Joan the Maid, Part 2: The Prisons

★★★
“Eventually. Again.”

Just as part 1, The Battles, meandered its way towards anything approximating conflict at a pace charitably described as leisurely, so anyone expecting hot Joan of Arc saint-in-prison action will probably want to get a cup of coffee. It’s around an hour and fifty minutes into this before Joan is even captured. Though as the whole thing does run for 176 minutes, there’s still plenty of time for subsequent events. But when the title says “prisons,” it means exactly that. Joan of Arc’s trial, an event that is typically depicted at length in most versions, is here discarded with a single intertitle. One moment, she’s standing on a ship being sent to the English, then there’s a caption “after four months of trial,” and the next scene sees her being sentenced.

This seems like Rivette, through and through. He doesn’t care what anyone else is interested in. He’s going to show the elements of the story which he wants to depict. I can understand where this approach comes from, simply because the trial of Joan is such a fixture of the story. If you can’t find anything new to say about it, why say anything at all? On the other hand, I’m not sure we needed to see, in its place, extended coverage of the coronation of Charles VII of France, apparently unfolding in real time. With Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral just a couple of weeks prior to viewing this, I had already reached my quota of royal pomp and circumstance for the month.

This does mark a turning point in the movie though. Thereafter, it becomes increasingly clear that Joan is losing her influence, being ignored or sidelined. After you have made a king, what more do you have to offer? She is fobbed off on to trivial, inconsequential missions, and Joan is ill-suited to survive the intrigue of court life. Her lack of value in a post-coronation world is driven home by Charles’s failure to ransom Joan after her capture; a price the English are happy to pay. “After four months of trial,” Joan is clearly broken, but they still aren’t done with her yet, intent on forcing her to become a relapsed heretic, with all the stake-related consequences.

Bonnaire is, as in the preceding entry, the main reason to watch this. The heroic confidence exhibited on her way up, is now replaced by a tragic sense of impending doom, which even Joan seems intuitively to sense. It’s all very naturalistic in approach, with Rivette keeping things simple to the point of sparseness. This does lead to the result feeling quite “dry”, and for a movie approaching three hours, there’s not a lot of emotional impact. Indeed, given the lack of spectacle, the movie puts almost all its weight on the shoulders of Bonnaire, and it’s fortunate her performance is up to the task. If it hadn’t been, this pair of films would have made for a very, very long six-hour double feature. 

Dir: Jacques Rivette
Star: Sandrine Bonnaire, André Marcon, Jean-Louis Richard, Marcel Bozonnet

Joan the Maid, Part 1: The Battles

★★★
“Eventually…”

The above refers to the title, and in particular “The Battles”. It is a solid two hours before anything more than handfuls of English and French troops lobbing rocks at each other show up. So if you are here for large-scale spectacle, keep on walking. You will be disappointed. I had a certain idea of what to expect, having seen Rivette’s immediately preceding film La Belle Noiseuse. Admittedly, I saw it largely because I had the hots for Emmanuelle Beart at the time. Otherwise, a four-hour movie, containing lengthy sequences of real-time painting would probably not have been on my radar. But I kinda liked its languid pace (the copious Beart nudity didn’t hurt, let’s be honest!), and so was prepared for things in this to unfold at a similarly leisurely pace.

They do. If you’re more interested in Joan’s character and personality, rather than her deeds and actions, this will rank higher than the above score. Its main strength is Bonnaire, whose depiction is probably the most competent portrayal of Joan that I’ve seen. She may not know how to read or write (there’s a nice scene where she learns how to “draw” her signature), but she is not stupid. Despite the religious visions, she is thoroughly down to earth, and does not take any guff from anyone. For instance, she slaps the hell (literally) out of her brother after he takes the Lord’s name in vain. It’s a Joan who is easy to like.

Indeed, from a secular point of view, it may be the best depiction of why she could lead an army. Some other versions lean heavily on the “God told her to”, almost as their sole justification. But here, even the non-religious should get an idea of why The Maid was able to inspire loyalty in those around her. Yet, she isn’t an emotionless automaton either, getting upset when the British yell taunts at her. To be honest, however, those scenes could not avoid reminding me of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I suspect Rivette may not have seen it, though who knows? Maybe it’s the deadest of deadpan tributes to John Cleese.

If this film gets the heroine almost exactly right, the same sadly can’t be said for some of the other elements. There’s a clunky framing structure, almost documentary like, with people recounting events as if they had previously happened. It took me out of the movie every time it happened. When we eventually do get to those promised battles… Yeah, they probably shouldn’t have bothered. It’s clear Rivette’s heart isn’t in them. For instance, the French break down a section of wall, only for the soldiers scaling next to it, to ignore the gap completely. There’s not even much sense of either climax or resolution, since we know there is another entire movie, waiting in the wings. Bonnaire makes this worth a look, yet I was left wishing for a combo of this with The Messenger.

Dir: Jacques Rivette
Star: Sandrine Bonnaire, Tatiana Moukhine, Baptiste Roussillon, André Marcon

Juana la Cubana

★★★
“Showgirl by night, armed revolutionary by day.”

A long time ago – 17 years or thereabouts! – we reviewed another Chagoyan/Fernandez production, La Guerrero Vengadora 2. It has taken me that long to find another of her films in a format I can understand without having to rope Chris into translating for me (I’d rather save the martyr points required for something more worthwhile). This follows Guerrero by three years, yet is more than slightly similar. In both, the heroine has a secret identity; and both also end with a helicopter going up against a rocket-launcher. Ok, technically it’s a bazooka here. Close enough for anti-government work. For that’s Chagoyan’s main pastime here, after her father was betrayed and executed by the unpleasant Colonel Pereza (Estrada).

To this end, her formal job is as the title character, the star of a nightclub show, where she sings, dances and wears costumes which are capable of blocking out the sun. This gives her access to all the high officials, including her lover, Colonel Montero. But when not performing moderately well-staged musical numbers, she is also Commander Zeta, leading the rebels from the front. She gets some help from the CIA, because it turns out the concentration camp set up by the regime, populated by captured rebels, is being use to provide subjects for a germ warfare project, under the control of an Iraqi scientist. So between stopping that, taking revenge on Pereza and performing complicated cabaret numbers twice nightly, Juana has quite the to-do list.

It is, of course, utterly implausible nonsense, which barely stands up to a first glance, never mind a second one. However, the saving grace is that everyone involved, not least Chagoyan, goes at it with admirable seriousness. The rebels believe in Commander Zeta, the authorities believe in Commander Zeta, and undeniably, Commander Zeta deeply believes in Commander Zeta. Nowhere is this more evident than when she whips her top off to lure government forces into an ambush. I guess it’s fortunate none of the soldiers to whom she bares her breasts, have ever been to her nightclub. But in terms of action, the resulting battle between tanks and horses is likely the film’s best work. It ends in Chagoyan catching a lit Molotov cocktail out of the air, and slam-dunking it down a tank hatch.

Admittedly, that isn’t quite as good as that sounds – it’s only barely lit. But considering the time and place this was made (1994 Mexico), this is impressively progressive. Juana is a decent heroine, not needing a man, yet still capable of loving one. Though by the time we reach the face-off against that helicopter, the body count has been surprisingly high. There are, admittedly, at least two musical numbers too many, to the point where this felt more like a Bollywood production on occasion. However, this was likely still better than I expected given its origins, and I was entertained to a quite acceptable degree.

Dir: Raul Fernandez Jr.
Star: Rosa Gloria Chagoyan, Erik Estrada, Rolando Fernández, Manuel Ojeda

Backstreet Justice

★★½
“V.I. Boreshawski”

It’s difficult to put a finger on exactly what makes this so flat and uninteresting. The individual elements are fine – or, at least, don’t stand out as being particularly troublesome. However, the end product failed to hold my attention, particularly over the second half. It may be a case of the whole being considerably less than the sum of the parts, though if there was a single factor, I’d have to point at the story. This is probably too complicated for its own good, especially in a 90-minute movie: less would likely have been more.

Maybe it’s just the lead actress’s name, but as the tag-line above suggest, I was getting a distinct vibe of V.I. Warshawski from this. That film, starring Kathleen Turner, came out a few years previously, though wasn’t a big success. Still, there’s something similar here, with a female private eye who cracks wise, in a chilly Northern city (here, Pittsburgh; there, Chicago). The main difference is the heroine here, Keri Finnegan (Kozlowski), is burdened by the death of her father. He was a cop who died in the line of duty, but with a severely tarnished reputation, having apparently been on the take. This has hung over his daughter ever since.

As the film begins, she is on the hunt for a serial killer whom the local cops seem unable to catch – initially, it seems he may be a member of the force. However, it increasingly appears not to be some random psycho. Keri uncovers evidence suggesting it’s part of a plot to make the area undesirable; this will then drive down property prices, allowing a local speculator to come in and pick up a bargain. And this isn’t anything new. The evidence points to this kind of thing happening for a very long time – indeed, it appears increasingly like there may be a connection to her father’s death. Needless to say, there are a lot of people who have a very strong vested interest in keeping the past buried.

Kozlowski, best known for her role in Crocodile Dundee, does a decent job as Keri, and seems to embrace the physical aspects of the role, with a fair amount of running, jumping and mild to moderate fisticuffs. The rest of the cast aren’t bad either, though few of them escape the obvious characters typically present in such things. I just didn’t find myself caring enough (read: at all) about what was happening. There wasn’t much of a sense of threat, despite a heroine who has to engage in some Perils of Pauline-esque narrow escapes, e.g. lobbing an explosive device out of the window, just before the timer reached zero. I think it may be that the nature of the threat is kept nebulous and hidden for too long. But the time it became concrete, it provoked little more than a shrug of my shoulders, and I then went back to surfing idly on my phone. It’s all far too forgettable.

Dir: Chris McIntyre
Star: Linda Kozlowski, Paul Sorvino, Hector Elizondo, John Shea

Personal Vendetta

★★
“Heart in the right place, but…”

Bonnie Blackwell (Lesseos) is a battered wife, whose husband, Zach (Bottoms), eventually goes too far, putting her in hospital. He gets a spell in prison, and she decides to take control of her life and become a police officer. However, the scars of her abuse run deep, and she finds herself initially “freezing” when faced with potential threats, due to the PTSD resulting from her abusive relationship.  Encouraged by colleague Bill Starr (Douglas), she eventually manages to work her way past that, just in time for Zach to be released from jail without her knowledge. She discovers that he had been running a human trafficking operation, bringing in Vietnamese mail-order brides, and sets out to take him down.

After this, Lesseos would not star in another film for 15 years, until Double Duty. It’s easy to see why. Much like the rest of her filmography, I wanted to like this, but there were simply too many flaws for it to pass muster, even as a low-budget entity. There isn’t even that much action, to the point that I was teetering on the edge of not including it at all, until the final 15 minutes just about reached the minimum required level. Until then, it’s considerably more a drama, of the eye-rollingly boring TV movie type to boot. You can sense that it’s trying to be an empowering story of a woman’s climb out from under her traumatic experiences. Yet what I actually wanted, was Mimi kicking ass, not heart-warming soapiness unfolding over a shrill and cheap-sounding synth score.

Particularly in the first half, it’s therefore tough going, with Lieb’s directorial style not exactly helping – he apparently never met an opportunity for a montage sequence he didn’t like. Despite the copious efforts to convince us otherwise, there’s absolutely no romantic chemistry between Bonnie and partner John Beaudet (Wilson). Again, it’s an angle without which the film could quite easily have survived, since it adds nothing to proceedings. And don’t even get me started on the ridiculous story-line about Zach not just being a top-level white slaver, but having managed to conceal this activity completely from his wife for the entire duration of their time together.

As in the rest of her movies, Mimi is not the biggest problem here. There were moments where she looked like a middle-aged version of Zoe Bell, and she’s clearly putting in the work on the action side, even if the more emotional acting beats pose some problems. Occasionally the movie even looked like it might be going in an interesting direction. Not that it ever did, but the idea of her potentially teaming up with Vietnamese street gangs to go up against Zach was at least momentarily intriguing. This is the kind of movie which does not need or deserve anything close to your full attention, and if it’s going to be viewed at all, be sure to have something else handy, with which to occupy yourself.

Dir: Stephen Lieb
Star: Mimi Lesseos, Timothy Bottoms, Mark Wilson, Bill Douglas

Guardian Angel

★★★
“Bad, but not bad.”

To explain the above, there are significant chunks of this which are terrible: make no sense, or are flat-out dumb. Its depiction of policing, in particular, is awful. Apparently, if you’re on a stakeout and a deal between two gangs has turned into a Mexican standoff, the best way to defuse the situation is to run downhill towards them, firing your gun in the air – and not bothering, at any point, to identif yourself as a law enforcement officer. I laughed like a drain at that, and there are innumerable other moments of such character stupidity or cinematic incompetence. Yet, none of that stopped me from being adequately entertained.

Rothrock stars as LAPD officer Christine McKay, who is investigating a counterfeit money ring. During an attempted (and very poorly-planned, if I may say so) sting operation, her fiancé is killed by Nina Lindell (Denier), one of the people at the head of the ring, before she is subsequently arrested. Christine attacks Nina at court, and quits the force in disgust before she can be suspended, becoming a bodyguard for hire and living in a trailer with her pet dog – who arguably emotes more convincingly. She is hired by Hobbs (McVicar), a rich playboy, in need of protection from a stalker ex-girlfriend: his choice of McKay makes sense, because said ex is Nina, who has also just helicoptered her way out of prison. It turns out Hobbs’s brother was part of the counterfeiting ring, and is the only person who know the location of the printing plates.

If the above doesn’t sound like it makes much sense… trust me, it doesn’t. Neither heroine nor villainess behave in ways indicating the possession of any notable intelligence. We are deep in “necessary to the plot idiocy” here, and as for whoever wrote the script, their knowledge of police procedure was entirely taken from other low-budget nineties action flicks. But can you realistically complain about such things, in a film whose climax involves gratuitous multiple jet-skis and power-boats, as well as a helicopter? The film exists to show Rothrock kicking butt, and when it sticks to this, certainly does enough to pass muster. Although I’d recommend scheduling a bathroom visit when her boyfriends bites the bullet, so you can avoid the less than adequate efforts at showing distress.

Denier chews the scenery to better effect and, must say, with a female front and centre on both sides of the screen, it’s surprisingly gynocentric. It doesn’t stop there – McKay’s boss on the force is also female (Dalva), as is her first partner – though she dies with even less impact than the fiancé! There are occasional beats where comic relief Hobbs isn’t entirely irritating, and given the low standards of the genre for wit, that’s praise indeed. If still some way short of Rothrock’s best Hong Kong work, this likely rates above average among her American films (again, a back-handed compliment!), and as undemanding throwbacks to a less sophisticated era go, is certainly… undemanding.

Dir: Richard W. Munchkin
Star: Cynthia Rothrock, Daniel McVicar, Lydie Denier, Anna Dalva

Lady Ramboh – Kill You! In My Justice

★★★
“Coherence sold separately. And in another language.”

ladyrambohI have literally been staring at the monitor for five minutes now, and still don’t have any idea of where to start. I’m tempted just to leave you to figure it out, based purely on the Japlish title and the cover. The truth is, you would probably end up with as much of a credible feel for what this entails, as from any, technically more coherent explanation I can provide. My understanding was somewhat hampered by the fact that this was mostly in Japanese, though helpfully, the international cartel of villains did appear to use English as their official language. It appears to concern a group of Japanese “G-men” – a term I thought was repealed along with prohibition – investigating and disrupting the Philippine operations of said cartel. Of course, there is also one G-woman, Miki (Takaki), who has an epic sense of haute couture, entirely befitting the lethal killing machine which she is.

The cartel, fed up with having their evil plans thwarted, decide to stop Miki by kidnapping a couple of her friends. Unfortunately for all parties, the rescue operation ends with rather more corpses than survivors, which sets Miki on an implacable course for a head-on collision, in which she will strap on her battle suspenders (I am so not making this shit up) and stage a one-woman assault on the cartel’s compound. Meanwhile, the cartel, having realized the ineptness of their own staff, who could take marksmanship lessons from stormtroopers, bring in an external consultant, in the form of a female counter-assassin. She is, similarly, strapping on her battle hot-pants (camo, naturally), and is ready to face Miki. Though sadly, it turns out she has some kind of history with another of the G-men, and we are thus robbed of any high-fashion cat-fight, which would surely have been a high point of the cinematic artform.

You may, marginally, be detecting faint notes of sarcasm here. Yet, I have to say, the budget here is all up on the screen, mostly in the form of giant fireballs. It’s clearly not just Roger Corman who made films in the Philippines, to get the most bang (literally, in this case) for his money. There is a cast of… well, if not thousands, at least several dozen, as well as helicopter shots, and in technical terms, it is certainly no less competent than a straight-to-video actioner made in the West around the same time (1994). What it possesses in energy, however, is severely negated by the horrific English dialogue and acting; while I appreciate that this did allow me to follow what was going on, it was mind-numbingly bad. The title gives you a good idea of the level we’re at, though is likely not the weirdest in Ms. Takaki’s career, which (per the IMDb) also includes TV show, Funny or Spank: Airport for 24 Hours.

The film begins with a two-minute montage, which made me wonder if I had been thrown into the middle of some ongoing series. It is, in fact, clips from later in the movie, effectively opening with a trailer for itself. Like so much here, this is likely lost in translation, but here’s the section in question. It probably renders the preceding 500 words, more or less superfluous.

Dir: Suzuki Ippei
Star: Mio Takaki

Dark Angel: The Ascent

★★½
“The devil in the details.”

darkangelThis is actually a really interesting idea. We generally think of devils as “bad” – but what if they don’t see themselves the same way, and feel they are doing an important part of the Lord’s work, by punishing sinners? That’s the concept here, which sees the demonic Veronica (Featherstone) clamber out of hell through a conveniently unguarded exit, to see what the world above is like – let’s face it, since all she gets are the wrongdoers sent to damnation, her opinion is a little skewed. Apparently unaware of such everyday issues as traffic (and likely more importantly for most male viewers, clothes), she rapidly gets nailed by a truck. In hospital, she is treated by Dr. Max Barris (Markel), who is perplexed by the odd behaviour of his new patient, but she pulls a Satanic version of the Jedi mind trick, and convinces him that she should move into his apartment. There, she watches television, discovers that there are plenty of perfectly-good wrongdoers here on Earth who need to be punished, and begins a vigilante campaign to take them out. This draws the attention of both the local cops investigating the trail of corpses, and corrupt local official, Mayor Wharton (James), who becomes Veronica’s #1 target.

I love films with a different take on the traditional heaven/hell division – Don’t Tempt Me is a personal fave – and this movie also raises some interesting questions, about whether it’s acceptable to do bad things for good reason. An example: generally, ripping someone’s spine out of there back is frowned up in most cultures. But what if they have been caught in the act of trying to rape a young woman? Where is your morality now? This isn’t pulled out thin air, and is actually what happens here; Veronica appears faintly perplexed that the victim doesn’t want the dripping spine as a souvenir of the incident. Of course, her ability to do that Jedi thing certainly makes life easier, even when her actions draw increasing attention – “covering her tracks” should be added to her long list: “Things of which I’m entirely oblivious.” It’s a shame that there isn’t more investigation into the spiritual aspects, like the scene where she meets a pair of nuns, and gets down on her knees for them. The poor sisters are even more confused when the cross they give Veronica  bursts into flames…

Instead, the film limps off into something that’s partly a love-story, and partly Veronica stalking the Mayor, neither of which are anywhere near as interesting. It feels as if they came up with the brilliant idea, started filming a movie based on the concept… and only then figured out they didn’t know what to do with it. Things peter out in a disappointing matter, and I suspect the makers (it’s a Charles Band production) were looking to start another of their franchises, alongside Trancers, Demonic Toys, etc. Perhaps future installments could have done a better job of exploring the potential in a universe, which is only hinted at here.

Dir: Linda Hassani
Star: Angela Featherstone, Daniel Markel, Milton James, Michael C. Mahon

Rana, Queen of the Amazon


“Should come with a box of moist towelettes.”

ranaThere are times when watching a film raises existential questions. Who are we? Where are we going? Or, in this case, why the hell did I start this damn website if it means I have to watch stuff like this? I knew, going in, it would be cheap, but I was hoping for something light-hearted, a tribute to the “jungle girl” serials of the forties. Hell, I’d have settled for a micro-budget version of The Perils of Gwendoline, a film which manages to be both innocent and incredibly trashy at the same time. Instead, what I got was something that was badly-made and, frankly, creepy. I think the sequence which drove this home was when American agent Alexandria Solace (Murphey) was running through the “Amazonian” forest [quotes have rarely been used more advisedly] when she falls into a pool of quicksand. And spends the next, seven minutes, thrashing around in the mud, trying to climb out, in painfully obviously pandering to a certain, specialized fetish market. Not being part of said target audience, it was the longest seven minutes of my life. There was also rather too much… strangulation going on – to similar purpose, one imagines.

The feature is divided into three “episodes”, so does seem to be aiming for a serial approach, with titles being “The Jungle Woman versus the Nazis”, “The Jungle Woman and the Flowers of Death” and “The Jungle Woman and the Fangs of Death”. Though would it be churlish of me to note that there is only one actual Nazi? That would be Ilsa Von Todd (Krause, who has gone on to a semi-respectable career in B-horror), whom we first see plotting to take over the world with her army of mind-control zombies. [Actually, we first see her putting on her stockings. V-E-R-Y  S-L-O-W-L-Y] Though she hasn’t exactly got very far – the army count reaching precisely “one” – it’s apparently deemed sufficient threat for the US to send agent Solace down to the Amazon to stop her. Which she does, with the help of Lana, and after significant amounts of thrashing around and unconvincing fisticuffs between the three of them and the zombie.

However, no sooner has Von Todd been returned to the United States, than she escapes and heads back to the jungle, to take revenge on Lana in the second installment. Beginning with the quicksand scene mentioned earlier, this involves also involves Lana being tied up and struggling against her bonds for an extended period, before finally escaping through the kind of ludicrous deus ex machina which does, I guess, also harken back to cliffhanger serials. The finale sees [sigh] Von Todd escaping from federal custody again, but don’t ask me any details, since I had lost the will to live by this point. I do seem to recall a “snake” at one point which was clearly a green sock puppet.  I may have hallucinated this. The best thing I can say, is the theme song is kinda catchy. Otherwise, let us never speak of this again.

Dir: Gary Whitson
Star: Pamela Sutch, Tina Krause, Dawn Murphey, Laura M. Giglio

Femme Fontaine: Killer Babe for the CIA

★★
“The aroma of Troma is not necessarily a good thing.”

femmefontaineFirst off, bit of an retitling faux pas here. The heroine’s name is actually Drew: nobody ever calls her “Femme”, and this part of the title appears to be purely a Troma invention. Which is unfortunate, because “Femme Fontaine” is French for “squirting woman”. As I found out when Googling for an image to illustrate this. It took quite a long time staring at cat videos to detox from that, let me tell you. Anyhow, this is what could kindly be described as a labour of love for Hope, who stars, directs, wrote and produced this. Less charitable opinion may prefer the term “vanity project,” especially considers she never directed, wrote or produced anything else.

Heroine Drew Fontaine (Hope) is an assassin, who gets drawn into a murky web of shenanigans after her mentor, Master Sun (James Hong), an agent turned Buddhist priest, is gunned down during a raid by a neo-Nazi group on his temple [which may have been inspired by a real-life mass killing at a Buddhist temple in Arizona, three years earlier]. Turns out the place was being use to hold cash from an Oriental crime gang run by Mercedes Lee (Dao), being laundered through an adult movie producer. But the Aryan neo-Nation, under their Ilsa-like leader Gertrude Schank (Paxton), are instead going to use the money to fund research into biochem weapons of mass destruction, with the help of a former Nazi scientist. Fontaine is recruited by federal authorities for an off-book operation to infiltrate and destroy the group, which requires an unholy alliance with Lee – who, it turns out, had a relationship with Fontaine’s now-disappeared father.

I hope you were paying attention there, because this will be on the test at year-end. It’s definitely a slog during the early stages, with little or no narrative flow, instead consisting of scenes that start, proceed and end, without connection to the ones that precede or follow them. There’s also no consistency of tone: for instance, Dao appears to be approaching her role largely straight, but Paxton chews scenery at such a rate, she seems to have strayed in from another Troma project, the renowned/infamous Surf Nazis Must Die.  Hope wobbles uncertainly between these extremes, not sure whether or not to take her own project seriously, and that inevitably infects the viewer with a degree of emotional apathy: you can’t commit to a film, if its makers can’t. Things do improve in the second half, and there’s one scene, where Fontaine and Lee are trying to extract information from a prisoner, that possesses a genuine edge which is refreshing. However, this never gets out of second gear; to be honest, I’ll remember the Google Image search much longer than the actual movie!

Dir: Margot Hope
Star: Margot Hope, Catherine Dao, Heinz Mueller, Lynn Paxton