Tag: 2025

Intruder

  By

★½
“Deceptive Advertising department, please.”

“An underground fighter and her estranged father steal a spacecraft to escape a dying Earth, only to face a deadly stowaway who sabotages their life support, forcing them into a fight for survival in the claustrophobic confines of space.” That’s the film I wanted to watch. Unfortunately, it actually occupies only about ten minutes or so, of the hundred for which this runs. The rest is mostly painfully obvious, and not particularly innovative, helpful or even funny, attempts at social satire. It feels like writer-director (as well as cinematographer, editor and producer) Grillo saw Don’t Look Up, and thought, “That was okay, but it needed to be much less subtle, and made on a budget of around forty grand.” 

It takes place in a world where tech billionaire Elon Musk Jude Micah (Douglas) is predicting doom, with the moon about to crash into the Earth. For the low, low price of fifteen million dollars, you too can have your own escape shuttle – the Intruder of the title – and fly off to join the other emigrants in an outer-space sanctuary. After initial denials from the authorities, turns out Micah is completely correct. Eventually (and we’re talking forty minutes in), we get to the point where Bree Hewitt (Godfrey), the fighter mentioned in the synopsis, does indeed hijack an Intruder and head off-planet. After odd occurrences on-board, there is a brief period, as noted of maybe ten minutes, where she does indeed fight the stowaway (Scarola). Then, it’s back to the social satire. 

I suppose, had I gone in with accurate expectations, this might have merited a better rating. There are a couple of moments which actually did amuse me: there’s a faux version of Frank Sinatra, singing a song whose lyrics are basically a serial killer ballad. And the final scene, just before the moon does indeed crash into the Earth, where a TV presenter professes his love for an increasingly horrified colleague. Those were genuinely clever and well-executed. But after the opening cage fight, showing Bree in action – and getting tossed from a pro career because of her failure to stop at the bell – we have to wait almost an hour for her to swing another fist in anger. Which is the reason I was watching. 

The reality is, had I gone in with accurate expectations, I simply wouldn’t have gone in at all. I have no objection to films with messages, but this is a prime example of one where it feels the movie is a delivery mechanism for the message, rather then first and foremost being concerned with entertaining the viewers. As soon as I realized this, I tuned out, because – agreement or otherwise with the specific message aside – it’s simply not why I watch films in general, and action heroine movies in particular. If I want a clumsy and blatant lecture on social issues, I will… Oh, wait. I don’t. At all. 

Dir: Christian Jude Grillo
Star: Dana Godfrey, Iryna Scarola, D.C. Douglas, Andrew Hunsicker

The Arrow Of Girls

  By

★★★½
“Mulan with a Bow”

This movie was inspired by a Chinese Opera story, The Iron Bow Romance, though obviously action’d up for the cinema. The heroine is Xiuying Chen (Meng), the feisty daughter of a former soldier, killed in no uncertain fashion, during the heroic defense of his country during the Ming Dynasty. She and her widowed mother now run a tea-shop, and her father’s heavy bow still hangs on the wall. Xiuying has vowed not to marry anyone, unless they can draw that bow. However, she comes to the attention of the slimy Lun Shi (Pan), the entitled son of a local commander. A conveniently passing martial artist, Zhong Kuang (Wang), helps her escape – in the process drawing her father’s bow.

Xiuying and Zhong have to flee, but discover proof that Lun’s father, Xulong (Li), is in bed with the enemy, diverting supplies which should go to the troops. Turns out he was also responsible for the death of Xiuying’s father. The couple – because, let’s face it, we know exactly where this is going – split up, with Xiuying taking refuge in Erlong Mountain, a hideout for all manner of rebels and outlaws. Here’s where the Mulan comparisons particularly kick in. For Xiuying disguises herself as a man in the bandit stronghold, in order to gain control of its troops and take revenge on Xulong Lun. In the original opera version, the bandit leader’s daughter falls in love with “him”; that doesn’t seem to happen here.

Indeed, even the inevitable romance between our leads is very much pushed to the background. They both have issues of their own to handle, and I was impressed that it’s Zhong who gets captured by the Luns, and dangled from the battlements like a novelty Christmas decoration. Consequently, it’s Xiuying who must rally the troops and has to face off against the enemy. Admittedly, it’s quite a small face-off, and this is where the film’s budget probably hampers it most. I’ve a feeling this was a made for TV/streaming film, rather than a theatrical releaase. Consequently, there’s maybe 15-20 people on each side. However, the emotional intensity here is top-notch, as Xiuying finally gets to confront Xulong Lun. 

It provides a thoroughly satisfying finale, which certainly kicked the rating up at least a half-star. Until then, it had been a little pedestrian, and the action falls into the “competent” category, rather than offering anything too memorable. However, I liked the performances, which are all suitable for the roles, and in general, the production values are decent enough to pass muster. In another world, Disney might have chucked two hundred million dollars at a live-action remake of this legend, instead of deciding to remake Mulan. Would probably still have been underwhelming though. The entire movie is available legally on YouTube (well, I’m going to presume that’s the case for now, until proven otherwise!), and is embedded below for your entertainment. 

Dir: Guoliang Wang
Star: Ke Meng, Yukai Wang, Yang Pan, Yunkai Li
a.k.a. The Legend of the Iron Bow

Street Queens

  By

★★
“Respect the hustle.”

This gets an extra half-star, simply for trying to go in some unexpected directions. I’ve seen enough of these urban flicks to know the template from which they are largely stamped. Now and again, this doesn’t so much colour outside the lines, as forget about the lines entirely. It doesn’t always work. God knows, it doesn’t always work. Still, I respect the attempt. It used the word “duplicitous” inside the first minute, and you get a voice-over saying things like, “The crimson stains of her actions seemed to fade momentarily, offering a fleeting illusion of absolution. A fragile attempt to reconcile the duality of her existence.” That’s some fancy-ass, hi-falutin’ language for a film in this sub-genre. 

Unfortunately, it also manages to be an incoherent mess. Perhaps it makes sense to those involved in the production. I note that, on the IMDb, there are six writers. Okay, technically, one “created by”, one writer, a story editor, two story consultants AND a “screenplay by”. It feels as if they were all operating independently, and only met each other at the movie’s premiere. Because I cannot offer much more insight to the plot than the official synopsis. To wit, “Three formidable women, Nia (Lindsay), Bella (Hankerson), and Dragon (Love) rise to power in the male-dominated realm of organized crime.” Even here, I have questions. For it’s not exactly ‘male-dominated’ – the subject of gender barely crops up. 

Indeed, it seems the trio’s biggest threat is also a woman, the very strange Goldie (Rosario J Anglin), who also goes by another name. “I love blood, that’s why they call me the Stallion,” she says. Um, what? I can see that leading to a nickname like the Tiger, or Wolf. But a male herbivore? Though I will say, she might be the best character here, simply because she acts permanently off her face on pharmaceuticals. It’s disconcerting, and if I’m not sure I’d call it good acting, you will remember it. The basic idea is that our heroines decide to get in on the drug trade, after first robbing a high-stakes gambling night. However, the illusion there is rather fragile, given it seems to be taking place in a studio apartment.

Anyway, they use the seed money obtained there to bribe Dr. Martin (Barnhardt) into supplying them with opioids. Lots of opioids. This doesn’t go down well with a number of people, eventually leading to the trio becoming the target of a robbery themselves. Things seem to get sorted, until a “Six months later” caption, further violence, and we are informed that Street Queens 2 will be coming soon. I’m unsure whether this is a threat or a promise. The coolest thing here might be the animated, comic-book style opening credits; it’s certainly the last point at which much of this makes any sense. It did keep me watching – more or less. Just do not ask me probing questions about anything that transpired. 

Dir: Jibril Haynes
Star: Madeline Lindsay, Khristee Love, Gloria Hankerson, Malik Barnhardt

A Woman Scorned

  By

★★★
“Hell hath no fury?”

This had a fair number of decent and well-done elements. However, it very much feels like these are balanced by the aspects which fall short of adequate. How you react to this will likely be determined by your ability to overlook the latter, and appreciate the former. The basic idea is lean and mean. Sisters Jas (Purvis) and Laura (Pauley) are on a country weekend, when they encounter a car-load of men led by the particularly sleazy Randy (North). This leads to a home-invasion, a dead Laura, and Jas going on a rampage of revenge through everyone Randy can throw at her. Fair enough there, with enough brutal violence to leave the most blood-thirsty satisfied.

But I have questions. So many questions. Why does one sister have an American accent? Why are the villains so utterly incompetent? I mean, they can’t even tie Jas up for ten seconds – never mind taking advantage of the many, many opportunities to dispose of her entirely. Don’t even get me started on the gas canister scene: hello, throw it through the window? How does Jas, who has never been in the area, magically know the location of their headquarters, and so can head straight for it? Where did she acquire that very particular set of skills? All we get is a passing reference to her having taken a self-defense class – all I can say is, these lessons must have been given by John Wick. 

Because Jas goes from zero to stabbing someone in the neck, in about thirty seconds after finding the body of her sister, and takes more damage than a crash-test dummy, without flinching. As for calling the authorities? It’s vastly over-rated. This really leaves her character with nowhere to go for the rest of the film: a slower escalation would probably have been more satisfying. None of the above flaws are necessarily show-stoppers by themselves. The damage criticism, for example, could equally be levelled at the heroine in Revenge. However, they all combine to chip away at this film’s overall entertainment value, in effect leaving it doing the Hokey-Pokey: one step forward, one step back. 

This is before we get to specific elements, like the performances. These are similarly over the place, particularly among the villains. Fortunately, North – who likely has most acting to do, since Purvis’s performance mostly requires screaming – makes for a pleasantly hateable bad guy. There’s some spectacularly bad CGI fire; the practical stuff is fine, with energetic blood spatter, and everyone selling each bit of damage with the enthusiasm of someone auditioning for the WWE. This momentum is sufficient to paper over some of the flaws, though it would be optimistic to say it covers them all, or anywhere close to that. But I am a simple man, with simple needs. Consequently, I’ll always look somewhat kindly on a movie which possesses zero pretensions and a large bucket of red-coloured corn syrup.

Dir: Rebecca J Matthews and Michael Hoad
Star: Megan Purvis, Aaron-Jon North, Hannah Pauley

Howl Coyote Howl

  By

★★
“Ninety minutes of walking around the desert.”

I dunno. Maybe I’m getting less patient in my old age. Or maybe social media has shot my attention span to pieces. But I’ve noticed of late that my tolerance for underwhelming movies has worn precariously thin. I definitely feel like the average rating I’ve handed out on this side in the past year has gone down, as film after film has failed to capture my interest. This is the latest such: the best thing I can say about it is, the creators did a good job of keeping within their means. This means a cast in single digits, and everything shot where film-making is cheap, in the great outdoors.

It’s the story of Anna (Martin) and Gloria (Fernandez), who are on the run from Anna’s former lover, Dante Owens, the head of the powerful Athena Corporation, and are heading for Mexico. Due to Dante’s connections, they can’t cross the border in the traditional way, and hire two coyotes, Mr. Walcott (Sherman) and fake man of the cloth Marty (Corby). to sneak them out of the States. Because coyotes are white and American, right? Naturally, it doesn’t go as intended, with Dante having sent men of his own after them. Plus, how much are they able to trust their guides? If Dante makes a better offer, what will they do? At least Anna is an ex-soldier, with no qualms about doing whatever is necessary.

Outside of one thrown knife, however, you will be waiting a very long time for her to get round to doing it. Instead, you will get a lot of chit-chat, with the women’s – and, therefore, also the film’s – progress towards safety, slowed dramatically by Gloria’s sprained ankle. According to the director, the intention was to create a modern take on the spaghetti Western. Because, according to him, everyone else has been getting it wrong. It should be “a harsh look at American life and the rejection of fascist ideals and the power of the individual.” If I’d seen that sentence before watching the film, I might well have pretended to lose it instead. Though to be fair, I didn’t exactly get any message – least of all an anti-fascist one. 

It feels like the film is constructed backwards. We first meet our heroines as they enter the desert. From who and what they are running – surely a key element of the narrative – is not made clear until very much later, as is Anna’s background in the Middle East. So you’re left with no particular reason to care about the situation. I didn’t mind the performances too much, even if it might have been cool had Marty actually been a priest, rather than just pretending to be one. The problem here is simply an inadequate amount of things happening, until almost the final fifteen or twenty minutes. It’s a poster child for “too little, too late.”

Dir: Dylan T. Sherman
Star: Talia Martin, Gaby Fernandez, Dylan T. Sherman, Francis Lloyd Corby

Dietroit 2 Chiraq

  By

★½
“Aspirations impossible to fulfill.”

I’m not averse to the concept here. The Tubi synopsis says, “Three women rampage from Detroit to Chicago seeking revenge on Davion Legrel I, the ruthless criminal who killed their best friend.” I’d watch that movie: if anyone ever gets around to making it, let me know. Because this certainly would require subdued lighting and a very specific angle, as well probably as some kind of eye condition, before it could be mistaken for the synopsis. I am even slightly interested in lead character Christina (Brazier), a former Army nurse who, bizarrely, alludes to having learned interrogation skills while on tour in the Middle East. This would not be a combination I’ve encountered before. 

Unfortunately, that’s where the good news ends. I guess the synopsis is technically accurate, providing you are happy with a very loose definition of the words “rampage”, “revenge” and “ruthless.” For the main problem is simply resources unable to depict convincingly what’s in the script. The most woeful example is when Christina and pals Robin (Merrill) and Stephanie (Reynolds) arrive in Chicago, and go to a “club” in search of information about Davion (Spearmon). “This is a classy place,” says one attendee. No: it is not. It looks far more like an empty office suite, having folding tables as furniture, and two bits of paper on the wall, with the words “CLUB” and “HADES” printed on them. And don’t even get me started on the woeful rap artist, supposedly launching his EP. 

These poverty-row production values permeate the whole production. There’s a latter sequence supposed to be set in a top-end bordello, where our trio masquerade as hookers (explaining the cover), again for information gathering purposes. To be blunt, I’ve seen condemned crack houses with more erotic ambiance. The problem is, basically, ambitions far in excess of what the makers can deliver. They should have gone the other direction, rather than trying (and failing miserably) to appear high-end. Go low instead, and aim for gritty authenticity, telling a story fresh off the streets – a 40-ounce of MD 20/20, rather than Rémy Martin. Make that brothel an actual drug-den, ugly and grimy, and turn Christina’s journey into a descent to a lower circle of hell. 

The results often left me feeling second-hand cringe for actors likely better than the film deserves, and relentlessly obliged to play make-believe so hard, to try and sell what’s happening. Meanwhile, the rest of the film seems to be actively trying to sabotage them, courtesy of elements like unconvincing CGI muzzle flashes. Though I was amused by the unexpected recycling of one of Pulp Fiction‘s most notorious lines. Specifically, the one about being a holding location for deceased persons of African-American heritage: it probably works better here, than coming out of the mouth of Quentin Tarantino. But it’s a rare moment where this manages to be other than an embarrassment. Even by the standards of this genre, this is well short of adequate. 

Dir: Shawn Woodard
Star: Shavannahre Brazier, Richelle Merrill, Lakeisha Reynolds, Shawn D. Spearmon Sr.

Mary From the Prayer Ward

  By

★★½
“When you order Wynonna Earp on Temu.”

I mean: Stetson wearin’, six-gun shootin’ country gal, on a mission to slay demons, vampires and things that go bump in the West? Yeah, it’s like that. Mind you, there’s a rough start to this, with three minutes of what is likely a top contender for the worst acting of 2026. I guess it’s good to get it out of the way early, and it does make the rest of the cast look like Oscar candidates in comparison. To be fair, Jones is decent enough in the title role. Even when lumbered with some pretty clunky globs of exposition about a 17th-century Satanic cult, she is generally tolerable, and occasionally above that.

Things unfold in the rural Kansas town of Bentley, where a series of gruesome murders is baffling police chief Peaks (Neighill). He seems oddly unaware of the presence in Bentley of Mary, whose parents were fighters of the occult, killed in the line of duty. She now carries on the family tradition, with the help of her blind uncle Hughes (Polk). Naturally, these murders are the work of the unsubtly-named Velkir the Butcher (Smith), who is intent on completing a ceremony originally started in 1690’s Salem. For, y’see, the witch trials there were not hysteria, so much as a carefully-constructed cover-up of the truth, which involved a Satanic plot to raise Hecate. “What’s a Hecate?” asks Chief Peaks. Explanation follows.

It does feel like the structure of the film is a little weird. It’s not until well after the half-way point that Peaks and Mary formally team up, leading to a bit of a gallop towards the obvious confrontation with Mr. Butcher. This partnership requires a diversion, in which Mary takes him on a house call, helping a woman who is reporting strange happening in her home. He blames psychological issues, until she demonstrates otherwise, thereby convincing him of her genuine skill-set. It feels like this should have happened much earlier, to explain the casual way in which this nun is allowed to poke around crime scenes. Well, she’s got a clerical collar on, which seems to demonstrate a loose understanding of religious garb. 

My main issue, however, was the copious use of highly unconvincing CGI, from muzzle flashes and blood spatters, to showers of sparks as the supernatural entities are dispatched. It absolutely took me out of the situation every time I noticed them. Which was every time they appeared. Which was every time anything much happened. Neighill is certainly guilty of trying do much: between writing, directing, editing, co-starring, composing songs, etc. it feels like every other credit is his. But despite a cover pic (above) which makes it look more like Mary from the Special Ed Class, this isn’t worthless. As noted, Jones is an engaging heroine, and Smith’s scenery chewing antics are fun, taken in the right, B-movie way. It’s no replacement for Wynonna Earp. Yet as dollar store knock-offs go, I’ve seen worse.

Dir: Andrew Neighill
Star: Mandy Jones, Glenn Polk, Andrew Neighill, Christopher Thom Smith

The Bitter Taste

  By

★★½
“Olympic-level self indulgence.”

I have to give this credit for being something different. A vampire sports movie? Not a genre cross I’ve seen before. Especially when the sport is… um, modern pentathlon, the least-watched member of the modern Olympics. It’s a five-discipline event, based on the skills needed by a cavalry officer: running, shooting, fencing, swimming and horse-riding. All five play their part here, mostly in the form of Marcia Lorenz (Dordel), a former pentathlete, who is now a hunting guide. Well, was. She just got fired, and has absconded with valuable antique documents belonging to the customer who was responsible. Driving through remote woods, she stops to help a woman by the road, and that’s where things kick off. 

Turns out the woods belong to the Countess Badesky (Wolf), a Bathory knockoff who escaped execution with her four henchmen, but have been locked in their estate for centuries courtesy of a magic spell. They’re not happy about it, but maintain their eternal youth by drinking the blood of penathletes, who are considered the ultimate warriors. It’s unclear what they did before the sport was invented in 1912. Kinda lucky Marcia was an expert in the sport, before injury ended her career. And what are the odds? Those documents she lifted are key to lifting the occult lockdown and letting the Countess roam free. Only Marcia, plus possibly plucky fisherman Josh (Paseti) and local cop George Balough (Alexander-Sieder), stand in her way. 

There is actually more going on, as you would expect in a film running one hundred and thirty-one minutes. Logic is not its strong suit, stuff happening simply because the makers think it looks good. Marcia donning a wedding dress she finds in the castle is one such conceit. Not only does it fit perfectly (okay, it may be a little small in the bust, if you know what I mean and I think you do), she keeps it on while swimming. This kind of thing will eventually elicit derisive snorts, but is perhaps inevitable, with Tolke and Dordel having written, directed, produced, starred, edited and shot the whole thing between them. The film desperately needed an outside perspective to say, “Hang on – that’s a bit much, isn’t it?” 

Dordel was previously in Mission NinetyTwo, which also seems to have been inspired by her real-life activities. There, it was a background in forest science; here, it’s Dordel actually being a fairly adept pentathlete. Her skill-set is spun off in this case, into a batshit crazy film which wears a grab-bag of horror influences on its sleeve. from the hedge maze of The Shining through to blatantly lifting Evil Dead II‘s “Swallow this!” line. Sometimes it works, but it is in desperate need of editing down. A streamlined version of this – with less jerky editing – might have had cult potential, along the lines of Bloody Mallory. Instead, it comes over too often as bloated and self-indulgent, when it needs to be lean and mean. 

Dir: Guido Tölke
Star: Julia Dordel, Rita Wolf, Nicolo Pasetti, Anne Alexander-Sieder

Agent Zero

  By

★★½
“Shaky, in a number of ways.”

Alma Siracine (Vacth) was a black ops agent for the French government, until an assignment in Syria went pear-shaped, and she resigned her position. Seven years later, she’s living quietly with her policeman husband in Morocco, until he’s the victim of a drive-by shooting. She finds the attackers and terminates them. Unfortunately, they are the sons of local arms dealer Manour Khoury (Dazi). Not helping, he is under the protection of the French government, being allowed to operate in exchange for funneling information to them about terrorist attacks. Spymaster Joanna Walter (Bercot) decides Alma is a loose end in need of tidying. Alma, naturally, is of a different opinion, and won’t be easy to clean up.

The main problem here is de Fontenay’s fondness for shakycam in the action sequences. Not just one or two. It feels like every time anyone moves at a pace quicker a walk, the camera immediately starts to have some kind of seizure. It’s clearly a tactic designed to instill a sense of immediacy. Paul Greengrass used it to great effect in the Bourne movies. But it isn’t just a case of taking a handheld camera and waving it around. You need an editor who can assemble the footage into a coherent format. Sadly, that’s what is absent here, and the results are usually difficult to follow, and on occasion liable to induce a headache. 

Consequently, I found myself almost dreading the appearance of an action sequence. Not exactly a good thing to experience during an action movie. Whether it was her brutally efficient dispatch of Khoury’s sons, a motorcycle chase through the streets of the seaside town where she lives, or the final battle with Khoury’s men at the port in Casablanca, the approach is the same. It feels like a throwback – and a most unwelcome one at that – to the style of action cinema popular twenty years ago. I thought we had moved on. Apparently not. The film is (literally) on more solid ground when depicting the murky world of international espionage, where pragmatic decisions are made without consideration of the moral concerns. I actually have some sympathy for Walter and her almost impossible situation. 

Outside of the camerawork, the technical elements are generally fine. The film makes decent use of its Moroccan and Middle East locations, and Dazi makes for a decent villain, believing himself untouchable, regardless of what he does. However, the overall structure feels off in some way, and the film just seems to end in a way likely to provoke a “Well, that happened” reaction in the viewer. Vacth has some effective moments, and the film never totally lost my attention. But it did teeter on the edge more than once, especially when it made me feel like I had contracted an inner-ear disorder. Those with a stronger stomach than I might find more to enjoy here. Wouldn’t necessarily bet on it though.

Dir: Guillaume de Fontenay
Star: Marine Vacth, Emmanuelle Bercot, Slimane Dazi, Niels Schneider
a.k.a. Badh

The Protector

  By

★★½
“Post-apocalypse, talk will still be in abundant supply.”

[Note: not to be confused with Protector] The year is 2042. A plague knows as The Rot has decimated the land, and those who survived it are in a precarious state, with the water supply having almost run out. There is one source left: an underground aquifer which has enough water for a century. Needless to say, its highly coveted, but access to it has been cut off by the native American tribe under whose land it sits, with the road heavily mined by Chief Brand (Greene, in what must have been close to his final role before passing away). Warlord Gael (Aryeh-Or) lets Key (Moreau) out of jail, knowing she has a map through the minefield and can give him control of the aquifer.

But, wait! There’s more! Because another issue facing society is mass infertility, with children almost non-existent since The Rot. Key finds herself acting as guardian to one rare kid, Kellan (Lane) on her journey. Oh, and there’s also a mad pastime called “Dirt-Joust”, which is like jousting, only with hot-rods replacing horses – it appears fuel is not hard to come by – on which the combatants ride on the bonnet. It’s not a career choice with a pension plan, shall we say. To be honest, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of this sport, since the scene we do get is kinda rad. But then, doing so would have only been possible by cutting out the many, many scenes of chit-chat. 

That’s the main problem here, I found. The obvious point of comparison is Mad Max, and in its female protagonist, particularly the new iterations of the franchise, such as Fury Road. However, there, the plot was basically there to act as a delivery mechanism for jaw-dropping action scenes. Here, it’s as a vehicle for moral lectures, pontification and general conversation. It feels as if writer-director Gasteazoro did not understand the assignment, or the rules of the sub-genre. It’s a shame, because there are elements here which work. Not the least of which is Moreau, who looks the part of a world-weary heroine who has had it up to here, and carries herself well, on the rare occasions when she is called into action. 

The film also looks pretty nifty. I haven’t been able to find out the budget: it likely wasn’t a huge amount, yet unlike things like Road Wars: Max Fury, it rarely if ever looks cheap. Some wobbly CGI flames are about the worst element on offer. It instead feels like the film is mostly intended to be a vehicle – pun not intended – for Gasteazoro’s liberal views on a variety of topics, from ecology, through the rights of indigenous people, to same-sex marriage. I would venture to suggest that a post-apocalyptic film might not be the best route to change minds and influence people on these subjects. Give me ninety minutes of dirt-jousting instead, and I might be prepared to listen to you. 

Dir: Raul Gasteazoro
Star: Marguerite Moreau, Aryeh-Or, Mark Lane III, Graham Grene