Tag: 1971

19 Girls and a Sailor

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★★
“I only see eight girls…”

The rather salacious title is actually a direct translation of the original Yugoslavian one: it seems to be hinting at an adult movie whose name was A Girl and 19 Sailors. The reality is, naturally, rather different. It’s a war movie, set in the final days of World War II, when the local partisans were fighting the Nazis. A group of women, under the command of Milja (Birkin) are given the task of escorting injured soldiers to safety, including “The Spaniard”/ He’s a partisan leader whom the Germans want to capture, in order to offer him in a prisoner exchange. It helps they have an informant in the partisans, helping them funnel their opponents to a precise location.

It’s a largely by-the-numbers war story, except for most of the protagonists being women. The main exception is Sailor (Gainsbourg), who has two of the partisans fall for him, including the second-in-command, Irena (Rozin). This angle largely negates the surprisingly forward-thinking approach of the plot as a whole, promoting the belief that women are too flighty and easily distracted by matters of the heart to make good soldiers. It’s a shame, as they seem largely competent and able to handle themselves. Well, except for the scene where a bunch of them suddenly decide to go swimming, and are then surprised by the appearance of a German platoon. I rolled my eyes at that a bit as well.

I’m not quite sure what two of France’s leading stars at the time are doing, suddenly appearing in an otherwise very Yugoslavian production. Even a local review seemed perplexed (all hail, Google Translate…), and was equally confounded by the director, who up until that point, had basically made documentaries. He certainly does not appear to have much of a handle on the dramatic elements, generating almost no tension out of what should, one would imagine, have been a good foundation for a thriller. Narrow escapes; fierce gun-battles; tension over the identity of the traitor in their midst. Oh, all of these exist, yet they feel little more than check-marks of obligation, and hardly anything about this will stick in your mind.

After losing a few supporting characters, but nobody of particular note, we reach the finale, where the women are trapped with no apparent escape route. Until, that is, one of them suddenly remembers the existence of a cave offering safe passage. Fortunate amnesia. This is, of course, where we get another expected element – the heroic sacrifice of certain people, mounting a rearguard defense which allows their sisters-in-arms to make their escape, and also reveal the identity of the Nazi informess. The scenery is wild and untamed, and the photography does a decent job of capturing this. The same can’t particularly be said about the characters, as these never become much more than women in uniform. Or not in uniform. That works too.

Dir: Milutin Kosovac
Star: Jane Birkin, Serge Gainsbourg, Spela Rozin, Dina Rutic
a.k.a. Ballade à Sarajevo or Devetnaest djevojaka i jedan mornar

Bad Girl Mako

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★★½
“‘Slightly naughty young lady Mako’ – more accurate, less catchy.”

This was among the very last of the “pinky violence” films made by the Nikkatsu studio. Their popularity had been waning, and the company, under its president Takashi Itamochi, opted to move in a different direction. They began making what would be known as “roman porno”, leaving the action field open for their rivals at Toei, who picked up Meiko Kaji after her “defection” from Nikkatsu where she had made the Stray Cat Rock series.

I mention all the above, largely because it’s a hundred or so less words I have to write about this, which is one of the more forgettable of their “bad girl” films. While made competently enough, you sense that the heart of the director, making his feature debut, wasn’t particular in it, and title actress Natsu is a poor substitute for Kaji. It begins briskly enough, Mako and her girl gang pals beating up a guy at a bowling alley after he welches on a bet. While visiting a disco, she meets and pretends to fall for Hideo (Okazaki), in what’s really the set-up for a robbery. However, it turns out he has a gang of his own, and thus begins an escalating conflict.

Things are exacerbated by Mako’s brother, Tanabe (Fuji), being a member of the local Yakuza clan, the Yasuoka-Gumi – y’know, the real criminals in town. So for example, after Hideo gets a knife in his leg, he and his mates pay a visit to a Yasuoka-Gumi brothel, and liberate some of their workers. But Mako is also falling for Hideo, a relationship which might as well be wearing a neon sign flashing “doomed”, because he continues to incur the wrath of her brother and the Yakuza bosses. If you manage to predict that the film will end on a close-up of Mako’s face, until a single tear rolls down her cheek, give yourself two points.

It’s a rare moment of artistry in what is, by and large, a rather pedestrian production. From our viewpoint, it needed to concentrate more on Mako, and less on the tit-for-tat shenanigans between Tanabe and Hideo. While she kicks off that storyline, she then largely gets sidelined for much of the picture, until the deaths of various characters (of both sexes) bring her back into play for the final 15-20 minutes. In her absence, the film doesn’t have much to offer, except for low-level thugs snarling at each other, though some of the seventies style on view, in both music and fashion, is not unamusing.

I saw a review of this which said it was, “Obviously a political allegory about the tragic end of the Japanese student movement in the 60s.” Ah. That explains a lot. It being a topic about which I know precious little and care considerably less, would likely go a long way towards determining why this one left me largely underwhelmed.

Dir: Koretsugu Kurahara
Star: Junko Natsu. Jiro Okazaki, Tatsuya Fuji, Joe Shishido

Vengeance of a Snowgirl

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★★★½
“Revenge, truly served cold.”

The elevator pitch version of this sounds like a million other kung-fu films: Shen Ping Hong (Li) seeks revenge on the people who killed her parents and left her crippled. But there’s rather more going on beneath the surface, and shades of grey on both sides. One of her targets, Lord Kao Hung, regrets what happened and wants to help Shen regain the use of her legs. But Shen only agrees to let his son Tien-Ying (Yueh) help, in the belief that it will make her mission of vengeance easier. It feels almost like she’s a mad dog, lashing out at anyone who tries to help; keeping the severed heads of her victims in jars is a clue there. Meanwhile, Kao’s associates – and Tien-Ying’s ex-girlfriend (Chiao) – think he’s helping because he wants to get Shen’s jade sword for his own ends, and are intent on getting their revenge in on her first.

Let the record show, Chris wandered in half-way through this, glanced at the screen and said, “Is that Sammo Hung?” Knock me down with a feather if it wasn’t Sammo, in a minor supporting role as a villainous henchmen. This is why I love my wife: her ability to spot martial arts legends in 1971 cameos. Er, well… Not just that. Anyway, this would be massively overshadowed by the release, just two days later, of another Lo Wei film, his first for fledgling studio Golden Harvest. The Big Boss would put both studio and its star, one Bruce Lee, on the map, and Snowgirl would be all but forgotten.

In particular, the way it twists the usual “You killed my _____ and must die!” tropes are what makes this stand out, along with a second half which turns into something resembling a series of video-game side quests. Because the spring where Shen can heal her legs is so frigid, you need a magic pearl to survive near it for more than a few seconds… The pearl is in the belly of a volcano, reaching which requires a suit of flame-resistant armour (looking remarkably like a fireman’s uniform)… This is held in the treasure house of a remote prince, who will only agree to lend it out, if Shen can beat his champion… And there’s not a save point in sight.

The fights are decent, rather than spectacular, and we never get the hoped-for face-off between Shen and the disgruntled ex-girlfriend, who has skills of her own. On the other hand, Li does a good job of working round her character’s disability – though her ability to fly, makes me wonder why she bothers walking anywhere! Lo, who also makes a brief appearance as the heroine’s father, shoots good, long takes which help enhance his lead actress’s talents, and if nothing else, the ending will likely stick in your mind for its unexpectedly downbeat example of altruism and self-sacrifice. It mostly looks very nice, except for a thoroughly unconvincing “volcano”, and all told, it’s a shame this isn’t more well-known.

Dir: Lo Wei
Star: Li Ching, Yueh Hua, Ku Feng, Lisa Chiao

The Invincible Eight

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★★½
“Clearly one-up on The Magnificent Seven.”

TheInvincibleEight+1971-85-bThis early Golden Harvest ensemble piece focuses on a plot for communal revenge against the evil General Hsiao (Han Ying Chieh), who was responsible for killing the fathers of the titular octet during his rise to power. However, he’s not all bad, as he raised a couple of his victims’ children as his own, who are now on his side, unaware of his involvement in their status as orphans. Three of the eight are women, a solidly respectable ratio given the 1971 provenance. They include both relative newcomer Mao as Kuei Chien Chin, who disguises herself as a man – as thoroughly unconvincingly as these things usually are in Hong Kong movies! – to infiltrate Hsiao’s camp, and the more established Miao as Chiang Yin, one of the previously mentioned surrogate offspring adopted by the general. The third is Lydia Shum, who is perhaps actually the most memorable, being loud, abrasive and larger than life in a very physical way.

While clearly not as gifted, she reminded me of Sammo Hung, which is interesting, since he was one of the action directors on this file; he and another well-known future face of Hong Kong cinema, Lam Ching-Ying of Mr. Vampire fame, are among the general’s nine whip-wielding bodyguards. This does at least allow for a touch of variety among the fights, since it makes a nice change to see whip vs. sword rather than an endless parade of sword vs. sword. However, it is still fairly limited in its own way, even if does force our heroes and heroines to come up with a special pair of double swords, which can be used to counter the menace. Hsiao is, as villains go, a bit less cartoonish than you’d expect, his killing having been for purely pragmatic reasons, and his desire to take care of some of the children indicates the acts were not entirely guilt-free. There’s a case his right-hand man, Wan Shun (Pai) is worse, though by the time the eight get past him and fight their way into his chambers, Hsiao is not exactly pleading for mercy.

It is a bit of a mixed bag, both in terms of action and in characters; this kind of thing has a tendency to feel over-stuffed, as if the makers are touting the quantity of characters more than their quality. This also has a negative impact on some of the fight sequences, particularly later on, when you have, literally, eight fights going on simultaneously, and as an early Golden Harvest film, they are still clearly finding their feet artistically. Lo Wei would go on to help more memorable movies such as The Big Boss and Fist of Fury, though how much of their success was down to him is, naturally, open to question. Certainly, they had something this film unquestionably lacks; a central star who can command the audience’s attention for the entire length, even if it’s passable enough, as a kung-fu version of Ocean’s 11.

Dir: Lo Wei
Star: Nora Miao, Tang Ching, Angela Mao, Pai Ying

The Angry River

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★★½
“A bridge too far.”

angry riverNot just Angela Mao’s feature debut, it was also the first film produced by then-fledgling studio Golden Harvest, who would go on to become arguably the premier name in Hong Kong Film production, up until the colony’s handover back to China in 1999. Even discounting their work with Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Tsui Hark, Stephen Chow, Donnie Yen, etc. and sticking purely to the action heroine field, Golden Harvest were the company behind She Shoots Straight, the Inspector Wears Skirts series and Naked Killer. Their commitment to our field is apparent right from this inaugural movie, where Mao plays dutiful daughter Lan Feng, whose father becomes one of the victims of ‘Poison Dart’, whose name pretty much explains what he does. Cursed to a long lingering death, the only cure is a rare herb.

Lan sets off to find it, crossing the fiery Angry River, going through the Merciless Pass, and encountering another couple of dangers without names, but we might as well call them the Cave of Really Bad Optical Effects, and the Giant Gecko That Knows Kung-Fu. The latter actually defeats our heroine (though she does save 15% on her car insurance), but impressed by her filial piety, she is given the herb, albeit at the cost of losing her kung-fu skills. She then has to make her way back home, which is even more perilous now she can’t fight, and has to rely on the kindness of strangers to protect her, because there are a lot of other people who are also very keen to get their hands on the mystical plant, whose powers extend beyond being merely an antidote to poison. And when she finally returns to her home, a nastier shock awaits.

Maybe it is just me: I kept being reminded of Homer’s Odyssey, with Mao playing the hero, whose objective, simply to get back home is endlessly diverted and derailed by external forces. I suspect any such similarity is, as they say, purely coincidental, and they just share the same basic plot of the hero’s journey, as introduced by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. But there are elements where you can tell it was a debut film, such as the rubber-suited lizard which, it’s charitable to say, presumably worked better on the page than the screen. It’s also a mis-step to rob the heroine of her powers for almost the entire second-half, leaving her a spectator to her own story – even Odysseus only spent a bit of time tied to the mast. Particularly early on, Mao’s fights feel stilted – punch-pause-block-pause-kick – though there actually is a storyline reason for why she has to be reined in to start with, in order that Mao can go full-throttle at the end [like I said, the herb has other uses…] You can see where they were aiming – slightly to the side of the then-dominant Shaw Brothers studio – yet overall, there’s certainly a lot of room for improvement here. As a first effort, I guess it’s okay.

Dir: Feng Huang
Star: Angela Mao, Kao Yuan, Pai Ying, Han Ying Chieh

Deaf Mute Heroine

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★★★½
“Silent but deadly.”

deafmuteheroineThe physically disabled hero has long been a staple of martial arts, to the extent that is is sometimes referred to, tongue-in-cheek, as “cripsploitation”. The One-armed Boxer, The Crippled Masters, Zatoichi – it’s a genre that survives more recently than you may think, with Mat Fraser, recently seen in American Horror Story: Freak Show, starring in 2009’s Kung Fu Flid. While this is rarer for heroines, they are not immune, with Japan giving us the Crimson Bat series, reviewed elsewhere on this site. This is another entry, Wong playing the titular heroine, Ya Ba, who is unable to speak or hear, but can still fight a mean battle, assisted by reflective wristbands that let her see who’s sneaking up from behind, in lieu of hearing them.

She comes into possession of a set of pearls, taking them off some robbers with extreme prejudice. However, this brings down the wrath of Miss Liu (Huang), leader of her own gang, and whose brother was one of the robbers. While her first attempt to kill Ya is unsuccessful, Lui’s poisoned flying daggers do injure her. Ya is found and nursed back to health by kindly cloth-dyer Yang Shun (Ching); romance blossoms, and the pair marry, with Ya figuratively hanging up her wristbands;  she actually puts them away in a box. That’s relevant, because her husband ends up entrapped into responsibility for a friend’s gambling debt by Liu, and she demands he steal Ya’s wristbands as payback. That opens the way for Liu and about five billion henchmen (count may be approximate) to launch their attack. But that’s not the only threat she faces, since lurking in the wings is another talented master, with a previously relationship to Ya and who was left with a nasty facial scar for his pains.

The fights are good. Really good. As in, the final battle between Ya and Lui (below) may be the best of the era I’ve seen between two women – like most of the action here, it’s fast, hard-hitting and imaginative, weakened only by some unsubtle wirework. The film is also bloodily messy, to a somewhat surprising extent, and both Wong and Huang make for highly-effective characters, the latter making up for the former’s silence.  However, the movie grinds to a halt in the middle, as the focus shifts off Ya to her husband, who is both a great deal less interesting and almost unlikeable. The film is also hampered by poor availability: while the version I watched was as close to complete as possible, that required a combination from three different sources, including one print dubbed into German(!) and another which was sub-VHS quality with a large logo in one corner. That helps leave this short of getting our “seal of approval,” but if a good copy ever becomes available, we might re-visit it. For as I said to Chris, what’s not to love about a wife who never says a word?

Y’know, our couch really isn’t so bad, when you get used to it. :)

Dir: Wu Ma
Star: Sally Wong (a.k.a. Helen Ma), Shirley Huang, Ching Tang, Wu Ma