Category: Review

10: The Secret Mission

  By

★★★
“A video-game, trying to get out.”

The daughter of the American ambassador is kidnapped, and is being held on an island off the Indonesian coast. Conventional attempts to stage a rescue mission end badly, and pressure from the US mounts on the government to do something. Colonel John (Thomas) is in charge, and comes up with a daring plan. Well, to be honest, the word “ludicrous” might be more appropriate, or perhaps that’s just me. He recruits ten models with a range of martial arts talents – silat, wushu, archery, etc. – and in five days, his tough-as-nails second in command, Major Cathy (Anderson) will lick them into a cohesive unit, which can infiltrate the island and mount a daring rescue. “Why do they have to be models?”, I hear you asking. Again, to be honest, this is never exactly explained. Still, for cinematic purposes, we’ll let it slide, since the intent is clear: it lets them kick ass, while looking good doing so.

Any other questions? No? It’s for the best, trust me.

You should probably think of this as an Indonesian equivalent to DOA: Dead or Alive: cheesecake flavoured action, not to be taken seriously in the slightest. There are basically two section to this. The first is the group’s “boot camp,” which mostly consists of Major Cathy putting them through physical and psychological torment. There is a lot of yelling; I don’t know about you, but she certainly put the fear of God into me. Yet it’s also quite impressive, to have someone on the side of the heroines, who clearly doesn’t give a damn about being nice. There’s something almost admirable about her focus on the #SquadGoals, to the exclusion of everything else. Just don’t expect anything in the slightest as far as characterization of the “10” goes. For the vast majority, you’ll get a caption describing their skills, and that’s it.

The second half is almost one extended action sequence, depicting their rescue mission. It does slow down in the middle for a bit, after some of the team get captured. However, it then kicks back into gear for the final 15 minutes, and probably wisely, it saves the best for last. There’s a barn-storming battle, in an increasingly-flooded warehouse, pitting the best of the government forces against the best of the terrorist. The latter include their leader – technically called Paul, but whom should really be called Mr. Shouty, for his habit of YELLING EVERY LINE HE HAS TO DELIVER – and his sidekick, the tall, blonde Jane (Zavialova), whose skills are quite impressive.

As the tag-line at the top suggests, this feels more like an adaptation of a console beat-em-up. In it, you would be able to select one of the ten trainees, taking them through a series of missions under Major Cathy, which let you earn skill points which can be applied to your abilities. You then get to use these as you land on the island, battle your way across, and finally, defeat Jane and Paul to rescue the ambassador’s daughter. I can feel my thumbs twitching. But as a movie? It’s a rather imperfect 10.

Dir: Helfi C.H. Kardit
Star: Karenina Maria Anderson, Jeremy Thomas, Roy Marten, Svitlana Zavialova

Jet, by Russell Blake

  By

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

Born as Maya, the heroine here adopted the name of “Jet” when she became part of a seriously black ops group, part of the Israeli intelligence service known as the Mossad. There, she and her colleagues had carried out thoroughly deniable operations against… well, supposedly Israel’s enemies, though it’s not as if she asks questions. The secrecy wasn’t limited to her work, as she carried on an unsanctioned relationship with David, the man in charge of the group. But eventually, it all became too much: with David’s assistance, Jet faked her own death on a mission and vanished off the grid, re-appearing as “Carla” in Trinidad, where she enjoyed a quiet life for several years. That came to a sudden end when assassins make an attempt to terminate her new identity. Her cover has clearly been blown. The questions are: what happened, who is responsible, and how can Maya a.k.a. Jet a.k.a. Carla restore the balance?

Finding the answers apparently requires her to rack up the air miles, as the resulting narrative goes from Trinidad through Venezuela to Israel, then back via Cyprus to Belize, before finishing off in Monaco. And that’s not even including any globe-trotting in the flashbacks to her time as a Mossad agent. Still, I guess that’s one of the fun things about writing a novel: you don’t have a production budget! While this aspect feels reminiscent of a Bond book, I think Kill Bill is perhaps a greater inspiration here. This is apparent both in the fractured timeline, and in particular, the revelation at the end of the book, which clearly sets up Jet’s direction for the next volume. As well as her being an unstoppable bad-ass, of course.

If the book has a weakness, it’s likely David, whose actions don’t appear to be consistent with each other. It’s hard to be specific without spoilers for “that” revelation, but if he loved Jet as much as some things imply, why did he not quit his job and go be with her when she pulled her vanishing act? This question is somewhat addressed, but the argument, little more than “He’d taken an oath”, falls a long way short of being convincing. I think their relationship either needed to be depicted in considerably more nuanced depth, or considerably less. As an action fan, who tends to roll his eyes whenever romance crops up, I’m leaning towards the latter.

Jet just doesn’t feel like a person who needs anyone else, and Stone’s handle on the action – which is plentiful – is good enough that anything else feels like an unwanted distraction. I felt it was particularly strong at the beginning, as the heroine tried to get out of Trinidad, providing an excellent demonstration of Jet’s abilities. But the raid she and David carried out on the Belize compound was also impressive. Overall, I’d not be averse to reading more – though I’d probably rather wait for the movie instead.

Author: Russell Blake
Publisher: Reprobatio Limited, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 15 in the Jet series.

Cry for the Bad Man

  By

★★½
“Play Freebird!!!“

Despite a very brief running time of only 70 minutes, this still manages to seem talky and overlong. That’s a shame, as it manages to waste a good performance from a genre veteran, playing an action heroine who is not your typical one. The former is Camille Keaton, who is having a bit of a B-movie renaissance in her career, forty years after starring in the notorious rape-revenge film, I Spit on Your Grave. And the latter? Well, Keaton is now in her seventies, but based on this, is still capable of wielding a mean shotgun. And clearly, of taking no shit from anyone. Indeed, you could almost read this as the sundown years of her Grave character, Jennifer Hills.

Though here, she is Marsha Kane, a widow who is faced with fending off predatory offers on her property from local ne’er do wells, the MacMohan boys: Wayne (Peeler), Derrek (Dooley) and Billy, operating on behalf of the family patriarch, Bill. He wants Marsha’s house, and is going to let a little thing like her complete disinterest in selling stand in the way. So he sends his kin to make not-so-subtle hints, knowing the local police are in the family’s pocket. When the threats don’t work either, the boys return at midnight for a more physical approach, only to discover quickly that Kane is more than able to fend for herself. However, her daughter (Konzen) shows up, offering the MacMohan’s potentially useful leverage against her mother.

The title seems to be taken from a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, about the firing of their manager, so I’m not sure of the relevance here. But what could, and probably should be a small-scale version of Assault on Precinct 13, fails to achieve anything like the necessary degree of tension. It instead, collapses in on itself, as the script prefers to concentrate on largely uninteresting chit-chat and extremely slow creeping down poorly-lit corridors. That’s when it isn’t blundering into plot-holes. For example, when the MacMohan brothers arrive for their midnite escapade, they’re greeted with gunfire, injuring one. The smart thing to do would be to back off, call their pals at the police station, and have Mrs. Kane hauled off to prison for attempted murder. Property secured! Meanwhile, on her side, why stop with one? They are literally standing in front of the door, arguing about what to do.

This wastes Keaton, who has a quiet strength about her, as well as hints of a past that were less than squeaky-clean. Though, again – who keeps a copy of their police mug-shot in a box of souvenirs? It also goes to show that action heroines come in more shapes and sizes – and ages – than Hollywood would perhaps recognize. Even when they had Helen Mirren in Red, she was still undeniably glamourous. That isn’t the case here, and it’s all the more refreshing for it. Just a shame it wasn’t put to the use of a considerably better storyline.

Dir: Sam Farmer
Star: Camille Keaton, Scott Peeler, Karen Konzen, Eric Dooley

Mrs. Serial Killer

  By

★★★
“The anti-Dexter.”

This is the kind of film which I’d say was enjoyable, rather than being good. Indeed, if you want an illustration of the difference between the two, this movie is a good example. Sona Mukherjee (Fernandez) is the wife of respected doctor, Mrityunjoy Mukherjee (Bajpayee). But their life is upended when the bodies of six, formerly pregnant, unmarried women are found on their property. Sona believes her husband was framed – possibly by police inspector and former boyfriend Imran Shahid, (Raina). She takes the advice of a dubious lawyer, who suggests that if the serial killer was shown to be still active, that would prove her husband’s innocence. So Sona kidnaps another expectant young woman, Anushka Tiwari (Khan) to provide a seventh victim. Only… well, Sona is a bit crap as a serial killer, and Anushka is a feisty little thing with a black-belt in taekwondo, pregnancy be damned.

I’m tagging this as horror and comedy, on the basis that it shouldn’t be taken seriously in the slightest. I’m fairly sure this approach is quite intentional, though with Bollywood, it’s rarely possible to be entirely certain. But there are just so many ludicrous elements, not least the central premise, that it definitely works best as a parody of lurid potboilers. For example, Indian police have apparently never heard of DNA testing, and feel that one body is pretty much as good as another. It’s also possible to trigger an immediate, devastating asthma attack, by crushing up flowers in your hands, and then blowing them in your target’s face. I thought that kind of thing only ever worked in a professional wrestling ring.

That all said, I still enjoyed it, not least for the way everyone takes it Very Seriously. It’s at its best when Sona and Anushka are facing off, the “killer” initially trying to convince her victim she has been captured by a man – an aspect as poorly considered as the rest of her plan. The contrast between the two make for amusing confrontations, such as Anushka spitting back, mockingly, “Trying to scare me with your psycho stare? I can do better. Here!” I was disappointed that they ended up taking a back-seat during the final act [for if her husband was not responsible for the six corpses… who was?] It’s still no less lurid, combining operatic music and disco lighting, in a basement festooned with a plethora of IV drips, for no reason beyond it looking cool.

It all ends in a final twist which makes about as much sense as the rest of it i.e. not very much. I won’t spoil it, but will tell you, it does not provide what I actually wanted to see, which was Sona and Anushka teaming up to go all Natural Born Killers on the real perpetrators. That would have been too much to hope for. Yet I can’t deny I was still amused enough, and wished Lifetime TVM were more like their South Asian counterparts.

Dir: Shirish Kunder
Star: Jacqueline Fernandez, Manoj Bajpayee, Mohit Raina, Zayn Marie Khan

Wrecker

  By

★★
“Runs out of road.”

This falls victim to the Spielberg Effect. By that, I mean, that any movie directed by Steven Spielberg will inevitably become the yardstick by which future entries of that kind are judged – typically, unfavourably. Killer shark films will be compared to Jaws. Holocaust epics to Schindler’s List. And the genre of movies in which drivers are menaced by unseen truck drivers? Expect comparisons to Duel. And in this case, they are entirely warranted. I guess if you’ve never heard of Duel, this might just pass muster. But you would still be better off watching it, than this lame imitation, which has a nice car (a Mustang) and some lovely scenery (I’m guessing Canadian). That’s all it can offer though.

Gal pals Emily (Hutchinson) and Leslie (Whitburn) are on a road-trip, when they go off-route – never a good idea to take a road labelled “Devil’s Pass”, but that may just be me having seen too many horror movies. On the resulting stretch of road, entirely deserted except when conveniently necessary for the plot, they become increasingly concerned about the repeated presence of a tow-truck, pulling a car, which appears to be stalking them. After a number of alarming incidents, they are driven off the road by the truck, and Emily gets knocked unconscious. She awakens, to find Leslie gone. Driving to find help, she is stopped by a police-car, only for the officer to fall victim to the truck. But at least Emily now has a weapon, in the shape of the cop’s gun.

This kind of thing can work. Spielberg’s not the only one to prove it; The Hitcher (the original version) also occupied similar territory, with an almost supernatural figure menacing a driver, for no real reason. That succeeded, however, based on Rutger Hauer’s villainous charisma. There’s nothing like that here, with the villain entirely unseen; the closest we get to any personality are glimpses of Satanic regalia dangling in the truck. That’s not exactly a lot on which to hang your movie.

The main problem, however, is a script which is ludicrous when it isn’t being entirely contrived. The notion that a Mustang – which we are shown can reach over 120 mph – could not simply zoom away from a diesel tow-truck if necessary, is the most obvious, yet perhaps not the most idiotic element. The ways in which the two women, and indeed, their pursuer, behave, are the kind of actions which would only be carried out by characters in a horror movie. Anyone sensible would seek sanctuary in the nearest busy area, and stay there until help arrives. Our couple do visit such a spot, in the shape of a diner, only to leave it after lunch and resume their journey, because… because the film demands they do. If you’re not able to tolerate such things, you’ll have to hope that the Rockies and an American classic sports car provide enough entertainment. For the plot and characters aren’t going to offer much.

Dir: Micheal Bafaro
Star: Anna Hutchison, Drea Whitburn, Jennifer Koenig, Michael Dickson

The Serpent

  By

★★
“You’ve got to tell him about the other bombs inside the kids.”

Wait, what? Other bombs? Inside kids? Less than two minutes in and I am already incredibly confused – because before the line above, there was no mention at all of bombs or kids. All we’d had is Detective Franklin (Wade) get a weird call at a shooting from someone promising to tell him the truth about what happened. He gets into his car, and Lucinda Kavsky (Skova) pounces from the back seat. Here is their exchange, in full.

“Who the hell are you?”
“Lucinda Kavsky, CIA. I will tell you everything I know about this case. Okay?”
“Well, hot damn if I don’t believe that story. How’d you get into this mess? Y’know, I think you’re going to have to contact Rodney Williams of the CIA, there’s no other choice.”
“I’ve already sent all the proof to him.”
“Well, you’ve got to tell him about the other bombs inside the kids.”

Yes, time of death is, exactly one minute and 58 seconds in. I have never seen a movie go from zero to completely inexplicable so quickly. A few seconds later, Franklin says, “Your explanation’s good enough for me.” No. It’s not. I can’t help feeling as if there was a large chunk of exposition edited out between the second and third lines, and the film never recovers. We do eventually discover that there is a plot to create bio-weapons by implanting chips of some (ill-defined) kind into kids. Kavsky stumbled into it when she took over a mission for a friend, and has been hunted ever since by those – both inside and outside the CIA – who are seeking to keep it secret.

It’s a straightforward story, and one which would have benefited enormously from a straightforward telling. Instead, we end up with what feels like a Russian doll-like series of flashbacks, including a five-year (!) period spent by Kavsky in prison. Quite what the bad guys were doing during all this time, is – like so much else – never explained. It makes about as much sense as the high numbers of British accents sported by supposed CIA operatives, not least Lucinda herself.

The action is no great shakes, except for one sequence where she is helping a doctor remove one of the chips from Avy (Heath) a subject she has rescured, when her phone is tracked to the hospital and an assault launched. The resulting battle is… Well, realism isn’t its strong suit, shall we say. But it’s done with enough enthusiasm to give it at least a fighting chance of overcoming any credibility issues. Otherwise, it’s about what you’d expect from a former model who is also making her debut as both writer and director. All credit to Ms. Skova, whose cheekbones alone should count as lethal weapons, for actually making a damn movie. But you’d have to be extremely charitable to consider this as more than entry level, especially when it comes to the script, which is simply far too serpentine for its own good.

Dir: Gia Skova
Star: Gia Skova, Travis Aaron Wade, Nigel Vonas, Violet Heath

Shadow in the Cloud

  By

★★★
“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet”

In 1943, an Allied supply flight from New Zealand to Samo gets a last-minute addition to the crew, Maude Garrett (Moretz) carrying a top-secret case whose contents must be kept upright. Her presence is initially heavily resented by the male crew, and things get increasingly edgy. The plane begins to suffer unusual mechanical problems, which leave Maude trapped in a gun turret on the belly of the plane. They’re apparently being shadowed by Japanese planes, even though they are supposedly out of the combat zone. Worst of all, both Maude and one of the crew members swear blind they have seen bizarre creatures, like winged rats, scrambling around the air-craft, like the fabled “gremlins” of wartime lore.

The first half of this is really good. It’s gripping, despite (or, perhaps, because of?) being set almost entirely in the gun turret, with a claustrophobic intensity that works, building to a sense things are imminently going to kick off. 

Then, we find out what’s in the case.

Oh. Is that it? Seriously?

I was expecting something which would tie together the various threads of the plot, including the extraordinary Japanese interest in the flight, and the gremlins. Maybe some kind of occult power device – after all, that was a known obsession of the Nazis, e.g. the Spear of Destiny. Sadly, it isn’t. Instead, it’s another strand, which doesn’t connect to any of the others, and indeed, appears to have strayed in from a soap-opera. Rather than uniting everything, the film thereafter continues to have a trio of separate, independent stories, that show up as necessary for the plot.

But I think the moment where all hope of this getting our seal of approval left the building, was when our heroine fell from the plane, only to be blown back into it without injury by the explosion of a Japanese fighter below. I’d seen that in the trailer, and hoped it seemed more plausible in the context of the narrative. I’m afraid it wasn’t. The unwelcome switch in tone continues, until the film ends with Maude chasing down and having a fist-fight with one of the gremlins, which comes out of nowhere in terms of her character.

Now, I wasn’t expecting an authentic period piece. The (rather nifty) throbbing electronic score from Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper is clearly designed to take you out of the nineteen forties. However, initially, it seems grounded, to an almost painful extent, as Maude has to endure banter which more or less starts at unpleasant. Up until the reveal mentioned above, it’s more gritty than fantasy, and works all the better for it.

Perhaps this is related to the rather unpleasant issue during production, when the writer of the original screenplay, Max Landis, was blacklisted after sexual abuse allegations emerged. Director Liang rewrote it, though Landis still gets a screen credit, and it does feel like two different films bolted together at the hip. I far preferred the first half, and the presence of Moretz, who is great as ever, is unable to hold things together. Much like the plane in which her character flies, the movie eventually falls apart and goes down in flames.

Dir:  Roseanne Liang
Star: Chloë Grace Moretz, Taylor John Smith, Beulah Koale, Nick Robinson

The Barista’s Guide To Espionage, by Dave Sinclair

  By

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

Eva Destruction – and, yes, that is the legal name of the character – is an Australian expat who owns a coffee shop in Central London. But when we first meet her, she is making a hasty exit off a rapidly-exploding tropical island, somewhere in the Pacific. How she gets from point A to B, is the saga which unfolds in flashback over the course of this book, as she tells her history to the disbelieving American navy officers who rescue her off the island.

The key player in that, and Eva’s transformation from barista to secret agent, is her boyfriend Harry. For he actually turns out to be Horatio Lancing, a cross between Elon Musk and Edward Snowden, a hi-tech idealist with unlimited resources and an agenda. Initially, it’s apparently benign: applying pressure to governments around the world to “do the right thing” and act on behalf of the people they supposedly represent. But Eva eventually finds out, his end-game is considerably less altruistic. Due to her connection to Harry, she comes to the attention of the British intelligence services, who recruit and train Eva through unrepentant chauvinist Charles Bishop, in an effort to use their relationship to help stop Harry. And they’re not the only ones out to do so.

The resulting adventure globe-trots from London to Iceland and Prague, before ending on Harry’s secret island lair. By the end, Eva proves to be as capable of whipping up improvised munitions as a double-shot latte, even if her prowess with firearms allegedly comes mostly from the somewhat unlikely source of Virtua Cop II. She is, unquestionably, very much an archetypal Aussie girl, with all that implies – both good and bad. She’s brash to a fault, and can curse like a sailor, but is fiercely loyal to her friends. Interestingly, that applies even to Harry, with whom she stays well past the point I think I’d have noped out of there. She also suffers some angst, when Eva realizes she has abandoned all her feminist ideals for a jet-setting lifestyle and a castle, effectively becoming “an exceptionally high-priced hooker.”

It’s all entertaining enough, if thoroughly disposable and largely implausible, with the important people miraculously surviving against all odds. It is the kind of plot which is probably impossible to read with any seriousness, so it’s fortunate that the author and his heroine embrace this. Even if that does make it difficult to care, when it’s all being taken very lightly by everyone involved. Sinclair does have a good way with action, both in a hellacious chase through Prague, and the eventual, very Bond-like climax on the island. At least the relationship between Eva and Harry does go some way to justifying the “Before I kill you, let me tell you my entire plan” trope. I probably won’t be actively seeking out subsequent volumes. But I’ll tell you this: I wouldn’t mind a movie adaptation either.

Author: Dave Sinclair
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 4 in the Eva Destruction series.

Bit

  By

★★★½
“The Lost Girls”

There are times when I am bracing myself, going into a movie. Here’s the synopsis for this one: “A transgender teenage girl on summer vacation in Los Angeles fights to survive after she falls in with four queer feminist vampires, who try to rid the city’s streets of predatory men.” Given my long-standing aversion to message movies, this seemed like 90 minutes of my worst nightmare. What had I let myself in for? But this proved to be surprisingly accessible – even for those of us who are neither transgender nor queer, and are enrolled in the Camille Paglia school of feminism.

It reminded me of We Are The Night, about a similar group of female “party vampires” who embrace a newcomer to their ranks. Though as the tagline above suggests, I guess both movies owe a large debt to The Lost Boys. To be honest, if I hadn’t read the synopsis, I wouldn’t know the heroine, Laurel (Maines) is intended to be transgender. There is discussion of some previous trauma before she leaves home after graduating, but it’s never her defining characteristic. Her new pals are relentlessly feminist, to the point of misanthropic. According to their leader, Duke (Hopper), the prime directive is: “You never, ever turn a man. Men can’t handle power. They have it already, and look what they’ve done with it.”  Yet her own handling of power is highly questionable: she admits to using it for “indiscriminate” killing, and compares their group to terrorists. By the end, Laurel is openly challenging that unbreakable rule – as she should.

Their two performance are the glue which holds this together, in particular as it depicts the slowly developing conflict between Laurel and Duke. The script also plays a part, revealing the truth about Duke’s origins and powers – and the more we learn, the more questionable the leader becomes. Yet there are also moments of dry humour, which stop this from becoming a grim fairy tale. For instance, Duke telling Laurel, “The first rule of Bite Club…” When this triggers little more than a derisive snort from the new recruit, one of her lieutenants pipes up, dead-panning, “Juggalos was taken.” This kind of thing fits in: I suspect in such a scenario, the vampires would not take themselves entirely seriously.

The flaws tend to be when the film does occasionally topple over into self-importance. The worst offender is probably Vlad, the master of their species. While the film opens with some snarky comments about Twilight, his performance is far more hammy than anything delivered in that franchise. There’s a badly underdeveloped plot about vampire-hunters, which is little more than “Boys are stupid”. I could also have done without a soundtrack which appears to be the writer-director’s iPhone on random, or the gratuitous Death Valley Girls concert [I can only presume they’re pals of his, given some free publicity in the movie]. All told though, this was considerably better than my prejudices would have had me believe going in. The lesson here appears to be, don’t judge a film by its synopsis.

Dir: Brad Michael Elmore
Star: Nicole Maines, Diana Hopper, Zolee Griggs, James Paxton

Getaway

  By

★★
“Witch, finder, general.”

This was likely not going to qualify for inclusion here, until a twist in the final 15 minutes. Up until that point, it had been a largely irritating saga, that was considerably more horror than action heroine – and not even good horror at that. I’m still significantly unconvinced about the quality, but must grudgingly admit, this was a twist which I did not particularly see coming (though there is a large clue dropped near the beginning). Three gal-pals, Tamara (Betham), Maddy (Taylor-Compton) and Brooke (Allbright) head for a weekend’s lakeside R&R. On the way, Tamara’s car runs out of fuel, and she encounters the local creeps, but eventually arrives, and joins the other two in scamming drinks out of horny guys.

However, the creeps are lurking, and a drugged beverage leads to Tamara waking, tied up in a farm outhouse. Turns out they’re not just creeps, but have a particular religious bent. They kidnap women, rape them, and then kill them so they can go to heaven and have “angel babies”, because… Look, they’re religious nutters, okay? Yet, that might be their fatal weakness, something Tamara can use against them, as she curses them, claiming to have occult powers. For if she is a servant of Satan, she’s hardly going to be capable of having those adorable little cherubs, is she? This is, actually, a potentially interesting aspect. However, it’s discarded in favour of the twist mentioned above, and even though it brought the film more into our wheel-house, I’m inclined to wish they hadn’t bothered.

The bigger problems start with the characterizations. The three girls are thinly-sketched at best: two are lesbians, because… well, presumably for the same reasons there is a pointless African-American sheriff’s deputy with a crush on Tamara. Not sure. None of the women seem very likeable, and indeed, I’d be hard pushed to tell you much about any of the trio as people: Maddy and Brooke barely serve any purpose, and the film might have worked better with Tamara operating as a lone wolf. The villains are equally shallow: the Wyatt Family from WWE exhibited more complexity and personality. And if you are hoping for gore or nudity, you are respectively going to be largely and completely disappointed.

It is one of those films where it reaches the end, and you find yourself wondering where things will go from there. Now that the little secret is out of the bag, any sequel would of necessity have to be completely different in its approach, yet that might prove to be more successful. However, it would have to work considerably harder to retain the viewer’s interest than the effort put in here. There were a number of occasions where I simply found myself no longer paying attention, and had to crank back the film a few minutes, just to be sure in my role as a conscientious film reviewer, that I had not missed anything. I hadn’t, and my suggestion is that you should probably skip the whole thing.

Dir: Lane Toran
Star: Jaclyn Betham, Scout Taylor-Compton, Landry Allbright, Lane Toran