Tag: 2018

Vixen

  By

★★
“Die Hardly”

This is a painfully lazy knock-off of a certain, well-known action film, in which terrorists take hostages in a multi-storey building over the festive season. This action is as cover for their actual goal, which is the robbery of a well-secured vault. But one of the inhabitants evades the initial surge, and begins to run interference. They get help and moral support over the airwaves by someone on the outside, and use the air-ducts in the building to avoid detection. Yeah. It’s like that, and you’ll probably understand why my eyes were rolling when we get the line, “Ho-ho-ho, motherfucker.” Now, there’s no doubt the makers openly acknowledge their inspiration. But pleading guilty doesn’t get you out of the crime. At least other, similarly inspired movies, e.g. No Contest  – hell, even Skyscraper – took the idea and added some of their own thoughts. This? Make the central character a woman who knows martial arts. That’s it.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, of course. But if you’re going to get away with such glaringly obvious plagiarism, you need to be top-notch in other areas. Because this inevitably invites comparison with that certain, well-known action movie, and to put it mildly, Vixen comes out behind, in virtually every aspect. The paucity of the resources is the most obvious one. This supposedly takes place at a top-tier security conference, yet is apparently attended by a total of eight people, and takes place in a corner of a hotel ballroom, screened off by drapes. Do not expect giant fireballs, folks. Or destruction of any significant kind, since they needed their security deposit back. While Chen does her best, she is not Bruce Willis, as she goes from attendee to ass-kicker. And Bendza is certainly not Alan Rickman as the leader of the terrorists. It doesn’t help that there seems to be far too much acting in a second language going on here, particularly obvious when Chen has to use her English. Imagine Willis trying to speak Mandarin, and you’ll be in the right area.

She’s on stronger dramatic ground when speaking on the phone to her ex-boyfriend (Yang), who is her liaison on the outside, and tries unsuccessfully to convince the cops there’s a problem, and he’s not pranking them [As depicted here, Chinese police are, apparently really lazy: the investigation consists of calling up the location and asking if there’s a hostage situation. “No,” says the terrorist manning the switchboard, unsurprisingly] I also quite enjoyed Larkin as the acerbic Scottish organizer of the conference: he comes over as a low-rent version of Gerard Butler. He’s about the only person here who seems to be having fun with his role, embracing the necessary larger-than-life spirit. Otherwise, with fights that are merely okay, and take too long to show up, this feels like a poor imitation of little or no point – something even The Asylum might be a bit embarrassed to have their name on.

Dir: Ross W. Clarkson
Star: Lie-ri Chen, Luc Bendza, Byran Larkin, Yang Yang

The Yard: seasons 1 + 2

  By

★★★½
“Have you ever been in a Turkish prison?”

I really must get round to reviewing Wentworth. The Australian women-in-prison drama certainly deserves coverage here, and has provided some of the best television we’ve enjoyed in the 2010’s. I keep intending to do so, but suspect that will now likely have to wait until after the show comes to a conclusion, following its ninth and final season in 2021. In the meantime, however, I do get to review the Turkish remake of the show. If you’ve seen Wentworth, this version is perhaps as unnecessary as any Hollywood remake of a familiar foreign film. Yet there are enough differences – both in story and culture – that I didn’t mind too much.

The central character is Deniz Demir, a married woman whose husband is shot in murky circumstances, and is sent to prison while the investigation proceeds. There, she falls in with one of the jail’s two “queen bees”, long-term inmate Azra Kaya (Moray). Azra is engaged in a power struggle with her rival, Kudret Ozturk (Kose), the matriarch of a criminal family on the outside. Initially, Deniz is simply trying to keep her nose clean and her head down, while waiting for resolution to her case. However, it’s never as simple as that, and she soon finds herself in deep trouble, especially after being found standing over the corpse of the facility’s warden, holding the apparent murder weapon. Meanwhile, things on the outside are equally troublesome, as Deniz’s teenage daughter, Ecem (Akar) has started a relationship with Alp – who just happens to be the son of Kudret.

When compared to Wentworth, there are some interesting differences, both in content and style. The melodrama here is definitely cranked up several notches: after one tragic moment, it feels like Deniz spends the next six episodes weeping in her cell. However, what you won’t see here is any lesbian canoodling, or even insinuations of such things, I imagine in deference to the still fairly religious nature of Turkey. What this version does, and particularly well, is use music as background to the drama as it plays out. This begins with the domestic clash which opens proceedings, and draws out of a broad tonal range, from 17th-century classical (Henry Purcell’s Dido’s Lament gets used to great effect in the final episode) through to Turkish contemporary pop songs.

I read that, apparently, it aired in Turkey in 2½ hour chunks. Netflix has, wisely, cut these up into 45-minute episodes. It also managed to ruffle the feathers of some authorities, who proclaimed – before it was shown, naturally – that the show would “Feed into public perceptions that prisons impose torture [on inmates]… The promotion of such perceptions of prisons serve the purposes of some terror organizations.” I wouldn’t say it was as good as that… But it’s certainly not bad at all, and if I weren’t aware of its inspiration, this could well be looking at a seal of approval. As is, I do have to ding it slightly for familiarity, and would still point you in the direction of the original instead.

Dir: Yüksel Aksu, Hülya Gezer and Safak Bal 
Star: Demet Evgar, Ceren Moray, Nursel Kose, Eslem Akar
a.k.a. Avlu

The Nightingale

  By

★★★
“Pack your bags, we’re going on a guilt trip!”

History is largely filled with people being unpleasant to each other, usually for belonging to a different race, religion, nationality or even species [if you want to go back to the Cro-Magnons pushing out the Neanderthals about 40,000 years ago]. It’s sad and unfortunate, but it’s not something for which I feel personal responsibility – not least because it tends to work in both directions. My ancestors may have been part of the British Empire who, for example, invented the concentration camp in the Boer War. But my ancestors were also subject to the ethnic cleansing of the Highland Clearances, forced out to make way for sheep. Attempts to make me feel guilty for the sins of my forefathers are thus largely doomed to fail.

And what we have here, is a well-crafted exercise in manipulation. It’s set in what is now Tasmania, then a penal colony where the British garrison were trying to maintain control, both of the prisoners and the indigenous population, using savage brutality against both. One of the former is Clare Carroll (Franciosi), an Irish woman convicted of theft who is now married to another prisoner and working in an army garrison. She is at the mercy of Lieutenant Hawkins (Claflin), who wields a letter of recommendation, which would give Clare and her family freedom, as power over her. Circumstances escalate to a night where she is raped and left for dead, while her husband and infant child are murdered. Hawkins leaves for the capital of Launceston, in pursuit of a promotion. Clare follows, intent on revenge, helped on the trail by Billy (Ganambarr), an Aboriginal tracker, who has also borne the brunt of colonial savagery in his past.

It’s effective, in the same way that a 2×4 across the head will get your attention. It’s not exactly subtle in the parallels being drawn between Clare and Billy, who have both suffered at the hands of the evil Brits, and who subsequently bond over their victimhood. Hawkins is such an evil swine, he might as well spend the entire film twirling his mustache. But despite being such an obvious attempt at generating outrage, it’s not without its merits. Franciosi delivers a fierce and intense performance, as someone who has lost everything, and so is prepared to go to any lengths to take revenge on those who destroyed her life.

Perhaps the most chilling sequence has her hunting down a soldier, already wounded in an encounter with the local population (which seems to have strayed in from an 80’s Italian cannibal film!). The savage way in which she takes him down and then beats his head to a pulp with her rifle-butt… Yeah, she is clearly highly motivated. However, the simplistic way in which white men are, almost without exception, portrayed as stereotypical villains undoes much of the good work put in by the actors, and dampens its overall effectiveness.

Dir: Jennifer Kent
Star: Aisling Franciosi, Baykali Ganambarr, Sam Claflin, Damon Herriman

E.M.P. 333 Days

  By

★★★
“A thoroughly Canadian apocalypse”

Really, for a reported budget of about $6,500 – and those are Canadian dollars, which currently works out to less than five grand in freedom dollars – this is quite impressive. You could argue that trying to create a convincing post-apocalyptic scenario on such a tiny budget is biting off more than you can chew. And there are certainly moments which just don’t work. But in its low-key approach, it’s probably a more accurate reflection than many of the way in which the world might end. Not with a bang, but with a whimper, and a slow grinding to a halt.

In this case, it’s an electromagnetic pulse weapon, detonated high in the atmosphere (most likely by North Korea, going off early radio broadcasts) and wiping out everything that use electronics. Which, these days, is virtually everything. When it does, young heroine Niamh (Ferreri, the director’s daughter) is staying with her grandmother, because Dad is away on a business trip. Initially, they hole up, trying to wait it out, but eventually resources dwindle and Niamh has to strike out on her own. Fortunately, Dad was a bit of a prepper and so she is better prepared than most girls her age for life in the new, primitive world, as well as encountering other survivors, both good and bad.

Undeniably, you have to allow a lot of leeway for the very limited resources. Even given the rural setting, it’s never clear to where 99% of the population has gone, or why; a throwaway line saying, “A bunch of people left a few nights ago,” is about as close as we get. The collapse of civilization into anarchy and chaos is depicted by a shot of Niamh and her grandmother, peering out the window and looking concerned, while somewhat riotous sound-effects are heard. All told, as the tagline above implies, it’s a very polite end of the world. It’s also a bit unusual, and therefore refreshing, to see a positive portrayal of survivalists. Rather than the usual wild-eyed paranoiacs, they’re depicted here as down-to-earth, and simply prepared for unfortunate events.

The technical aspects are quite impressive, especially on the visual front where it certainly doesn’t look like a microbudget production. However, the film does drag in the middle. From the point at which Niamh meets another young survivor, Will (Davidson), it seems to spin its wheels for the longest time, despite the pair stumbling across a rare car still capable of driving. It takes the injection of an external threat before the plot begins to move forward again, and Ferreri deserves credit for getting its depiction of killing right, as not something which should be done lightly by anyone.

The movie did tie up its loose ends up a little too conveniently, just when it was looking set fair to be nicely ambiguous. Though on the other hand, this offers a somewhat hopeful note on which to finish things. That might not be a bad thing after a generally downbeat experience, and if it remains the complete cinematic opposite of, say, Fury Road, that’s not entirely a bad thing.

Dir: Adriano Ferreri
Star: Rosa Ferreri, Liam Davidson, Derek A. Bell, Martin Saunders

The Plagues of Breslau

  By

★★★★
“Siedem”

The above is the Polish for “seven”, and in the first half-hour, you’ll be forgiven for thinking that’s what you’re watching: a Polish knock-off of David Fincher’s Se7en. Homicide cop Helena Rus (Kożuchowska) is struggling to come to terms with life, after her boyfriend is killed by a drunk-driver and, for political reasons, the criminal is allowed to go free. A welcome distraction comes in the shape of a series of ritualistic murders: every day at 6 pm, a body turns up on the streets of Wroclaw. The victims have been killed in strange and unusual ways – the first, for example, is sewn inside a cow-hide, which shrinks as it dries, crushing the victim to death. Each has a word branded into their flesh, such as “Degenerate”.

To help her, a profiler is sent from the capital, Warsaw: the equally brusque Magda Drewniak (Widawska), who quickly identifies that the perpetrator is replicating the titular incidents – Wroclaw was previously known as Breslau. In those, the ruler cleaned up town by selecting a criminal each day for gruesome public execution. So far, so Se7en. But just as we were settling in comfortably, the film hurls an absolute doozy of a twist at the viewer, and from then on, all bets are off. It becomes less of a whodunnit, and more a whydunnit, with the killer having a very specific agenda, which might be considerably closer to Helena than is comfortable for her.

Director Vega was previously seen here with Pitbull: Tough Women and Women of Mafia, but has stepped up his game a notch with this. Not least, in the spectacularly grisly nature of proceedings, with some disturbingly realistic deaths and corpses: you will need a strong stomach for a number of moments. However, both Helena and Magda make for excellent characters. The former is perpetually soft-spoken, yet takes absolutely no shit from anyone, despite possessing arguably the worst hair-cut in cinema history. And Magda’s impeccable knowledge of subjects from Polish history to coma recovery, makes her a force to be reckoned with as well. However, they’re facing a killer who is always one step ahead of them, and whose plan will come right into police headquarters.

It ends up being a little Se7en and a little Dragon Tattoo, yet has more than enough of its own style and content to stand on its own terms. It does perhaps stretch belief in some of the elements: a couple of the killings feel like they would require a road-crew to assemble, rather than being the work of a single person. However, in Helena Rus, we’ve got one of the most uncompromising heroines to come out of the European noir scene, and I’d love to see more of her cases in future – even if the ending makes that… somewhat uncertain, shall we say. Just be prepared for a film which is short on genuinely likable characters, and long on carnage. In particular, I recommend having a shot of vodka at hand for the guillotine scene.

Dir: Patryk Vega
Star: Małgorzata Kożuchowska, Daria Widawska, Tomasz Oświeciński, Maria Dejmek

SheChotic

  By

★½
“You’ll need a break.”

Within about two minutes of starting this, I realized I had made a terrible mistake, and was watching something barely reaching the amateur level of film production. Still, I soldiered on – albeit for some loose definition of “soldiered” – until the bitter end, mostly so I could issue an informed warning about this to any prospective viewers. Maxine (Mitchell) is rather upset when she discovers her boyfriend, music video producer Lance (Watts) has been cheating on her with Lana (Bryant). Mind you, she’s clearly a bit unhinged already: for example, telling him she’s pregnant when she isn’t. So it’s not much of a surprise when her reaction to his two-timing is to kidnap Lance, tie him up in her basement and submit him to various indignities, along with seeking revenge on Lana. Which, apparently, includes sleeping with her father (Walker).

If this all sounds like completely ludicrous and implausible nonsense… I have done my job as a reviewer, because that’s exactly what it is, buttressed by poor audio quality, questionable directorial decisions (the conversation where the camera spins around the participants like a hyperactive house-fly was an especially dubious choice) and a final twist which managed to be both out of left field and entirely predictable at the same time. About the only thing which I did quite like, was the way Maxine’s personality splits into two distinct characters. One is urging her on to do ever more malicious deeds, while the other is trying to take a higher moral path. Surprisingly – considering the ineptness everywhere else – it’s decently handled on both sides of the camera. Even if I doubt anyone ever thought, “I want an erotic thriller which largely avoids actually nudity, with a black, female version of Gollum in it,” this aspect is likely responsible for this avoiding a dreaded and rarely awarded one-star rating.

I was amused by the po-faced disclaimer from the director which opens this: “Due to my strong convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses support of violence, abuse against women or other subject matter that may be considered offensive.” Several points come to mind. Firstly, if you have to add a disclaimer to your film like that, you’re doing it wrong. Secondly, it’s little more than empty virtue signaling anyway: It’d be far more notable if a director stated “I wholeheartedly endorse violence.” Thirdly, any abuse here is far more by women: what is Mr. Fiori’s stance on that? Sadly, it appears we will never know, save for the unlikely event of there being a SheChotic 2. Fourthly and finally, it’s never a good sign when the text which starts your movie is worthy of deeper analysis and commentary than 95% of what follows it. Though if it had instead simply read, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here,” it would certainly have been equally valid.

Dir: Leandre Fiori
Star: Erica Mitchell, Robert D Watts, Brittany Bryant, Jason Walker

Book of Monsters

  By

★★★
“Killer party.”

Ten years ago, the mother of eight-year-old Sophie (Craine) was attacked and killed by what her daughter insisted was a monster – a claim to which she held, resulting in her being institutionalized. Now, a somewhat recovered Sophie is about to enjoy her 18th birthday, having organized a party with her friends. But she’s about to discover that the monsters were very real, and just waiting for her to reach adulthood. Fortunately, Mom was a bit of a monster hunter, who conveniently left a book of helpful tips as well as a secret vault of tools and weapons. Together with her pals, Sophie is prepared to make a stand and defend her home against the attackers.

This is, basically, rubbish, assembled on a budget which was clearly woefully short of the needful: the monsters, for example, are little more than blokes in masks. The plot is so hackneyed, it should be pulling a carriage, and the characters are a collection of stereotypes – even if the Goth girl is apparently unable to recognize a pentagram. I’m still unsure whether or not to be annoyed that Sophie’s a lesbian. On the one hand, it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. On the other… Well, it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. Yet, I sense that much of this is entirely deliberate. As the sleeve (right) shows, Sparke wanted to make a British version of The Evil Dead 2, complete with a central character who goes from zero to hero.

And, despite all the shortcomings, there’s an energy here which can only be admired and appreciated. It’s very British nature is one of the factors which help skate past the flaws, and it manages simultaneously to be played tongue-in-cheek and dead straight. The fact the lead actress is the world’s least-convincing 17-year-old (I’m not sure how old Craine is, but she graduated university, never mind school, eight years prior to this!), can only be presumed to be part of the joke. Once things start, they don’t stop, and even when the end results are more than a little rough around the edges, you’re still be more inclined to laugh with the film, rather than at it. The demonic worms which turn into killer garden gnomes are a good example of this spirit.

Similarly, despite my qualms about Craine’s credentials as a teenager, she is by no means bad in the role, and has a nicely-developed character arc. Initially, she’s still damaged by the experiences of a decade previously, yet has largely put that behind her. When everything she thought was her imagination, turns out merely to be an appetizer, you can see her internal steel buckle, yet not give way. By the end, she’s kicking arse and wielding that chainsaw as if to the manner born – which, I guess, she was. For a budget of about £60 grand, Craine and his team undeniably do more than a little. Now, someone give them $5 million and let him remake his own film with the budget it needs.

Dir: Stewart Sparke
Star: Lyndsey Craine, Michaela Longden, Lizzie Aaryn-Stanton, Daniel Thrace

Pickings

  By

★★
“Pap fiction.”

I am not a fan of Quentin Tarantino, outside of Kill Bill. Even as early as Reservoir Dogs, I found his style to be self-indulgent, and could never hear his characters speaking in their own voices, only QT’s. He seems to be capable only of cobbling together elements and influences from obscure, yet generally superior movies, and sprinkling them with pop-culture riffs and dialogue that’s so fake-sounding and artificial, it needs a warning label. So, while I appreciate the irony of someone ripping off the master of rip-off cinema, as Morgan does here, it’s not a world into which I willingly travel.

The influence here is palpable from the opening scene, when bar owner Jo Lee-Haywood (Price) is interrogating a thug she has captured and, it turns out, is tied up in a backroom of the bar she runs. Jo ends up talking about motivational speaker Tony Robbins, and how everyone is motivated by pleasure or fear, in a speech which couldn’t be more Quentin Tarantino, if it were licking the heroine’s bare feet. More or less from then on, it seemed painfully apparent this was the kind of film I was going to have to endure, rather than enjoy. And that was largely correct.

Jo, it turns out, is in debt to some rather nasty people, in particular a gangster named Sam “Hollywood” Barone (Urbas). He sends his henchmen to make Jo and her daughter, Scarlet (Vincent), an offer they can’t refuse, involving handing over the bar. Only, Jo is all, “Nah, we’re good, thanks,” and is having none of it. For she is not exactly the innocent bar-owner she seems, but came to the small Michigan town in order to escape a particularly brutal past. This isn’t her first time at the crime rodeo, shall we say – as we find out via another Tarantino-esque device, the needlessly convoluted time-line.

Morgan also appears to be a fan of Sin City, throwing in stylistic flourishes such as switching to rotoscoped animation at random. Most of these are more aggrandisements than art, save for Hollywood always being depicted in black-and-white. That’s a great way of indicating his status as a character straight out of film noir. The rest, though? Style for the sake of it, down to the cribbing of musical cues lifted from Morricone scored spaghetti Westerns, and a character who seems to have wandered straight off those same dusty streets. 

And it’s a shame, as in Jo, the film has a character which could have been a classic – even if the whole “left in a coma” thing is also cribbed from a certain QT film you’ve probably seen. Price plays her character like a velvet glove cast in iron (that’s one cult film not referenced!), and it soon becomes apparent that, when it comes to protecting Scarlet, Jo has no limits. Exploring this aspect, rather than making both story-line and players subservient to the movie’s look and feel, would have helped avoid this coming over like a fan submission to TarantinoCon 2018.

Dir: Usher Morgan
Star: Elyse Price, Yaron Urbas, Katie Vincent, Joe Trombino

Immortal Wars

  By

★½
“Batteries not included.”

For whatever reason – presumably misguided stylistic reasons – the great bulk of the film is buried in darkness. Seriously, three-quarters of the film feels like it’s illuminated solely by natural lighting. And given it mostly takes place underground, in rooms with no windows, this is a major problem. The movie reaches its literally darkest moment during an early scene where the camera pans over an underlit set to an even more underlit door where someone has entered to deliver a message. You cannot see who it is. You just hear a disembodied voice, before the camera pans back. It’s a horrible mis-step, whether due to poor shooting, a poor transfer, or a bit of both. It largely dooms the movie, to the point where even an energetic final third is unable to rescue proceedings. For how can you begin to enjoy something you can’t see?

The story takes place in a future world, now divided into ten sectors. A small fraction of the population, known as “deviants”, have developed superpowers, becoming the subject of fear and hatred by regular humans. For popular amusement, there’s an annual competition in which each of the ten sectors capture and nominate their top fighting deviant. They are then taken to a central location and made to battle each other to the death, in a globally-televised contest run by Dominion Harvey (Roberts), which is watched by just about everyone else. So, basically: The Hunger Games crossed with X-Men. On a very, very much smaller budget.

The main heroine is Trikalypse (Gerhardy), one of the ten combatants taking part in this year’s model. Though for the first hour, it’s more chatty, as she bonds with another of the fighters – inevitably, of course, one she ends up fighting later on. But it is refreshingly female-oriented, with both of the finalists being women, as well as the super-boss that the winner then has to take on. However, the film then ends – literally going to the end-credits – just as that fight starts. Fortunately, I didn’t watch this until after the sequel was also available, otherwise I would have been very annoyed. It’s the sort of cliff-hanger you expect from a free e-book on Amazon, not an actual feature film.

Despite the lack of originality, it’s a decent concept and I’d have forgiven this, if the fights had actually been better than mediocre. Instead, as well as the lighting problem, they’re not very well-choreographed, though do have occasional moments which are somewhat effective. I was most impressed with Cruz as bad bitch Dekay, who had the presence, the look and the apparent skills, to keep me at least somewhat interested. But this was small consolation for something which, far too often, crossed the boundary into being genuinely unwatchable. It even managed to waste the talents of Bill Oberst, who shows up for exactly one scene – though at least that’s in daylight – while Tom Sizemore also manages to cameo his way through the darkness. I’m not exactly eagerly looking forward to the sequel, but it’s there…

Dir: Joe Lujan
Star: Jackie Gerhardy, Lindsey Cruz, Eric Roberts, Taylor Kilgore

Recovery

  By

★½
“PTSD might be preferable.”

Dear god, this is tedious. It takes forever for anything to happen, and when it does, the impact is less than overwhelming. Ronnie Price (Pearson, occupying territory somewhere between Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted and Michelle Rodriguez) is a former GI, suffering from PTSD after three tours in the Middle East, who took to “self-medicating” herself with heroin in an attempt to deal with what she went through. This doesn’t do too much for her anger issues, and after one brush with the police, she’s made to choose between prison and a spell in a remote, women-only rehab facility. Reluctantly, she chooses the latter, though it’s not long before her PTSD flashbacks kick in, and threaten to make her stay a brief one.

Before she can be expelled and handed back to the authorities, a blizzard conveniently settles in to the area, cutting the remarkably understaffed clinic off. Then, some of the other residents start turning up dead, and Ronnie’s history of violent rages makes her the prime suspect for the attending physicians, Dr. Barnes (Quattrocki) and Taylor (Starr). With no help from the outside, she’s going to have to prove her innocence, and also use her military skills to protect the rest of the patients from the real killer.

Some credit is probably due – presuming this was a deliberate choice, at least – to both director and lead actress, for making the heroine thoroughly unlikable. When we first meet, Ronnie she’s not a nice person at all, with no apparent interest in getting clean, and only there at all because it seems easier than the alternative of jail. The main problem is, Ronnie never seems to develop from that point. There’s no sense of her coming to terms with her situation and resolving to be a better person, or rising above her issues to acts of heroism and valour.

Instead, it feels as if the audience is supposed to empathize with Robbie, simply because she’s being falsely accused of murder. She can’t even be sure of her own innocence, due to the blackouts. She certainly still isn’t a nice person, and there is hardly anyone else in the film capable of eliciting any empathy from the audience: Dr. Barnes perhaps comes the closest, though she too has her problems. After being largely a dull, druggie drama for the first hour (how many group therapy sessions do we need to see?), it shifts genres for the final third, and becomes a slasher film.

Unfortunately, Liang seems to have no experience of, or expertise with, the horror genre. This would explain why the last act descends into little more than a series of uninspired cliches, Ronnie and the women creeping around the poorly-lit corridors of the hospital and doing battle. I did find slight interest in the realistically brutal approach to the violence: when the “heroine” [quotes used advisedly] administers a beatdown, it feels like the kind of thing a borderline psychotic ex-soldier might do. But as a whole, the cover is a far better film, than the film actually is.

Dir: John Liang
Star: Stephanie Pearson, Hope Quattrocki, Liz Fenning, Mike Starr