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The Alien Corps, by P.J. McDermott

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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.

As One

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★★★
“Ping-pong diplomacy.”

After the bombing of a South Korean jet by North Korean agents in 1987, relations between the two nations sank to perilously low levels. In an effort to help mend fences, the countries agreed to join forces and send a unified squad to the 1991 World Table Tennis Championship in Japan, to take on the all-powerful Chinese. The process was not without its bumps, as the South’s star player, Hyun Jung-hwa (Ha), and her counterpart in the North, Ri Bun-hui (Bae), struggle to overcome their differences and become a cohesive doubles partnership. Their respective coaches (Park and Kim) also have to learn to navigate shoals both sporting and political on the way to the gold medal match in Tokyo.

Since this is based on real events, it’s no spoiler (and certainly would not have been for the Korean audience) to say that the unified team triumphs in dramatic fashion. Indeed, the whole thing is more or less an exhibition of Sports Clichés 1 0.1, with moments which you feel have been needlessly juiced up for emotive purposes. For example, did the entire South Korean roster really kneel in the rain outside their hotel, after the North Korean players were withdrawn for breaches of the rules? Did Ri really collapse during the last few minutes of the final, before an inspirational speech from Hyun? I’ve been unable to confirm either incident and it feels like a case of the writers over-egging the pudding, dramatically speaking.

Fortunately, everything else is excellent, and it’s clear a lot of attention went into details, some of which may not be visible to a Western audience e.g. the North Korean players speaking with appropriate dialect and accents. What was impressive even to me, was that the actresses genuinely looked like they were professional table-tennis players. Months of training went into that, with the real Hyun being one of the coaches. Praise in particular to Bae, who had to learn how to play with her left-hand, to match the one used by Ri. Although CGI was used to “fill in” the ball during the actual tournament sequences, there were no doubles used for the actresses, and the results look close to impeccable – as good as any sports movie I’ve seen. 

Even away from the table, the performances are good, and if the melodrama is turned up little too high, the balance otherwise is nicely handled, with a mix of humour, human interest and patriotism which is effective. While the Chinese are depicted as the “villains” her – and it’s not exactly subtle! – there is very much a message of how sport can act as a unifying force for a country. That’s something I tend to agree with, which is why I have little time for those who use it in divisive ways, such as kneeling during the anthem. There’s no doubt the intent here is almost nationalistic, yet it still works well enough for non-Koreans – and for those who still call the game ping-pong.

Dir: Moon Hyun-sung
Star: Ha Ji-won, Bae Doona, Park Chul-min, Kim Eung-soo

Altitudes

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★★★
“Climb every mountain…”

I was really surprised to discover that this French film is actually made for television. It has a certain gravitas and thoughtfulness to it, that you rarely find in a genre which is (often rightfully) derided as being formulaic and cliched. This doesn’t escape those criticisms entirely – in particular, there’s a “Disease of the Week” subplot, which does feel as it it might have strayed in from Lifetime or Hallmark. However, even there, it feels handled in a relatively natural manner, rather than being shoehorned in there to elicit sympathy from the viewer. It definitely looks better than most TVMs out of Hollywood. Whether this is down to Félix von Muralt’s cinematography, or simply the stunning Alpine landscapes, is open to debate.

It begins at a funeral. Isabelle Dormann (Borotra) has returned following fifteen years away, after the death of her father, a former mountaineer, who then ran a lodge high in the Alps. This allows her to reconnect with her friend, Kenza (Krey), a world-class climber herself, but also more awkwardly, with Antoine (Stévenin), a man with whom she had a relationship which helped precipitate Isabelle’s sudden departure from the mountains. She decides to honour her father by climbing a new route up Les Roches Brunes, the nearby mountain after which the lodge was called. At 4,357 metres high, it’s the tallest peak in the area, and Isabelle always talked with her father about pioneering a new route up it, to be named for the family.

She and Kenza decide to honour her late father by doing just that. However, it turns out Isabelle is suffering from a neurodegenerative condition, which is slowly but inevitably killing her, making it a race against time before her physical abilities just aren’t there. It seems this is a fight she has lost, as practice sessions don’t go well. Yet after Kenza calls off the attempt, Isabelle decides to strike out on her own for a solo ascent. Kenza and Antoine follow, hoping to save her from herself.

I like films about climbing, when they concentrate on the climbing. Yet, it seems inevitable to tack on personal drama of one kind or another. It’s not enough simply to have one person taking on nature. Too often, they need to have a dead fiance or similar motivation, and the results often tend to resemble bad soap-opera. That’s definitely the case here, with the whole Isabelle-Antoine relationship dramatically overcooked, and muddying the water. The same goes for Isabelle’s condition: she could simply have been not experienced enough to take on the climb. However, when the movie sets such formulaic conceits aside and concentrates on the almost primeval struggle, it’s much more effective. I can’t even dock it significantly for Antoine effectively white-knighting things, since the ending is bittersweet enough to justify it. I think it’s one which will stick in my mind, for longer than it felt it would at the time. 

Dir: Pierre-Antoine Hiroz
Star: Claire Borotra, Déborah Krey, Sagamore Stévenin, Isabelle Caillat
a.k.a. The Climb

Against the Ropes

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★★½
“More soap than opera.”

In one of the odder remakes I’ve seen in a while, this is a repurposing of the French 2013 film, Les reines du ring, which translates as “Queens of the Ring”. The core concept is retained, but the location is changed from France to Mexico, and the idea is expanded to a ten-part series. These changes make for a bit of a mixed blessing. Pro wrestling is certainly a more well-established part of the cultural landscape in Mexico, where lucha libre is extremely popular. On the other hand, the multiplication of the running time a factor of about four, leads to the necessary injection of superfluous storylines, which definitely reduced the entertainment value as far as I was concerned. It’s less a wrestling soap-opera, than a soap-opera with wrestling in it.

It begins with Ángela (Sánchez) getting out of jail, after a largely unwarranted six-year sentence for drug possession. While she’s been in jail, daughter Rocío (Santiago) has been living with her grandmother, but has been spending increasing time with her father, Lalo (Jimenez). He runs a local wrestling arena, and his girlfriend is the woman’s champion, Candy Caramelo (Gruber). Rocio has no interest in re-connecting with her mother, and Ángela ends up breaking out the old family business; her long-gone father was a star. She secretly becomes masked wrestler Novia Negra – the Bride in Black – to win back Rocio’s affection. But Candy is not impressed by this new rival, in either the ring or her family life.

If this had been it, I feel things would have been entertaining, though I admit it would have been tough to stretch that plot-line out over eight episodes. The makers prefer to throw in a slew of additional storylines, of varying effectiveness. Ángela seeking for the truth behind the knapsack which got her sent to prison. Rocio’s trouble at school, with bullies and a boy she likes. Hell, even Ángela’s mother gets a subplot in which she finds romance with the owner of the bridal store for whom her daughter works. There are times when it feels like there’s barely a mention of lucha libre over an entire episode. GLOW did a much better job of striking a balance between character development and sports entertainment.

This is a shame, since there are some interesting quirks here. GLOW never pretended wrestling was anything but predetermined. This show firmly keeps “kayfabe” – the illusion that what goes on in the ring is real. I don’t mean that Candy and Ángela are pretending to dislike each other: that’s genuine enough. But the battles between Candy and Novia are not carefully choreographed spectacles of athleticism, they’re presented as “real fights”. I’d love to have seen more exploration of this, and considerably less of Rocio’s pre-teen angst. To be frank, who cares if she has had her first period? I know I didn’t. Wrestling has been described as “soap-opera on steroids.” This show feels in need of an injection of PEDs.

Showrunner: Fernando Sariñana
Star: Caraly Sánchez, Scarlet Gruber, Alisson Santiago, Cuauhtli Jimenez
a.k.a. Contra las cuerdas

Assassin’s Vow, by David Bruns and J. R. Olson

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

Bruns and Olson are retired U.S. Navy officers, Olson in particular with a background in naval intelligence –and that background is drawn on heavily in the various self-published series that he and Bruns co-write. This particular 117-page novella exists only in an electronic edition; in keeping with my usual practice, I’d never have read it, but for the fact that it’s a freebie. Supposedly, it’s the fourth in a succession of “Standalone Suspenseful Short Reads.” In fact, although I read it as a standalone, it actually ties directly into The Pandora Deception, the fourth novel in the authors’ WMD Files series. (The first novel of that series is premised on the conceit that former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein really did have his infamous “weapons of mass destruction,” but cleverly smuggled them out of Iraq before the Americans closed in – okay, this IS fiction.) Our protagonist in this novella, Mossad agent and top-notch assassin Rachel Jaeger, is an important character in the afore-mentioned fourth novel of that series (and possibly others); and indeed, we can surmise that the reason this work is given away for free is so that it can serve as a teaser to draw readers to the series.

Actually, our heroine’s real name is Makda Moretti; “Rachel Jaeger” is her Mossad code name (jaeger means “hunter” in German, and probably also in Yiddish, which is a Germanic language; and Rachel is a name with definite Old Testament associations). Historically, going back to at least New Testament times and possibly back as far as the reign of Solomon, a certain number of blacks in East Africa have identified with the Jewish faith. Rachel was born in Ethiopia, and her mother was one of these (although her mixed race father was half Italian). But though this subculture is mentioned. the authors don’t develop it at all. Their concentration is very much on providing the character’s “origin story.”

We begin en media res, on her first mission as a fledgling operative in a town on the Egyptian Sinai penninsula, where she’s supposed to provide scouting and lookout functions for a team tasked with taking out a terrorist. (But circumstances will cause her role to morph into something more demanding….) Well positioned flashbacks show us how, as a smart, physically fit and observant Tel Aviv Univ. student with a double major in economics and foreign languages, a solid background of martial arts training, and no close family (her mother had recently died, and her brother had emigrated to the U.S.) she was recruited into Mossad. (Later flashbacks show her family’s harrowing trek to Israel from danger in an unraveling Ethiopia, on which her father was killed, when she was a very small child, and a later formative experience of standing up to two bullies in order to defend another child, which shaped her penchant for defending innocents.)

Levi, the slightly older agent who recruited her, initially used the cover of a dating relationship as a medium to get close to her and check her out; this probably began as a ploy on his part, but quickly became much more serious, and the Makda-Levi relationship plays a very crucial role in the plot here. I don’t recommend reading the Amazon book description (the Goodreads database entry doesn’t have any description) because it divulges a lot of the plot, not just the premise. But suffice it to say that personal tragedy will be a shaping force in Rachel’s career. The time frame of the main tale is apparently about two years.

This is not a deep novel wrestling with moral, psychological, spiritual or political issues. There’s no real exploration of the complex roots and merits of the current Israeli vs. Arab hostility. Both Rachel’s and Levi’s role in Mossad is strictly counter-terrorism, combating and forestalling bad actors who would target and murder innocent civilians for political ends. That these people need to be stopped is a moral no-brainer, regardless of your attitudes towards Zionism or Palestinian statehood. Religion plays no role in the tale; Rachel and Levi are strictly secular and identify with Israel on the basis of peoplehood (which in her case is not exactly ethnic either, but more cultural, in a broad sense). The first time that she has to take a life (in self-defense), Rachel experiences some believable psychological distress at the enormity and finality of it, but is able to work through it and come to terms with it fairly quickly, as an action in successful and needed defense of her people; that kind of issue doesn’t arise elsewhere in the book. Despite the Amazon blurb’s overwrought reference to her “inner demons,” we don’t really meet any of the latter, our authors don’t really psycho-analyze her in depth, beyond the obvious feelings.

What it is instead is a straightforward tale of espionage action-adventure, with no real pretensions beyond offering exciting entertainment for readers who appreciate danger, suspense, physical challenges, and the satisfaction of seeing a good gal kick some bad-guy butt. :-) That’s exactly what the authors set out to deliver, and they make good on their promise admirably. This is a very well-written, fast flowing novel, with believable characters, all of them presented in life-like fashion. The prose is thoroughly serviceable, and free of bad language, with the exception of a couple of s-words in one place. (I appreciated that restraint, which I regard as a hallmark of good, tasteful writing.) There are a variety of locales here –Rome, France and Tunisia, in addition to Israel, the Sinai and East Africa, as already mentioned– and while they’re not necessarily realized with a deep sense of place (remember, this is a 117-page novella!), all of the physical settings are described vividly enough that we can easily visualize them.

Inside knowledge of espionage trade-craft and the inner workings of an intelligence agency is incorporated seamlessly into the narrative, giving it a solid feeling of verisimilitude. Our authors refrain from depicting explicit sex, and they treat sexual matters in general with restraint. It’s mentioned that Makda and Levi began sharing her bed after they’d been dating two weeks, but it’s left at that, and the feelings between the two, in fairness, are much more intense than the short time span suggests. (Normally I’m skeptical of insta-love scenarios in fiction, especially in a modern setting, but it carried complete credibility here.)

One scene had both Rachel and the target of one of her hits naked at one point, because she was posing as a prostitute in order to carry out her mission, but there’s no gratuitous physical description and no sexual activity takes place. (It’s a disgusting scene only because of the repugnant nature of the target’s exploitative and misogynistic attitudes, but he’s meant to be disgusting.) As an action adventure yarn with a government-sanctioned assassin for a main character, it’s going to feature lethal violence directly described, but there’s restraint here too; there’s no wallowing in gore for its own sake, and neither the authors nor Rachel are sadistic. (She’ll deliver certain death to her marks –who inspire no particular pity!– with consummate efficiency, but she”ll deliver it quickly and cleanly.)

My high rating reflects the degree of skill with which the authors deliver on the conventions of their genre, as well as my enjoyment of the tale (I’d easily have read it in one sitting if my time had allowed!). The only negative I felt is that Rachel’s character arc here doesn’t leave her, emotionally, in as good a place at the end as her friends would want her to be. (And by the time you finish the book, if you read it, you’ll probably also count yourself among her friends. :-) ) To be fair, however, that’s because it’s not a complete arc; the authors have at least one more adventure for her, in a full-length novel that will probably allow for much more progress in her personal life journey. Sadly, I don’t plan to witness it; at the age of 70 and with a gargantuan TBR, I don’t choose to get sucked into the welter of Bruns’ and Olsen’s various series, so I read this as a stand-alone. But I wish our heroine well; and can unhesitatingly recommend at least this start of her saga to all fans of espionage thrillers and action heroines!

Author: David Bruns and J. R. Olson
Publisher: Reef Points Media; available through Amazon, currently only as an electronic book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Avenging Angels: Sinner’s Gold, by K. W. Jeter

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

“A. W. Hart,” the nominal author of the Avenging Angels series, is actually a house pen name used by Wolfpack Publishing for the multiple authors of this and one or two of their other series. Where books are marketed or shelved by the author’s name, this device allows a series to be kept together. It also makes it possible for the same main character(s) to be featured in a number of adventures, without being limited to the imagination or time constraints of a single author.

If one dogmatically maintains that worthwhile creative art, by definition, can be created only by individual genius operating in total independence of any collaboration, then this won’t be viewed as worthwhile creative art. (Neither will the music of Gilbert and Sullivan, the art of Currier and Ives, or the novels of Nordhoff and Hall, to cite only a few examples.) This is more of a collaborative effort, building on a common foundation. While it requires, and gives scope for, individual creativity, it also sets the challenge to that creativity of operating in fidelity to the foundation, rather than creating contradictions to it. In the two Avenging Angels books I’ve read, I felt the challenge was met; in both books, the main characters are consistent.

Barb and I encountered this series before only in its seventh installment, Avenging Angels: The Wine of Violence, because the actual author of that one is my Goodreads friend Charles Allen Gramlich. We’d intended to read that one as a stand-alone (both of these books, and presumably the others, can be read that way, since the reader is filled in quickly and simply on the basic set-up and premise of the series in each one and each adventure is self-contained and episodic). By a happy serendipity, however, things worked out for me to purchase this second installment, and we took a chance on it. (It didn’t disappoint!)

As series fans, or readers of my previous review, already know, our main characters and titular “Avenging Angels” here are twins George Washington “Reno” and Sara Bass, still in their later teens, the God-fearing son and daughter of a Lutheran pastor in Kansas. They were 16 in the late spring or early summer of 1865, just after the Civil War, when while they were out hunting, their parents and siblings were massacred by a band of renegade ex-Confederates. The first book (which I haven’t read) describes that incident, how they promised their dying father that they would take on the mission of avenging the slaughter and ridding the world of other lowlifes who prey on the innocent, and how they served justice on the murderers. This book mentions that before doing that, they spent several months under the tutelage of their father’s friend Ty Mandell, learning and honing their formidable gun skills; it’s now summer again, so I’d say we’re into 1866, and they’re about 17.

It’s also mentioned that George got his nickname “Reno” from his dad, after an officer the older Bass had served with in the Mexican War and admired; the author doesn’t state this explicitly, but that would be Jesse L. Reno, who later became a Union general in the Civil War, and was killed in battle in 1862. In the early part of this book, we’re shown how circumstances shaped their decision to become bounty hunters, as a way of supporting themselves while fulfilling their ongoing vow. That decision will soon have them heading to the town of Hatchet, Nebraska to collect their first bounties, along with rather mysterious, 30-something Brenda Walon, who’s on her way to the same place, where an old friend has died and Brenda is named in her will. But Hatchet doesn’t prove to be a welcoming place; mystery and danger await, and this volume will deliver Western action aplenty.

For this book, the real author is Wayne D. Dundee (he’s credited on the back page), a seasoned author of Westerns, mysteries and other genre fiction. His prose is more clunky and plodding than Gramlich’s, with a tendency to frequently explain the obvious. However, the novel is well-plotted (the resolution in the last part, IMO, was quite brilliant –it came as a surprise, but ultimately struck me as perfect) and the characterizations are skillful. Dundee handles action scenes believably and capably, with a high body count but no unnecessary “pornography of violence.” There are no particularly deep themes here, but there are some good messages Bad language of the h- and d-word sort and religious profanity is more common here than in the installment I read earlier, but still a bit restrained; there’s no explicit sex, though there are references to illicit sex, including the brothel that formerly operated in the town.

Action heroine fans will find Sara as deadly as Reno is, and will appreciate both this novel and, probably, any of those in the series.

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

The Arrival, by Nicole MacDonald

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Literary rating: ★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆

I’ve made a terrible mistake. I don’t recall exactly at what point in reading this, I first came to that conclusion. It may have been the multi-page description of dress fitting. It could have been the lengthy shopping expedition. But it’s safe to say that, if I hadn’t been running behind on book reviews, this would almost certainly have been a Did Not Finish, and consigned to the recycle bin of oblivion. The main problem, if definitely not the only one, is the mismatch between the description and reality. The Amazon page describes it, rather breathlessly, as “An Epic Fantasy Romance Adventure.” Silly me, I expected this to mean about equal amounts of those elements, especially given the cover. A more accurate description would be, “A Romantic Epic Romance Fantasy ROMANCE Romance Adventure ROMANCE, with added ROMANCING”

It’s basically the story of four young women from New Zealand, who find themselves transported from Wellington to the mystical realm of Gar’nyse, after engaging in an occult ritual. Ok, it’s casting a love spell. There, dragons and all manner of other mystical beasts roam the lands. As well, naturally, as hunky young men: barely have they arrived, before they have encountered their soulmates, in the form of four incredibly handsome members of the Griffon Guard. And that’s where the book basically grinds to a halt, plot advancement being replaced by a slew of gazing deep into each other’s eyes moments. Oh, the quartet of interchangeable Barbie dolls, largely distinguishable only by their skills and hair-styles, are essential to the survival of the kingdom, naturally, due to their possessing “Elemental” abilities. After much training under Elena the Sorceress, they’ll go up against… the Wicked Witch of the West, or her blonde equivalent anyway.

For let’s be honest, she doesn’t show up until the very end, gatecrashing a palace ball (did I mention the dress fitting?) in Maleficent style. I had largely given up paying attention by that point, after slogging through two hundred or so pages of this nonsense. /gestures vaguely. Additionally, I found myself irrationally annoyed by the author’s inability to stick to a single point of view. The “I” in a paragraph was not necessarily the same as the “I” in the next one, and though the changes were usually obvious enough, I sometimes had to pause, then try and work out who was now the first person. It is an unnecessary chore made reading feel more like homework. But the main problem is, there simply isn’t enough going on to drive the narrative forward. I’d potentially have been interested to see how the four heroines survived as “strangers in a strange land”. Instead, as soon as the Griffon Guard show up, everything becomes too damn easy for them, and virtually the only challenges faced the rest of the way are ones of the heart. A very, very hard pass.

Author: Nicole MacDonald
Publisher: Little Leo Reads, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the Birthright series.

Agent Girls

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★
“Badly broken China”

I have seen bad movies before. I have seen Chinese movies before. But I have never before seen such a bad Chinese movie. Really, their action films are usually at least somewhat competent: even the dreadful work of the notorious Godfrey Ho usually had something of… well, interest, if not perhaps quality to offer. This, however? Utterly appalling, with close to no redeeming features. One anecdote should give you some idea of what I mean. When our daughter was 12, she and her little friend borrowed the camcorder and made a 10-minute action movie, mostly taking place in the garage. I am 100% serious when I say it had significantly better fight choreography than this, and the other elements which go into the film are of little if any higher standard.

The heroines are a group who have apparently just graduated from college. Though before we get to that, there’s a prologue involving a (stock footage) war between China and Vietnam, which somehow led to the establishment of “an International Evil Eye Organization”. One of the members was Xiao Lishan, who went off and did AIDS research. Pause for the first of many poorly-conceived scenes, of the girls wondering what to do with their lives, which is neither interesting nor informative. This is mercifully interrupted by Xiao Fei (Ling) getting a phone-call from Mom, telling Fei her father has committed suicide. It won’t be long before viewers will be considering similar action, as a means of escape from this viewing experience.

Fei can’t believe he’d take his own life, and the suspicious actions of a delivery driver increase her doubts. So after the police close the case, she and her group of gal pals begin their own investigation, seeking the culprits and to make them pay. This will eventually take them back to Hanoi – I’m assuming that’s the “H city” referred to. Though the budget extends to nothing more jet-setting than a random shot of a plane taking off, without even any of the usual “exterior shots” used in low-budget cinema to establish an exotic location. This is just one of the many technical flaws, also apparent in quite terrible audio work, ranging from the tinny and echoey, to the basically inaudible. Even though this was subtitled, it remained an annoyance.

But this is positively Oscar-calibre compared to the action. It builds to an assault in search of a USB drive, where they are supposedly going up against “commandos”. All I can say is, the Chinese Army is vastly over-rated, though I was amused by the way they wear ski-masks for no apparent reasons. It is painfully clear nobody here has had any kind of martial arts training at all, or is remotely familiar with the business end of a firearm. Combine this with the woeful ineptness present in almost every other level, from the writing through the performances to the direction, and you’ve got something that is a couple of credible drone shots away from being a contender for the worst action heroine film of all time.

Dir: Xiao Ju-Shi
Star: Ling Yu, Zhang Mu-Qing, Pang Cheng-Yu, Maidina Paluk

Asking for It (2020)

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★★
“A Net loss.”

Not to be confused with the 2022 rape-revenge film of the same name (which I’ll get round to reviewing down the pipe), this is somewhat lighter in tone, though there’s a case to be made that this clashes terribly with the subject matter. Jenny (Hsu) is a journalist, working under Cheryl (Garofalo),and her work has brought her to the attention of an online stalker, who sends her increasingly disturbed and disturbing emails. When the harassment begins to move from the cyberworld into the real one, and the authorities fail even to reach the level of disinterest, Jenny teams up with room-mate Lisa (Morales), to hunt down the perpetrator and bring him to justice themselves.

In case the above is not clear, this is a comedy.

Yeah, I’m a bit uncomfortable about this. Not necessarily about the subject matter, as I tend to think any topic can be seen through the lens of humour. However, the more problematic your target, the less room for error. If you want to joke about, say, the Holocaust, you’d better bring your A game. This isn’t anywhere in the same league as a subject; however, nor is the comedy here anything close to an A game. There are a few amusing moments involving veteran Garofalo, who has the timing to hit home, with her depiction of a jaded and cynical writer. Yet otherwise, it’s mostly a weirdly toothless kind of satire, possessing too many “Is that supposed to be a joke?” moments, e.g. the blanking out of all the F-bombs.

I did enjoy the performances, with Hsu an appealing lead, and Morales doing some heavy lifting as the weirdo housemate from hell, whose special skills are indispensable to the plot. Though her “hacking” scene is another of those “Is that supposed to be a joke?” moments. The best scene probably has the pair heading to utterly deadpan teenage gun dealer, Lisa’s step-daughter, Missy. She delights in speeches like, “You left your G-string, by the way… I wore it. And then I sold it. On a website for perverts. And then I donated that money. To an elephant. Charity,” or “I don’t know how any of them work… I’m not a school shooter. Jeez, I’m sorry I can’t tell you the science behind riflery.”

Outside of those five minutes, the rest does not consistently work, either as a comedy or a thriller. I think it’s mostly a scripting problem, not least because the identity of her stalker is painfully obvious from the moment he first appears. You have to wait about an hour for Jenny and Lisa to catch up, and the pickings in that time – save Missy, who deserves her own movie – are slim. I was left mostly wondering why anyone would want to a) live in New York, and b) work as an online writer – fortunately, this is not my day job. I suspect this was not exactly the intended take-away. 

Dir: Amanda Lundquist, Becky Scott
Star: Stephanie Hsu, Irene Morales, Colin Burgess, Janeane Garofalo

Amy

  By

★★★
“What rules?”

It’s interesting to compare the approach taken in this biopic of aviation heroine Amy Johnson, made in 1984, with the one over 40 years earlier (and shortly after her death) in They Flew Alone, and note the similarities and differences. Both are relatively restrained in budget. The earlier one because it was a low-cost production, made during a war; the later one because it was made for television – and the BBC at that, never a broadcaster known for its profligate spending! As a result, both are limited in terms of the spectacle they can offer, and end up opting to concentrate on Amy as a character. It’s the cheaper approach.

This benefits from a little more distance, and doesn’t need to paint an almost beatific picture of its subject for patriotic propaganda purposes. It begins with Amy (Walter) already fully grown up and seeking to raise funds for her record-setting flight to Australia, despite only a hundred hours of solo experience. Actually, 102, as she points out to a potential sponsor, also delivering the line above. when it’s pointed out she’s not even supposed to be in the hangar. The film does a somewhat better job of capturing Amy in flight, with wing-mounted camerawork that’s an improvement over the obvious rear-projection used in Alone. Yet there’s still too much reliance on newspaper headlines, to avoid having to spend money, though there is some deft use, of what’s either genuine newsreel footage or artfully re-created, sepia facsimiles.

There is a similar focus on her failed marriage to fellow aviator, Jim Mollinson (Francis, who really does not sound Scottish at all), and he doesn’t come off much better than the character did in Alone. Jim is portrayed again as a drunken womanizer, though this version plays down the idea of him becoming fed-up at being overshadowed by Johnson’s exploits. It feels like there’s a slight hint of a romantic relationship between Johnson and earlier co-pilot Jack Humphreys (Pugh). There’s also a statement that she had an operation to prevent her from having children, which I had not heard before. But it does depict Amy as quickly becoming fed up with the endless appearances required by her Daily Mail contract post-Australia flight, which seems accurate: she was happier out of the public eye.

The biggest difference between the two films is probably the way they depict her death. This… simply doesn’t. It ends instead, in a 1940 meeting with her ex-husband, while they were both ferrying planes around Britain for the Air Transport Auxiliary. Barbs are traded, and Jim seems annoyed when a fan comes up seeking Amy’s autograph and ignoring him completely. She leaves for her flight, despite being told regulations won’t let her take off due to the conditions. “What rules?” she says, before a caption details her death in 1941. It’s understated, and that’s in line with the approach taken here – perhaps too much so. While I think it is slightly better than Alone, this feels mostly due to better technical aspects. I still can’t feel either film gave me a true understanding of what she was like, or what made her tick.

Dir: Nat Crosby
Star: Harriet Walter, Clive Francis, George A. Cooper, Robert Pugh