Tag: crime

Double Threat

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★★½
“2-for-1 is not always a great deal.”

If Ryan looks familiar, that’s because she is. She starred in Survivor – no, the other film by that name – and also 626 Evolution, making a fairly decent impression in the former, and let down significantly by the approach of the latter. There, she was billed as Danielle Chuchran: not sure if the name change is a result of marriage, or simply a realization that “Ryan” is a lot easier to remember. Whether you will want to is a different matter: she’s likely the best thing in this, and when it appears, the action is decent. There just isn’t enough of it, and the stuff between the set-pieces ranges from mediocre to cringeworthy.

It begins in a convenience store, where Jimmy (Lawrence, who a very long time ago, was one of the kids in Mrs. Doubtfire!) is chatting up the pretty clerk, Natasha (Ryan). Two armed mem show up: before Jimmy can blink, Natasha has killed them both, grabbed her bug-out bag and exited. A stunned Jimmy decides not to stick around, and drives off, only for Natasha to pop up in the back. Turns out the store was a front for the mob to launder money, and she had skimmed $600,000. They – in particular, the boss’s son, Ellis (Joy) and his top fixer, Ask (Olivieri) – are out to make an example of her. Yet there’s one big twist which might work in her favour: Natasha has a split personality. 

There’s Nat, the sensible, quiet one. Then there’s Tasha, the unrepentant bad-ass who can take very good care of herself. Jimmy has to try and figure out what to do, and with whom, when all he really wants to do is get to the ocean and scatter the ashes of his late brother. Meanwhile, Ellis is bickering with Ask, and being brow-beaten with his father. If this all sounds like a lot: it is. The film basically tries to do too much, and ends up doing little of it justice. It’s the male characters who drag it down: Jimmy is vanilla pudding, while Ellis is a whiny little puppy. Just pit Ask against Nat and Tasha, and be done with it.

Ryan does know how to handle herself in action. The best sequence has her taking on two thugs in hand-to-hand combat, while Jimmy fails to figure out how to operate a gun. This is imaginative and well-done, using her agility, speed and flexibility to counter their strength. On the other hand, then there’s the bit where she steals a bow and a horse from some LARPers and… Sorry, I’ve lost the will to type it out. The film needs to pick a tone and stick to it, Stanley not being able to pull off the shifts necessary. That’s even aside from qualms about the glib use of mental illness as convenient plot device, Nat or Tasha showing up exactly when needed. I hope Ryan can find a better vehicle for her talents, since she deserves better. 

Dir: Shane Stanley
Star: Danielle C. Ryan, Matthew Lawrence, Kevin Joy, Dawn Olivieri

Swamp Women

  By

★★★
“Marsh ado about nothing.”

One of the earliest films directed by Roger Corman, it’d be a major stretch to call this a good film, yet I can’t deny I found it entertaining. It definitely has better female characters than most movies of the mid-fifties. Four women break out of jail and head into the swamps, in search of stolen diamonds which were previously hidden in the Louisiana swamps. Except, one of them is an undercover police officer, Lee Hampton (Mathews), who had been inserted into prison to join the gang and lead the escape, in the hope of recovering the loot. After the car breaks down, they hijack a boat owned by an oil prospector, Bob, and his girlfriend, taking them hostage as they head deeper into the bayou.

Things unfold more or less as you’d expect, though not exactly how Lee would have planned. There’s dissension in the ranks, fighting between the women for the attentions of Bob, encounters with native wildlife, and copious amounts of stock footage. The last is both of Mardi Gras in New Orleans and expensive elements like helicopters, helping pad the running-time, though it still comes in on the underside of seventy minutes. By all accounts, there was hardly a corner which Corman left uncut, such as the women doing their own stunts. Mike Connors, who played Bob, said, “The girls in that picture had it much worse than I did… They had to trudge through the mud, the swamps, pulling this rowboat, and I was sitting in the rowboat high and dry.”

Characterization beyond Lee is largely limited to the colour of the women’s hair – blonde, brunette, or redhead – though Josie (Marie Windsor, the star of Outlaw Women) is effective as the de facto leader of the group. It is nice there’s no attempt made to give them boyfriends or husbands. They make their own decisions, and follow through with them, entirely on their own terms. This brand of mid-fifties feminism results in more than one instance of them rolling around in the swamp, cat-fighting each other. Somehow, their hair, clothes and make-up miraculously seem to escape any kind of damage in these brawls, and return to pristine condition for the next scene.

On the way to the finale, Vera (Garland) tries to sneak off with both the jewels and Bob, paying the price for her treachery. The authorities manage to lose track of the group, and Josie grows increasingly suspicious of Lee’s resistance to violence. The leader eventually orders Lee to kill Bob; the shots fired in the ensuing fracas are enough, conveniently, to attract the search party, while Vera and Lee battle through the forest and – inevitably, into the water. It’s all entirely ridiculous, and the scope for parody makes it easy to understand why it was MST3K‘d. Yet even at this early stage, Corman clearly understood that the worst crime a B-movie can commit it is to be boring. For all its flaws, Swamp Women is never that.

Dir: Roger Corman
Star: Carole Mathews, Marie Windsor, Beverly Garland, Jill Jarmyn

Siren of the Muncy Hole, by James Halpin

  By

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

The main theme of this book appears to be, “How far will a mother go, to protect her daughter?” Based on what we read here, the answer to that question appears to be, “Very, very far.” The heroine is Sherica Daniels, who initially appears to have somewhat lucked out and escaped a nasty and abusive relationship. Her husband, drug addict Roy, has just died following a pair of botched armed robberies. That should leave her and teenage daughter Ashlynn to get on with their lives. Not so fast. For it’s only a short while before Roy’s drug dealer, Tokie, shows up. He’s demanding Sherica pays her husband’s debt – and more, because he believes she knows where the unrecovered loot from Roy’s robberies was hidden. When she fails to convince Tokie otherwise, he abducts Ashlynn.

The police are limited in what they can do, for Ashlynn has substance abuse issues of her own, and tells the authorities she wasn’t kidnapped. Sherica knows otherwise. She sets out to track down and rescue her daughter, from a man who turns out to be not just a drug dealer, but also a pimp. Though how do you rescue somebody who doesn’t want to be rescued? Especially when you have no experience, few resources – though Sherica does have her late husband’s .357 Magnum – and your only ally is a gas station clerk, a refugee from the Yemen. The answer is mostly tenacity: the heroine simply won’t sit back and accept any other outcome, except for getting Ashlynn back.

The style here is occasionally a tad clunky. I found myself having to reread some sentences several times to figure out their meaning, such as, “After all, you can’t live your life thinking back about what you should have done if only you’d known something you could never have known in the first place. You just can’t.” Uh… Sure, I guess? Despite the cover, it is also very restrained on the action front. There is only one such sequence, and most of its content unfolds over little more than a minute in real-time. Though it is spectacularly gory, and partly makes up for in intensity, what it might lack in duration.

The book’s main plus point is probably the character of Sherica, who is not your typical heroine. Her situation largely sucks, mainly as a result of poor choices, yet Halpin still manages to make her sympathetic. The fierce devotion to her daughter, and desire to give Ashlynn a better life, goes a long way in this regard. While told in flashback, there are hints at the downbeat way things will turn out throughout and the significance – indeed, even the meaning – of the title only becomes clear at the end. I’m not entirely convinced a situation like this would [and I’m skirting spoilers here!] conclude in the manner described. Yet it’s just plausible enough, and this is more about the journey than the destination.

Author: James Halpin
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Standalone novel

District Queens

  By

★★
“Queen of the East.”

The latest stop in our ongoing tour of female-driven urban crime movies brings us to the nation’s capital in Washington, where the police are celebrating just having taken down a leading light in the city’s organized crime industry. Now, they set their sights on a new target: the gang led by Racine Robinson (Vaughan) and her two daughters, Kat (Crosby) and Candy (Bethea). These might prove a tougher nut to crack, since the Robinson crew have a harsh, zero tolerance policy to anyone who messes with them in the slightest, yet also gathered local support during the coronavirus pandemic. Indeed, Racine is so popular in the neighbourhood, a run for political office is not out of the question. However, she has rivals, who have more than a passing interest in seeing her taken out of the picture – albeit for very different reasons, in order to make room for them to rise up.

This is a real grab-bag of elements, ranging from those which work very well, to those which are almost unmitigated disasters. To start on the positive side, there’s a callous disregard for human life here that’s genuinely disturbing. Even if the CGI splatter is far from convincing, head shots abound. And unlike some entries, the women in this one have no issue getting their hands dirty, for even the most trivial of reasons e.g someone tossed water at them. The guns they tote on the cover aren’t just for show. There are plenty of strong female characters on both sides of the law, from the Robinson family through Police Commissioner Stallworth, to dirty cops who have no issue shooting someone in cold blood and planting a gun on them. Perhaps the most impressive is Jada (Simmons), who looks like she actually would pop a cap in you for looking at her the wrong way. Even if there are points where I wondered if I was watching a black Russ Meyer movie, there are worse things as influence.

These good points are, unfortunately, outweighed heavily by the other side of the scale. Some of them are par for the course, such as the way the movie appears a vehicle for the makers to tout their pals’ music, businesses or whatever, in a painfully obvious way. The shaky technical elements are also unsurprising, with a “police station” that is little more than empty rooms. Audio is, as usual, the main culprit: there are points where two sides of the supposed same conversation will sound radically different. The main problem though, is a script which has no idea of the direction it wants to take, once it has set out its pieces on the chess-board. Scenes happen, with little or no connection to each other, and supporting characters drift in, drift out or (more often) get gunned down, without ever establishing relevance. Throw in embarrassingly amateur lesbian canoodling, without delivering any actual nudity, and you have a film which swings wildly from “That’s actually well-done” to “How could they include this without cringing?” every couple of minutes.

Dir: Roosevelt Jackson
Star: Rochelle Vaughan, Kathleen Vaughn Crosby, Stacie Bethea, Sasheen Simmons

Real Dangerous People, by K. W. Jeter

  By

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

This gritty and action-packed series was originally marketed in seven volumes. The new edition condenses that to four, by combining the first six into three and designating each component in the pair as either Part 1 or Part 2, the original title of each Part 1 serving as the new book title for both. So this book counts as two series installments. That’s a felicitous arrangement, because installments 1-2 (now paired as Real Dangerous Girl) and 3-4 here both fit together nicely as two self-contained two-part story arcs, each featuring protagonist/narrator Kim but centering on a different challenge each time, that starts in Part 1 and finds its resolution in Part 2. But the books should be read in order; here, references are made to persons and events from the prior installments, and in order to fully understand who Kim and her wheelchair-bound kid brother Donnie are, their situation, and the development of her character, you really need to have read the preceding part of the canon. Warning: this review will contain “spoilers” for the previous book(s).

As I’d deduced and mentioned in my review of installment 1 (I read and wrote about the first two as separate books: what is now Real Dangerous Girl Part 1 and Part 2), the setting is an unnamed city in western New York state. It’s not named here either; but references to docks and ocean-going commerce point to Rochester, which is on Lake Ontario and can access the Atlantic via the St. Lawrence River. Several months have passed since the end of the previous book; it’s now winter. One reference suggests that Kim’s still 17; but she has to be getting pretty close to 18. (A credibility problem with the series is that it’s hard to fit all of her backstory into 17 years.) We’re not actually brought up to speed on the intervening events until Chapter 3, and Kim’s wry description of her new line of work as “killing people” might give the idea that she’s been working as an assassin. She hasn’t –but she has opted to make her living with her .357 rather than her calculator; and as she recognizes, the possibility of lethal violence is always present, especially given the sort of people who’ll employ her.

At Cole’s funeral, a meeting with Curt, an old acquaintance of his that he’d recommended her to, led to a three-month gig in “security” for one Mr. Falcone, another mobster like her former employer, who now prefers to be called Mr. Falcon since he’s looking to shed his Mafia image; also like the late Mr. McIntyre, he’s moving to position himself as more plausibly “legitimate.” (So “security” work for him involves dealing with his double-crossing employees, and attacks by thugs working for his equally shady rivals.) Near the beginning of this book, she’s invited to join his personal bodyguard team, where a sudden vacancy has opened up. But the way it opened up isn’t encouraging…. Since there are a couple of more books in the series, we know that our girl’s going to make it home at the end of the day. But she doesn’t have any such assurance, and the chances of this job ending with a tag on her toe look pretty real. She needs the money, though, since failing to provide for Donnie isn’t an option she’ll accept; and she’s about to face another unexpected existential threat to her little family unit, from a totally different quarter.

As noted above, Kim’s character is developing, and not always in ways that please her. (In fact, some developments concern and scare her.) The criminal underworld she originally entered unwittingly when she landed a job with McIntyre’s now defunct organization has become pretty much her default environment. That’s partly because no legitimate business will hire her as an accountant with no formal credentialling, even if she’s good at it, but also because, though she doesn’t like to admit it to herself, at one level she thrives on the excitement, empowerment and adrenaline rush of life in warrior mode; and she takes fierce pride in being equally good at that. Thanks to Cole’s training, she’s a very accurate, quick-reflexed markswoman, and strong and agile despite her petite stature. (And she can now kill without batting an eye –though that’s a development she fully realizes is problematical.) This career choice puts her on a tightrope between the demands of her job and her moral instincts; the tension of walking it can make her cry and vomit at times. Shades of grey often define her alternatives; there’s a lot of food for thought here in terms of moral reflection, as there often is in this genre. That’s implicit in the story, though, not embodied in explicit struggles in Kim’s mind; survival generally dictates her choices, and the one here that many readers will most intensely disagree with and disapprove of is one she makes instantly and without having to agonize over at all. (Having a family of my own, I totally understand why she doesn’t have to.)

There’s no sex, licit or illicit, in this book (or the prior installments). Kim’s not without interest in sex; but like most teens, she sees herself as unattractive. She’s never pursued a relationship, and she’s taken to heart Cole’s advice that the best option for a hired gun is celibacy. (Though given that he was in a long-term relationship with a live-in girlfriend, he failed to practice what he preached.) Compared to the prior installments, there’s an increase in bad language here, including some use of the f-word and religious profanity, though Jeter’s use of it is still restrained compared to many writers who depict this milieu. (Kim’s own language isn’t as bad as that of her colleagues, though if I were her dad I’d still call her on some of it.) In fairness, given the kind of characters we’re dealing with, the language isn’t unrealistic. Violence comes with this territory; several people here exit the world with bullets in their bodies (some of them by Kim’s hand). But none of them are particularly nice people who would elicit any tears from the average reader; I can safely promise that “no innocents were harmed in the writing of this book.” :-)

In terms of literary quality, this is a highly gripping and emotionally evocative read, and a fast-paced one. Depiction of well-drawn, nuanced characters is one of the author’s strengths; Kim herself is a vital bundle of three-dimensioned nuance, but all of the cast here come to life. (Most aren’t especially likable, except for Donnie and Mae, but I do like Kim and root for her, despite her rough edges; Jeter lets me understand where she’s coming from, and her narrative voice makes me empathize with her.) There’s also more of a mystery element here than in the previous story arc, though I still classify this as action-adventure rather than mystery. It has to be said, though, that this book isn’t as well crafted as the preceding. There are editorial issues, some minor. but several more serious. In places details, plot elements and conversations are inconsistent with things written before, which can fray (though not break) the thread of the plot. (The worst of these is where a character dies in one chapter, but reappears alive in the next one!) That cost the book a star; but I’d still recommend it to all readers of the first book (though not as the starting point for the series). And I most definitely intend to follow the series to its completion!

Author: K. W. Jeter
Publisher: Lincoln Square Books; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
Book 2 of 4 in the Kim Oh series, containing previously available titles Real Dangerous People and Real Dangerous Place.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

My Day

  By

★★½
“Where the streets have no name.”

Sixteen-year-old Ally (Smith) is living her life very much on the fringes of society. Coming from a broken home, she is now homeless on the streets of London, relying on the dubious charity of questionable friends. Though Ally does have her limits as to what she’s prepared to do, she has no issue with occasional bits of work, delivering drugs for dodgy couple Carol and Gary. It’s this that gets her into trouble: a job goes wrong, after the customer tries to rape her, and Ally flees – without either the drugs or the money. Carol and Gary are bad enough. Yet even they live in mortal fear of their boss, Eastern European gangster Ilyas (Adomaitis). He wants his merch back – and Ally, as interest, for sale to his sex trafficking friends.

Ally ends up in Ilyas’s clutches, increasingly strung out on heroin. Luckily, help to escape comes from a couple of unexpected sources. First is Carol and Gary’s son Kevin (Jackson), who has bigger plans outside the estate on which he currently lives. Then there’s old age pensioner Frank (Kinsey – whom I remember from close to fifty years ago, playing a soldier on classic Brit-com, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum!), who has befriended Ally for his own reasons, is concerned by her sudden absence, and sets out to track her down. Are either of them prepared to cope with someone as morally bankrupt and brutally violent as Ilyas?

This is likely a fringe entry here, considering Ally spends much of the time lying on a squalid mattress, off her head. Yet there are likely just enough moments to qualify, and she has absolutely no aversion to using violence herself when necessary – beyond what any of her male allies can deliver. Although Ally is not a particularly likeable character, there is still enough of a moral code that I did find myself eventually warming to her. The problems here are more in the other cast members, who largely appear to be single-note descriptions, e.g. “kindly old codger,” with the actors not apparently given enough information to flesh them out by first-time feature director Miiro.

I did appreciate a slightly different view of London from the one often shown. Not least, it unfolds on the Western edge of the city, rather than the inevitable go-to when film-makers want to show deprivation, the East End (with an occasional foray Sarf of the river Thames!). Not that it looks notably different: still, it’s the thought that counts. The script somehow manages to end up both a bit too neat, and simultaneously leaving too many loose ends, which may be a result of this being an expanded version of the director’s earlier short. To be honest, it feels fractionally too earnest, in a Ken Loach kind of way, even if depicting a world where everyone is, to some extent, embedded in criminal culture. I suspect that was not the intended point, however…

Dir: Ibrahim Miiro
Star: Hannah Laresa Smith, Mike Kinsey, Karl Jackson, Gediminas Adomaitis

Emily the Criminal

  By

★★★★
“Parks and Illegal Recreation.”

For six months or so, our morning routine involved the consumption of an episode of Parks and Recreation with breakfast. Our favourite character on the show was Ron Swanson, but not far behind was April Ludgate, played by Aubrey Plaza. She was the mistress of deadpan misanthropy, delivering lines like “I’m just gonna live under a bridge and ask people riddles before they cross.” We’ve not seen her in much since the show ended, but the concept of April Ludgate, career criminal, was too delicious to pass up. So here we are, yet I must admit, Plaza is almost good enough to make us forget April. Well, except for one roll of the eyes, which was vintage Ludgate.

She plays Emily, a young woman saddled with an inescapable pit of student loans, for a basically useless qualification, and an unfortunate felony relegating her to food delivery work. A chance encounter brings her into contact with Youcef (Rossi). She earns $200 for making a fraudulent credit-card transaction on his behalf, and is offered the chance to earn ten times that, for a larger, riskier purchase. With regular employment clearly not the solution, Emily embraces her new, illegal career, working with Youcef, much to the disdain of his Lebanese brothers. As their infighting escalates, Youcef decides to cut and run, only to be beaten to the punch. Emily won’t stand for that: “You’re a bad influence,” says Youcef, as he and Emily prepare to rob his brother. He’s not wrong. 

On one level, Emily’s situation is a result of her poor choices. Running up eighty grand in debt for an art degree and committing felonious assault are both decisions she made, of her own free will. These have consequences. Yet I increasingly found myself rooting for Emily, and her refusal to be ground down by the unfairness of life, or those seeking to exploit her – both in the legal and illegal employment sectors. She possesses undeniable smarts, and a righteous anger at the undeserved success of those she sees around her. Her wants are not excessive, and her crimes are… if hardly victimless, non-violent. At least, if you don’t count those who try to take advantage of her. For Emily wields a mean stun-gun.

If the world won’t give Emily a chance, playing by their rules, she’ll simply make up her own rules. She’s not willing to conform just to become society’s victim, and in this, weirdly, it has elements in common with urban flicks like The Bag Girls. There’s also no sense of honour among thieves, though the authorities and police in this movie are notable by their complete absence. Certainly, the threat of arrest is never a consideration for Emily, or at least, doesn’t alter her trajectory. The ending is ambivalent, to put it mildly: crime appears to pay, though it seems Emily may be addicted to the adrenaline high as much as the ill-gotten gains. While the morality here may be questionable, Plaza’s performance still makes it more than worthwhile. 

Dir: John Patton Ford
Star: Aubrey Plaza, Theo Rossi, Megalyn Echikunwoke, Gina Gershon

Bad Girls

  By

★½
“Faster, Pussycat! Dull! Dull!”

I didn’t realize until this started, it was by the director of the (non-GWG) The Theta Girl, which was a self-indulgent and flawed, yet ultimately not worthless, drug-trip revenge flick, made for no budget and with obvious passion. This is more of the same, yet wears out its welcome considerably quicker. It doesn’t feel as if Bickel has learned anything of relevance from making his previous effort. It may be more technically flash (not quite the same thing as “proficient”, you should note), yet he seems to have learned nothing about narrative. The film here unfolds at two speeds: dead slow and utterly manic. If this was a person at a party, you’d quietly sidle away from them.

It begins in the latter mode, with three strippers led by Val (Renew) robbing their club, and going on a crime spree, leaving a trail of dead bodies in their wake. Their goals are vague, partly heading to Mexico (the part of Mexico is played by South Carolina roadside attraction, South of the Border), and partly kidnapping each lady’s favourite rock stars, who conveniently mostly happen to be playing shows that night in the same area. Throw in a random hotel clerk, and you have a six-pack of characters, sitting around in motel rooms and cars, revealing their innermost secrets and taking quite a few illicit pharmaceutical, as the largely unlikable authorities close the net on them.

I think I greatly preferred it when Val and her gal pals were killing people. The first 5-10 minutes of this are insane, a genuine assault on the low-fi senses that positively burns the retinas. You have to wonder how Bickel could possibly keep up the level of manic energy, and to some extent, it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t, or your television would probably melt from the raw heat. However, there’s almost nothing offered in its place, in terms of plot or character development, until the final few minutes, where the police finally track the trio down and launch an assault, which is resisted with all the fire-power available. It’ll certainly wake you up if you dozed off: something which I will neither confirm nor deny happened to me.

At points, it feels as if this is intent mostly on checking off a list of film influences, most obviously Russ Meyer and Jack Hill. Though it’s largely superficial i.e. for a supposed trio of strippers, they really don’t show a lot of skin, and might as well have been secretaries. Or nuns. [Hmm. I have an idea for a movie] As with Theta, Bickel deserves credit for simply making his own damn movie. I just hope the next one actually is his own. For rather than a homage to classic exploitation movies of the sixties and seventies, this plays as a third-generation VHS copy of them, and you will be considerably better off sticking to the original inspirations.

Dir: Christopher Bickel
Star: Morgan Shaley Renew, Senethia Dresch, Shelby Lois Guinn, Cleveland Langdale

9 Bullets

  By

★½
“Copy of a copy of a copy.”

While this is not an “official” remake of Gloria, it’s so damn close that I have no problem considering it as one. Writer/director Gaston seems to have… um, a bit of a track record in this area, shall we say. She previously appeared here by directing Beyond the City Limits, a film with such a strong resemblance to Set It Off, that it was released on DVD as Rip It Off. Some might call that a particularly appropriate title, and here, she once again seems to be sailing quite close to a lawsuit. It was purely by coincidence we watched this, the weekend after seeing the two versions of Gloria, and Chris took only a few minutes to call it out.

It’s definitely the worst of the three, and I write that as a fan of Lena Headey. She has done sterling work in things such as Game of Thrones and Gunpowder Milkshake, among others, so to see her in this mess is almost tragic. I almost can’t be bothered to provide a recap – a link to my Gloria review would suffice – yet here we go. A man is caught stealing money from organized crime, so he and his whole family are liquidated, except for young son, Sam (Vazquez). He escapes with an iPad that’s crucial to the mob’s operation, and is rescued by neighbour Gypsy (Headey). They go on the run from the henchmen seeking to recover the iPad, and Sam gradually breaks down Gypsy’s chilly facade, despite her ties to the criminals, being an old flame of its boss, Jack (Worthington).

Ouch. But… but… Sam has a dog! And Gypsy is a retiring burlesque dancer, now writing an autobiography! It’s totes different! No. No, it isn’t. Especially since neither of these are significant. The only relevance of the latter seems to be to allow Headey to show that she still looks pretty good in her late forties (pasties, please: this isn’t some cheap exploitation vehicle). Meanwhile, Sam manages the genuinely impressive feat of managing, somehow, to be more annoying than the kid in the original, burbling on in a child genius way about his booming cryptocurrency portfolio. Yeah, that aged like milk.

Despite Headey’s best efforts, there’s no aspect here which wasn’t done better in both the original, and the remake starring Sharon Stone. Even the new stuff falls flat, such as a weird and almost irrelevant subplot where they steal an already stolen car with a hooker (Anthony) in the back seat. None of the relationships are convincing, and the only moment that has any intensity does not involve any of the main characters. It occurs after Gypsy drops off the dog at the cabin belong to friend Lacy, played by veteran actress Barbara Hershey, who demonstrates an admirably no-nonsense approach to their pursuers. Please, do not even get me started on the finale, where Gypsy literally turns out to be bulletproof. When a film leaves you thinking, “Who came up with this shit?”, it’s never a good sign.

Dir: Gigi Gaston
Star: Lena Headey, Dean Scott Vazquez, Sam Worthington, La La Anthony

Gloria (1980)

  By

★★★½
“Gloria, you’re always on the run now…”

Yeah, I’ll confess to having Laura Branigan’s eighties hit running through my head on repeat almost the entire movie, even if its lyrics can only be tangentially tied to it. What also struck me is how strong of an influence this was on Luc Besson’s Leon, especially at the beginning. I mean: a criminal gang takes out an entire family in a New York tenement, except for one child, as punishment for the father having tried to steal from them. That survivor takes refuge with a very reluctant neighbour with mob ties, who then has to protect the child as they move about the city. There’s even a scene where one of the gang fires his gun at a nosy resident.

In this case, the protective neighbour is Gloria Swenson (Rowlands), and the child is Phil Dawn (Adames), son of a mob accountant, who is also in possession of a highly incriminating notebook given to him by his father. Gloria makes no bones about her opinion, telling the parents, “I hate kids, especially yours.” However, necessity is the mother of motherhood, as it were, and her maternal instincts end up being awakened by six-year-old Phil, who swings wildly between acting three times his age and one-third of it. Gloria has no issue with using lethal force against those she perceives as a threat, as she seeks to broker a deal that will trade the book in exchange for her and Phil being allowed to walk away. This brings her into contact with mob boss Tarzini (Franchina) – not for the first time.

Rowlands is great in this, and you can see why she’s one of the few actresses to have been nominated for an Oscar in a girls with guns role. Director Cassavetes was her husband – he was originally just going to sell the script, but took on the director’s role after his wife was cast – and their long history of working together likely helped provide her nuanced performance. The problems are elsewhere. Phil is certainly no Matilda, and I was largely with the opinion Gloria expressed above. There’s also no-one like Stansfield, to act as an antagonist. Tarzini isn’t seen until the end, and up to that point, Gloria is opposed largely by a series of faceless goons.

Even given her background, it does seem remarkably convenient how she and they seem to stumble into each other in every other scene. It’s as if the film took place in a small farming town, rather than a city of over seven million inhabitants at the time. However, the film is never less than engaging due to Rowlands, who was fifty when the film came out, so is definitely older than your typical action heroine. Though your biggest takeaway may be how early eighties it all feels. Chris, who lived in New York at the time, loved that even seeing a car identical to her first one parked in a scene. Personally, I just had to marvel at how an unaccompanied six-year-old could buy a train ticket from New York to Pittsburgh without anyone batting an eyelid. Truly, a very different world… But what I really want to know is this: what happened to Gloria’s cat?

Dir: John Cassavetes
Star: Gena Rowlands, John Adames, Basilio Franchina, Buck Henry