★★½
“Taking the Miike”
While not the first to be released, this was the first movie directed by Miike, who would go on to become one of the most prolific – yet, still, critically-lauded – directors to come out of Japan in the last quarter-century. Perhaps this is well-informed hindsight: yet, if still pretty basic in its content, it does feels at least somewhat above what you would expect from a straight-to-video movie by a first-time director.
Saeko (Kashiwabara) is a retired soldier, living quietly in the city – though not without a touch of PTSD, if her bunker-like apartment is any indication. A former colleague, now running a day-care, calls on Saeko for help after an abduction attempt on one of the kids he’s looking after, whose mother has also gone missing. Those behind the abduction turn their attention to Saeko, only to find out they’ve bitten off rather more than they can chew in the former special forces operative, who has a very particular set of skills, as they say… She’s intent on getting to the bottom of things.
Despite the salacious cover, this is actually relatively tame in terms of content. The only nod to prurience is perhaps when Saeko knocks out and ties up a female opponent, it’s with an elaborate series of knots, which appear to have strayed in from a Japanese bondage film. Overall, it’s better at the set-up than the execution, especially in the second half, when the action takes a back seat – not least to scenes involving technology that have not aged well. Though nor was the print I saw helped, by English subs which seemed to pop out to the bathroom for much of the time.
Initially, I was wondering whether the bulk of the film was going to be a siege on the heroine’s apartment – an idea which Everly subsequently utilized. That could have been a nice way of exploiting the limitation of a small budget, with a claustrophobic setting, turning Saeko into an urban version of Rambo, making the most of her environment. Shame she (and the film) eventually escape, as it’s close to the best part of the movie, and loses a significant amount of steam thereafter. The other memorable sequence introduces Eddie, another former colleague of Saeko’s, who tells a brutal war story to two drunken Japanese women, who laugh hysterically throughout it: the ending has an unexpected, disturbing twist.
Indeed, that applies to the film overall – the final scene perhaps sticks in the mind significantly more than it makes narrative sense. It turns out the kid is the offspring of some high-ranking guy from Moldova (the term “king” is used in the subs; I suspect something was lost in translation there); quite what’s going on remains not entirely clear. Dating from 1991, it feels a little like a precursor of the Zero Woman series from later in the decade. In the light of what Miike would go on to do, it’s something of a interesting curio. But to be honest, if anyone else had directed this, it would likely have been condemned to the memory hole of cinematic history.
Dir: Takashi Miike
Star: Yoshie Kashiwabara, Naomi Morinaga, Kōsuke Morita, Isao Murata
a.k.a. Red Hunter: Prelude to Kill
This is confusing. For the IMDb 
A meteor crashes into Tokyo Bay, creating a cloud of “cosmo-amphetamine” that infects everyone in the area. When they die, that drug immediately takes over, bringing them back to life as flesh-eating zombies. Colonel Kirihara is leading the rescue mission, and sends his daughter, K-ko (Suzuki) into the contaminated zone to scope things out. She finds that one of his underling, Captain Fujioka, is using the chaos to carry out human experiments, deliberately infecting survivors with the cosmo-amphetamine, in order to turn them into an unstoppable force of undead soldiers. He’s not willing to let anyone get out alive, least of all K-ko. Fortunately, her father gave her a battle suit, which helps to even the odds against the living dead army she faces.
It’s hard to be critical of a film for being cheap, when the movie is not only aware of its own cheapness, but wears this on its sleeve like a badge of honour. “So what if I’m made entirely by amateurs with their pocket-money,” it seems to be saying. “We didn’t care, so why the hell should you?” I could list all the flaws here – crappy sound, low-quality video, acting your local amateur dramatic group would reject, awful use of stock classical music that would make Gustav Holst spin in his grave – but its response would simply be “…and your point is?” In the interests of space, let’s largely take those aspects as thoroughly read, and get on with the rest of our review. The setting is Chicago, and far from Armageddon having hit, it looks pretty much like the city we know – trains run in the background, for example. There is some introductory guff, which is hardly convincing, and nor is there anything particular “Prehistoric” about the leading ladies here, beyond a bit of fur trim.
As with the preceding entry, there’s a smattering of social commentary; here, the topic is Vietnamese boat people, who reached Hong Kong in droves during the late eighties. The bad guys are a group of pirates, led by Keung (Chu), who prey on the boats, stripping the refugees of valuables before killing them. On one raid, member of the crew John (Yam) recognizes friend Gary (Chow): while he manages to hide Gary, and stop him from being killed, the stowaway suffers cinematically-convenient amnesia, until the boat docks in Hong Kong.
Sporting the subtitle “Forbidden Arsenal” – though if the poster (right) is anything to go by, it’s more of a domtitle – this further weakens the series by making Cynthia Khan only one-third of the action. She’s joined here by Chen (Lee), a cop from mainland China, and Hua (Do), a Taiwanese policemen, who get caught by the locals while they are operating, independently, in Hong Kong as part of their investigation of an arms smuggling gang run by Paul (Shou). Rather than deporting the uninvited guests, they are brought on to assist Madam Yeung (Khan), but soon discover one of the problems about taking on gun-runners: there’s a good chance they’re going to be rather better-armed than you.