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

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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

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★★★
“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)

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★★★
“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

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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

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★★★
“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

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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

  By

★★★
“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

  By

★★★
“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

  By

★★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