Tag: four-half-star

Gate of Ivrel, by C.J. Cherryh

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

Once upon an unspecified time, somewhere in the cosmos, a human-like, space-faring race called the qhal (or Qujal, in a later dialect) stumbled upon, and subsequently greatly extended, a system of high-tech Gates, a relic of a vanished civilization, which permitted instantaneous travel to other planets and other times. Fearing that travel into the past would prove dangerous, the qhal forbade it; but they used the Gates to travel extensively in space and future time, building up an empire that oppressed and exploited the various despised other races they encountered. This gave them much wealth and power (and universal detestation from others) –until somebody eventually tried past time-travel. The resulting cataclysm (only dimly surmised in the theories of the subsequent scientists) reached as far as the Gates themselves reached, and proved to be an apocalyptic warping of space-time that destroyed civilizations and worlds in its path. But the Gates themselves survived. We learn all of this from an omniscient narrator in the first part of the Prologue.

The other parts of the Prologue are excerpts of various (fictional) documents. In the Journal of the “Union Science Bureau,” we learn of the formation of a team charged with traveling through the Gates, for the sole purpose of closing or destroying them permanently on the far side, to prevent a repeat catastrophe. (Since nobody knows how many Gates there are, this may be a multi-generational task until the last one is reached; and it’s surely going to be a lethally dangerous mission.) Written on a low-tech, medieval-like world, a short text in the Book of Embry tells us that on “the height of Ivrel” still stand ill-regarded, rune-marked “Staines” [stones] of Qujalish origin and still imbued with their “sorceries,” which if touched produce “sich fires of witcherie as taken soul and bodie withal.” This place and others such are sought by those with Qujal blood, recognizable by gray eyes and tall stature, who are thought to lack souls, but “by sorceries liven faire and younge more yeares than Men.”

Finally, a longer passage from the Annals of Baien-an recounts how, “In the year 1431 of the Common Reckoning,” five strangers supposedly from the distant south came to the northern realms, one of them a tall, light-colored young woman named Morgaine (who was thought to be Oujal). They persuaded the northern kings to make war on “…the witch-lord Thiye… lord of Ivrel of the Fires;” but near Ivrel, the great northern army of 10,000 men was unaccountably nearly annihilated, and the five were blamed for the disaster. All of them but Morgaine vanished without trace; pursued, she fled south and supposedly died at another place of Qujalish “Stones,” afterwards called Morgaine’s Tomb. “Here it is said she sleeps, waiting until the great Curse be broken and free her.”

Our story proper begins about 98 years after the disaster at Ivrel, when we meet young (about 20, from later clues) Nhi Vanye –the first name is the clan name, the second the personal one. He’s the out-of-wedlock son of a clan chief, grudgingly taken into the latter’s citadel because his mother, a lady from a hostile clan taken in a raid, died giving birth to him; but (as we learn later) he’s been persecuted and bullied by his two half-brothers from childhood on. By the second page, he’s in serious hot water with his father after a sword-practice bout turned deadly, leaving one half-brother dead and the other badly injured. Outlawed, disowned, dishonored and cast out, he no longer has a clan or a livelihood. His one hope is to try to work his way southward (through the territory of his half-brothers’ mother’s clan, whose members will want to kill him on sight) to an area where he has kin.

We skip over the details of that slow trip, but by the second winter of his outlawhood, surviving by hunting (and stealing what he has to) he’s close to the border –but also close to the unchancey vicinity of Morgaine’s Tomb. And when he wounds a deer, and the fleeing animal blunders through the Gate, it opens on the other side. A century before, Morgaine desperately rode into the Gate, and horse and rider have been held in suspended animation, but now, as she rides out from legend into Vanye’s reality, for her it’s as if she’s been gone just for a moment. And (being, as we can guess, part of the Union Science Bureau’s afore-mentioned team) she still has the same goal on her mind. By the following morning (long story, but sex doesn’t play any part in it; there’s no sexual content in the book), due to the complicated mores of his people, Vanye finds himself oath-bound to service as her vassal for a year. (The old kings had given her “lord-right.”) So this is to be a “quest narrative,” and hers is to close however many Gates there are, starting with taking out the Gate of Ivrel. (On this world, that’s the main Gate; the other two depend on it, and can’t survive without it.) The latter goal is now, perforce, Vanye’s as well. And Morgaine’s grimly committed to seeing it through, if it kills them both (which it very well may).

This is a tale of action and adventure, hardship and danger in a rugged land, with escapes, betrayals and subterfuge. Vanye’s a trained warrior, and Morgaine packs some high-tech weapons that she knows very well how to use; that’s fortunate, because there will be plenty of enemies in their path. Thiye’s still alive, and still ruling in the Ivrel area (and with power and domains greatly increased since the debacle a century ago). But there’s also the problem of clan chieftains who hate and fear Morgaine, or who would like to get their own hands on Qujal “magic” (or both); and a surprise enemy waits in the shadows…. It’s also a powerful tale of complex, nuanced characters, facing very high-stakes moral choices as they struggle with conflicting values, obligations and emotions. While Vanye is our viewpoint character and maker of the most significant choices, and it’s his head we’re inside, it’s Morgaine who’s the center of the tale, and her determination that drives it. (We can fairly say that she’s the protagonist; and she makes decisions too, or bears the pain of decisions made.) Cherryh’s world-building is superb, her plotting impeccable, her prose deft and evocative, and she delivers an emotional impact that’s almost breath-taking. I wasn’t even remotely prepared for how rich and rewarding this novel is!

Though this is the opener of a four-book series, there’s no cliff-hanger; the immediate situation here is brought to closure. But though I intended at first to read this as a stand-alone, I’m now in it for the long haul.

Note: Andre Norton’s two-page Introduction to this DAW printing is spoiler-free, and basically just an eloquent appreciation of the author’s literary achievement here. But though the accompanying map was made by Cherryh herself, it’s crudely-drawn, with hard-to-read place names, and hard to refer to due to its small size. And while Michael Whelan is a leading cover artist in the field of speculative fiction, his work here doesn’t reflect any actual scene in the book, and gives the wrong idea about Morgaine’s character; she doesn’t dress at all revealingly under her fur cloak, and doesn’t act like a sex object!

Author: C.J. Cherryh
Publisher: DAW, available through Amazon, only as a paperback. There is an e-book available of the whole series. 
Book 1 of 4 in The Morgaine Cycle.

Arisen: Operators, Volume I – The Fall of the Third Temple, by Michael Stephen Fuchs

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

From what I can tell, Arisen is a massive zombie apocalypse saga, with a heavy military focus, by Fuchs and Glyn James. There are fourteen books in the main series, but Fuchs has also spun off related sets to tell other stores set in the same universe, such as Arisen: Raiders. The Operators series appears to be another. It looks to be intended as a trilogy: at the time of writing (March), part one is out, with part two next month and the finale in 2026. It feels like subsequent installments might be more team-oriented, but part one? Hoo-boy.

Yeah, this is the first book to ever get a five-star action rating from me. It just doesn’t stop. There’s a sub-genre called “hard SF,” which according to Wikipedia, is “characterized by concern for scientific accuracy and logic.” I suggest this could be labelled as hard action, with a great deal of information about hardware, like guns and vehicles. Here’s a sample paragraph: “The boat itself is a low-observable, reconfigurable, multi-mission surface tactical mobility craft with a primary role to insert and extract SOF in high-threat environments, but can also be used for fire support, maritime interdiction, and VBSS missions, as well as CT and FID ops.” I’m not sure what much of that means. Though I suddenly have a strong urge for a glass of whisky and a cigar.

The heroine here is Yaël Sion, an Israeli special forces soldier, who lost her parents in a terrorist attack when she was young, and has become utterly self-reliant as a result. We begin with her part of an operation against Palestinian terrorists on the West Bank. But it’s not long before the pandemic strikes, and political concerns become irrelevant, as the world turns into a hellhole. Every hour brings a new, ferocious battle for survival, and any sanctuary can suddenly become a deathtrap. It’s positively relentless, Yaël needing to fight not the infected, but the living. Things perhaps peak in an ocean-side fire-fight simultaneously involving the Israeli military, Hamas terrorists, civilians desperate to escape, and the undead. And Yaël, who just wants the boat described above.

While the open water is relatively safe, it’s hardly the end of her problems, as she encounters survivors, good and bad. It’s a chilling realization that survival means suppressing the natural human desire to help, even when this means condemning them to death. Yaël is utterly ruthless when she needs to be, and certainly has the skills to handle the situation. I’d love to see a movie made of this, though to some extent we already did: World War Z is a clear touchstone, with other genre classics also referenced, such as Aliens. The action here is almost non-stop, very well written, and considering the book is 573 pages, I raced through it. If any of the other entries are GWG-oriented, I’m certainly going to check them out. Just as soon as my heart-rate returns to normal.

Author: Michael Stephen Fuchs
Publisher: PF Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 1 (for now) in Arisen: Operators. But as discussed above – it’s complicated…

Overturned Heart, by A.W. Hart

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

A. W. Hart, the nominal “author” of the Avenging Angels series of western adventures featuring a twin brother-sister pair of bounty hunters in the post-Civil War West, is actually a house pen name; the books are all really written by different authors. (The writer here, Paul Ebbs, though working in a quintessentially American genre, is an Englishman, but a long-standing Western fan.) Barb and I were introduced to the series because the author of one of the books, Charles Gramlich, is one of my Goodreads friends. Before starting on this one, together we’d read and liked three of the books. But, because it’s a long, episodic series (in which the books after the first one don’t have to be read in order), and I was impatient to see whether one romantic connection and another possible one set up in the first book would really come to fruition, I suggested that we make this concluding volume our next read, and she agreed. (To avoid a spoiler, I won’t say whether or not my hopes on that score were fulfilled.)

No exact dates are given here; but since the first book began in 1865 (the next book would have to have been set in 1866) and judging from the number of intervening adventures, I’d guess the main storyline here to be set no earlier than 1870, making co-protagonists George Washington (“Reno”) and Sara Bass in their early 20s at least. But the book opens with three short Prologue vignettes, the first dated “twelve months ago,” from the viewpoint of an unnamed female pushed off of a bridge to a 40-foot drop into a raging river, followed by two more dated, respectively, three and two “months ago.” None of these give us much information; but we are told that she survived, that her brother Robert Stirling-Hamer was a wealthy Arizona copper-mining magnate who has been murdered, and that his accused killer “Don” was in turn killed by bounty hunters (guess who?), but that Don’s brother in New York has now gotten an anonymous letter claiming that his brother was innocent.

Our main story opens with the Bass twins in a tight situation in West Texas, in danger from a psychotic fugitive who’s already murdered his own parents and set fire to a schoolhouse full of kids. But they’re soon to learn that there are now wanted posters out for them, claiming that their killing of Donald Callan eight months previously was an unauthorized murder. From there, the present narrative is periodically interspersed with flashbacks to “eight months ago,” doling out strategic memories of the earlier events (which will finally come together with the present), and at times some short scenes from an omniscient third-person narrator describing present goings-on in Robert’s town of Dry Mouth; but none of these fully explain what actually happened with Robert’s murder. and may at times deepen the mystery.

Ebbs writes very well, with a gift for apt and fresh (but not overdone) similes and vivid turns of phrase. He also brings the varied Southwestern landscape to well-realized life. The publisher and writers have always tried to make this series Christian-friendly; but where it’s clear that some of the authors had only vague knowledge of Christian beliefs, Ebbs actually does explicitly refer to Christ’s sacrificial death for sin in one place. A unique feature here (at least, compared to the other three installments we read) is that all of the chapter titles have biblical or hymnic cadences, and epigraphs that I’m guessing come from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. Although the book is very violent (as usual for this series), bad language is scanty and not very rough, and there’s no graphic sexual content and little reference to sex at all. (A Catholic priest is a sympathetic character, Reno’s search for God’s guidance here is a realistically-treated and important theme, and the Bible he inherited from his dad plays a big role.) Reno and Sara’s character portrayals are in keeping with the earlier series books we’ve read (except that Sara’s ruthless streak, at one point, cranks up a notch that even startles Reno).

There are a few nits to pick here, mostly with a number of places where typos in the form of omitted words, negative statements inadvertently expressed as positives or vice versa, etc. change the meaning of sentences; but I could always tell what was meant. A statement early in the book seems to suggest that Sara has lost her faith, but Ebbs subsequently back-peddles from that. Reno’s Bible at one point is described as a “Lutheran Bible,” so while the author knew about the Christian gospel, he obviously wasn’t much versed in church history. (Many U.S. Lutherans in the 19th century were still German-speaking, so would probably still have used Luther’s 16th-century translation; but any that were English-speaking used the King James Version, like all other Anglophone Protestants.) But these are minor quibbles. Overall, I found this an outstanding entry in the series! However, Barb did not; she greatly/exclusively favors linear plots, so she was VERY put off by Ebbs’ non-linear storytelling here (and also disliked the ending, though I didn’t), to the extent of being soured on the rest of the series. So, we’ll be abandoning it, at least for a while.

Author: A.W. Hart
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 12 of 12 in the Avenging Angels series.

 

 

Ballerina (2025)

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★★★★½
“If the ballet slipper fits…”

When I reviewed Furiosa, I discussed how action heroine films have been having a tough time at the box-office since before COVID-19. Add another data point to that decline, with the underwhelming performance of Ballerina. Or, to give it its clunky and excessive full title (for the first and only time), From the World of John Wick: Ballerina. Which – much like Furiosa – is a real shame, because it’s top-tier stuff. The critics liked it (76% on Rotten Tomatoes) and those who saw it, liked it too (93% audience score there). But it just did not seem to connect in a large-scale way with the cinema-going public, and will struggle to cover its $90 million budget, not excessive by today’s standards. 

Admittedly, it was a rather troubled production. Filming began all the way back in November 2022, and it was in post-production the following February. But a year later, word came out that additional shooting under John Wick director Chad Stahelski was taking place. There’s uncertainty how significant those were. Suggestions that much of the film was redone have been denied by both Stahelski and Wiseman, who said they were actually due to the studio providing them with additional resources. This allowed them to add scenes, such as the opening depicting the death of the heroine’s father. But regardless, the extra work was certainly a factor in the film being pushed back a full twelve months from its original release date of June 2024.

To be honest though, I really couldn’t tell based on the end product. I have read a lot of criticism suggesting, in brief, “Nobody asked for this.” While that’s dumb – nobody asked for John Wick either – there is an element of truth in it. If they wanted a spin-off, they might have been better using Sofia Al-Azwar, the existing character played by Halle Berry, who was key to one of the best scenes in John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum. It’s worth noting, the script by Shay Hatten, written back in 2017, was not originally part of the Wick universe (although Hatten was inspired by the trailer for John Wick 2), and subsequently got tooled into it. But I wonder, how often are spin-off movies ever successful? Ok, except the Minions franchise. 

It’s not the first effort to expand the Wick-iverse which has fallen short either. In 2023, they made a TV mini-series The Continental, which… Um, well… We watched the first episode? You’re certainly left to wonder what might happen about the other spin-off film, focused on Caine, the blind swordman played by Donnie Yen in John Wick 4. We love Yen, and have since the days of In the Line of Duty IV, over 35 years ago. But he has a much lower profile in the West than Ana de Armas, and the appetite for films “from the world of John Wick” which do not have Wick front and center, certainly appears to be muted. Enough about such coarse, commercial considerations. How is Ballerina as a movie?

In this world, there are two specific tribes of assassins. The Ruska Roma, who are structured and orderly, and another group, known as the Cult, who are anarchic and savage. Lawful Neutral and Chaotic Evil, for those who know their D&D alignments. The two groups don’t get along, but generally tolerate each other, basically agreeing to go their separate ways and not interfere, under the current leadership of the Director (Huston) and the Chancellor (Byrne) respectively. A decade or so ago, there was Romeo and Juliet-style romance across the divided houses, resulting in the birth of Eve. When her parents tries to leave their factions, both are killed, her father dying in front of her after being killed by the Cult. She is then brought up in the Ruska Roma.

Eve (de Armas) is trained both as an assassin and a ballerina, although the latter is never of any real significance. On one of her missions, she encounters a Cult member and realizes they are responsible for killing her father. Against the express wishes of the Director, she goes in search of them, finding their headquarters in the remote (and very lovely) Austrian town of Hallstatt, and chewing her way through the Cult towards the Chancellor. But when the Director hears about Eve’s quest for vengeance, posing a threat to the uneasy truce between the Ruska Roma and the Cult, she sends a certain J. Wick (Reeves) after her, to restore the balance and keep the peace. 

It’s borderline awesome, and on occasion, there’s no “borderline” about it. Let’s just say, I will now be looking into acquiring a flamethrower for home defense. Ok, I should explain. There’s a scene where Eve and one of the Cult members have a – bold font, capital letters, please – DUEL WITH FLAMETHROWERS. It’s every bit as epic and wonderful as that sounds, and it escapes me how they could possibly have achieved it, without reducing the entire stunt team to charcoal briquettes. That’s just the action highlight in a film which has a number of them. I was also impressed with the nightclub sequence – is this obligatory for every film in the Wick-iverse? – of Eve’s first mission, as much for the thumping techno tunes, as for the high-quality fisticuffs. 

I do say, some elements feel under-developed, and I wonder if they were a result of the adjustments made during production. The character of Daniel Pine (Norman Reedus), seems particularly an afterthought, not least the fact he’s supposed to be the Chancellor’s son. Adding John Wick in does feel like an unnecessary afterthought and, to be honest, smells a little of desperation. It’s just not necessary, because de Armas is capable of carrying things. This is likely, not just to be the best action heroine film of the year, it’s quite possibly – admittedly, I haven’t seen the last Mission Impossible film yet – going to end up as the best action film of 2025. Such a pity it appears likely to be one and done for this tiny dancer. 

Dir: Len Wiseman
Star: Ana de Armas, Gabriel Byrne, Anjelica Huston, Keanu Reeves

The Eye of Ebon, by P. Pherson Green

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

Independent Goodreads author (and one of my Goodreads friends) P. Pherson Green has been writing since the late 90s, and has previously had short stories published in various venues. However, this novel, the opener for his projected White Sword Saga series, is his long-fiction debut. He graciously gifted me with a hardcover review copy; no guarantee of a favorable review was requested, or given. My wife and I read the book together, during the intermittent and usually short times we were both traveling together in the car; so the nearly two months it took to read is misleading. It would have been a much quicker read if I’d read it by myself, devoting all of my individual reading time to it.

This is a work of traditional epic fantasy, set (as most tales in this genre are) in a medieval-like setting resembling the Europe of that day, except in an invented fantasy world. (A helpful map is provided, though it doesn’t show every single locality a reader might like to locate.) It would be fair to say that most if not all English-language epic fantasy written from the last half of the 20th century on owes something to the inescapable influence of Tolkien’s monumental LOTR saga, and this novel is no exception. We have here, ultimately, a quest narrative involving an artifact of great significance (and great seductive power, of an unwholesome sort). The characters’ world is one with a very long history, involving elder races and cataclysmic wars which have consequences for the present. Two non-human races, the Allarie and the Groll, are respectively much like Tolkien’s elves and orcs.

More importantly, we’re very definitely dealing here with a conflict between good and evil, with domination of a world at stake; and the conflict is not simply one of “Us” (the “good” characters) vs. “Them” (the “bad” characters), but rather within “Us” as well, since all humans can be tempted by evil. And like Tolkien (who once famously characterized the LOTR corpus as a “Catholic work”) Green is a Christian author, who writes from a Christian conception of the universe. Neither writer makes any explicit reference to Christianity, and indeed both are dealing with a world in which Christ has not been born; Middle Earth is supposedly our world long before Christianity existed, and Green’s Silver World (he introduces that name only in a short note after the novel proper) is an entirely different world with a different salvation history. But like Tolkien’s Morgoth (“the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant”) the entity variously known here as the Shadow, the Wyrm, the Foul Pretender or the Dark Beguiler is recognizable as Satan; and the apparently pagan polytheism of the Silver World isn’t quite as polytheistic as it initially seems.

For all that, Green is his own person with his own literary vision and style; The Eye of Ebon is not a direct LOTR knock-off, in the way that Terry Brooks’ The Sword of Shanarra is. A major difference, of course, is the distaff perspective. While Tolkien’s Eowyn is an action-capable female, she’s not the heroine of the saga; his major characters, and most of the characters who display any real agency, or play a direct role in defeating evil, are male. Here, the two viewpoint characters, protagonist Samiare (whom you see depicted on the book’s cover) and essentially co-protagonist Rugette are both female, and formidable fighting females who carry the brunt of the book’s down-and-dirty struggle against evil, and who make the key, crucial gut wrenching and difficult moral decisions at the climactic points. (I was already inclined to rate the book at five stars, but those were the moments that clinched it, and for me moved this tale into the ranks of great, rather than merely good, literature!)

To be sure, unlike Rugette, whose combat skills, especially archery, result from rigorous training since she was in her early teens (I’d guess her to be about 30 here) and have been honed in years spent as a high-ranking warrior and scout fighting the Groll, Samiare, an untrained girl of 15, owes her prowess to a mysterious sword. At the very beginning of the main narrative, she lies dying in the snows of her homeland from cold and blood loss after being gang-raped by a band of Groll and renegade humans, who carved an obscenity on her belly, beat her and tortured her with branding irons, after killing her father and making off with her sister. When she cried out for deliverance “to the one god she knew –the one who watched over,” that sword was gifted to her by a glowing man-like being; and it proves to be no ordinary sword. But she still has to hold it and wield it –and make decisions about how she uses it.

The above paragraph suggests another difference from the Tolkien corpus; this narrative is much grittier, and gorier. While the gang-rape itself isn’t really directly described, we can tell it occurred; and while Green doesn’t make the brutalizing and torture here any more drawn-out than it has to be to make us feel it, he does make us do that. This sets a tone for a very violent book; there’s a lot of mortal combat action with edged weapons, and the Groll are an extremely sadistic and treacherous bunch, even to each other. (Tolkien, in a letter, once characterized the orcs as “almost irremediable,” but allowed that no being created by God is wholly irremediable. We get the impression here that the Groll may be; but even here, Green depicts them as having a claim to merciful treatment when they’re disabled in combat, which I regard as a plus.) So there’s a high body count, with quite a lot of humans and humanoids dying, often in nastily unpleasant ways. There’s no “pornography of violence,” but we do see the spilled entrails, severed limbs, split skulls, etc. However, there’s no quoted bad language, and no explicit sexual content. (In fact, the only reference to sex at all, besides the implied rape above, occupies a tastefully phrased single part of one sentence, in 230 pages of text proper. This would definitely not be characterized as a “romantasy.”)

Green has a serviceable, dignified and assured, naturally flowing prose style that holds interest well. Settings, scenes and people are described vividly enough to be pictured in the reader’s mind (and some of the scenes conjured rival those depicted by Robert E. Howard or A. Merritt for atmosphere and spectacle!), but not over-described. World-building is delivered along the way of the storyline, without info-dumps (there are a couple of roughly page-long appendices, “About the Silver World” and “The Four Lands,” which should be read). There aren’t many serious typos, the worst one being that “reigns” tends to be substituted when “reins” is meant (but that’s a quibble). We come to realize before long that the Prologue describes events taking place millennia before the main story, and occasional interspersed flashbacks set in the same time-frame aren’t distinguished by typeface or a heading; but the reader quickly comes to identify and understand these, and they do convey important information.

There’s no cliff-hanger here; the challenge of the main plot is brought to its conclusion. But it’s clear that the overall epochal struggle of the Four Lands is only beginning, and I’m invested in continuing the series!

Author: P. Pherson Green.
Publisher: Gold Dragon Publishing, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

The Queen of Villains

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★★★★½
“Hard-hitting, and hitting hard.”

Not long ago, I tagged Black Doves as the best television of 2024. If I’d seen this before December 31, it would have beaten it out. It’s a top-tier depiction of the world of Japanese women’s professional wrestling in the eighties, weaving truth, fiction and legend together in a way that’s highly effective – probably even if you’re not a particular fan of sports entertainment.  It’s the story of Kaoru Matsumoto (Retriever), who escaped a dysfunctional family to join All Japan Women’s Pro Wrestling (AJW). Initially struggling to achieve success, she found her niche as nightmare villain Dump Matsumoto, feuding with former friend Chigusa Nagoya (Grace), until the pair faced off in a legendary, brutal battle, destined to lead to public humiliation for one of them.

We all know professional wrestling is staged, with the outcomes predetermined, right? [Do not used the word “fake”: I will cut you!] Here, things are… murkier. This treads a delicate line between that and kayfabe, the wrestling term for promoting it as reality, and genuine competition. The stance here is interesting, suggesting that while those in charge, like promoter Toshikuni Matsunaga (Saitoh), can have a result in mind, that relies on those in the ring agreeing to it. This isn’t always the case [one wrestling show I remember attending definitely had a genuine fight, for backstage reasons], and here, Matsumoto is a loose cannon, prepared to go to any lengths to put herself over. Or her character: the lines are certainly blurred here, to the point of near invisibility.

What matters, is that the audience believed it was real, to the point that Matsumoto received death threats as the feud intensified. It’s perhaps hard to understand just how popular AJW was, but their TV shows were getting considerably bigger ratings in Japan at its peak, than WWE or WCW were during the Monday Night Wars. It was a true cultural phenomenon – oddly, with teenage girls at the front of fandom. Nagayo and tag partner Lioness Asuka (Goriki), known as the Crush Gals, were basically Taylor Swift: they actually had a successful music career. Below, you can see the video of the real match mentioned, between Nagayo and Matsumoto. I defy you to find any wrestling bout, anywhere, where the crowd were so utterly into it.

The show does a fabulous job of capturing this, and the bouts as well are very well-staged – the real Nagayo worked as a technical advisor. Wrestling at the time was very different from what it is now, especially for women, and Matsumoto’s brutal style was unprecedented. She could chew up and spit out current WWE champion Rhea Ripley, using her as a tooth-pick. Indeed, it feels as if the final match is the dramatic pinnacle, and should end the fifth and final episode. It doesn’t and it feels like it’s heading for an anti-climax thereafter, until recovering [while not mentioned, it’s caused by AJW’s rule that wrestlers had to retire at age twenty-six!] But the drama behind it also has a great deal of nuance, depicting her troubled family life, and willingness to do whatever was necessary for her career.

This came at personal cost – not least her friendship with Nagayo. But it also affected her relationship with her family, in particular her mother and sister. Matsumoto initially wanted to become a wrestler, so she could protect them from her abusive and alcoholic father, but in the end, even her family were not safe from the ripples of her in-ring “villainy”. It all works on multiple levels, and provoked genuine emotions in me, to a degree rarely managed by any TV show, least of all one based on (lightly fictionalized) reality. Towards the end, the promoter lets a young girl in to see the show, and I was left wondering whether this was perhaps intended to be someone like Manami Toyoya, the greatest woman wrestler of all-time.

Another series, perhaps The Queen of Heroines? We can but hope. 

Creator: Osamu Suzuki
Star: Yuriyan Retriever, Victoria Grace, Takumi Saitoh, Ayame Goriki

The Shadow Strays

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★★★★½
“Dog eat dog”

Director Tjahjanto gave us one of the best action films of the last decade in The Night Comes For Us, a gory and relentless assault of jaw-dropping hand-to-hand mayhem. Follow-up, The Big 4, was a little underwhelming, but I was still stoked to hear about this, in which he puts a heroine front and centre. This is perhaps a step or two short of Night – it’s clear the lead here is not a lifelong practitioner of martial arts like Joe Taslim and Iko Uwais. However, it’s the best film I’ve reviewed on this site in 2024, likely edging out Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, through a combination of sheer force of will and arterial spray.

The Shadows are a sect of assassins, who are basically unstoppable. 13 (Ribero) is a teenage trainee, who screws up a mission in Japan alongside her instructor, Umbra (Malasan), and barely survives. 13 gets put on administrative leave, and her enforced idleness is where the problems start. In a thread strongly reminiscent of Leon, she watches a neighbour get killed by a gang, and takes care of the son, Monji. However, he vanishes, apparently abducted by the gang, and 13 isn’t standing for that. Beginning by turning low-level enforcer, Jeki (Emmanuel), she works her way up the power structure, which goes right to the top of Indonesian political society. The resulting chaos threatens to expose the Shadows, so Umbra is then dispatched to terminate their rogue agent.

This runs a chunky 144 minutes – just a handful shorter than Furiosa – which seems a fair while for a martial-arts film. The Raid 2 and John Wick 4 are the only ones which come to mind as longer. But I can’t say this particularly felt like it; there’s not much slack. We open with the absolutely blood-drenched Japanese operation, which sets the tone early. To be honest, it does such a good job, most of what follows falls slightly short. Ribero is a model and singer, and it feels like Tjahjanto underlights a lot of scenes to help paper over this. But then there’s the final battle, between 13 and Umbra. It’s likely behind only Crouching Tiger as my favorite female vs. female fight ever: utterly relentless, and brutal as hell.

It is a little less impressive in between the fights: originality is, as noted previously, not necessarily the film’s strongest suit. Other threads are set up and them ignored, such as the Shadows’ miraculous serum, which is used by Umbra to resuscitate 13 in Japan, and never mentioned again. Maybe it’ll play more of a part in the sequel, to which the ending strongly hints, bringing in a face familiar to fans of Indonesian action. I’d love to see it, since this is definitely pushing the boundaries of action heroine cinema, in all the right ways. While imperfect, at its best this is enough to make me consider introducing a six-star rating, because it goes places I’ve never seen. When it does, the results are glorious.

Dir: Timo Tjahjanto
Star: Aurora Ribero, Kristo Immanuel, Hana Malasan, Taskya Namya

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

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★★★★½
“The Fast and the Furiosa”

It was a good run. There was a point, not long ago, when action heroines could do no wrong. In hindsight, the golden era may have started in 2012 when the Hunger Games franchise began, along with Brave. Summers which followed brought us blockbusters such as Gravity, Maleficent and Lucy. Subsequent years covered the entire run of the Hunger Games and the end of the Resident Evil franchises (or, at least, phase 1 for them), and things probably peaked with Wonder Woman in 2017. Thereafter things began to decline, though I’d say returns remained strong through much of 2019. That’s when Maleficent: Mistress of Evil and Alita: Battle Angel each made over $400 million worldwide, finishing in the top 25 movies of the year.

The cracks began to show with Captain Marvel, odd though it is to say, given it made over a billion. But to a large extent I suspect it mostly surfed on the success of Avengers: Endgame. Thereafter, Wonder Woman: 1984 flopped just before the pandemic hit, Black Widow underperformed, and since then it’s been almost entirely a series of failures, with only the arguable Hunger Games reboot reaching even $250 million worldwide over almost three years since. Instead, we had one of the biggest bombs of all time in the The Marvels, followed up by the disastrous box-office of Madame Web. And now the prequel to Mad Max: Fury Road, managed an opening weekend in North America of only $26.3 million. That’s forty-two percent below its predecessor’s opening, excluding nine years of inflation.

It’s not all action heroines’ fault (though some on social media are claiming so). This year has been dismal in general. With three midweek days left on the month at time of writing, box-office for May is down 36% on May 2023 – and even that was the lowest non-pandemic May since 2001, again without adjusting for inflation. People just aren’t going to the movies in anything like the same numbers. I can’t say I blame them, when films appear on streaming services as little as three weeks after their theatrical release. Going to the pictures is expensive, and especially with the improvements in home theatre, the overall experience can end up being worse than staying at home, between travel, over-priced concessions, idiots talking on their phones, etc. Why not wait?

The counterpoint is experiences like this, a full-on, bombastic, in your face event that made full use of everything IMAX has in its locker, and surpassed anything I could get at home. Now, your mileage may vary. Poor Chris, in particular, found it too overwhelming, triggering motion sickness which forced her to close her eyes any time things got too kinetic – which was a lot of the time. We probably will not be IMAXing again in future. But the only recent comparable experience for me was Godzilla: Minus One. Re-reading my review of Fury Road, I’m a bit surprised I only gave it four stars. I’ve seen it again since, and I’ve just upgraded it an extra half-star. Put another way, Furiosa is every bit its equal. Different, but equal.

It’s a direct prequel, ending at the point when Furiosa (Taylor-Joy) leads the wives to escape from The Citadel. It begins with a much younger Furiosa (Browne) living in the Green Place, a rare place of plenty in the post-apocalyptic hell which Australia has become, along with the rest of the world. She’s kidnapped from there by minions of Dr. Dementus (Hemsworth), leader of the Biker Horde. Her mother is killed trying to rescue her, and Furiosa becomes the little, mute pet of Dementus, until he trades her to Immortan Joe, who runs the Citadel. Over the subsequent years, she becomes a key part of operations, becoming the partner of Praetorian Jack (Burke), who trains Furiosa and falls in love with her.

Dementus, meanwhile, is working to become the wasteland’s supreme ruler by taking over the Citadel, Gastown and the Bullet Farm. In an ambush at the last-named, Jack is captured and tortured to death, while Furiosa escapes only by tearing off her own arm. She returns to the Citadel, providing key advice to Joe in the ensuing war. But she never loses sight of her final goal: to make Dementus pay for what he did to her and her mother. Given she appears in Fury Road and Dementus does not… Well, you can probably figure out how this is going to end. Though the reported final nature of her revenge is not what you might expect, and has a certain poetic resonance, given what happened previously.

It isn’t quite the same relentless stream of action as Fury Road, and at almost half an hour longer, that’s no bad thing. There’s no shortage of action, but it tends to align with the way the story is broken into chapters. So you get a series of Drama-Action-pause segments – or occasionally for variety, Action-Drama-pause. There were concerns regarding the amount of CGI in the trailer, and I will say, it’s not as almost entirely physical as Fury Road either. However, what’s used is integrated very well, with only a couple of moment wheres the action momentarily seems obviously adjusted digitally. I suspect some of the landscapes were also enhanced: they and cinematographer John Seale’s work is so stunning, I don’t care there.

My other concern was having Taylor-Joy replace Charlize Theron, who simply has more presence. That does remain an issue, though to the new actress’s credit, to a lesser degree than I feared. It’s also countered by having much more of a real antagonist here in Dementus. The first film was mostly an extended chase sequence: Furiosa was running from Immortan Joe, after helping his wives escape, and they shared very few scenes together. Here, Dementus gives us a stronger “villain,” and the film as a whole is better for it. Hemsworth brings a charismatic power to his character, to the point where you can see why his henchmen follow him, unto death. Furiosa, in contrast, is really not much of a people person.

It’s difficult to pick out any one action highlight, because they are all very, very good. I think the ambush at the Bullet Farm might me the one which sticks most in my mind for now, though this may change on (the almost certain) re-viewing at home. It’s one which offers the most interesting environment, including buildings and smoke stacks, while the others are somewhat limited by operating in a desert. I mean, it is called “the Wasteland” for a reason. However, when Miller puts Jack and Furiosa in their rig, which is being stormed by almost endless waves of raiders, you really do not need a backdrop. Indeed, you could argue that any such would be at best irrelevant, and at worst a distraction.

You would be hard-pushed to argue that the $168 million budget is not up on screen. I lost count of the times when I wondered whether what I was looking at really existed in the physical world, or was matte paintings and CGI. Part of me wants to peer behind the curtain and watch the behind the scenes videos. However, part of me would prefer to sustain the illusion, which was a factor in the sense of wonder that often washed over me during the screening. It’s the quest for that sense of awe which keeps me going to cinemas, even if most of the time, I end up leaving disappointed [I’m looking at you, Godzilla X Kong…]

I also want to praise one other aspect, which may not transfer as well to my home environment (and I admit it is limited in this area): the audio. There are not many times when I can specifically point to this in particular as significantly enhancing the experience. I’m not an audiophile, and generally put what I see considerably ahead of what I hear. But in this case, Tom Holkenborg’s score and the rest of the sound elements were a notable and impressive component. From the rumblings of the engines through to the wind whipping across the Wasteland, the sonic design really worked, and allowed me to feel like I was being brought into the world of Furiosa. Well played

The problem from a business perspective is, it seems all but certain the makers are not going to recoup their investment, making it less likely you will see investments like this going forward. Fury Road probably just about broke even, so this was always going to be a gamble, especially without your leads. And, indeed, outside of the title, entirely without the character who has powered the franchise since its first installment, all the way back to forty-five years ago. In hindsight, a reaction of “What the hell were they thinking?” is probably understandable. But I am glad less-wise heads prevailed. If this is to be the end of the Mad Max universe, it goes out on another spectacular high, and not many franchises are able to say that.

Dir: George Miller
Star: Anya Taylor-Joy, Chris Hemsworth, Tom Burke, Alyla Browne

The Harlequin Protocol, by Liane Zane

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

This is the second novel in the author’s Unsanctioned Guardians trilogy, a prequel to her earlier Elioud Legacy series. The new trilogy presents the background of how the three heroines of the first one (all of whom were intelligence agents, though of different nationalities) met and formed their sub rosa partnership as off-the-books rescuers of female victims of sexual abuse and trafficking. In the first book, The Covert Guardian, Zane focused entirely on Olivia Markham, who would become the trio’s ringleader, describing her recruitment and first mission with the CIA. Olivia continues to be the main (and almost sole) viewpoint character here, but this installment also introduces the other members of the threesome, Capt. Alzbeta “Beta” Czerna of Czech military intelligence and Anastasia “Stasia” Fiore of Italy’s CIA equivalent, AISE.

My impression is that about two years have passed in Olivia’s career since the previous book (the date for this one, 2011, isn’t mentioned in the text itself as I recall, though it is in the cover copy; but I don’t remember any exact date for the first one.) Here as in all of Zane’s work, her knowledge of spy-craft, of the various brands, specs and capabilities of firearms and explosives used by U.S. and European military and intelligence services, and of the cultural and physical geography of a variety of European settings is a strength of the series, and never delivered intrusively. (Action here moves from Berlin to Brussels, to Prague and the Czech-Polish border region, and to Venice.)

We also get an inside look at the bureaucratic mindset of the present-day CIA (which has been negatively commented on in nonfiction writings by intelligence professionals who know about the subject), the penchant of some of its honchos for turf and ego protection, and the tendencies towards abuse of power that can be endemic in secret organizations. (The latter is a point of contact with John LeCarre’s work, though I suggested in my review of the previous book that Zane’s vision is more like that of Manning Coles or Alistair MacLean –like the latter, she does view espionage in moral terms, as properly concerned with thwarting genuine evil, but she’s also realistic about the moral shortcomings and conflicting agendas that intelligence agencies staffed by fallible humans can be prey to.)

Because the author and I are Goodreads friends, she graciously gifted me with a review copy of the paperback edition of this book, as she has with all of her books, as soon as it was published; though she knew I’d really liked the previous book, she didn’t pressure me for a favorable review, but trusted that the book would stand on its merits. It definitely did; I actually liked this one even better! What earned the added appreciation (and the fifth star) was what I felt was the heightened dimension of moral challenge and choice here, which for me often makes the difference between great and merely good fiction, and which isn’t as strongly present in the first book. Discerning what the right thing is here requires thinking for oneself, not just obeying orders; and deciding to do it comes with a real risk, not just of harm to life and limb, but of disapproval from the powerful, of serious repercussions to one’s career, and maybe of legal punishment. The strong, distinct characterizations of the three heroines, who are each very different individuals though sharing a basic gut instinct for justice and decency, is also a positive feature that makes the book stand out from the pack.

Bad language here is minor. There’s no explicit sex; Olivia stumbles on a gang rape at one point, but it’s not graphically described, and though we see the traumatized and abused victims of sex trafficking (and in one case the dead body of a victim), we aren’t forced to see what they went through. As far as Olivia’s personal life is concerned, it’s briefly mentioned that since the first book, she’s been intimate with only one man, whom she loved and expected to marry (readers of the preceding trilogy will know that didn’t happen!), but the couple’s privacy isn’t violated.

We do have a lot of violence here, and a high body count, but Zane doesn’t make it any more gory than it has to be. IMO, this trilogy should be read in order. However, I wouldn’t say that the previous trilogy necessarily needs to be read first; and it’s really in a different genre(s) than this one, so might not actually appeal to all of the same readers (though I greatly like both). This is neither obviously supernatural fiction (though readers who’ve read the Elioud Legacy will pick up on something that others won’t) nor romance. But it should appeal to all fans of action adventure and espionage fiction, especially those who appreciate heroines in action roles (here, we’ve got not just one but three ladies who can and do kick some serious evil-doer butt!).

Author: Liane Zane
Publisher: Zephon; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a print book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

In the Line of Duty IV

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★★★★½
“A thinly connected series of action set-pieces…but what set-pieces!”

Back in the early nineties, I saw a double-bill of this and Jackie Chan’s Police Story at the late, lamented Scala Cinema in London, and it blew my mind. I had literally never seen anything like them before. The only martial arts movies I’d watched previously were crappy American ones, which made little or no impression. That afternoon changed my life, and awakened a love of the genre that persists to this day. But would In the Line of Duty 4 stand the test of time? There are certainly movies I loved from the same era, which are now a bit cringe, to put it mildly. So it was with some trepidation that I hit play…

Nope, it’s still goddamn awesome. Sure, it’s a bit rough around the edges, and both the plot and performances are little more than means to an end. But the end justifies the means, 100%. I can’t remember the last time a film provoked so many exclamations from me. It felt like every other scene, there’d be another terrific feat of physical prowess, agility or simply endurance. It’s amazing to see Donnie Yen, then a young, skinny and rough-edged twentysomething, but clearly with raw talent in spades. It took almost thirty-five years for him to get the recognition he deserved, with his co-starring role in John Wick 4.

According to another review, 42 of the film’s 93 minutes are action. Reading this, my immediate reaction was, “That little?” Because it feels like it’s almost a non-stop procession of set-pieces, a highlight reel in feature form. It’s not just hand-to-hand combat either. There are some great vehicular stunts, such as a motorcycle chase, or a fabulous battle in, on and around an ambulance. It’s clear that we really have Cynthia Khan dangling off the front of the vehicle, in a way that looks genuinely dangerous, and quite probably was [the eighties in Hong Kong cinema wasn’t exactly a poster-child for health and safety!] I do wish they hadn’t undercranked some sequences; they’re impressive enough they don’t need to be sped-up.

For when all is said and done, the fights are flat-out awesome. It’s not just Khan and Yen, though they obviously get most to do. Everyone here is well up to the task, both showing off their own stuff and letting the stars look good by selling for them. On the female front, I want to give special praise to Farlie Ruth Kordica, who fights Cynthia around a lift-shaft in another sequence which feels disturbingly life-threatening. She only appeared in a couple of other films, which feels like a real shame, based on her performance here. It’s a wonderfully inventive scene (bottom), taking full advantage of the potential in the environment. 

There is a case to be made that Yen is the star here, above Khan. The end caption doesn’t even mention her character, Insp. Yeung Lai-Ching, though Khan definitely is not outclassed. But Lai-Ching is the film’s emotional heart, always intent on doing the morally ‘right’ thing, even if it’s not in line with the law. She is the Jiminy Cricket, trying to keep Donnie’s loose cannon in check, while also trying to figure out who’s the mole in her department. The story, incidentally, has aged well: the CIA openly dealing drugs in order to fund Latin American rebels? That’s not something you would expect to see in an American film from that time, the whole Iran-Contra thing being seen as a bit of an embarrassment. Fittingly, it is Khan’s character who delivers the final blow to this Yankee scheme, falling to its doom and taking the American flag with it.

I will admit that the soundtrack is underwhelming: despite two credited composers, it feels like stock tracks pulled at random from the library. There are also times when the plot logic is less than logical, with bad guys and good guys popping up in convenient places for the next showdown, with little or no explanation. Yet this hardly dampens things, because: yep, means to an end. The eighties was an amazing decade for action cinema, from The Empire Strikes Back, through The Terminator, Aliens and Die Hard. I can honestly say that In the Line of Duty 4 deserves to be ranked among those, and remains one of the best examples of Hong Kong cinema, doing what it does best.

[Original review] I don’t think I’ve ever seen a HK film with more action; it seems that every five minutes, along comes another breathtaking fight or stunt sequence. Of course, when you have a master at the helm (Yuen did the fights for The Matrix), you expect a little more, but this is fabulous, even by his standards.

Donnie Yen is perhaps the most under-rated martial artist of our generation, and watching him here, it’s hard to see why he hasn’t become a major star, rather than lurking in (effective) supporting roles in Blade 2 and Highlander: Endgame. For speed, agility and skill, his fights are almost without equal, and most female co-stars would be overshadowed. Fortunately, Cynthia Khan, though occasionally clearly doubled, does more than enough to keep on the same lap – the fight atop, alongside, and dangling from the front of, a speeding ambulance is eyepoppingly extreme, while her aerial battle around a lift shaft is also worthy of mention.

The story is clearly secondary to all this, but for the record, Khan and Yen are cops, one from Hong Kong, one from America, who team up to find a witness to a murder. Double-dealing and twists abound, though most are so obvious, you suspect they were just waiting for cast members to get out of hospital. :-) Interesting to see a foreign view of American cops – even Yen is a barely-controlled psychonaut. Khan is more sympathetic, but characterisation never goes beyond the most basic. However, this is an action movie, and as such, it’s near-perfect, with invention, energy and hardcore guts to spare from all concerned.

Dir: Yuen Wo-Ping
Star: Cynthia Khan, Donnie Yen, Michael Wong, Yuen Yat Choh