Tag: a

Adrenaline

  By

★★
“Taking on organ-ized crime.”

You know you’re in for a shaky experience when the film can’t even spell its own title right. That proves a fairly accurate assessment of the overall experience: while not without its merits, these are outweighed by the negatives in the final analysis. The heroine is Victoria Travers (Payne), an FBI agent on holiday with her family in Romania, when she spots a fugitive from justice, John Slater (Mandylor). She attempts to extract him over the border, to where he can be extradited, but while that takes place, her husband is killed, and her daughter snatched by an organ harvesting ring, run by Ivan Raj (Saini). Suddenly, Slater with his local knowledge, is the only hope of Victoria rescuing her child.

It’s all very basic and quite linear. The plot feels almost like it might have been lifted from a video-game, as the odd couple roam Bucharest, working their way up the criminal organization. with the occasional side quest such as rescuing another kidnapped child, freeing hookers, etc.There’s an NPC, in the form of hacker Tony (Hauck), who provides helpful information whenever Victoria and John appear to be at a dead end. The low-budget nature does work for the film, in that there’s an overall scuzzy feel to proceedings which is appropriate, and the location enhances this. It feels like the kind of place where organ harvesting would take place, though I suspect any such organization would, in reality, be more ruthless – and considerably more competent, to be frank.

Mandylor helps elevate proceedings, as he usually does: nice that his brother, Costas, also appears in this, playing Victoria’s long-suffering boss. Shame the Mandylors don’t get any scenes together. Payne is just about adequate as the relentless mother, and much less convincing as an FBI agent. However, she’s still better than certain members of the supporting cast. Some don’t even appear to have English as a second language, but there are others who can’t lean on that excuse.  The action is intermittent, albeit not badly-staged in general. We could have done with more, perhaps in lieu of the interminable scenes of our heroine and hero driving around town, talking to people on the telephone or, occasionally for variety, driving around town while talking to people on the telephone.

I wobbled back and forth for much of this between 2 and 2½ stars. While low-budget, often obviously, it keeps moving forward, and there’s something to be said for simplicity, rather than burdening the viewer with unnecessary subplots. It’s never boring, over its seventy-five minute duration. But the ending is particularly weak, falling well short of providing Constance with an opportunity to face off against a final boss, something the movie undeniably needs. This passed the time adequately, yet I cannot say I was ever engaged, and there’s not enough to make me look into other work by Cerchi, whose talents appear limited to making sure the image is mostly in focus.

Dir: Massimiliano Cerchi
Star: Constance Payne, Louis Mandylor, Adam Saini, Alexander Hauck 

Av: The Hunt

  By

★½
“Puts the turkey in Turkish cinema”

The palpable sense of disappointment I felt when the end credits rolled, was all the more striking, given the decent way this opened. Ayse (Koç) is enjoying a shower after some afternoon delight with her lover, when there’s a thunderous knocking on the door. It’s her thoroughly disgruntled ex-husband. In the resulting fracas, the boyfriend is shot dead, and Ayse has to leap out of a window, and go on the run. Friends and family disown her, as the ancient concept of the honour killing still holds sway in contemporary Turkey. She can’t even go to the authorities, since the ex-husband is a policeman. 

Ayse attempts to head to the big city of Istanbul, more secular and offering a chance to hide out. This plan is derailed when a routine traffic stop leads to her capture. She manages to steal a police car, thanks to the cops underestimating her – you’ll find that is a bit of a theme. However, it crashes in fog and she’s forced on the run again, this time into the wilderness of the forest. She is pursued there by her former husband and various relatives, including a teenage cousin. They feel, to varying degrees that her actions have brought shame upon their family, and that she must pay for that, with her blood. Ayse, has other plans, especially after she wrests a weapon from one of the hunters. 

It’s the kind of thing we’ve seen quite often before: a woman being chased through the wilderness, before turning the tables on them. When done properly, it can be highly effective. Examples of the proper execution – pun intended – would include Revenge or Arisaka. This, on the other hand, manages to get just about everything wrong. Part of it may be down to an overseas audience not being aware of the honour concepts, something the makers here don’t bother to explain. That’s forgivable. After all, it wasn’t made for us. But there are any number of other flaws, such as the ease with which she can best everyone in hand-to-hand combat. Or the lengthy, almost entirely pointless scene where Ayse tries to bribe a bus-driver to take her to Istanbul. 

These pale entirely beside the ending, which is solely responsible for losing the film an entire star. For, in general, it looks decent, with some impressive cinematography, such as the drone shot that follows Ayse as she’s fleeing the apartment, and pans up to reveal the city. Despite its flaws, we were probably looking at ★★½. And then, we weren’t. I do not know what the director was trying to say with the ending. If I had to guess, something like “I have no idea how to wrap things up, and frankly, am getting bored with the entire endeavour, so I’m just going to roll the credits.” Almost makes me want to recommend watching this, purely for how bad the finish is. There’s certainly not much else to justify the experience. 

Dir: Emre Akay
Star: Billur Melis Koç, Ahmet Rifat Sungar, Yagiz Can Konyali, Adam Bay

Apaches: Gang of Paris

  By

★★★
“Creuser deux tombes”

I guess the title is trying to riff off Gang’s of New York, though this is set significantly later. It begins in 1884, when the Apache gang run the Parisian underworld. Young orphans Billie, Paulie and Tricky are on the fringes, until Tricky is killed when forced to play Russian roulette by the gang’s leader, Jésus (Schneider). Billie is framed for the death by a corrupt cop, and spends fifteen years in jail. When she gets out, now a grown woman, Billie (Isaaz) seeks revenge on all those responsible for Tricky’s death, infiltrating the Apaches to get close to Jésus. Matters are complicated, by the presence in the gang of Paulie (Paradot), who was brought up by Jésus, and also by the seductive nature on her of the Apache lifestyle. 

There’s a fair bit of truth to the history here. From what I’ve read, the Apaches were a force to be reckoned with in Paris, from about the turn of the century through the outbreak of World War I. They valued style as much as savagery, preying on the middle- and upper-classes. I’ve not been able to find any indication women were a significant part of the Apaches, beyond using prostitutes as decoys to lure and distract the intended targets of a mugging. Still, can’t argue Billie makes the necessary impression, stabbing the Paris police chief (who is also the man who framed her) to death in a cinema, when she was indeed supposed just to be there as bait.

To this point, the film has done well at generating the atmosphere of a wild, anarchic setting, and populating it with interesting characters. It even manages to overcome the deliberate use of anachronistic songs on the soundtrack, opening up with the not-so sultry 1880’s sounds of… um, Iggy Pop? The problem is, the further in we and Billie get, the less interested she appears to be in her vengeance. The turning point might be when she goes after someone who has abandoned the Apache lifestyle entirely. My reaction to this was, “Oh. Is that it?” – and not for the last time either. You may well find yourself saying the same thing when the end credits abruptly roll.

The problem is less her diversion from revenge, than the absence of anything significant to replace it. I’m usually the last person to want romance in a genre film, but that would at least have helped explain her growing indifference to something which clearly sustained Billie through her fifteen years in jail. The nearest is when Paulie tries to kiss her and she repels her advances. It’s only when Jésus gives her an order she can’t obey, that Billie remembers why she’s there, though what results is hardly redemptive. I’ve read the budget was 4.5 million Euros, and if that’s true, I’m very impressed, since it looks consistently good. With a decent lead performance too, it feels they were just half a script short of having a successful feature.

Dir: Romain Quirot
Star: Alice Isaaz, Niels Schneider, Rod Paradot, Artus

[A version of this review previously appeared on Film Blitz]

Avenging Angels: Vengeance Trail, by A. W. Hart

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆☆

Published in 2019, this is the opening volume of Wolfpack Publishing’s Avenging Angels series. My wife Barb and I had previously read the seventh and second installments out of order (long story!); and having really liked those, we recently decided to commit to reading the series. This one takes us to the very beginning of the titular “avenging angels'” adventures.

The Bass twins, George Washington (nicknamed “Reno”) and Sara, were 16 in the fall of 1865, just after the Civil War, when they returned home from school and found their western Kansas homestead burned and their parents and three older siblings dead or dying, murdered by a band of vengeful renegade ex-Confederates. (Their sister had also been gang raped.) Before he died, their father charged them to avenge that slaughter. This book is the story of that quest and its outcome (hence the title). “A. W. Hart” is a house pen name; all of the books of the series have different actual authors. Here, the writer was Peter Brandvold, who grew up as a Western fan in the 60s and 70s and went on to write over 100 Western novels, under his own name or his “Frank Leslie” pen name. (Neither Barb nor I had any prior experience with his work.)

There are a couple of significant continuity issues between this volume and the later ones, though these aren’t Brandvold’s fault. Starting in the second book, our hero’s and heroine’s promise to their father is said to have explicitly included a charge to continue to hunt down and rid the earth of other evil-doers, even after justice was served on the original villains. That’s not at all clear and explicit here. At the end of this book, their resolution to make their quest a continuing one is said to be their own decision, a response to an emotional need of their own. And in the seventh book (and possibly others earlier), the late John Bass is described as having been a Lutheran pastor. In this book, while he’s said to have been a God-fearing person who raised his kids to be familiar with the Bible, there’s no hint that he was a clergyman of any kind. IMO, on both points, the portrayal here is more plausible and realistic.

However, there are definite flaws in Brandvold’s craftsmanship here, starting with chronology. John Bass served in the Mexican War, after which he married and settled in Kansas. The Bass family graveyard on the homestead is said to hold the remains of an infant sibling who died over 20 years before 1865 –in other words, before 1845, and the Bass twins would have been born ca. 1849. But the Mexican War was fought from 1846-1848. There isn’t time between Feb. 1848 and the end of 1849 to fit in John Bass’ post-war activity, subsequent courtship and marriage, the couple’s move to Kansas, and four pregnancies prior to Reno and Sara. (And Kansas was not even opened for settlement until 1854.) If his general knowledge of U.S. history didn’t furnish red flags here, very basic research would have precluded these kinds of mistakes.

Editing and proofreading here is poor. Brandvold loses the thread of which character is speaking in one key conversation; he can’t make up his mind whether two or three antagonists are positioned in one spot during a gun fight, and near the end, a character’s last name unaccountably changes from Hill to Stock in the space of two pages. The third-person narrative is consistently from Reno’s viewpoint, but in the earlier chapters it incorporates gunslinger’s slang (thankfully abandoned later) that a peaceful teenage farm boy would be unlikely to be acquainted with. Near the end, conduct by two of the villains is inconsistent with their group’s overall plan. There are other logistical and editorial quibbles that could be made as well.

Both Sara and another important female character, Isabelle Mando, act out of character, or unrealistically for the situation, in one place (though not in the same place). Sara’s character, in particular, comes across as less winsome here than it does in the two later books we read. Of the two twins, she’s always been the more enduringly angry and vindictive over her family’s tragedy, the more aloof and self-contained, and the more ruthless and readily inured to violence. Here, though, she has a readiness to execute even disabled and helpless adversaries that alarms Reno, and at the same time a willingness to ignore a rape attempt on someone else as none of her business. (Thankfully for the victim, Reno didn’t share that indifference.) At one point, Reno was feeling a genuine concern for the state of Sara’s soul, and a resolution to try to influence her for the better. But later, he’s surprised and puzzled when Sara expresses a concern about her own spiritual state; and that theme is never developed any further, just forgotten and left hanging. Brandvold is undeniably a prolific writer; but he comes across to me as a careless and hasty one who sacrifices quality to quantity.

While the main characters here are Christians, and there’s a definite theme of good vs. evil, with the idea that God sides with the former and against the latter, none of the series writers are necessarily Christians themselves as far as I know. Bible verses serve as epigraph and postscript, and are quoted at times in the text; but there’s no real presentation of the gospel of grace and mercy, and not much wrestling with the Christian ethics of lethal force in a fallen world. Despite the teen protagonists, this is not really YA fiction either; it’s a very violent book, with a high body count. (It is, however, free of sexual content, beyond some references to scantily-clad chorus girls in a frontier music hall, and has very little bad language.) There’s a chaste romance which some readers will see as marred by an insta-love factor; but in the cultural context, I wasn’t bothered by the latter, and for me it’s a plus that it’s inter-racial. (Positive portrayal of half-Lakota characters and a black character do Brandvold credit.)

While I didn’t rate this book as highly as the two later ones, Barb and I still plan to continue with the series. It won’t disappoint genre fans who like a heavy dose of gun-fighting action.

Author: A. W. Hart.
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a print book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Atlas

  By

★★★
“Ripley from the block…”

This was watched, effectively as the B-feature before Furiosa, with expectations along appropriate lines, given that basis. And as such, this is fine. It’s glossy, shiny and well-crafted technically, albeit making little or no emotional impact. This is partly because, in the early going, it feels suspiciously like someone said, “Hey Siri! Rewrite the script for Aliens, replacing xenomorphs with bad AIs, and Sigourney Weaver with J-Lo.” She plays Atlas Shepherd, an AI expert, decades after a revolt of the robots killed millions before it was contained, with leader Harlan (Liu) vanished from Earth. Now he’s been tracked to a distant planet, and a military mission sent to capture Harlan. Atlas reluctantly goes along with the soldiers as an “advisor”.

Fortunately, on arrival, the story heads in its own direction. The force is ambushed and forced down, with Atlas and her AI-enabled mech, Smith (voiced by Cohan) as apparently the only survivor. She opts to forge on with reaching Harlan’s base, a choice which brings her into conflict with Smith, who insists on putting his pilot’s safety first. Complicating matters is the need for Atlas to allow a neural link from Smith into her mind, in order to complete the mission successfully. This is something which she is very loathe to allow. There’s more than paranoia here, with pretty good reasons for her reluctance, connected to Atlas’s past and how it was responsible for the previous AI rebellion. 

Topical for this to come out the week Google’s AI search results suggest using glue to stop cheese sliding off your pizza. Yet, despite the initial scenario, it ends up being rather – some might say, suspiciously – pro AI. Not quite, “I, for one, welcome our new AI overlords.” But definitely suggesting, even haters are going to have to bite the bullet and accept them into their lives. I will say, Smith ends up a likeable character, with an awareness of things like sarcasm, which make him approach human. Some might say, more so than Atlas, and certainly more than one of the other mechs, who insists on informing people of her preferred pronouns. I rolled my eyes hard at that.

Between this and The Mother, Lopez seems to be aiming to carve out a career as a Netflix action heroine. In both cases, the films work better on the action front than the dramatic (Lopez as a boffin is always a stretch). This has some nice examples of mechanized set pieces, as the Atlas/Smith partnership makes its way across a hostile planet towards their goal. It’s refreshingly free of any romance, being unexpectedly close to hard SF. Admittedly, this isn’t a film I’m probably ever going to revisit. But it provided a decent two hours of mindless entertainment, and let’s face it, that’s largely why we still have a Netflix subscription. If J-Lo wants to keep making this kind of thing, I’m happy to keep watching them. Just so long as she doesn’t start singing. 

Dir: Brad Peyton 
Star: Jennifer Lopez, Gregory James Cohan, Simu Liu, Sterling K. Brown

Abigail (2024)

  By

★★★
“And Then There Were None – with vampires”

SPOILER WARNING FOR THIS REVIEW: ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE TRAILER!

Trailers can do a lot of damage to a movie’s impact, and is definitely the case here. If the trailer hasn’t outright told us the idiot gangsters had kidnapped a little vampire girl, the first third could have been very suspenseful. To elaborate: we witness the kidnap of an innocent little girl; normally our sympathies would immediately be with the victim, worrying about her well-being. We explore the setting and characters are more or less established. Then a gruesome murder happens and the gangsters wonder, “Who’s killing our people? Why? The girl’s father is big in the (criminal) underworld and has a mysterious henchman named Valdez. What’s his story? Is it all a reckoning for past misdeeds?”

This potential homage to Bryan Singer’s semi-classic The Usual Suspects falls flat, as anyone who saw the trailer (and posters) already knows it’s the little girl who is pulling the strings and will murder the gang of misfits. It’s a total fail by the marketing department responsible, though you understand a wish to signal to horror fans it’s something for them. I guess it will pay a dividend in the end – though will keep people away who are not horror fans and might have gone, expecting a crime thriller. In any case, the big surprise is ruined and you can’t help wonder if that was the best way to go.

When Hitchcock released Psycho in 1960, no people were allowed into the cinema after the movie had started, and the audience had no idea what awaited them. You thought it was about Marion Crane stealing money and going on the run… until she got stabbed in the shower. That was a real shock. You won’t experience that here, and no-one cares for the first victim (played by the unfortunately now deceased Angus Cloud). At one time, a plot with a group of people in an enclosed space and a killer amongst them, would have made for fine suspense. The film makes no secret about taking inspiration from Agatha Christie’s 1939 thriller And Then There Were None (originally known by another, non-PC title!), and the same concept works in Alien – a fine horror/thriller in space with as much focus on characters as on suspense.

Today, it doesn’t seem to be enough. You instead end up with superficially drawn characters, about whom you just get to know enough to understand where they come from, and then you blast in with the gory action scenes. Don’t get me wrong; I liked the movie. But I would have liked it more if I had cared for the characters fate. They die here and there, they twist and they turn – and I just don’t care for them at all. The movie just has not the time to build its characters, or doesn’t want to take the time for it. Which is a pity but perhaps a sign of our frantic, “more, more, more” times. I recently saw a new BBC version of Christie’s story; while they took the time to tell it, they overloaded the plot because simple, storytelling has gone out the window in today’s film narrative.

The big problem is, the moment the main characters are established as gangsters, you don’t really feel pity for them. Why should you? They are mean spirited people – bad guys – and that is a minor flaw in the concept. Having largely sympathetic space travellers finding an alien life form is quite the opposite. We are supposed to side with them because it’s a vampire. But the necessary character building hasn’t been done, and because one twist isn’t enough the movie gives us two or three more. At the end we are supposed to root for Abigail (Weir) and last surviving gangster Joey (Barrera), fighting one of her own who turned against them. Directors Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett are asking too much of us emotionally. Should we always side with the underdog? Why? In the end they are all monsters, therefore equally unlikable, though the movie tries to make us pity the little vampire, that big daddy doesn’t really seem to care about, until he shows up at the end.

The same directors did much better with Ready or Not, where you constantly felt for Samara Weaving’s character, thrown into the pit with an insane, blood-thirsty family. It doesn’t work well here, due to the basic premise. The leads are hardly more than sketches and even Joey doesn’t get much more than being a junkie mom who cares for her little boy. It’s not enough in the development department, folks! The actors all do good work – as far as I can tell. In Germany, you get distracted by the choice of dubbing actors: the voice actor for Cloud is hardly bearable and Kevin Durand’s German voice sounds almost like Patrick from SpongeBob Squarepants which is… distracting! Also, I feel in the German version, a lot of humour is lost, I guess something to do with line delivery. I can imagine a line like “I hate ballet!” being hilarious in English, but in the German version it has no real effect.

I don’t know any of the actors save Durand and supporting actor Esposito, but the greatness of Weir’s performance can’t be stressed enough. I did believe her helpless girl – or would if I hadn’t been spoiled before – as well as the frightening vampire. How many people can scare a bunch of grown-ups? Though, of course, it’s not new ground. We saw how effective such casting can be when Kirsten Dunst did it thirty years ago in Interview with a Vampire. The trope of the “scary, evil kid” in general reaches back until at least the 1950s. The production design is beautiful and luxurious for the old villa with bar and billiard table, a kitchen (strangely situated in the cellar?), secret tunnels in a library, a computerized control room and a pool underground for corpse disposal. Similarly great is Brian Tyler’s effective score which I would really like on CD instead of the digital release.

I was less impressed by Barrera who plays the main gangster role. She is set-up as the intelligent, tough and strong woman, but her actions constantly contradict this, e. g. she can’t imagine a kid could be evil. Why? Because she has a child of her own? Everyone knows children are natural monsters and only by time, education and life experience become “human”. Her colleagues turn out partly smarter than her there. And when she, a normal mortal, tells a vampire, “I’m going to kill you now!” you wonder how delusional she can be. There’s a big goof at the end, when she gets her mobile out to call her son and say goodbye. Weren’t all cells collected early on by Esposito’s character? If she had another, wouldn’t she have been able to call help? Why didn’t she? Perhaps I missed how she got it back – maybe in the control room when the two vampires were fighting. Someone please enlighten me? [Jim. I think when she’s in the control room unlocking the house, she sees the bag of collected phones and takes one from it. Not exactly highlighted though!]

Strangely, the movie is claimed to “re-imagine” Universal’s Dracula’s Daughter from 1936. Having seen the classic movie, I can hardly see any similarities, save the main character is a female vampire, and daughter of a vampire. Her father turns up in a last minute surprise, effectively adding nothing except for re-establishing the classic Hammer vampire, of the Christopher Lee variety. Still, despite these flaws this is a good, entertaining horror movie. It’s not really suspenseful as the main characters are disposable and not developed enough to care about. And the trailer… (see previous rant!) It’s also surprisingly gory. I remember a time when such a movie would have been for 18+ audiences in Germany; this is 16+. Well, it’s not the 1980s anymore and Catholic priests aren’t sitting in German censorship board meetings anymore, so… enjoy!

Dir: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, Tyler Gillett
Star: Melissa Barrera, Dan Stevens, Kathryn Newton, Will Catlett

Now, that trailer… Again: SPOILER WARNING!

Allies and Enemies: Fallen by Amy J. Murphy

  By

Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆½

It’s a little hard to explain the universe in which this takes place. Humanity existed. However, their encounter with other races proved problematic for a variety of reasons, and led to them being exterminated, a genocide that was partly collateral damage in a war between the human-adjacent Eugenes and the definitely not Sceeloids. The former have a severely class-based society, where the lower-tiers are bred specifically to be soldiers, for example. One such “breeder” is Sela “Ty” Tyron, though she differs from the rest of her platoon in a couple of important ways. Firstly, her son is part of her group – though he doesn’t know it, having been removed from her care on his birth. His death (at the very beginning of the book, so not much of a spoiler) causes Ty to question everything she has believed about society, and her place in it.

Then there’s her commanding officer, Captain Jonvenlish Veradin. While her absolute loyalty to him is one thing, Ty’s feelings go past that, even if she won’t allow herself to admit it. Veradin is suddenly accused of treason; while he refuses to do anything except trust in the process, she spirits him away from execution, to life as a fugitive on the run. The cause of the accusation turns out to be related to his sister, Erelah. She’s a scientist who has just made a discovery which will revolutionize faster-than-light travel. She and Jonvenlish share a secret, which brought them to the attention of Ravstar, the regime’s infamous black operations group, and its even more notorious commander, Defensor Tristic. She’s half-Sceeloid (which raises questions in itself) and has plans to use Erelah as a vessel,  whether or not the target consents. But doing so awakens some long-dormant talents in Erelah. Between those and Ty’s rogue military abilities, Tristic won’t find things going all her own way. On the other hand, Erelah and Ty have their own issues to work through, not least their conflicting ideas of what’s best for Captain Veradin.

This is… okay. The split focus is a bit rough, in that the switch from focusing on Ty to Erelah, is sudden and perhaps too long to work. The two stories don’t come together at all in the first third, and the unclear previous history turns out to be quite significant, to the point I wished it had been better explained. If the plotting is generally too murky for its own good, the characterization is well enough handled to balance things, or thereabouts. Ty, in particular, is a genuine bad-ass, whose loyalty is exemplary. If the action is limited in quantity, it’s partly because she’s so competent, the fights in which she’s involved tend not to last long. While it is enough to salvage this as a read, it’s not sufficient to get me more than slightly interested in reading further entries.

Author: Amy J. Murphy
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, as an e-book only (unless you fancy paying $59.99 for the paperback!).
Book 1 of 5 in the Allies and Enemies series.

Air Force One Down

  By

★★★
“Presidential immunity.”

As we head towards the 2024 election, I’m forced to conclude that the most implausible element here is not terrorists hijacking Air Force One, or a lone Secret Service agent taking out scores of bad guys. No, it’s having a President under fifty: someone who can string coherent sentences together, parachute out of a plane without breaking his hips, and personally gun down an enemy or two as well. Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon. Otherwise, this teeters on the edge of being as generic as its title. But it passes muster due to decent performances, especially from McNamara as agent Allison Miles, and well-managed action from Bamford, who has 30+ years experience in stunt work.

The plot unfolds after Miles is assigned to the plane on which President Edwards (Bohen) is flying to Astovia to sign an oil treaty. There are people, both here and in Astovia, who are very much opposed to the deal. In particular, General Rodinov (Serbedzija, whom I recognized as Boris the Blade from Snatch) has a plan to hijack Air Force One, and make the President change his mind. He reckons without Miles, and after a spell of “Die Hard on a plane”, she and Edwards parachute out. That isn’t the end of it, Rodinov capturing them, with the intention of using her as leverage against the President. Once again: he reckons without Miles. You would think the General would have learned by now.

Indeed, the whole “leverage” thing is dubious; if I was an evil overlord, I’d put a bullet in Allison’s head the moment I captured her. Maybe that’s just me. The plot hits all the obvious notes e.g. the scene where the President and his agent bond, with a little light sexual tension [an apparently unmarried President?] But Bohen and McNamara make their characters entertaining to be around. I’d vote for him, put it that way, while she has a laudably no-nonsense approach to her work, and life in general. She may have picked it up from her uncle (Hall), also a Secret Service agent, and a long way from The Breakfast Club.

The action certainly elevates things above the humdrum. Sometimes the camerawork is a little frenetic, yet the shots are surprisingly long, and tend to make it clear McNamara is doing much of her own work. The highlight is an extended “one take” (it’s not, but done well enough to pass muster) in which she breaks out of captivity, and makes her way through the complex, eliminating enemies in a variety of interesting ways. It will stick in your mind considerably longer than most of the plot-based shenanigans, albeit slightly diminished by Miles then having to be saved by the President. I’d love to have seen more of that style, because it’s genuinely innovative stuff. If nothing else reaches this level, the movie remains a decent piece of entertainment overall, where the positive elements counterbalance an uninspired storyline. 

Dir: James Bamford
Star: Katherine McNamara, Ian Bohen, Rade Serbedzija, Anthony Michael Hall
The film is released in cinemas today, and on digital from February 13.

The Adventures of Shiela Crerar, Psychic Detective, by Ella M. Scrymsour

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Literary rating: ★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

Detectives as protagonists entered the realm of English-language fiction in the 19th century, especially in its later decades, and quickly captured the fancy of much of the reading public. The earliest examples, such as Poe’s Auguste Dupin, Sherlock Holmes, and Chesterton’s Father Brown, find their adventures solely in the natural world. But it wasn’t very long before other writers took the basic idea into the supernatural realm, to create the figure of the occult or “psychic” detective, such as Flaxman Low or William Hope Hodgson’s Carnacki, a solver of mysteries that involve, or at least often involve, the weird and uncanny. Like their natural-world counterparts, the occult detectives in this formative era were nearly all male.

But in Shiela Crerar, the heroine of this six-story cycle originally published in The Blue Magazine in 1920, Ella M. Scrymsour (whose full name was Ella Mary Scrymsour-Nichol) created a distaff incarnation of this type of figure, who can hold her own with any of her male colleagues. I first encountered the character in “The Werewolf of Rannoch,” a story in a horror anthology I read back in 2020. (Prior to that, I’d never heard of the character or the author.) Guessing correctly that Shiela was a series character, I tracked this book down in the Goodreads database; and having gotten it as a gift this past Christmas, I was very pleased to finally get to read all of Shiela’s exploits!

Orphaned as a child, Shiela Crerar was happily raised by an apparently bachelor uncle, a Highland laird with a lot of lineage but not a lot of money. The Sight ran in the family; both she and Uncle John were strongly psychic (her gift –or curse– as she’ll discover early on, allows her to see ghosts, something most people can’t), and she shared in his interest in and study of the paranormal. She’s a kind-hearted, frank and down-to-earth young woman who loves nature and likes to read; she’s also one with considerable determination and a strong will.

His sudden death when she’s 22 leaves her the owner of his smallish estate, Kencraig, but it’s heavily mortgaged. Not willing to sell a place that’s profoundly dear to her, she rents it out on a five-year lease, resolved to find a line of work that will ultimately let her pay off the mortgage (while providing for her in the meantime). When nothing else offers, she hits on the idea of offering her services as a psychic detective. (All of this is presented to the reader in the first few pages of the first story, “The Eyes of Doom.”)

As we learn in the last story, “The Wraith [the back cover copy incorrectly gives that word as “Wrath”) of Fergus McGinty,” her mission takes her five years to complete. That she completes it isn’t really a spoiler; from the beginning, I think that most readers would surmise that she will. Her career as an occult detective involves her in some very intense and dangerous experiences, well titled as “Adventures.” Besides the ones already mentioned, the other stories are “The Death Vapour,” “The Room of Fear,” and “The Phantom Isle.”

Her clients are mostly well-to-do Scots gentry, and her travels will take her to various Highland locales, including the Isle of Skye and its environs. She’ll deal with mostly supernatural phenomena (one story centers around what proves to be a case of very grim psychic imprinting), including murderously vengeful revenants, a homicidal “Elemental,” and lycanthropy. The latter is explained here as astral projection, in which the sleeping werewolf’s astral self projects –sometimes unknown to the projector, but in some cases deliberately– and can take on the substantial form of a ravening human-beast hybrid.

Scrymsour’s tales are plot-driven, straightforward, suspenseful and intense, with a real sense of danger and menace. Her prose style is direct and (along with the relatively short length of the collection) makes for a quick read. Most of the stories involve a backstory rooted in fictional (but realistic) events in Scotland’s long and often bloody history, including savage clan warfare and the failed Jacobite rising in 1745 and its vicious repression. I felt this exhibited some affinity to M. R. James’ “antiquarian” approach to the supernatural tale, which for me was a plus.

There’s some effective reference to Celtic and other occult lore. Scrymsour furnishes her heroine with a love interest introduced in the first story, Stavordale Hartland, so there’s a note of clean romance. If we picture the stories as taking place from 1915-1920, it’s not clear why Stavordale’s not in the military; but the Great War isn’t reflected anywhere in this corpus at all. Shiela packs a pistol and can use it effectively (the author describes it as an “automatic revolver,” which tells us that she knew virtually nothing about handguns!), but that plot element only appears in one story.

There’s not a lot of directly described gore here, but there is reference to mostly off-stage past grisly atrocities, and to present-day violent deaths of animals and humans, both adults and children; and in one case the murder of a two-year old child in real time, though it’s not described in detail and is over in four sentences. Unfortunately, Shiela’s heroic qualities don’t include quick reaction time; my biggest peeve with the book was that she failed to act in time to prevent this! Scrymsour’s characterizations are not sharp; Shiela is the best-drawn character, but Stavordale isn’t developed as much, and the chemistry between the two doesn’t come across as strong.

He also tends to address her with phrases like “little woman”, which I found irksome. But I didn’t find the message of the story cycle to be sexist; he wants her to give up her detective work and marry him, but she won’t do that until she completes her self-set mission. And though one reviewer holds the theory that Shiela’s psychic powers depend on virginity, so that marriage will destroy them, to my mind the conclusion of the last story suggests the opposite; Stavordale comes to realize that her Sight is a permanent part of her, whether she uses it to further a paid career or not.

Author: Ella M. Scrymsour
Publisher: Wildside Press; available through Amazon, currently only as a print book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

The Alien Corps, by P.J. McDermott

  By

Literary rating: ★★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆½

If you’re even slightly familiar with the Star Trek universe, you’ll be aware of the Prime Directive. While never explicitly stated, it’s the rule which prohibits interfering with the development of less technologically advanced civilization, in particular those that are not capable of space travel, or are unaware of the existence of life beyond their own planet. It’s a key concept in this book too, though is meshed together with a religious theme – not something often found in this kind of science fiction.

The central character is Commander Hickory Lace, part of the Alien Corps. This is a group created by the Vatican to investigate extraterrestrial “messiahs” as they are reported, to see if they are potentially also the Son of God like Jesus. After a century, they’ve had no success: perhaps the latest candidate, Kar-sèr-Sephiryth of the planet Prosperine, might be “the one”. The Corps are working with Earth’s Intragalactic Agency, in which Hickory’s father is an admiral, as Prosperine has the rare material Crynidium, essential to faster-than-light travel. The IA has their version of the Prime Directive, so Hickory and her crew have to disguise themselves as the local population. Not everyone abides by the same rules. The Bikashi, an outlaw race thrown out of the Galactic Alliance, are present on Properine, seeking to control the Crynidium for themselves, and don’t care about manipulating the development of the natives.

I liked the concept and the world-building here, with Prosperine truly seeming like an alien planet in every regard. The scenario poses an interesting challenge for the heroine, with the strictures imposed by the Intragalactic Agency limiting her ability to counter the Bikashi, who are operating under no such constraints. Fortunately, she has some tricks up her sleeves, most notably her empathic abilities, which even work on the native wildlife. Along with her team, she has to find a way to thwart the rebellion being fomented among certain radical elements by the Bikashi, while also trying to decide whether or not Kar-sèr-Sephiryth is legitimate. This process does lean more heavily on smarts than firepower, in part because the weapons so far invented on Prosperine are relatively primitive.

It feels as if every member of the Alien Corps ends up both captured by, and then escaping from the Pharlaxians, the religious reactionaries leading the revolt, with Bikashi help. I’d have a word about their security protocols, if I were their leader. The religious elements are not overpowering, and there is a lack of resolution which is a bit unsatisfying: we never reach a conclusion as to Kar-sèr-Sephiryth’s divine status. Still it’s kinda brave even to suggest the concept that the second coming of Jesus Christ could be as an alien. The ending feels like Hickory and allies are heading off on another mission:  however, naming the series after the planet suggests they’re not going anywhere. Nor are Hickory’s Daddy issues. It may be a somewhat optimistic take on first contact, yet was thoughtful enough to make for a satisfactory read.

Author: P.J. McDermott
Publisher: ‎ Patrick McDermott Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 4 in the Prosperine series.