Tag: 2025

Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers

  By

I am quietly co-opting the title of the recent Netflix documentary, for a more general piece on the topic of Aileen Wuornos – arguably the first, and certainly the most infamous, female serial killers. Firstly, I do have some qualms about including her here. After all, she’s certainly not what you’d call an “action heroine”. But a girl with a gun? Definitely. Representing the dark side of that trope, absolutely. But that doesn’t, and shouldn’t, mean people like her shouldn’t be covered here. Especially when, as with Wuornos, they have inspired any number of cinematic works, ranging from the straight-laced documentary to the luridly sensational. Both directions have their own merits.

With that out of the way: was Wuornos, as is often claimed, “the first female serial killer”? That’s largely a matter of definition. There were certainly earlier women who killed indiscriminately, some in much greater numbers than Wuornos’s seven confirmed victims. The most famous would be Countess Elizabeth Báthory – herself the inspiration for many movies – who was accused of killing as many as 600 in 17th-century Hungary. But, in general, multiple murderers seem to have had different motivations depending on gender. Women are more likely to kill for profit; men for sexual gratification.

History precedes her

Indeed, the modern era killer with the highest possible number of victims is a woman – probably one you’ve never heard of. Mariam Soulakiotis, known as ‘Mother Rasputin’, was the abbess of a Greek monastery. She would typically lure wealthy women to the convent, torture them until they donated their fortunes, then kill the “donor”. She also had a scam involving a cure for TB, which inflated her numbers dramatically, albeit through negligent homicide. During her trial, figures of 27 murders and 150 negligent homicides were given, though some suggest the true total for which she bore responsibility was over five hundred. That figure would surpass the tally even of the likes of Pedro Lopez, the “Monster of the Andes”, often regarded as the most prolific serial killer. 

Here are a selection of other women, generally regarded as having killed considerably more than Wuornos’s seven victims – and mostly had cool nicknames bestowed upon them in the media. I’ve not included medical personnel like Jane Toppan, because that would be a whole other list.

  • 35 victims: Vera Renczi, Romania, “the Black Widow” – poisoned two husbands, multiple lovers, and her son with arsenic during the 1920s. But her existence is unconfirmed, and she may be an urban legend. 
  • 17 victims: Irina Gaidamachuk, Russia, “Satan in a Skirt” – pretended to be a social worker to gain access to the homes of elderly women, kill them with an axe or hammer, then rob them (pictured, right).
  • 16 victims: Juana Barraza, Mexico, “La Mataviejitas (the little old lady killer)” – A former pro wrestler known as “The Silent Lady”; like Gaidamachuk, she targetted old women, bludgeoning or strangling them during robberies.
  • 14 victims: Belle Guinness, USA – enticed men to visit her rural property through personal ads. Her crimes were only discovered after her supposed death in a fire, though her fate is unconfirmed.
  • 14 victims, Sararat Rangsiwuthaporn, Thailand, “Am Cyanide” – Borrowed money to feed an online gambling addiction, then poisoned those to whom she was in debt. 
  • 13 victims, Tamara Samsonova, Russia, “the Granny Ripper” – Started killing at age 56. Murdered, dismembered, and in some accounts cannibalized, people in her flat.
  • 12 victims, Enriqueta Martí, Spain, “the Vampire of Barcelona” – Self-proclaimed witch that abducted, prostituted, murdered and made potions with the bodies of small children. That’s enough Wikipedia for me. 
  • 11 victims, Nannie Doss, USA, “the Giggling Granny” – Confessed to killing four of her husbands, her mother, her sister, her grandson, and her mother-in-law by arsenic poisoning.
  • 11 victims, Marie Alexandrine Becker, Belgium, “the Belgian Borgia” – Poisoned wealthy clients in order to supplement her income while working as a seamstress.
  • 10 victims, Jeanne Weber, France – Strangled ten children, mostly while babysitting them, though also including her own. In the most unsurprising verdict ever, found not guilty by reason of insanity. 

Damaged people damage people

If you ever want proof of the above, Aileen Wuornos’s early life would be it. She came from a broken home, her mother filing for divorce from her father shortly before giving birth to her daughter at the age of sixteen. When Aileen was three, her mother abandoned her, and she was taken care of by her grandparents. Who were both alcoholics. Aileen accused her grandfather of molesting her, and by the age of 11, she was sexually active, exchanging her favors for cigarettes and drugs. She became pregnant at 14, and was thrown out her grandparent’s house shortly after giving birth, living rough in woods and turning tricks to survive. 

Her life from there through the late eighties, was an all-you-can-eat buffet of more or less petty crime (theft, check forgery, robbery) and suicide attempts. There was also a bizarre marriage at age 20 to the 69-year-old president of a Florida yacht club. This proved short-lived – likely mercifully for everyone – being annulled after nine weeks. In 1986, she met motel maid Tyria Moore in Daytona Beach, and the pair moved in together. But in November 1989, Wuornos killed her first victim, 51-year-old store owner Richard Mallory. She later claimed this was in self-defense, after Mallory attacked her. There may have been some truth in this, because he had been convicted of attempted rape, albeit back in 1957. 

However, it’s stretching credulity to accept this also applied to all of the six other men she shot dead, between May and November the following year. Naturally, such a spree did not go unseen, with an increasing media frenzy, especially after a witness reported it was two women she had seen abandoning a victim’s car. Fingerprint evidence – obviously, her dabs were on file in Florida due to her criminal record – helped the net tighten on Wuornos. After the arrest Moore, who had fled to her family home in Pennsylvania, agreed to turn state’s evidence against her lover, in exchange for immunity from prosecution. 

In January 1992, she went on trial for the murder of Mallory. After a two-week trial, she was found guilty and sentenced to death. Wuornos subsequently pleaded “no contest” (effectively guilty) or guilty to five other murders, with one left uncharged because the body was never found. She also received the death sentence for those killings. Her attitude and explanation changed dramatically over the years. At some points she stoically maintained the self-defense claim. But at other times, she admitted her guilt, saying in court, “I am as guilty as can be. I want the world to know I killed these men, as cold as ice. I’ve hated humans for a long time. I am a serial killer. I killed them in cold blood, real nasty.”

The wheels of justice ground slowly, as they tend to do in these cases. It was more than a decade after receiving her first death sentence, that Aileen Wuornos was executed, in October 2002. It had taken so long, the state of Florida had switch from the electric chair to lethal injection as the preferred cause of death. Anyone hoping for closure from her final words would likely have been more confused than anything: “Yes, I would just like to say I’m sailing with the rock, and I’ll be back, like Independence Day, with Jesus. June 6, like the movie. Big mother ship and all, I’ll be back, I’ll be back.” To date she has not, in fact, come back. 

However, approaching a quarter century since her execution, the ghost of Wuornos still haunts society in a variety of ways, remaining a topic of dark fascination. There have been books, there have been TV investigations, and even an operatic adaptation of her life. There have, naturally, been movies, at all levels. The best-known is 2003’s Monster, which won Charlize Theron an Academy Award for her depiction of the killer. But we also have seen the more lurid Aileen Wuornos: American Boogeywoman. Below, we’ll cover the first fictional retelling of Aileen’s story; a documentary which came out not long after her death; and as evidence of the ongoing interest in Wuornos, a Netflix film about her, released just last October. 

Overkill: The Aileen Wuornos Story

★★
“Undercooked and overdressed.”

Less than eleven months after Wuornos was convicted on her first murder charge, this TV movie was broadcast on CBS. If you’re at all familiar with the facts of the case, this won’t have much to offer. It does go a little bit deeper into the police procedural, in the shape of Capt. Steve Binegar (Grimm) and investigator Bruce Munster (James). Interesting that it does depict the FBI’s indifference to the case, the investigation basically being left up to the local cops. This gives credence to an article I read, which quoted an unnamed profiler with the bureau as saying there was no such things as a female serial killer. However, said local law enforcement comes up largely smelling of roses.

I’ve a feeling this may be because some members of the police were actively involved in the production, a fact which caused them some trouble due to the conflict of interest. There were, according to The Selling of a Serial Killer, re-assignments as a result, though nothing more formal appears to have happened. This may also have been based on the story Wuornos’s girlfriend Tyria Moore sold, though I’ve not been able to confirm this. The main problem is simply that a TV movie is a profoundly inappropriate medium in which to tell the story of a serial killer prostitute. Particularly one who was a lesbian, though you would be hard-pushed to work that out here. Aileen/”Lee (Smart) and Tyria (Overall) seem much more like room-mates than lovers.

The limitations of the form mean that we don’t really get to see much of… anything, to be honest. The formative influence of Wuornos’s appalling childhood is only seen in a couple of murky flashbacks. The killings themselves come nowhere near the description of them by the authorities as brutal. The closest we get to the grubbiness required for an authentic portrayal is probably the chaste shower scene in which Aileen examines her wounds, behind which we get entirely inappropriate sexy sax music. Though let’s face it: as the picture above proves, Smart and Overall are both far too conventionally pretty, despite being somewhat uglified up. I did laugh at how even the witness sketch impressions of the pair were prettier than the ones actually used by the police. 

As long as you’re fine with an obviously watered-down idea of the story, this isn’t terrible. The actors generally do a good job: I’m not familiar with Smart, but there are points when she is able to capture the body language and mannerisms of the real Wuornos effectively, and her performance does balance between making Aileen sympathetic and demonizing her. I also liked James, an actor I know more from villainous roles such as his replicant in Blade Runner. Seeing him here as a smart detective certainly felt against type. But the whole endeavour feels like a jar of “hot” supermarket salsa. You expect to get something spicy, only to find it has relentlessly toned down for mass-market consumption. 

Dir: Peter Levin
Star: Jean Smart, Park Overall, Tim Grimm, Brion James

Aileen: Life and Death of a Serial Killer

★★★★
“Lethally blonde.”

This is Broomfield’s second documentary around the topic of Aileen Wuornos, having previously made Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer. It’s a glorious doc – one of my all-time favorites – but is more tangential, being about those around Wuornos, seeking to exploit her situation for their own personal gain. He thought he was done with the topic, but he was called as a defense witness during Aileen’s final appeal against the multiple death sentences, largely because among those exploiters was her lawyer at the time, Steve Glazer. But around appearing in the witness box, Broomfield decided to make a second documentary, this time focusing on the woman at the centre of proceedings, all the way up to her execution by lethal injection in October 2002.

What I love about Broomfield’s work is, he goes where the story leads him. Some documentarians – and I’m looking at you, Michael Moore – go into production with An Agenda (caps used advisedly). They then craft the end product towards that agenda. To me, that’s less a documentary than propaganda. Broomfield seems to have a much more open mind, and the results sometimes end up going in unexpected directions. Here, it’s clear that he has sympathy for Wuornos, but doesn’t pull any punches about her personality and mental state. He presents footage both of her claiming self-defense and absolutely confessing to having committed cold-blooded murder. The scary thing is, Wuornos appeared to me to be highly credible in each, contradictory situation. Maybe I’m just easily fooled. Sobering.

Certainly, there is evidence of Aileen’s anger issues. During his final interview, we see how she can go from calm discussion to volcanic ferocity in short order, for little or no reason, and storming out while flipping Broomfield the bird. If there had been a firearm to hand during this outburst… Yeah, watching this, the idea of her killing seven in less than a year definitely seemed possible. Rage and easy access to guns is a dangerous combination. But as the film proceeds, it appears Wuornos’s mental situation deteriorates into frequent surges of paranoia, claiming mind-control weapons are being used on her, and that the cops knew who she was after the first murder, and let her continue killing so they could exploit things in the media. 

Should someone so clearly ill in the head be executed? Political considerations – it being an election year, with the governor wanting to appear strong on crime – appear to have overridden any judicial concerns. A cursory mental exam pronounced her fit to die, and the sentence was duly carried out. On that day, Broomfield was interviewed by the media (a classic case of the snake eating its own tail). He said, “Here was somebody who is has obviously lost her mind, has totally lost touch with reality. We’re executing a person who’s mad, and I don’t really know what kind of message that gives.” As someone not averse to the death penalty, this documentary certainly made me pause for thought, and that alone proves its quality. 

Dir: Nick Broomfield and Joan Churchill

Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers

★★
“More of a propamentary.”

This would likely have benefited had I not watched Life and Death the previous night, because any comparison does not work in this documentary’s favour. Titled on the print just Aileen, forgetting that awkward serial killing thing, this is less balanced, and skews heavily towards Wuornos as victim – of the legal system, her clients and life in general. “Actually, she was made, and that’s chilling,” said co-director Turner, apparently opting to ignore the concept of free will. The bias is apparent, in the way the film concentrates heavily on Wuornos’s first murder, that of Richard Mallory. While that is the only one where there was a full trial, it’s also the only one where I think there’s credible evidence to support her claim of self-defense. The film barely mentions the other six victims.

I won’t argue that prosecutors did everything they could to obtain a conviction. That would be… their job? The footage of a reporter quizzing lead prosecutor John Tanner about Mallory’s sexual assault conviction in the fifties, just made me wonder, how the heck Wuornos’s team didn’t pick up on this? Checking the background of the victim for something like that seems like Defense Lawyering 1.0.1. In general, though, Turner and Cunningham are largely re-treading the same ground as Nick Broomfield: indeed, some footage here appears to be repurposed from his films, or at least comes from the same sources. I was a little surprised how this largely glossed over Wuornos’s upbringing, which I’d have to consider a huge factor in her issues.

The new stuff is mostly from Australian film-maker Jasmine Hurst, who corresponded long-distance with Wuornos for year, and interviewed her in 1997. I felt she was the whole endeavour’s weakest aspect. Her adoration for the killer is wildly improper from that start, Hurst drooling over Wuornos: “She’s like the trifecta. Gay, female, sex worker. And killing white men.” Hey, it is the Netflix trifecta, anyway. Later on, Hurst delivers this doozy of a statement: “It didn’t matter to me at all if none of the men had raped her. Those men may not have raped her in the moment, but they are icons of previous rapists that she didn’t fight against.” That the makers saw fit to leave that comment in the movie, says a lot about their agenda.

For, make no mistake, an agenda is what we have here, and what differentiates it most sharply from Broomfield’s work. Turner and Cunningham aren’t seekers after truth. They are convinced they know it, and want to drag the viewer to agree. That’s why we get comments on Reddit about the film like, “I feel so dumb for falling for the Aileen is evil stuff. This doc changed my mind completely.” More than one thing can be true, y’know. Yes, she did not receive a fair trial. Yes, she had a rough life. But she was also evil, and an incredibly angry sociopath. Not that you’d know it from the footage here, almost all showing Wuornos at her most serene.

Dir: Emily Turner, Kirsty Cunningham

Hunting Jessica Brok

  By

★★★★
“What a silly hunt.”

This is a rough, to the point of savage, piece of cinema. If you do not like seeing people get their head blown apart, you should stay away, because that happens more then once here. The provider thereof is Jessica Brok (Jones), who was once part of a black ops operation which went across the border from South Africa into Angola, in search of a poaching ring, only to find far worse. The subsequent ambush wiped out most of her team, though she was able to kill the brother of the poacher’s leader. Over a decade later, she is finished with the business, and living quietly with her young daughter, under a new identity. The business, however, is not finished with her. 

For the leader, Lazar Ipacs (Lukunku), has been harbouring a grudge against Jessica, and has finally tracked her down. With the help of a former colleague, Daniel (Berning), he lures her into a trap and prepares to make her regret… Absolutely everything. But Daniel has second thoughts, throwing Jessica a lifeline which lets her escape. The hunt is on. The only question is, who is the hunter and who is the hunted? After a few lower-tier henchmen are taken out, Lazar’s wife Sherri (Mboya) discovers Jessica has a daughter, and Lazar kidnaps her, intending to use the child as leverage. If you’re thinking that might be a bit of a poor decision, give yourself two points. 

The best thing I can say about this is, while running comfortably over two hours, it doesn’t feel like it at all. There’s not much of a lull: a brief period of peace depicting Jessica’s new life working on a wildlife sanctuary is as quiet as things get. Once she is kidnapped, there is little pause for breath thereafter. It is fair to say that the action here is more inclined towards the comic-book, rather than the realistic. Jessica, for example, takes more damage than any normal human could be expected to survive. She takes an arrow right through the thigh, and basically shrugs it off, while stepping on a grenade booby-trap leaves her with little more than slight tinnitus. However, the same goes for Lazar and Daniel. 

Taken in that spirit, I enjoyed this a great deal, and it’s the first film I’ve watched in 2026 to merit our Seal of Approval. The characters here are broadly-drawn, yet no less effective for it. Credit especially to Lukunku and Mboya, who make a spousal pair who are the stuff of your worst nightmares. The script doesn’t do anything particularly new – especially obvious, the way Lazar and his men spurn opportunity after opportunity to kill Jessica, to the point it begins to feel like a deliberate running joke. Yet it feels like its simplicity leaves the film stripped-down and lean, rather than underwritten. I suspect director/co-writer Orr might be a big fan of Revenge. I am too: there’s much worse from which to take inspiration.

Dir: Alastair Orr
Star: Danica De La Rey Jones, Richard Lukunku, Clyde Berning, Hlubi Mboya

A Breed Apart

  By

★★½
“Dogged by problems”

I’ve seen a lot of reviews slagging this off as irredeemably bad, and that’s fair comment. Its execution is often lazy to the point of incompetence, and the talents of the cast are largely wasted. And, yet… Was I not entertained? More than I expected, reading those reviews. Oh, sometimes in the wrong way, certainly. But it’s clear the makers were in on the joke. To a certain degree, as with the likes of Sharknado, that critic-proofs it, because it is intended to be stupid and implausible. When you have a dog running around for half the film with a wine-bottle on its muzzle, or canines which can climb trees and ropes… Yeah, it’s clear the creators aren’t letting reality get in the way. 

This is a spiritual sequel to 2006’s The Breed, in which Michelle Rodriguez and her friends land on an island populated by feral attack dogs. Society wasn’t holding its breath for a follow-up, yet here we are. In this version, a film about those events gets abandoned, and 13 years later, influencer Vince Vertura brings five colleagues to the island location to rescue the now thoroughly wild pups. This goes about as well as you would expect, and they quickly start getting turned into doggie chow. Siblings Violet (Curry) and Collins (Steiner), have to try and survive, with the kinda help of Vertura’s personal assistant, Thalia (Gardner), and the other, largely useless, Internet personalities. 

I was hoping for more, based off the poster, and the fact that this re-teams Currey and Gardner, who worked so well together in the awesome Fall. This is not awesome, though I did laugh at the exchange between them:
– What idiots climb up a cellphone tower?
– Someone with a death wish, that’s who.
clearly intended as a knowing reference to their previous film. Oh, and if you are expecting much Hayden Panettiere, given the artwork, you will be disappointed. She shows up at the beginning, then vanishes until the very end. Though she does end up going full Kristi Noem on the dogs, as they besiege the boat on which Violet and Thalia are holed up. [Yeah, I watched a certain South Park episode last night!]

There is some light bow-work from Violet, and it’s certainly a movie that will be appreciated more by cat people, if you know what I mean. You will have to be very tolerant of effects for the dog attacks, which rarely reach the level of anything remotely convincing. Say what you like about The Breed, at least they did use real animals. These are largely bad CGI, and I speak as someone who has seen far too many straight-to-video Chinese films, which set the bar for bad CGI. The Furst’s filmography is littered with movies titled such as Trailer Park Shark or Ghost Shark, and this is not dissimilar. Indeed, at one point a dog falls overboard right into the mouth of a shark. If you don’t find that greatly amusing, this may not be for you.

Dir: The Furst Brothers
Star: Grace Caroline Currey, Virginia Gardner, Riele Downs, Zak Steiner

 

The Beta Project

  By

★
“Beta, in the other sense of the word.”

I usually strive to find something nice to say about most low-budget action heroine films. Maybe the soundtrack is cool. Or there’s one performance which stands out. But for this one, I’m really struggling. The good here more or less begins and ends with the synopsis, which is also why it’s here: “Four women are recruited into an organization that hunts the supernatural.” Mauser does appear to be on board with our field, and we’ve covered a couple of his films before, most recently the fairly decent Lady Lawman. While flawed, you could overlook the shortcomings if you squinted somewhat. This, however, is a clear step back, and was a real struggle to get through. 

In the scenario that unfolds here, there is indeed an unnamed organization, run by Rose (Nash). The supernatural in question is… Well, it’s basically vampires, and in particular the legendary Lilith (co-director Berkshire). She is supposed to have died centuries ago, but the group discover this is not the case. The decision is made to recruit four women to take on Lilith (who is not the hairy dude shown on the poster). Why does it have to be women, you may be asking. Good question. Pity it’s one the film is completely uninterested in answering. Not that it matters, because the group never really ends up getting recruited either. Instead, there’s just smuggler AJ (Rodriguez), who gets paired with the organization’s accountant (!) and… Well, not very much, either. They go rescue one of AJ’s pals. That’s just about it.

What we have here feels like it could, and should, have been taken care of inside the first ten minutes, instead of playing out at feature length, like a pilot movie for a TV series that nobody wants to watch. It’s full of interminable scenes which deserve to have died a death on the cutting-room floor, like the introduction of AJ and pals, sitting around a restaurant. Or the training scene where AJ and accountant get whacked with sticks a couple of times. The latter is actually pointed out by the characters as useless, in a way that I can only presume was intended to be funny. Guess what? It isn’t, in the slightest. 

This is in part because there’s no real difference between the stick-whacking and the “genuine” action scenes, which are utterly limp and unconvincing. When killed, the vampires “explode” in a shower of sparks, in a way done considerably better by the Buffy TV show, approaching thirty years ago. The performances are generally unconvincing too: Berkshire comes out okay, which may explain why she ends up also playing another recruit, Joy, in addition to the villainess. I kept expecting them to be sisters or something, but… Nope. Like so much else here, it was thoroughly pointless. All the goodwill Mauser picked up for the “can do” attitude of his previous films has been wasted; he’s now on my “approach with caution” list. 

Dir: Brett William Mauser and Dane Berkshire
Star: Cristina Cruz Rodríguez, Dane Berkshire, Katrina Nash, Brett Mauser

Stone Cold Fox

  By

★★
“For Fox’s sake…”

I think, if you’re going to try and recreate the eighties, it might help if you were there. I was. Co-writer/director Tabet? Not so much. She seems repeatedly to confuse the look and feel of the decade with the seventies. The repeated needle-drop of Sweet song “Fox on the Run” – actually released in 1974 – is the most blatant example. It explains why the results are a bit of a mess. A well-intentioned mess, to be fair, and you can usually see what they are aiming for. However, throwing a character in solely so they can refer to eighties films like Commando and Cobra, is painfully clunky, and is a more accurate reflection of the approach in which this indulges.

It takes place, as noted, in some vaguely historical period, where troubled teenager Fox (Shipka) runs away from junkie single mother, and younger sister Spooky. She’s taken under the wing and becomes the lover of Goldie (Ritter), a criminal entrepreneur. But after she catches an apparent glimpse of Spooky, Fox feels guilty at abandoning her sibling. She lifts a large duffel-bag of drugs, stolen by Goldie in association with her corrupt cop partner, Billy Breaker (Sutherland) and goes on the lam, looking for Spooky. Naturally, neither Goldie nor Breaker are pleased by this development, and set out to recover their ill-gotten gains. However, Fox has allies on her side too, including ex-combat medic Frankie, who has a Lebanese almost but not quite brother (the film fan mentioned).

While in pre-production on this, Tabet said, “I plan on genre-bending: gut-punching, pulpy, queer stories told with a habibi flare.” Well, apart from having to look up what “habibi” means – and I’m still confused what was intended there, in relation to movies – I guess this kinda works? It’s not very genre-bending, with a random, one-off breaking of the fourth wall at the start the closest we get. And I didn’t feel like it provided any punches to the gut, beyond a gentle tap regarding something regarding Spooky. Pulpy and queer? More so: indeed, it does seem at times like the script is more intent on ticking diversity boxes – not something exactly common in the eighties – than telling a story. This is my unsurprised face, that the film ended up on Netflix. 

It was a little ironic watching Sutherland playing a lawman, the day after his arrest for allegedly assaulting an Uber driver. Such things aside, there are some positives. Ritter makes for a decent villainess, and Mishel Prada is so much fun as Frankie, I’d perhaps have preferred the film to have focused on her story (the synchronised nunchaking was my personal highlight). But for every step forward, there are two back: Chung’s newly-transferred cop character serves no real purpose, and is just a cliché on legs; the same goes for Goldie’s henchwomen. There was more to the eighties (and to eighties action movies as well) than training montages. I should know.

Dir: Sophie Tabet
Star: Kiernan Shipka, Krysten Ritter, Kiefer Sutherland, Jamie Chung

Rogue Angel

  By

★★
“Time is not on its side.”

There is certainly something laudable taking on the challenge of making a feature film in seven days, and on a budget of seven thousand dollars. Doing so, and coming out the far end with anything remotely watchable, requires discipline and commitment. However, it also comes with certain penalties. The end consumer isn’t going to care about any of those constraints. They’re going to look at the screen and see takes which are “good enough,” rather than good, and particularly among the supporting cast, performances by people selected more for availability than talent. I tend to suggest it might be better to put the time and resources into making the best movie you can, rather than the cheapest and/or quickest one. 

Here, we have Angie Baker (Gerhardy), former member of an all-women platoon in the Middle East, who has returned to the town where she was brought up, as her grandmother nears death. There’s a lot of baggage here, including the younger sister she left behind, Lexi (Krause), and the family mine, owned by the grandmother and coveted by certain other relations. Most significantly though, is her fraught to the point of non-existent relationship with her father, Jake (Woodman). There was an incident – we find out the details right at the end – which is why Angie left. And is why Jake ends up buried alive in the woods. Hey, his coffin does have a breathing tube: Angie is not a monster… 

This was Daly’s first feature, according to the IndieGoGo page, and while I have certainly seen a lot worse, you can tell that’s the case, along with the limitations of the schedule and budget. The highly unconvincing attempt to be Afghanistan should have been canned, for instance, and there is an inconsistency of tone in Angie’s character. Particularly at the end, she goes full Rambo, gouging out eyes and slicing off body parts, in a way that seems out of place. Admittedly, at that point we aren’t aware of the full truth – which may or may not justify such nastiness: I’d have preferred to know from the start, bringing us along on her journey of revenge. Trimming 15-20 minutes would have made for a tighter and leaner product too.

It’s interesting to note this was written and directed by a woman: not often the case in the movies we review. Although it’s not often the case in action film-making generally: without being prejudiced, the fact is that women tend to gravitate to other genres. Perhaps as a result, Daly does bring a different perspective to this, though it’s one which paints with a broad brush: about the only man here who isn’t a Neanderthal is the local sheriff (Fowlks). As a starting point, this is okay – it is obviously a start, however, and is likely more successful as a learning experience than as a feature, only occasionally achieving any genuine emotional connection. I would be curious to see what Daly could do, when she takes her time. 

Dir: Brenda Daly
Star: Jackie Gerhardy, Sheila Krause, Dan Fowlks, Allen Woodman

The Cost of Something Priceless

  By

★½
“The Price of Something Worthless”

I think it was the start of the closing credits where I realized why I disliked this so intensely. The film describes itself as, “A Flick by Adam ‘Ace’ Silva.” There’s hardly a part of that which does not make me cringe. Having the nickname “Ace” is one thing: it should only apply if you’re a sixties test-pilot. But putting it in your film is… yeah. Then there’s calling your movie a “flick”. No. Just no. It’s an attitude which, in hindsight, infuses the entire production. But what do you expect, when Silva didn’t just direct it. He also wrote it, edited it, did the cinematography and composed the music. All one hundred and eleven minutes of it. 

The story is about as much of a mess as the movie poster, with a lot of ideas, and woefully little idea of how to put them into a coherent structure. The heroine is Carmen (Maya), whom we first meet ripping off a former boyfriend for some drugs and money, leaving him for dead in the street. Key words, “leaving him for”. He’s not actually dead, and nor is he happy about it. Naturally, retribution is on his mind, and from this spirals off a slew of violent incidents and kooky characters, such as a weird, bald assassin with a foot fetish. Meanwhile, Maya attempts to make her way through the carnage and be re-united with her long-lost daughter, alongside somewhat faithful sidekick Tobias Anderson (Swain).

It’s not so much a question of being unable to figure out what’s going on, and more a case of finding myself unable to give a damn. Carmen isn’t a nice person to begin with. Had we, for example, been given an indication of her maternal leanings early on, that would have been something on which we might have been able to hang our empathy. Instead, we are repeatedly told how she doesn’t care for anyone else, although this is painfully apparent from the get-go. Rather than developing other characters, the film flings them at us, quickly getting bored and moving on the next. Some do have potential, such as the double-act who refer to themselves as Jack and Jill. Don’t expect much more.

I will say, there is plenty of the old ultraviolence. But the execution leaves a lot to be desired, with some of the worst digital muzzle-flashes I’ve ever seen. The last 20 minutes are a parade of completely unconvincing gun battles, with no noticeable damage to property at all. The fisticuffs are better, simply because they don’t need to have digital garbage pasted on top. Carmen does kinda look like the sort of person who would kick your butt: both she and Jill (Krueger) seem to do a fair amount of wandering around in their bras, which is not unpleasant. However, it all becomes a chore, long before an ending which came as more a relief than anything else.

Dir: Adam Silva
Star: Lina Maya, Davone Swain, Steven Staine Fernandez, Jessica Krueger

American Woman

  By

★½
“Doctor in the house.”

I guess some credit is due here for going against type, at least. Molly Reese (Stack) is not your typical vigilante. She’s actually a doctor who works in an emergency room, and suffers a debilitating mental blow when her husband and daughter are both killed in an accident. She subsequently goes to a very dark place psychologically, telling her therapist she has thoughts about killing people. This is particularly unfortunate, after she is unable to save a local mob-boss, and his gang decide she is to blame. For Molly gets to put all those murderous impulses into action, under the guise of self-defense, and then proceeds to take the fight to the gangsters, all the while becoming increasingly unstable. 

It’s an interesting concept, and the potential is there: a doctor using her medical skills in ways of which the Hippocratic Oath would not approve. As noted, she doesn’t initially look like a crazed vigilante, and that might have been leveraged to good effect. However, the execution here is flat-out terrible, in a variety of ways. Stack as the protagonist isn’t particularly one of them, though her descent into insanity is largely depicted by Molly pulling increasingly deranged faces, and steadily worse hair-styles. It’s everything else. For example, the gangsters, who could not be a more shallow cliche of Italians if they tried. We know they are gangsters, because the restaurant where they hang out plays Nessun Dorma on a loop, I kid you not. 

Their competence leaves a huge amount to be desired too, perpetually losing fights – both gun and hand-to-hand – against a middle-aged physician with no previous experience. This makes them largely useless as villains, since they’re no threat. Though Mikey (Rosing), the one mostly in charge of hunting Molly, at least looks the part, ponytail and all. However, the actual battles are terribly staged, such as a lengthy gun-battle in a bowling alley, where none of the bullets seems to hit anything at all. There’s another member of the gang, Vito (Zambrano), who seems to have a thing for Molly. Don’t worry, since this proves to be of no significance. It’s all unfocused and poorly structured, up until an ending so abrupt, it suggests everyone involved suddenly realized they’d made a terrible mistake.

Probably the worst thing in the movie though, is Mollie’s neighbour, David (Tyler). I’m not sure if this depiction of a mentally-challenged individual was intended to provide humourous relief. If there’s blackface and brownface, is there such a thing as “retardface”, where someone pretends to be intellectually disabled for comedic purposes? Even if Tyler is genuinely like that (doubtful), it’s horribly exploitative, and would be among the most cringe-inducing portrayals of the year. It sums up a severely misbegotten adventure, that might have worked better as a short. It certainly has “Not ready for first feature” written all the way through it. Although for writer-director Siegel, the only way from here is up. 

Dir: Artie Siegel
Star: Katelin Stack, Joe Rosing, Frank Zambrano, Vic Tyler

Dead of Winter

  By

★★★½
“Old, bold and cold.”

Thompson seems to be having a second wind, making her first appearance on this site at the age of sixty-six. That’s a decade more than Liam Neeson was when he became an action star with Taken, and probably makes Thompson the oldest debutante here. This comes on the heels of series Down Cemetery Road which, while not quite qualifying here, certainly was more brisk than expected. At this rate, I might even have to forgive her for throwing shade at Audrey Hepburn. No question about the credentials of Winter for this site, since it plays like a cross between Fargo and Taken. There’s not a lot of fat here, certainly. Things kick off just a few minutes in, and barely stop thereafter.

Barb (Thompson) is on the way to a lake in Minnesota – a part played by Finland – for some ice fishing. She gets turned around, and stops at a remote cabin to ask for directions. There she meets an odd man (Menchaca), and notices some blood on the ground. Then, at the lake, she sees the man chasing after and recapturing a young woman (Marsden), so realizes she has stumbled into the middle of a kidnapping plot. After the obligatory “no signal” scene, Barb realizes she is the victim’s only hope. But the man may not be her biggest problem. His wife (Greer) is the real brains behind the operation, very highly motivated, and prepared to go to any lengths to stop Barb from interfering in the grim plan.

I will say, it does take a bit of getting used to, hearing Thompson going full Marge Gunderson, eh? This is no comment on the accuracy of the accent, a topic on which I am not qualified to speak. It’s just odd. However, this is not a particularly dialogue-heavy movie, with Barb spending much of it alone and in the wilderness. We never find out either of the antagonists’ names, incidentally, the end credits just calling them Purple Lady and Camo Jacket. The film focuses increasingly on the two women. Purple has nothing left to lose, generally having the edge in firepower and ruthlessness – as is demonstrated after Barb is able to reach help through a CB radio. But Barb has motivation of her own. 

This comes out in rather clunky flashbacks to the early days of her relationship with her husband. Truth be told, I didn’t feel these added particularly much; the same information could have been provided more efficiently, and in ways which didn’t derail the tension of the current situation. Though I did like how the young Barb is played by Thompson’s real-life daughter, Gaia Wise, I found myself impatient for the film to return to the one-on-one battle, which you know is going to end badly for someone. Or someones. The film doesn’t disappoint there, with a brutal struggle in the middle of a frozen lake, good enough to make me forget the combatants have a combined age of 116. 

Dir: Brian Kirk
Star: Emma Thompson, Judy Greer, Marc Menchaca, Laurel Marsden

Baby Assassins 3

  By

★★★
“Sorry for laughing.”

I am increasingly coming to the conclusion that the Baby Assassins franchise may be some kind of surrealist joke, being played on me by its makers. I really want to love the series and, as with both Part 1 and Part 2, there are moments where I do. At points, I was genuinely considering this as a Top 10 movie I saw this year – not just among GWG movies either. But then, it’ll grind to a halt, with such dedication to being mind-numbingly tedious, that it feels almost like wilful self-sabotage. In reality, I think it’s more likely to be cultural and societal impenetrability. Some elements here are ones which are relatable to a Western audience. Others? Not so much. 

It takes place in Miyazaki, a seaside city in Japan. Our heroines, Chisato (Takaishi) and Mahiro (Izawa) are on a working holiday there. Or a holiday where work keeps interrupting, it’s hard to say. However, their commission becomes an issue, because another, non-guild assassin, Fuyumura (Ikematsu), is also on the job. The guild are unhappy, and order the pair not just to complete the commission, but also eliminate Fuyumura for cutting in on their turf. This will be easier said than done, even with the largely unwelcome help of guild supervisor, Minami (Maeda). She is less than impressed with the Gen Z approach of Chisato and Mahiro, who would rather be in a restaurant eating the renowned local beef. 

As before, it’s the action which really resonated with me, in particular a stunning series of close-quarters battles. And when I say “close”, I mean fights where the combatants are frequently inches from each other. The early sequence where Chisato goes up against Fuyumura is a good example: while there is a gun involved, there’s not enough space between them, for either to point it effectively at their opponent. [This is when I was thinking, potential top ten movie] It’s also notable that, in this installment, most of the sequences involve professional assassins going up against each other in one-on-one, or two-on-one, action, not the mass brawls of previous films. This exchange of quality for quantity is a better opportunity for the participants to show off actual skills.

But the stuff between the fights? Dear lord, this is mostly terrible. And, in a film which runs an entirely unnecessary one hundred and twelve minutes, it’s terrible at near-excruciating length. There are only so many times you can listen to Mahiro worry about forgetting Chisato’s 20th birthday before it becomes a chore, rather than a pleasure. For me, that limit is “once.” Being charitable, this kind of stuff probably plays better to a local audience, or maybe simply one closer to the protagonists’ ages. My tolerance for Gen Z shit is certainly closer to Minami’s, and may be lower still. I’ve no doubt I’ll be waiting for Baby Assassins 4; I just hope the makers decide that joke isn’t funny any more. 

Dir: Yugo Sakamoto
Star: Akari Takaishi, Saori Izawa, Sôsuke Ikematsu, Atsuko Maeda
a.k.a. Baby Assassins: Nice Days