just” a teenager, there are few of the obvious trappings of YA fiction, and it’s the better for it.

It is a little restrained on the action front, with Fen largely refusing to use her abilities against others, and in the final act, being more an observer up until the very end. However, these moral restraints help her character from becoming over-powering, and on several occasions, there’s a genuine sense of threat. With this being a stand-alone book, it is entirely possible it could end in her being forced to make a heroic sacrifice, and Slade handles that aspect particularly well. I was actually quite sad there are no further volumes, but it’s also nice to have a story which is entirely wrapped up in a fully satisfactory way. I’ll have to make do with perhaps checking out some of Slade’s other works.

Author: Arthur Slade
Publisher: Dava Enterprises, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book

Knucks

  By

½
“Knucks sucks.”

I’m tempted to leave my review at that. But there’s a famous quote by critic Roger Ebert, going off on Bruce Willis flop, North: “I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.” I was always impressed, and hoped one day to find a film capable of producing a similar reaction. This is… close. It is, let’s be clear, utterly terrible, with almost no redeeming qualities. Yet it’s either not bad enough, or more likely, too bad to generate such a reaction. That would be giving it more power and credit than this deserves. 

Why are we here? This is less an existential question than a desire to explain why I’m writing a review. It’s because of this synopsis: “Two women attempt to come up after beating their drug dealer to death.” That was good enough to get it on my radar. However, within a couple of minutes, it was clear I had made a terrible mistake, and was about to be in for the longest 66 minutes of my life. Here’s another quote, from the BBFC, explaining the 15 rating: “There are scenes in which a child is abducted by two men, but it is not clear what their intentions are.” The two words “not clear” are the best way to summarize the misbegotten art-wank which I endured, substituting pointless video manipulation for plot, characterization or any positive aspects.

It’s as if the makers had obtained a list of all the elements I despise most about pretentious movies, and had treated it as a request list. Random colour filters. Check. Strobe effects. Check. Shitty heavy metal soundtrack. Check. Obtuse dialogue. Check. Scenes unfolding in murky near-darkness. Check. Shaky, hand-held, extreme close-up camerawork. Check, check and, in no uncertain terms, check. The basic plot, and I use the word in its loosest way, is mostly ripped off from True Romance, with heroines and sisters Kathleen (Leidy) and Taylor (Harlan) attempting to sell a bagful of drugs obtained from the dead dealer, to someone who looks like a Kid Rock impersonator.

But this doesn’t really show up until the final fifteen minutes. Until then, we get meaningless flashbacks to their abusive childhood (of course!), in which their film-maker father seems to be involved in porn and snuff. I am not exaggerating when I say either of these would likely be more entertaining. Things come to a head, when the original owner of the drugs shows up, burbles threateningly for a bit, before keeling over. It ends in much the same way as the previous hour has unfolded: an incoherent mess. I was genuinely relieved by the short running-time, though if it had been much longer, it might well have been a rare cinematic “did not finish.” The terminally slow end credit crawl was easily the best thing about this. Largely because it indicated the end was mercifully nigh.

Dir: Gage Maynard
Star: Dasha Leidy, Hedley Harlan, Mindy Robinson, Alan Bagh

Stressed to Death

  By

★½
“Definitely a stress test.”

The concept here is intriguing. It’s just the execution – and the script in particular – which is bad. A robbery at a convenience store ends in the death of David, the husband to Victoria Garrett (Aldrich). She blames the paramedic on the scene, former soldier Maggie Hart (Holden), for the loss of her spouse, though the incident hits Maggie equally hard. She quits her job, raising daughter Jane (Blackwell) with her husband, commercial real-estate agent, Jason (Gerhardt). But Victoria hasn’t moved on – in probably the film’s most memorably loopy elements, she feeds her husband’s ashes to a pot-plant she calls David, to which she chats. She’s also clearly a believer in that saying about revenge being served cold.

For she waits a whole ten years after the incident, before putting into motion a plan for revenge, hiring a pair of thugs to kill Maggie’s family in front of her. Fortunately for her target, they’re two blithering incompetents – or maybe the script just makes it seem like they were acquired through the ‘Help Wanted’ section of Facebook Marketplace. Adding spice to the situation, she has hired Jason as her subordinate, and Jane turns out to have a crush on Victoria’s son. Complicating matters further is Maggie’s PTSD, which is naturally the movie-friendly version, only kicking in when required by the plot. It can also apparently be cured by violent trauma: specifically, someone hiring a pair of thugs to kill your family in front of you. What are the odds?

Even by the low standards of Lifetime movies, this is bad. It’s not just the script that is sloppy, the production includes a bike helmet suddenly appearing on Jane’s head, and a knife that teleports from the floor into Maggie’s hands. But let’s not kid ourselves: it’s mostly the script. I lost count of the points at which I sighed heavily. Probably peak sigh was achieved at the sequence where Maggie and Jane have been captured. The thug doesn’t just leave them alone, he falls asleep in the next room, allowing them to escape. Guess that whole thugging thing really takes it out of you. Worse, after the mother and daughter get away, they show no urgency at all, wandering around while chatting casually about Jane’s crush. Oh, look: they get caught. Again.

This all builds to a ridiculous excuse for a climax in a motel room, which ends with the police describing what happened to the chief thug. The only things that saves this from total disaster are performances generally better than the story deserves. Holden, in particular, does a decent job with her character, and actually, the chief thug is surprisingly sympathetic, when telling Maggie about his abused childhood. Or something. I expected better from Brian Skiba, an Arizona native who co-wrote this, and whose films Chokehold and .357: Six Bullets for Revenge have previously been reviewed here. While they weren’t great, they look like Oscar-winners beside Stressed to Death. I think I’m the one coming down with a case of PTSD after sitting through this.

Dir: Jared Cohn
Star: Gina Holden, Taylor Blackwell, Sarah Aldrich, Jason Gerhardt

Ever After

  By

★★½
“Off-centre, not dead centre”

This is not your normal action heroine film. Nor is it your normal zombie apocalypse film. While it certainly nods in both directions, it seems entirely committed to going in its own direction. My mental jury is still out on whether or not this was a good thing or not. I think if I’d perhaps been prewarned what to expect, I might have been better equipped to handle this. It takes place after the outbreak of a plague, with the dwindling number of survivors now holed up in two cities: Weimar, where infection is an immediate death sentence, and Jena, reported to be trying to research a cure. 

The mentally fragile Vivi (Kohlhof) tries to do her part by volunteering on the fences surrounding Weimar, but a brutal incident on her first day sends her into a state of shock. She tries to head for Jena on the automated train which runs between there and Weimar. On it, she meets Eva (Lehrer), who is considerably more versed in the ways of survival. When the train breaks down, the two young women have to set off on foot across country. Which is where things get increasingly odd, as they bump into characters such as the Gardener (Dyrholm), who is running a market garden in the middle of the apocalypse. The zombies themselves also begin to mutate, such as the one on a wedding dress, whose face is half plant. Is nature healing? Or is a human apocalypse not necessarily such a bad thing from the perspective of the rest of Earth’s species?

There is a fair amount going on here to unpack, and it feels like the kind of party to which you have to bring your own booze. For the film offers no easy answers; indeed, I’m not necessarily certain what are the questions it is asking. At times it felt like there was a religious aspect with the Gardener being the snake in Eden. Yet at others, it is more about the different ways Vivi and Eva come to terms with the traumas they have experienced. Vivi shuts down, emotionally and mentally, while Eva adopts a hard shell, prepared to do whatever is necessary to survive. Also of note: there are almost no male speaking roles, though it’s subtle enough not to matter [The crew are also largely women]

There are still the required moments of threat, heroic sacrifice, etc. familiar from the genre. However, these feel almost perfunctory, as if imposed on the director in some kind of contractual obligation. The film might have been better to avoid the standard beats entirely, as these feel out of line with the rest of the movie. On the other hand, if it had gone full art-house, it’s possible I would not have bothered watching it, and almost certainly wouldn’t be reviewing it here. Still, it’s an approach to the zombie film I’ve definitely not seen before. Even if this wasn’t what I expected – or wanted, to be honest – that has to be worth something. 

Dir: Carolina Hellsgård
Star: Gro Swantje Kohlhof, Maja Lehrer, Trine Dyrholm, Barbara Philipp
a.k.a. Endzeit

Never Back Down: Revolt

  By

★★★½
“The women are revolting!”

The “underground fighting” subgenre is among the most macho of action films, so it’s interesting that this entry doesn’t just feature a female protagonist. It’s also written and directed by women, with the lead villain also from that gender. It’s a particularly novel twist, considering the previous three installments in the Never Back Down franchise were, by most accounts, competent yet entirely generic, male-dominated movies. I say “by most accounts,” since I’ll confess to not having seen them. This is both a positive and a negative, I think. It means I can go into this with no preconceptions or expectations. On the other hand, it also means I can’t compare it to the rest of the series.

The latter is perhaps less important since it seems to be a sequel in name only, without any characters or story-line carrying forward. The heroine is Anya (Popica), a Chechen refugee now living in London with her brother, Aslan (Bastow), who takes part in those underground fights. After failing to throw a fight, he finds himself thirty grand in debt to some very nasty people. But Anya, who’s no novice with her own fists, gets an offer from swanky promoter Mariah (Johnston) to help pay off the arrears with a trip to Italy. Naturally, it turns out to be a front for “fight trafficking”, with the female participants held against their will, and shipped off to Albanian brothels, when they can no longer battle for the amusement of rich patrons. The title tells you the rest of the plot.

Madison isn’t without an action pedigree, having directed rather good short, The Gate, starring site favourite Amy Johnston. That’s currently being shopped around to become a feature; fingers crossed that happens. In the meantime, this would appear to match its predecessors in being competent, yet entirely generic. Everything unfolds exactly as you would expect, if you’re at all familiar with this kind of thing. It’s the kind of film where you can pop into the kitchen for 10 minutes without pausing it, make a sandwich and a cup of coffee, and return, safe in the knowledge that you’ll still be able to follow the plot perfectly well. I can neither confirm nor deny having done exactly that.

While predictable, it’s never dull though. Popica doesn’t appear to have any particular martial arts background, yet is decent enough to pass muster (even if you wonder what someone like Amy Johnston might have done in the part). There’s a laudable and complete lack of romance here, just the sibling relationship. I could probably have used some more action, even if the quality of what there is, is decent. I particularly liked the fate meted out to the chief guard. The size issue, inevitably present in mixed-gender fights, is overcome by having him held down by two women in a bath, while a third shanks him very enthusiastically. In comparison, Ghislaine Maxwell Mariah seems to get off easy, just when I was looking forward to her getting her just deserts. Still, solid enough to leave me anticipating what The Gate feature might be like.

Dir: Kellie Madison
Star: Olivia Popica, Tommy Bastow, Brooke Johnston, Nitu Chandra

The Princess

  By

★★★★
“Die Hard in a castle.”

Well, this was a surprise. I was not expecting too much, this being a movie released straight to Hulu or Disney+ (depending on your territory), and starring someone best known for rom-com franchise, The Kissing Booth. Actually, scratch the “too” from that sentence. I went in on the basis that I was contractually obliged to watch it, as the guy running this site. I say this, so you’ll understand how unexpected it is to be writing this: it’s the best action-heroine film of the year so far. This is just thoroughly entertaining, and as the tag-line above suggests, is as close as I’ve ever seen to a genuine, female version of the greatest action movie of all-time. 

The first half structure though, plays more like The Raid in reverse, the heroine having to fight her way down, floor by floor, from the top of a high tower. It opens with the Princess (King) ‐ and that’s her credited name – waking to find herself in a bed-chamber. She’s being prepared for a marriage she very much does not want to happen. Her father, lacking a son and heir, intended to wed her to Julian (Cooper) for diplomatic purposes. She jilted him at the altar, and he then staged a coup, seizing her family and planning a union by force. What he doesn’t know, is that the Princess had been quietly trained by family retainer Linh (Ngo) in fighting skills, and begins working her way down, to rescue her family and stop Julian. Guess he is going to have to “altar” his wedding plans, hohoho.

It’s the kind of film which will stand or fall on its action sequences, and the good news is, these are the movie’s strongest suit. Kiet had previously worked with Ngo on Furie: that was solid, yet it now appears his imagination was bigger than the resources available to him there. Right from the start, when the Princess takes out the two attendants sent to her chamber, the fight scenes are all inventive, well-executed and assembled in a coherent manner. Now, King is no MMA fighter. However, they’ve constructed a fighting style for her character based on speed and agility, rather than strength and power. Her holding her own against bigger (sometimes, far bigger) opponents feels credible as a result. 

This reaches its height in a glorious, extended sequence, with the Princess battling her way down the tower’s staircase. It feels as if it’s 20 minutes long, such is the energy contained in it. There’s even a beautiful moment of tension releasing humour, part of a running gag involving one of Julian’s minions who is too fat for all the stairs he’s ordered to climb. Nothing thereafter, including the inevitable fight against her wannabe husband, quite reaches the same heights. Glover is good value as Julian, staying just this side of a pantomime villain. As Die Hard shows, having a memorable antagonist is an important element. He’s not quite Alan Rickman – though who is? And I do have to question some of Julian’s decisions. 

I mean, if ever I become an Evil Lord, I will choose a more definitive method of execution for my nemesis than defenestration. And if I did chuck them out a high window, it would be on the side of the building over the cobblestone courtyard, rather than the one facing the water. Though I must give credit where it’s due, for his selection of a sidekick, in whip-wielding bad girl, Moira. Kurylenko has a track record of her own on this site, most recently in Sentinelle, and builds further on that here. On the other hand, the Princess’s father is a totally ineffectual pussy, when faced with the brutality of Julian and his crew. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing though. It makes his daughter’s rebellion feel organic and legitimate, rather than some kind of obvious third-wave feminist statement. I’d rebel in her shoes too.

Speaking of which, my concerns this would end up being some kind of Statement Movie, largely proved unfounded. Indeed, some reviews criticized it for not being progressive enough. [Insert eye-roll] This is largely traditional fairy-story territory, except with a female lead who is capable of rescuing herself, rather than needing a prince to come to her aid. I would say some of the flashback scenes were superfluous, breaking into rather than enhancing the narrative progression. For instance, we know Linh trained the Princess; do we really then need to see it taking place as well? The R-rating, while welcome, seems a little at odds with the atmosphere too, which does feel quite Disney+. If you’re going R, embrace it in all its forms, I’d say. However, these are minor gripes, and this is one Disney princess I’m certainly happy to endorse. 

Dir: Le-Van Kiet
Star: Joey King, Dominic Cooper, Olga Kurylenko, Veronica Ngo

To Love a Viking, by Heather Day Gilbert and Jen Cudmore

  By

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

Heather Day Gilbert (who’s also a Goodreads friend, and one of my favorite writers) earned high marks from me with her earlier Vikings of the New World duology. Here, she teams up with a new-to-me fellow evangelical Christian writer, Jen Cudmore, to deliver another solid work of historical fiction (the opening volume in a projected series) set in the same era. My trade paperback ARC of this novel was generously given to me by Heather herself; no commitment that my review would be favorable was asked for or given.

Our setting here is partly in Viking-ruled northern Scotland (“Caithness”), but mostly in Scandinavia –specifically, in Tavland, a fictional large island west of Norway. (A map of the island is provided, but it has no scale and doesn’t show it in relation to any other body of land. I picture it as about midway between Norway and Iceland, and perhaps about the size of the latter.) Novels set in fictional countries aren’t unheard of (The Prisoner of Zenda comes to mind). In this case, I’d guess the reason for the device is that the authors wanted to be able to depict a Viking polity, but not to have to be bound to the historical personalities or events of any of the actual ones. The time frame is mainly 998-999 A.D. (with a short prologue set in 989). This was a time when Christianity was spreading in the northern lands, but far from universal. So polygamy and concubinage are still legal, as is slavery (and sexual exploitation of slaves). Warfare and violence are common, life expectancy can be short, and women are under a yoke of patriarchy –though in some ways it’s not as heavy a yoke as it is in the more “civilized” lands of the south in that day.

We have two co-protagonists and primary viewpoint characters here, both young women. Tavland native Ellisif, born into a land-owning family, is about 26 in 998, mother of two little girls, pregnant again, and trapped in an abusive arranged marriage. Somewhat younger at around 20, Inara was born in slavery in the islands north of Scotland, to a now-dead Tavish mother kidnapped into slavery some years earlier. Tall and strong, tough-minded and blessed with some sword skills (long story!), we meet her on the Scottish mainland hiding out from her former master. (We learn the backstory behind that only gradually.) Her goal is to become a warrior. (Although relatively rare, shield-maidens weren’t unknown in Viking society, and could be accepted as such on their merits.) Circumstances are about to bring these ladies’ life-paths together. Their viewpoints are supplemented by those of two Tavish male characters, both single: young jarl (a Viking noble title, cognate with the English “earl”) Dagar, who as a teen was engaged to Ellisif, before her parents died in a accident and her oldest brother got the bright idea of selling her like a cow or a mare to her present husband, and ship-builder and occasional warrior Hakon.

As you’ve no doubt already surmised, yes, this novel does have a romantic component –and, indeed, two romances for the price of one. :-) But it offers more than that, as serious writers know that fiction must if it depicts romantic love as a realistic (and good!) part of the totality of human life; and our two authors here are definitely serious writers. We’re looking here at family life, social relationships, implicit questions of social justice and the relationship of Christian faith to conduct; and we’re also getting a crash course (which sadly is as relevant in 2022 as it was in 998!) in the grim realities of spousal abuse and what is or isn’t a helpful way of dealing with it. (The “Word from the Authors” at the end is constructive in that regard.) Questions of gender roles, and the relationship of career goals vs. family life, are also front-and-center here, and again very relevant.

One thing that quality historical fiction such as this tends to show is that human nature and needs haven’t really changed over the centuries. (In opposition to that idea, it’s often asserted by modern would-be critics, who know little of history, that romantic love was only invented in the 1700s, and was a concept totally unknown and unimaginable before that. Plenty of primary-source evidence exists to belie that claim; it was not only a known concept, but felt by lots of people, then as now. It just wasn’t always as readily taken into account by people making the decisions about marriages then as now –and, as Ellisif and Dagar would tell us, the ones getting married weren’t always the ones making the decision.) And though this is a “romance,” it’s no bodice-ripper.

The quality of the writing here is very good, and the collaboration is seamless; I’ve read and liked several of Heather’s books, but I couldn’t tell any stylistic difference between the various parts of this book to suggest different authorship. Past-tense, third-person narration is used throughout, however, rather than Heather’s characteristic present-tense first person. (I like the one as well as the other, so that was no problem for me.) A textured picture of Viking daily life is presented, clearly based on solid research; but the research isn’t intrusive. Like Norah Lofts, our authors here avoid archaic-sounding diction in their dialogue; there are touches that suggest the setting, but we basically understand that the characters’ Old Norse is translated for us into conventional modern English with an “equivalent effect” (which explains the single use here of “okay” in conversation). References to Christian faith are natural in the circumstances of the story, and not “preachy.” Our Christian characters are Catholics (one minor character is an abbot), but denominational distinctives aren’t much in evidence. (I’d have liked more reference to the development of Inara’s faith, which is actually treated very sketchily.) Directly-described violent action scenes only occur in three places, and aren’t very graphic, but Inara shows her mettle enough to earn her “action heroine” status from me.

As a concluding note, we use “Viking” today as a general term for the ancient and early medieval Nordic inhabitants of Scandinavia, men and women, old and young. In the book, though, it’s used as it was then, as a term for a warrior. (It comes from the verbal form, “to go a-viking,” that is, trading/raiding, as inclination or circumstances dictated, in the lands to the south.) With that understanding, the title has a special meaning that will become apparent by the end of the book. :-)

Authors: Heather Day Gilbert and Jen Cudmore.
Publisher: WoodHaven Press; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

The Supergirl of Kung Fu

  By

★★
“For some very loose definition of super.”

This is another one of an apparently infinite series of kung-fu films, set during the Japanese occupation of China that took place just before World War II. The heroine is Little Flower (Lee), who gets given a death-bed mission by her martial arts master father: return to Shanghai, and lead his students at the Ching Wu Men school against the occupying Japanese forces. Except, on arriving, Flower finds the school disbanded by force, and its disciples scattered to the winds. She begins to hunt the top students, Rock (Yang) and Mercury – the latter has gone particularly deep into hiding after having killed twenty Japanese soldiers in one night. But Flower’s own activities, protecting the poor, bring her to the attention of the Japanese authorities, because they think she’s part of the rebels, as well as a local Chinese cop (Heung).

Sadly, it’s almost entirely dull, though in the film’s defense, the particularly poor presentation does not do it many favours. The dubbing is terrible, and the slightest movement by any of the characters is accompanied by the same, loud, whooshing noise. To say this gets old quickly, is putting it mildly. It might be forgiven were the action any great shakes: it’s not. While there are a reasonable number of fights, they are generally slow and unimaginative. The final boss is armed with a stick that must be fifteen foot long if it’s an inch. This is an impressive looking weapon, yet in order to render it effective, everyone he faces has to avoid using the obvious tactics against such an oversized monstrosity, which hardly lends itself to swift action. Still, I did genuinely laugh out loud at one point, where he catches Little Flower on the end of it, and whirls her around in the air for a bit, like an act combining plate-spinning and acrobatics from the Chinese State Circus.

On the other hand, the most woeful moment is probably when an arriving shipload of arms is blown up by the rebels. This takes place entirely off-screen, with the authorities simply hearing the sound of its massive explosion. There’s no particular sense of closure at the end, with the film going from the fight against the final boss, to “The End” credit in such an abrupt way, it feels like everyone involved must have had a very pressing engagement elsewhere. Again, however, this may be due to the lack of care in the presentation. Or perhaps not, given how lacking in particular energy or talent most elements of this appears to be. While you can’t entirely extinguish the talent of somebody like Lee, this certainly does a good job of diminishing it. The story spins off a number of threads that never seem to go anywhere, and even as someone entirely unfamiliar with 1930’s Shanghai, I wasn’t exactly convinced by its depiction here. One for Judy Lee completists only.

Dir: Min-Hsiung Wu
Star: Judy Lee, Charles Heung, Yang Lun, Cliff Ching Ching

The Burning Sea

  By

★★★½
“Oil and water clearly don’t mix”

I’ve enjoyed most of the recent Norwegian entries in the “disaster porn” genre. Films with titles like The Wave and The Quake, have delivered all the mayhem you could want, while doing a better job of characterization than their Hollywood equivalents. This is the first with a heroine, and provides a similarly slick mix of spectacle and emotion. The central character is Sofia (Thorp), an engineer for an undersea robotics company. When working on a sunken oil rig in the North Sea, she finds evidence indicating a massive geological slip is about to occur. Eventually convincing the authorities to take it seriously, they evacuate the area. Before that can be completed, the disaster occurs, and her husband, Stian (Bjelland) is trapped on a sinking platform. 

With the aid of her helicopter pilot sister-in-law, Sofia goes to the rig after an official rescue mission is rejected. Getting Stian out is just the start. For the oblivious authorities now plan to deal with the massive pollution threat by setting it on fire. [Hey, it is called The Burning Sea after all…] And that may not be the end of their problems either. It is relatively restrained on the destruction: despite that title, the inflammable ocean only occupies a few minutes of screen time. However, it feels considerably more grounded than most of its kind, with a ‘hard science’ basis which gives proceedings plausibility. Obvious disclaimer: I am not a geologist. However, factual accuracy aside, I respect the effort. 

I do still have some questions. The most… ah, burning one is the rather cavalier way Sofia abandons her young son Odin in an oil company office, with barely a word, so she can catch her ‘copter of doom. Scandinavian parenting must be very different, that’s all I can conclude. In general though, it is this very mundane nature of the protagonists which is the film’s strongest suit. Sofia, Stian, her colleague Arthur (Larsen) and even the inevitable oil company exec, the appropriately named Mr. Lie (Floberg), all seem real. Sure, they are heroic. Yet their bravery feels as if it comes from a combination of their personalities, with the difficult situations in which they are placed. 

I would have liked to have seen more of the destruction, to be honest. While what there is, is effective, this feels as if a lot of it takes place in the distance or even over the horizon. On the other hand, a lot of the movie was clearly shot on genuine oil production facilities, again adding weight to the realism. For disaster porn, it’s all surprisingly grounded, and that alone is refreshing enough to make it stand out in the field. You can imagine Sofia simply going back to wirk on Monday morning, and probably not even bothering to explain to Odin why Daddy has a large bump on his head. Or why the price of petrol on Norway just tripled overnight. 

Dir: John Andreas Andersen
Star: Kristine Kujath Thorp, Henrik Bjelland, Rolf Kristian Larsen, Bjørn Floberg