★★★
“Tracks of my tears.”
After the success of Bloody Mama, producer Roger Corman wanted to follow up with another film depicting lawlessness in the Depression. He found his source material in Sister of the Road, supposedly the autobiography of a thirties drifter called Boxcar Bertha. No such one person actually existed: it was assembled by the author, Dr. Ben L. Reitman, from multiple characters he met while helping women in trouble in Chicago (a fictionalized version of the doctor may appear in the movie). Corman hired the then almost unknown Martin Scorsese, who was directing his first commercial film; its predecessor, Who’s That Knocking at My Door, grossed only $16,085. Scorsese was given a schedule of 24 days and a budget of $600,000.
It begins with Bertha Thompson (Hershey) hitting the road after her father is killed when his crop-dusting plane crashes. Accompanied by her father’s mechanic Von Morton (Casey), she falls in with union leader Big Bill Shelly (Carradine), who is rousing workers against railroad owners such as H. Buckram Sartoris (played by Carradine’s father John), as well as card sharp Rake Brown (Primus). Bertha becomes an outlaw after shooting a man who catches Rake cheating, and Bill’s union activities end up leaving him in prison. Bertha helps break him out, and the quartet take up a life of crime, robbing the rich industry barons, who are none too pleased by the gang’s activities. Inevitably – especially if you’re familiar with Scorsese’s better-known work – it ends in blood.
In that, as well as the era and the story of young love gone violently wrong, it feels not dissimilar to Bonnie and Clyde, made five years earlier. But Bertha is a considerably more independent character, who has to fend for herself on more than one occasion, after her three colleagues are arrested and sent to prison. Though violence is never her first choice, it always remains an option. That’s true right through the brutal finale where Bill is nailed to the side of a train, only for Von to show up with a shotgun. It is a scene that could have come from Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (three years earlier), yet also feels like pure Scorsese.
The socialist and pro-union political leanings, turning Bertha and her crew into Depression-era Robin Hoods, is also interesting. Scorsese would not be a stranger to a sympathetic portrayal of the criminal classes, from Mean Streets through Casino to The Irishman. Yet it also remains a Corman film, clocking in at a brisk 88 minutes, in sharp contrast to Scorsese’s subsequent fondness for sprawling epics. Hershey, then at the beginning of her lengthy career, would provide the necessary nudity. Though it’s notable that even when working as a prostitute, she might allow the use of her body, but her heart always remained Bill’s. Despite the exploitation elements, it all feels a bit worthy, and it’s no wonder Scorsese would quickly go his own way, his interests not in line with Corman. For example, the crucifixion of Bill, with Bertha in the role of Mary Magdalene is a tad too on the nose. The heroine is an interesting enough creature on her own terms, not to need this kind of unsubtle embellishment.
Dir: Martin Scorsese
Star: Barbara Hershey, David Carradine, Barry Primus, Bernie Casey


I guess, at its heart, this is the story of two mothers. There’s Jo (Campbell-Hughes), an anaesthetist who has been struck off the medical register, for reasons that are left murky. She’s now practicing her healing arts on the underground market, from patching up dubious stabbing victims, to carrying out unlicensed abortions. Jo lost her daughter to meningitis, and has split from her husband. Then there’s Bernadette (Brady), a wealthy but no less murky character. Her daughter is dying, and in desperate need of a transplant. To that end, Bernadette has kidnapped a young woman, Aine (McNulty), with the intention of using her as an unwilling organ donor, and needs Jo’s help for the operation. But when Aine – who would be about the age of Jo’s daughter had she lived – escapes and hides in the back of the physician’s car, Jo is left with a series of difficult decisions.
I’m tempted to leave my review at that. But there’s a famous quote by critic Roger Ebert, going off on Bruce Willis flop, North: “I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.” I was always impressed, and hoped one day to find a film capable of producing a similar reaction. This is… close. It is, let’s be clear, utterly terrible, with almost no redeeming qualities. Yet it’s either not bad enough, or more likely, too bad to generate such a reaction. That would be giving it more power and credit than this deserves.
Ladies and gentlemen, we appear to have a new record holder for the earliest action heroine feature film. Dating from all the way back in 1915, and thus pipping
The above odd combination is actually a fairly accurate assessment of what you have here. It’s a Yakuza action-thriller… but rather than being set in Tokyo or Osaka, is relocated to the Brazillian city of Sao Paolo. As an introductory credit helpfully informs us, this has the largest Japanese population of any city outside Japan. The story concerns two separate people’s quests for their pasts, which (to absolutely no-one’s surprise) turn out to be intertwined. One of these is Akemi (MASUMI), who as a young child was the sole survivor of a 1999 massacre of her Yakuza family back in Japan, was subsequently spirited away by allies and is now living in Brazil. The other is Shiro (Rhys-Meyers), an amnesiac who wakes up in hospital with no clue as to how he got there or his identity, except for a Japanese sword.
This one is slightly unusual among action-heroine films, in that it was both written and directed by women: Kirsten Elms and Kari Skogland respectively. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly an advert for their gender; after a brisk start, it falls apart, and becomes a ridiculously implausible movie, in a completely different genre from where it started. That’s a real pity, because where it started, had a lot more potential than where it ends up. It begins with Sage Rion (Manning), a young but highly-talented thief, taking a bet with her partner, as to who can boost a classic car quickest. She picks a 1966 Dodge Challenger, but inadvertently leaves her ID at the scene of the crime.

At 85 minutes, this might have been fine. For it’s a fairly simple tale, of three women who decide to escape their financial woes by drugging and robbing married men, banking on their victims not being willing to involve the authorities. While this initially works as planned, inevitably, they end up targeting the wrong guy, a minion of feared drug dealer Grey (Anderson). How evil is he? Grey appears to have an employee whose full-time job is to fan him. That’s some Evil Overlord style, right there. Grey doesn’t just want his stolen money back, he wants the trio to continue their activities – for his benefit. And that isn’t the only problem which the trio face, with Tony, the estranged other half of Dawn (Tares), unhappy at her having escaped their abusive relationship.
This is one of those cases where you can see what a film is trying to do. It just isn’t very good at doing it. In this case, the central character is Gina (Killips), who works as a collector of debts for the mysterious and reclusive “Max”. This is for reasons that become clear towards the end – yet, like a lot else in the film, it doesn’t actually prove to be of much significance. Her latest job involves locating a very large sum of money which went missing from his organization. Suspicion falls on Myles (Orille), and Gina is tasked with finding out whether he was indeed responsible and if so, what he did with the loot. To this end, Gina inserts herself into Myles’s life and comes under increasing pressure from her boss, Simon (Rumley), to get results for Max. But Gina is increasingly disenchanted with her profession, and also increasingly convinced of Myles’s innocence.