Tag: 2019

Enhanced

  By

★★½
“X Offender”

The German title for this is, apparently, Mutant Outcasts, and that perhaps gives you a better insight than the official, relatively generic title. There’s more than a hint of X-Men to this, though the superpowered members of humanity in question here, are artificial constructions, created as part of a secret research project by the military-industrial complex. They are now out in the world with the regular population, but are being recaptured by operative George Shepherd (Tchortov) and his squad. Their latest target is Anna (Bale), who had been living quietly as a car mechanic, until she’s forced to use her powers after a gang of thugs show up. That gets her on George’s radar – but also that of David (Mark). While initially, he seems on Anna’s side, turns out he has been killing the superpowered citizens, and absorbing their powers into himself.

There’s a nice mix of grey here, in that George shifts sides as he realizes the truth. But the authorities, such as his boss Captain Williams (Holmes) are not “evil,” as such, but genuinely believe the escapees present a serious threat to the rest of the population. To some extent, he’s not wrong, as the potential for their powers in the wrong hands e.g. David’s, is very significant. It might have been nice if he had been one of them too, for balance; the actual explanation is, I must admit, rather implausible, even in a film about vat-grown mutants with paranormal abilities. It all builds in a rather predictable way to the face-off at the headquarters of Military-Industrial Incorporated, where David walks in, and starts tossing bodies about like rag-dolls.

The director’s background is in the stunt world, and you can tell this, with plenty of scenes of his colleagues throwing themselves around enthusiastically. I was rather disappointed with the lack of screen-time given to Anna’s powers, though this is somewhat redeemed by a good hand-to-hand battle between her and David which forms the film’s climax. To that point, I was seriously wondering whether this should even be reviewed here, but it managed to push the needle over the necessary red line. Most of the time, this is adequately entertaining, though comes off more as an upper-tier SyFy original movie: workmanlike, rather than memorable.

Indeed, I watched it less than an hour ago, and already found myself having to Google certain points like character names. Bale does make a reasonably good impression; she comes over a little like a low-rent version of Tatiana Maslany. The rest of the cast, however, struggle to create any significant impact; the line between them and the generic stuntmen that go flying around is a thin one. There is definitely a strong sense of deja vu in the overall concept: if you’ve not seen several films or series about poor, unfortunate superheroes being persecuted, you’re clearly not trying! But this is reasonably well-executed as to just about get over the red line as passable entertainment too.

Dir: James Mark
Star: Alanna Bale, George Tchortov, Chris Mark, Adrian Holmes

Rag Doll

  By

★★★
“Punching up”

Truth be told, this took me two attempts to get through. The first foundered inside about thirty minutes, because I just wasn’t feeling it at the time. The movie made so little impression I managed to forget completely I’d seen it, and so it eventually made its way back onto my watch-list. When I realized this, I almost debated nixing it again; however, I persisted, and am at least somewhat glad I did. If falling well short of being a classic – not least, because of a twist ending which is both superfluous and a terrible misfire – there is enough here to merit a review.

Nora (Murray) is juggling several life elements, all of which demand more than she is able or prepared to give, and which are interfering with each other. Firstly, she has a mother, Catherine (Erb) with stage 4 cancer, requiring constant care. Then there’s her job, which involves cleaning motel rooms – and, to make ends meet, turning occasional tricks. Finally, there’s her actual passion: mixed martial-arts at a local gym, under the eagle eye of trainer Rosheen (Jones). Nora is there mostly as a sparring partner (read: punching-bag) for the more talented Aisha (Sanchez). But there’s a tournament for female MMA’ers coming up, with a $100,000 prize. That would take care of a lot of her problems, if she could win it. Life, however, appears to have other plans for her, not least her workmates’ intense, increasing dislike of her.

It’s a very earnest film, with not much in the way of light-hearted moments, beyond Catherine’s death-bed self-sarcasm. It stands almost entirely on the strength of Murray’s performance, which is intense to the point of occasionally being uncomfortable to watch. The MMA scenes are well-staged, the camera getting right in there with the participants, and incorporating some particularly good audio work (you can hear the muscles stretching). These elements work much better than the script, which is an awkward combination of sports movie cliche with kitchen-sink working-class drama, and is not particular convincing as either. In particular, there’s an attempt to shoehorn in a romantic subplot for Nora, which ends up being more cringeworthy than effective. Indeed, the same goes for the sexual tension between Nora and Aisha, though fortunately, that lasts just one scene.

The problem is that neither Nora nor the film need anyone else. She’s the very epitome of a strong, independent heroine, who is trying to make her way in life, through circumstances which would reduce most of us to a wreck in short order. Simply having her handle this would prove sufficient drama for most purposes. Neither the romantic entanglements nor the climactic tournament offer as much proof of life as, for example, her standing up against her part-time pimp. Then there’s that twist, which presumably seemed like a good idea. At some point. To someone or other. I can’t imagine when or who though. I would not be averse to seeing Murray in future, however, on the basis of her powerful performance here. Providing you are in the right mood, anyway.

Dir: Bailey Kobe
Star: Shannon Murray, Stephanie Erb, Dot-Marie Jones, Roxana Sanchez

The Devil to Pay

  By

★★★★

“The hills have eyes. And hands, apparently.”

In the Appalachian Mountains, the residents are fiercely, even ferociously independent. They live by their own rules, known as the Creed. It’s a harsh, Old Testament version of law, which replaces conventional society. The lifestyle is well explained in a quote from a census taker which opens the film: “They want nothing from you, and God help you if you try to interfere.” It’s in this world that Lemon Cassidy (Deadwyler) lives with her young son on their smallholding. Her husband has gone off, but this seems not abnormal. At least, until Lemon gets a summons from Tommy Runion (Dyer), matriarch of her clan. Turns out Mr. Cassidy had owed her, and agreed to carry out a task in payment. His disappearance means the debt falls on Lemon, and if she won’t do Tommy’s bidding… Well, see the film’s title. 

The deeper Lemon gets, the more apparent it becomes she is not intended to get out alive, becoming the patsy in a long-running feud between the Runions and another mountain family. Escaping the fate intended for her will require guts, tenacity, a commitment to violence (when necessary) and the unlikely help of a local religious cult, who are… A bit different, even by the high standards of that term in Appalachian society. We have seen this kind of society before, such as in Winter’s Bone. However, what we have here is so alien, it almost beggars belief that this forms part of the contemporary United States of America. Indeed, some elements, such as the cult, are so out there, it’s positively distracting, taking attention away from the core storyline and characters. I must admit, there were several points where I felt additional explanation – in a format suitable for foreigners like myself – would have been quite welcome. 

The husband and wife duo of the Skyes also wrote Becky, one of 2020’s most effective works, and the script here is similarly impressive. It avoids the typical hillbilly stereotypes; while these people may be different to us city folk, they are clearly not idiots. But the key to the film’s success is Deadwyler, who is extremely good in her role. She’s black, and initially I did have qualms about this; given the setting, I wondered how much her character would be defined by her race. The answer? Not at all, and no-one else even mentions it, the material again choosing to avoid the easy route in its source of conflict. This is simply a non-issue, which you quickly forget about entirely,  and the film is all the better for that. Plaudits must also go to Dyer. She only has a few scenes, yet crafts a scary presence in a woman who can go from discussing the finer points of biscuit making, to threatening to bury you alive in a sentence or two. It’s a casual approach to violence, which makes it all the more frightening. 

Dir: Lane Skye, Ruckus Skye
Star: Danielle Deadwyler, Catherine Dyer, Jayson Warner Smith, Adam Boyer
a.k.a. Reckoning

Robowoman

  By

★½
“Roboring.”

Winner of the 2021 award for Movie Least Like the Poster, we have another poverty row production from the man who gave us Nemesis 5: The New Model. And by “gave,” I mean, no-one in their right mind would pay for it. This is little or no better, though likely benefited from being watched the same evening as Hellfire, which made Robowoman look as if it was unjustly overlooked by the Oscars. It was not a good night, shall we say. The only saving grace was Chris being out, otherwise I’d have had to cash in my entire annual allocation of martyr points. Anyway…

It’s 2024 Los Angeles, and black-market surgery offers cures for almost all ills. A dinner date for Vivica Stevens (Heising) goes wrong when she’s raped and left for dead by Jonathan (Nation) and his pals. Dodgy physician Dr. Michaels (Novak) saves her and outfits the victim with a robo-arm and robo-eyes. Vivica returns to life with her housemate, Evangeline (Price), but is overcome by an urge to use her new-found robo-talents to take revenge on Jonathan and the other perpetrators. But at what cost to her humanity?

First thing: Heising is in her late sixties, though dresses like a woman half her age (let’s just say, I don’t think her encounter with Dr. Michaels was the first time she’d gone under the knife…). While respect is due, it still makes the whole rape thing highly suspect, and some other scenes, such as the gun dealer who comes on to her. The action here is also pure, undiluted shit, largely due to Ferguson’s complete inability to film it. Multiple scenes are shot from behind Vivica, with her completely obscuring any action. Or it may even be a stand-in; her head is frequently cut off by the framing too. I repeat: pure, undiluted shit.

I did quite like Price, who has an easy-going nature in her performance, which appears to have strayed in from a better film. There’s also a scene at a self-defense class where Heising actually emotes to semi-decent effect. However, these elements are vastly outweighed by negatives, such as the lengthy scene of the heroine eating a pizza. Or the robo-arm which is obviously just a plastic glove, while her robo-vision looks like a 99-cent Geordi LaForge accessory from Party City. Or even the sense of location being derailed, by the Los Angeles cops that stop and question Vivica and Evangeline, sporting Texas patches on their sleeves.

With some adjustments, and a budget in line with the script, this might have passed muster. As is, we have to try and believe that hanging up some decrepit blue tarps makes a room a hospital. That’s more effort than this deserves and if you can manage it: well done. Even a walk-on part for scream queen Brinke Stevens (maybe they should have made her the heroine?) at the end, is unable to elevate this to the level of watchable.

Dir: Dustin Ferguson
Star: Dawna Lee Heising, Sue Price, Jonathan Nation, Mel Novak

Hellfire

  By

★
“Hell would, on the whole, be preferable.”

Ir’s not often that I feel my life has become a tiny bit worse for having seen a film, but Hellfire may just about qualify. It’s such a mean-spirited and unpleasant experience, weighed down further by technical ineptitude and actresses who can’t act. Any potential in the somewhat interesting idea – which makes for a good synopsis, at least – is entirely wasted. Someone is killing young women, apparently in an attempt to protect Father McKenzie, a priest under investigation for alleged sexual abuses of pupils at a Catholic school. Chucky (Mercedes) rounds up two of the girls from her class, tattooist Athena (Peach) and stripper Lilly (Divine). After surviving some attacks from a man in glasses (Hoffman), and a betrayal from a former teacher, they decide to go on the offense and track down the pedopriest.

The first fifteen minutes kinda live up to that, albeit in an obviously cheap way – and Lilly is the worst stripper ever, failing to remove even a single item of clothing. I think the point at which this jumped the shark was the extended scene of the trio smoking weed and dropping acid. Watching other people take drugs is among the worst cinematic sins. Would anyone pay to watch me sink a six-pack of beer? Exactly. It is, admittedly, a drug trip necessary to the plot, since it allows the women to recall their abuse at the hands (literally) of McKenzie. But, especially in a film which runs barely 70 minutes including credits, it’s a waste of time. Things only go downhill from there, with the movie basically killing time as they develop their Catholic schoolgirl vigilante personas. Which isn’t anything like as interesting as it should be, attention being diverted by faux pas like the claim the previous victim’s deaths were made to look like natural causes. Oh, so the woman we see in the opening scene, getting hung from a rope in her shower, tripped on the soap or something?

Then there’s the final attack on their former school, where they face the man in glasses, in what may be the worst fight scene in cinematic history, despite the director’s efforts to jazz things up by throwing bad digital FX and screechy sound on top of it. The three then take their revenge on Father McKenzie, and I guess I have to thank the film for introducing me to a genuinely new experience: feeling sorry for a pedophile. Because the former victims’ behaviour is so vile, and carried out with such an abundance of glee, as to make me lose all sympathy for them. It doesn’t help that, of the lead actresses, only Peach knows how to deliver a line with anything inhabiting the same continental landmass as authenticity. The brief running time turns out to be a merciful release, as I don’t think I could have stood a full 90 minutes of this. Let us never speak of it again.

Dir: Moses
Star: Mercedes the Muse, Knotty Peach, Irie Divine, Shawn Hoffman

The Lioness

  By

★½
“Yes, another strippers-on-the-lam flick.”

This will be rather shorter than my typical review. But then, the film is rather shorter than the typical movie. In fact, it only runs 46 minutes and 20 seconds between opening and closing credits. At first, I felt cheated. However, by the end, I was positively grateful for the makers’ economy in this department. A standard running-time, and I’d probably have been gnawing my own leg off to escape. It’s also an object lesson in not taking IMDb reviews at face value. There are currently eight for the movie: all very positive, averaging a score of 8.7. But when you look closer, you realize that every single reviewer has only reviewed this film, with all but one apparently signing up just before posting their reviews. That’s a red flag.

A bigger red flag is, the film sucks. That’s apparent right from the opening scene, where a trio of strippers are debating the stage name one of them, new arrival Megan (Hartselle), should pick. Approaching four minutes are spent on this, so we’re getting close to 10% of the movie’s effective running time in meaningless drivel. It ends with one suddenly proclaiming, “I heard that there’s this stripper, she goes from club to club, stays there a little bid, robs the place. No-one knows who the hell she is.” Cut to Megan looking extremely guilty, and I think a small piece of me died inside. This feeble effort on both script and performances continues the rest of the way, complete with Megan breaking the fourth wall repeatedly to speak to the camera. Which might have been okay if she had anything interesting to say.

Anyway, there’s an opportunistic crime in which another stripper, Goldie (Orebaugh), swipes the night’s takings and runs off, accompanied by Megan. Except, the haul turns out to be rather more than expected, due to the club being used as a front for money-laundering by owner Anna (Ivanova). Consequently, the resulting heat is also above expectations. Stuff subsequently happens, such as another employee, Linda (Gutierrez) wanting in on the take. but I will admit to having largely lost interest after it became clear these “strippers” were going to perform without ever taking their clothes off. They might as well have been nuns. It’s an appropriate summation of the movie: this lioness is more like a toothless moggie.

Dir: Richard Poche
Star: Lacy Hartselle, Gabriele Orebaugh, Giuliana Gutierrez, Desi Ivanova

36 Husbands

  By

★
“Save yourself!”

I have so many questions. Not the least of which would be, how the hell is this ranked a 7.3 on the IMDb? I do note a sharp division among the sexes: male voters gave it a 3.3, while women an 8,3. What can I say? I now know the meaning of the phrase, “Bitches be crazy.” It did, however, cause me to consider my opinion on one topic. There is a school of thought which says that films that intentionally try to be bad, cannot succeed. In the past, I’ve tended to disagree: the Sharknado franchise, for example, certainly has its moments. However, this is a good counter-argument; it’s not just trying to be bad, it strains towards its goal like a constipated elephant – and with much the same end result.

The problem here is, the makers seem to think that to make a parody, you simply have to be worse that what you’re parodying, and that’s where their invention stops. “Look at how shitty we are! Isn’t that funny?” No. No, it’s not. The target here appears mostly to be sixties spy-films, with three heroines (Pasch, Bianchini and Nourney) trying to stop – or at least, delay – World War III, through methods that are almost entirely unclear. Yet I’m really not sure tismakers have ever seen an example of what they’re supposed to be parodying. They possibly just suck at film-making, though I’m sure they and their pals had a fine time globe-trotting to make this.

I’m not sure which are the worst elements. A smugly self-indulgent script which is simply too damn meta for its own good. Line delivery from the three leads that could be improved by replacing them with a text-to-speech program. Or the cringeworthy musical numbers which seems to have escaped from open mic night at your local college coffee house. The makers appear to have a group called Bright Blue Gorilla, whose songs are about as terrible as you would imagine a group with that name to be.  Actually, my mistake. It’s the kung-fu. Definitely the kung-fu: feeble wet-noodle limb-waving, which makes Honey West look like like Michelle Yeoh’s greatest hits. And they don’t even have an ocelot here.

My brain shut down after 20 minutes and I had to physically step away. When I resumed, the rest was little improvement though I will say, the use of one actor to play triplets was surprisingly well-done. If only the rest of the film had remotely approached that standard. I gave serious consideration to simply bailing, and pretending the whole thing did not exist. But if the existence of this review manages to save one person from making the same mistake as I did, then my sacrifice will be worthwhile. So, I persisted, right through the eight-minute credit crawl, including what seems like a picture of every single person involved in the production. Further proof, as if any were needed, confirming the largely vanity nature of this project.

Dir: Michael Glover
Star: Christa Pasch, Roberta Bianchini, Nadine Nourney. Dominic Anglim

Abigail (2019)

  By

★★½
“In Soviet Russia, sorcerers stone you…”

There’s a battle in the middle of this, where the rebels and the authorities engage in a street-fight, and its absolutely beautiful to watch. Their weapons leave black smoke-trails criss-crossing, and the camera swoops and dives through the mayhem in truly lyrical fashion. Sadly, it’s over too soon, and when the characters open their mouths, it’s all ruined, thanks to clichéd lines like, “We can only win if we believe in what we’re fighting for.”

This Russian movie’s setting is dark steampunk, a walled city living in perpetual fear of an lethal, incurable disease. Inspectors monitor the population and at the first symptoms, the infected are spirited away and humanely euthanized. Ten years ago, the father of Abigail Foster (Dalakishvili) was one such victim. But she stumbles across evidence he may still be alive, which brings her into contact with the resistance and, eventually, the truth about the disease. She wants to find out what happened to her father. However, they, under leader and romantic interest Bale (Bochkov) are only interested in pushing forward with their previously scheduled rebellion.

The story is particularly poor, feeling like a hodgepodge of elements from a slew of YA fiction, most obviously Mortal Engines and Harry Potter. It feels very rushed, too, with Abigail going from outsider to at the core of the rebellion in about five minutes. I suspect a TV series might have been a better way to go, giving the ideas here – of which, admittedly, there are no shortage – room to breathe and be explored. Though, in general, the whole “chosen one” trope, in which the central character discovers their hidden gift, and it then blossoms to world-changing effect, is little more than a cinematic dead horse these days.

Not helping matters is the puzzling decision by the makers apparently to shoot in English, yet still post-sync most of the dialogue. This gives all the problems of a dubbed film, with no apparent benefit. It’s no surprise that the only non-synced actor, Eddie Marsan as Abigail’s father, easily comes off best among the performances. Yet even he pales beside the quite wonderful visuals, running from the first frame to the last. These are certainly comparable with the best Hollywood can produce, both in imagination and execution. Throw this on in the background when you’ve something else to do, and it’s near-perfect.

Dalakishvili is…okay as the heroine. She initially seems very resourceful and courageous, yet these traits seem to get submerged after she joins up with the resistance, with Bale doing more of the actual battling than I wanted to see. We do get resolution as to the question of her father, and I have to say, it was probably the film’s most effective moment emotionally, with some genuine poignancy. Coming as it does, with about five minutes left, it was the very definition of too little, too late, and this can only be filed in the box marked “Meaningless eye-candy.”

Dir: Aleksandr Boguslavsky
Star: Tinatin Dalakishvili, Gleb Bochkov, Rinal Mukhametov, Artyom Tkachenko,

A Call to Spy

  By

★★★
“Life during wartime”

There’s no denying the extraordinary bravery shown by female agents in Britain’s Special Operations Executive during World War 2. Largely operating in occupied France, they coordinated sabotage activities, ran communications and generally did everything their male counterparts did. The risks they ran were certainly no less, with about one in three not surviving. We’ve previously had a few articles about them, both fictional depictions such as Wish Me Luck, and more factually oriented accounts, like Enemy of the Reich: The Noor Inayat Khan Story. This occupies a middle ground. The characters are real: SOE agents Khan (Apte) and Virginia Hall (Thomas) – an American with, I kid you not, an artificial leg – and Vera Atkins, the woman who recruited and ran them. But it takes a dramatic rather than a documentarian approach. 

I think my knowledge going in probably slightly weakened my appreciation for the film. Knowing the stories of Khan and Hall, and their eventual fates, largely robbed this of much tension. However, there is still a good deal to enjoy. This may run 124 minutes, but it never drags, maintaining a solid pace throughout. Indeed, perhaps too solid; you could argue for a lack of escalation, the film having nothing identifiable as a climax. That doesn’t stop it from being consistently entertaining, anchored by a trio of good performances. Katic, sporting an impressive English accent, is perhaps the stand-out as Atkins. She has to deal not just with the chauvinism inherent in the era, but also having her loyalty questioned due to her background as a Romanian Jew. Anti-semitism at the time was not confined to the continent.

The bulk of the drama comes from the other two, and the contrast in personalities could not be more marked. Khan has the near-perpetual look of a deer caught in headlights, while Hall, in her cover as a journalist, possesses a calm assurance. However, they both prove to be equally good at buckling down and getting the job done, dodging danger and almost certain death, in the form of the Nazis, on an almost daily basis – something the film certainly puts over. Stylistically, in some ways it almost feels like a two-hour long montage; there are not many extended scenes to propel the narrative, with instead, sequences cutting together the two women’s lives in occupied France.

It’s still effective, and may have been needed to work around the need for some tampering with timelines. It’s not obvious that less than four months passed between Khan landing and being captured, while Hall spent more than fifteen months in action, before having to flee over the Pyrenees into Spain (not the easiest of treks, given her disability). These and other cinematic conceits are forgivable, and all told, this is respectable enough, and very respectful of its heroines. I tend to think though, that this may be a case where the facts are more impressive than any fiction could ever be,

Dir: Lydia Dean Pilcher
Star: Sarah Megan Thomas, Stana Katic, Radhika Apte, Linus Roache

Assassin’s Target

  By

★★
“Tolerable only in small doses.”

There’s an interesting tweak to the situation here. While it is the usual “hitwoman agrees to go on one last mission” plotline, Rosa (Gala) is an assassin who has adopted poison as her weapon of choice. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen this, and it’s interesting because women are, in reality, considerably more likely to kill in that way [Per the Washington Post, “Women are seven times as likely as men to choose poison as their murder weapon”] Her choice dates back to Rosa’s childhood, when she killed her abusive father and complicit mother with belladonna berries from their own garden, and has gone on to choose this as a career, working for… Well, it’s a bit vague. Some kind of British intelligence group, I think, with her boss being Henry Crowford  (Giblin).

Rosa’s latest mission takes her to Barcelona, where someone recently hijacked all the TV channels, to broadcast a message of peace and love. Needless to say, the authorities aren’t having that, so send Rosa – who is keen to retire – to track down and eliminate this threat to the established order. Helping her is Will Gray (Vinnicombe), a former army intelligence officer turned fixer. But as Rosa tries to get closer to the pirate of the high frequencies, things get considerably murkier, as it appears that he is another spook, supposedly killed in action. Meanwhile, Crowford’s boss (Charles) is getting increasingly antsy about her lack of progress, and sends another operative after her, to tie up the loose end she increasingly appears to represent.

Retitled from The Vibe, for entirely understandable commercial reasons, this is also known as – and you’ll be forgiven a derisive snort at this – Impossible Mission. But I’m going by the title under which I saw the movie on Amazon Prime. It starts promisingly enough, and does a good job of capturing the complex and paranoid worlds of both intelligence activities and conspiracy theorists, in which no-one can be trusted. However, it has no clue what to do with its concepts, and gets increasingly bogged down in far too much chit-chat. Not helping matters here, is the number of people, led by Gala, who are clearly not speaking their mother tongue, e.g. pronouncing “arsenic” as “ar-SEN-ic”.

Rosa does very little in the way of spycraft, and doesn’t put her toxic talents to any use in pursuit of her target. Certainly, the cover is entirely inaccurate, since I don’t recall her even picking up a gun. By the end, writer-director Gambino has painted himself into such a corner, there’s apparently no way to escape, and the film simply ends, without any of the major topics, least of all Rosa’s status, achieving resolution. I did keep watching, though must confess this was partly due to the over-enthusiastic closed captioning (which I turned on, since I was treadmilling at the time, and hence wheezing loudly). It describes the soundtrack in terms including “vexed music”, “maleficent music” and, my personal favourite, “dreadful music”. That this was the most consistent source of entertainment throughout, tells you everything you need to know.

Dir: Gilles Gambino
Star: Jimena Gala, Ben Vinnicombe, James Giblin, Leslie Charles
a.k.a. The Vibe