Tag: psycho

Brutal Fury

  By

★★
“Cover not necessarily representative.”

While technically a 1993 release, the copyright date on this is five years earlier. That seems about right, because a more eighties movie, you would be hard pushed to find. The hair! The synth score! The fashions! But, to be fair, this makes it ahead of its time in some ways. It definitely predates Heathers, with which it shares a number of elements in common. It takes place in small-town Texas, where Lincoln High School is home to a group of female vigilantes called The Sisterhood. They take it upon themselves to act as moral enforcers, punishing with violence those who sleep around, take drugs, etc. Their latest recruit is Misty (Greene), recently arrived in town.

However, Misty is barking mad, the result of a lifetime of indoctrination by her evangelical and fundamentalist minister father. While The Sisterhood go no further than beating up those they find guilty, Misty is… more enthusiastic. The predatory lesbian gym teacher? Stabbed and pushed off a roof. The rapist football player? Suffocated and left dangling from the goal-posts. Detective Bill Griffin (Campitelli) doesn’t know what to make of it. Not least because his wife, Molly (Gebron), is currently undercover at the school, trying to bust open a drug ring. You’d think that might have merited attention from The Sisterhood, but apparently not. I guess they are too busy holding quasi-Satanic initiation ceremonies, which look they might have strayed in from the director’s cut of Spinal Tap. 

Molly isn’t exactly convincing as a teenager, despite dressing from the “Sexy Punk Rocker” aisle at Party City. But that’s alright, because the pupils at the school also look closer to their mid-life crises. Naturally, she ends up becoming one of the targets for Misty’s big finish, after she gets kicked out of The Sisterhood for being too extreme. There is certainly a lot to unpack here, and it definitely feels like there are a plot or two in excess of what the director could handle. In more skilled hands, this would definitely have had potential as a cult classic, mixing religion, morality and violence. But this was apparently Watkins’s debut, and little of the potential is realized.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deliver gratuitous nudity. I mean, staging a meet for the drugs outside of a topless bar? Sheesh. That’s your B-movie license revoked, right there. Greene is likely the best thing here, selling both of her personalities effectively: shame this was her only film. The rest of the cast vary from competent enough to “Was there really nobody else available for the role?” It is just in desperate need of executing its ideas with considerably more energy than Watkins can bring. Lean into the insanity more, play up the exploitation elements (for despite the title, it is neither brutal nor furious) and this would have the potential to become one of Quentin Tarantino’s favourite movies. Someone needs to remake it along those lines. 

Dir: Fred P. Watkins
Star: Lisa-Gabrielle Greene, Tom Campitelli, Annette Gebron, Karen Eppers

The Matriarch

  By

★★★
“Puts the F in mother.”

I’m always amused when I check the reviews on the IMDb for a film, and they are almost all “Totally amazing!” or “Worst film ever!”. The former tend to come from the movie’s friends; the latter, from people miffed by the positive reviews, and seeking to counter them. The reality is usually somewhere in the middle, and that’s the case here. Given this was reportedly made for forty thousand dollars – and those are Australian dollars, which right now is about 67 US cents – it’s quite impressive, and certainly doesn’t look low budget, despite a cast of basically three and a single location. However, it’s a film where, if anyone had behaved sensibly, proceedings would have been all over in about ten minutes. 

This is the unfortunate story of Missy (Greenfield), a 13-year-old girl living with her dysfunctional, drug-addicted single mother Annette (Logan). Things go from bad to worse when her super-sketchy boyfriend, Trent (Sparnon), gets out of jail and moves in with them. He has… history with Missy, so she’s immediately on her guard, taking a carving knife to bed with her. Rightfully so, and Trent duly gets the punishment he deserves. Annette is none too happy about this, and decides that Missy needs to be disposed of as well. From here, things escalate relentlessly, as Missy tries to get out of the house of horrors, and her mother tries to prevent this, by any means necessary. Which includes a significantly escalating body count. 

You definitely will have to suspend your disbelief in a number of ways. Firstly, in accepting that Annette’s maternal instincts are so shallow, that her reaction to the situation, is to try and murder her own child. Then, most obviously, Australian cops are dumber than a eucalyptus tree full of koala bears. Because the ones that show up here, behave in a way which isn’t just in defiance of police protocol, it goes against all notions of common sense. There are times too, where it feels like Missy is actively trying to stay in the house, though given her young age, her idiocy is likely more forgivable. This runs through the heart of the film, to a point where it feels almost like a parody.

Fortunately, I didn’t find it too tricky to put aside such considerations and just enjoy the lurid pleasures this has to offer. It feels like an Antipodean cross between The Shining and Home Alone, combining the disintegrating mindset of the former’s antagonist, with the latter’s impromptu attitude to survival tricks. Greenfield is particularly effective, and I found it almost impossible to believe that this was her on-screen debut. She is highly convincing as she gets put through the emotional, spiritual and physical meat-grinder by her own mother. Creighton, also helming his first feature, shows a firm grasp of the basics, and you won’t find much slack present. However, I would suggest Jayden the director fires Jayden the writer for next time – or, at the very least, has a lengthy chat. 

Dir: Jayden Creighton
Star: Juliette Greenfield, Kate Logan, Andy Sparnon

Razor Days

  By

★★
“Just not sharp enough, I’m afraid.”

This was certainly not what I expected. That, in itself, would not have been a problem – I’m quite used to, and indeed do not mind, films which confound my preconceptions. I respect what this is attempting to do as well, which is a different take on the revenge movie. The problem here is fumbled execution: more on the directorial, writing and technical fronts, though in some of the performances too. Even allowing for the obviously limited resources this had to play with, by the end, it was definitely a struggle to get through, with a lack of narrative thrust in particular, meaning it failed to hold my attention. That’s a bit of a shame. Only a bit, mind you.

There are three central characters here: Anita (Best), Jessamay (Rochon) and Rena (Monahan). Two of them have severe cases of post-traumatic stress disorder, resulting from their kidnapping and savage treatment at the hands of a rural family, the Logans, who may have cannibalistic tendencies. Jessamay, in particular, suffered brutally, losing an eye and being left with a badly-scarred face. Rena, meanwhile, has largely retired from society. But with the reluctant help of Anita, Jessamay tracks her down and convinces Rena to join them as they head to the Logan farm. As Jessamay puts it, “Time to tell God that he can’t fuck with us and not have any repercussions.” But this does not exactly have the healing consequences for which the trio were hoping. 

And that’s the point: revenge is not clean or cathartic. Indeed, part of the message here seems to be that it can end up turning you into the monster too. To quote Friedrich Nietzsche, “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” If someone optioned that line and made a movie of it, you’d probably end up with this. Which works for Rochon’s character, because she has the necessary acting chops to pull it off. Despite her reputation as a “scream queen”, she has always been a cut above that in her talent. The others though? Not nearly so much.

Not helping: bad audio, which will either have you leaping for the remote or, in my case, turning it almost all the way down and relying on the subtitles. There are interesting ideas for a revenge film, such as that we don’t see the victims’ ordeal until after the revenge – and even then, it’s through Jessamay’s dreams, an unreliable narrator if ever there were one. Unfortunately, the execution is sloppy and dilutes the points the movie is trying to make. It’s an interesting contrast to the recently reviewed Undercover, where the story was nothing new, but it did it brilliantly. Here, there’s no shortage of innovation, but Watt doesn’t know how to go about getting them off the page and onto the screen. 

Dir: Mike Watt
Star: Amy Lynn Best, Debbie Rochon, Bette Cassatt, Jeff Monahan

Overkill: The Aileen Wuornos Story

  By

★★
“Undercooked and overdressed.”

Less than eleven months after Wuornos was convicted on her first murder charge, this TV movie was broadcast on CBS. If you’re at all familiar with the facts of the case, this won’t have much to offer. It does go a little bit deeper into the police procedural, in the shape of Capt. Steve Binegar (Grimm) and investigator Bruce Munster (James). Interesting that it does depict the FBI’s indifference to the case, the investigation basically being left up to the local cops. This gives credence to an article I read, which quoted an unnamed profiler with the bureau as saying there was no such things as a female serial killer. However, said local law enforcement comes up largely smelling of roses.

I’ve a feeling this may be because some members of the police were actively involved in the production, a fact which caused them some trouble due to the conflict of interest. There were, according to The Selling of a Serial Killer, re-assignments as a result, though nothing more formal appears to have happened. This may also have been based on the story Wuornos’s girlfriend Tyria Moore sold, though I’ve not been able to confirm this. The main problem is simply that a TV movie is a profoundly inappropriate medium in which to tell the story of a serial killer prostitute. Particularly one who was a lesbian, though you would be hard-pushed to work that out here. Aileen/”Lee (Smart) and Tyria (Overall) seem much more like room-mates than lovers.

The limitations of the form mean that we don’t really get to see much of… anything, to be honest. The formative influence of Wuornos’s appalling childhood is only seen in a couple of murky flashbacks. The killings themselves come nowhere near the description of them by the authorities as brutal. The closest we get to the grubbiness required for an authentic portrayal is probably the chaste shower scene in which Aileen examines her wounds, behind which we get entirely inappropriate sexy sax music. Though let’s face it: as the picture above proves, Smart and Overall are both far too conventionally pretty, despite being somewhat uglified up. I did laugh at how even the witness sketch impressions of the pair were prettier than the ones actually used by the police. 

As long as you’re fine with an obviously watered-down idea of the story, this isn’t terrible. The actors generally do a good job: I’m not familiar with Smart, but there are points when she is able to capture the body language and mannerisms of the real Wuornos effectively, and her performance does balance between making Aileen sympathetic and demonizing her. I also liked James, an actor I know more from villainous roles such as his replicant in Blade Runner. Seeing him here as a smart detective certainly felt against type. But the whole endeavour feels like a jar of “hot” supermarket salsa. You expect to get something spicy, only to find it has been relentlessly toned down for mass-market consumption. 

Dir: Peter Levin
Star: Jean Smart, Park Overall, Tim Grimm, Brion James

Aileen: Life and Death of a Serial Killer

  By

★★★★
“Lethally blonde.”

This is Broomfield’s second documentary around the topic of Aileen Wuornos, having previously made Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer. It’s a glorious doc – one of my all-time favorites – but is more tangential, being about those around Wuornos, seeking to exploit her situation for their own personal gain. He thought he was done with the topic, but he was called as a defense witness during Aileen’s final appeal against the multiple death sentences, largely because among those exploiters was her lawyer at the time, Steve Glazer. But around appearing in the witness box, Broomfield decided to make a second documentary, this time focusing on the woman at the centre of proceedings, all the way up to her execution by lethal injection in October 2002.

What I love about Broomfield’s work is, he goes where the story leads him. Some documentarians – and I’m looking at you, Michael Moore – go into production with An Agenda (caps used advisedly). They then craft the end product towards that agenda. To me, that’s less a documentary than propaganda. Broomfield seems to have a much more open mind, and the results sometimes end up going in unexpected directions. Here, it’s clear that he has sympathy for Wuornos, but doesn’t pull any punches about her personality and mental state. He presents footage both of her claiming self-defense and absolutely confessing to having committed cold-blooded murder. The scary thing is, Wuornos appeared to me to be highly credible in each, contradictory situation. Maybe I’m just easily fooled. Sobering.

Certainly, there is evidence of Aileen’s anger issues. During his final interview, we see how she can go from calm discussion to volcanic ferocity in short order, for little or no reason, and storming out while flipping Broomfield the bird. If there had been a firearm to hand during this outburst… Yeah, watching this, the idea of her killing seven in less than a year definitely seemed possible. Rage and easy access to guns is a dangerous combination. But as the film proceeds, it appears Wuornos’s mental situation deteriorates into frequent surges of paranoia, claiming mind-control weapons are being used on her, and that the cops knew who she was after the first murder, and let her continue killing so they could exploit things in the media. 

Should someone so clearly ill in the head be executed? Political considerations – it being an election year, with the governor wanting to appear strong on crime – appear to have overridden any judicial concerns. A cursory mental exam pronounced her fit to die, and the sentence was duly carried out. On that day, Broomfield was interviewed by the media (a classic case of the snake eating its own tail). He said, “Here was somebody who is has obviously lost her mind, has totally lost touch with reality. We’re executing a person who’s mad, and I don’t really know what kind of message that gives.” As someone not averse to the death penalty, this documentary certainly made me pause for thought, and that alone proves its quality. 

Dir: Nick Broomfield and Joan Churchill

Black Bags

  By

★★½
“Lost luggage.”

The first half of this is better than average, setting up an intriguing scenario that feels as if it might be going somewhere. Unfortunately, the second half manages to go almost nowhere, the hard edge honed to that point being severely blunted. We end in something which feels more appropriate for an “Aren’t All Men Bastards?” marathon on the Lifetime channel. It centres on Tess (Rulin), a pregnant woman returning to her new home in the countryside on the bus – her husband having forbidden her to drive. However, she ends up collecting the wrong suitcase, picking up an identical one belonging to another passenger. When she gets home and opens it, she finds a severed head. Worse, the case’s owner is now at her door.

This is Sara (Vandervoort), a black-gloved killer, who now wants – no, make that requires – Tess’s help to dispose of the evidence. Sara does have the courtesy to explain why she is carrying about a head. Eleven years ago, she’d had an affair with a married man, resulting in a daughter. The child now has leukemia, and she went to ask the father for help. It did not go well. But what’s also clear is that there is a good deal going on, to which we, the audience, are not privy. Tess’s husband seems sketchy from the little we have seen of him, and it gradually also becomes apparent that the switching of bags was no random accident, Tess being very specifically the target. 

It’s during the disposal things start going wrong for the movie. An abandoned factory, I can accept. One with an open vat of bubbling green stuff, perfect for dissolving heads? A little too convenient.  Then, let’s go get pie together! And tell the waitress we literally just got away with murder! It feels quite at odds with the smart person Sara had been – those gloves are there for a reason. The more we find out, the more it feels like the script is shooting itself in the foot, while simultaneously tying itself in knots. Which is quite an achievement, if you think about it. It also drops the twist we’ve been anticipating since the beginning, though your reaction may be more “Huh” then “Wow”.

In the end, the biggest problem may be trying to make Sara sympathetic. Once it’s been established that she flat-out decapitated someone, it’s always going to be a difficult road back, regardless of her motivation (and by throwing not just a child, but a sick one at us there, the script is guilty of trying too hard). It is both more plausible and entertaining when she’s behaving like Villanelle, than when Sara is trying to be the concerned parent. Unfortunately, it’s the latter which becomes heavily weighted as we reach the end, she and Tess eventually seeming to bond over motherhood. A particularly superfluous coda whacks another half-star off the rating, and solidifies the final score as below average. Bit of a shame.

Dir: Josh Brandon
Star: Laura Vandervoort, Olesya Rulin, Ryan Francis, Drew Pollock

American Woman

  By

★½
“Doctor in the house.”

I guess some credit is due here for going against type, at least. Molly Reese (Stack) is not your typical vigilante. She’s actually a doctor who works in an emergency room, and suffers a debilitating mental blow when her husband and daughter are both killed in an accident. She subsequently goes to a very dark place psychologically, telling her therapist she has thoughts about killing people. This is particularly unfortunate, after she is unable to save a local mob-boss, and his gang decide she is to blame. For Molly gets to put all those murderous impulses into action, under the guise of self-defense, and then proceeds to take the fight to the gangsters, all the while becoming increasingly unstable. 

It’s an interesting concept, and the potential is there: a doctor using her medical skills in ways of which the Hippocratic Oath would not approve. As noted, she doesn’t initially look like a crazed vigilante, and that might have been leveraged to good effect. However, the execution here is flat-out terrible, in a variety of ways. Stack as the protagonist isn’t particularly one of them, though her descent into insanity is largely depicted by Molly pulling increasingly deranged faces, and steadily worse hair-styles. It’s everything else. For example, the gangsters, who could not be a more shallow cliche of Italians if they tried. We know they are gangsters, because the restaurant where they hang out plays Nessun Dorma on a loop, I kid you not. 

Their competence leaves a huge amount to be desired too, perpetually losing fights – both gun and hand-to-hand – against a middle-aged physician with no previous experience. This makes them largely useless as villains, since they’re no threat. Though Mikey (Rosing), the one mostly in charge of hunting Molly, at least looks the part, ponytail and all. However, the actual battles are terribly staged, such as a lengthy gun-battle in a bowling alley, where none of the bullets seems to hit anything at all. There’s another member of the gang, Vito (Zambrano), who seems to have a thing for Molly. Don’t worry, since this proves to be of no significance. It’s all unfocused and poorly structured, up until an ending so abrupt, it suggests everyone involved suddenly realized they’d made a terrible mistake.

Probably the worst thing in the movie though, is Mollie’s neighbour, David (Tyler). I’m not sure if this depiction of a mentally-challenged individual was intended to provide humourous relief. If there’s blackface and brownface, is there such a thing as “retardface”, where someone pretends to be intellectually disabled for comedic purposes? Even if Tyler is genuinely like that (doubtful), it’s horribly exploitative, and would be among the most cringe-inducing portrayals of the year. It sums up a severely misbegotten adventure, that might have worked better as a short. It certainly has “Not ready for first feature” written all the way through it. Although for writer-director Siegel, the only way from here is up. 

Dir: Artie Siegel
Star: Katelin Stack, Joe Rosing, Frank Zambrano, Vic Tyler

Redhead

  By

★★
“Better dead than redhead.”

Written, directed by, and starring husband and wife team Sam and Johnna Hodge, this is the kind of film it would be easy to deride as poverty-row garbage from the bottom drawer. There’s precious little plot, some of the performances are painfully amateur, and it seems to exist mostly as a show-reel for spraying around corn syrup with red food colouring in it. And yet… If Chris and I made a movie – something we have discussed – it might well end up being not too dissimilar to this. On the other hand, if we had a spare $55,000 lying around – the budget here, according to the IMDb – we’d probably go on a nice holiday instead. 

Autumn Blacksmith (Hodge) survived being abducted and tortured by infamous psychopath Oscar Sawyer (Stinnett), finally escaping after killing him. However, the experience left her severely traumatized, and the slightest unfortunate interaction with any man is sufficient to push her over the edge into a murderous rage. Cue the corn syrup. Rinse, repeat for 90-odd minutes, until the end credits roll. Occasional hallucinations of Sawyer returning from the grave to haunt her, and a brief attempt by her therapist (Holland) to check in, offer a small touch of variety. The West Virginia cops, led by Detective Rogers (Robinson), are not exactly Sherlock Holmes. Then again, locals are remarkably chill about Autumn’s spree. The bartender where she kills her first victim says of him, “He was always an asshole.”

I was reminded of Michael and Anne Paul, another husband and wife film-making duo. They made Roman’s Bride, where the red-headed wife also goes on a killing spree. I think that worked a bit better, because its lead actress had an innocence about her, that provided an interesting contrast to her savagery. Here, Autumn is more blatantly mad, to the point you wonder why any man would try to chat her up. As a viewer, you’re never brought along on the journey into insanity. The way some of the local community end up assisting with, or even active participants in, her murders could have been used to provide another twist to the narrative. Nah. Open another bottle of Karo instead. 

Technically, it’s okay: the camera gets pointed in the right direction, it doesn’t succumb to underlit scenes, and the audio is fine. The soundtrack, also by Sam Hodge (not a surprise), has a nice throwback vibe, sounding like it was ripped off an eighties video nasty. But there is no real sense of progression or development, and the ending feels particularly sudden, going to the end credits immediately after she has disembowelled her final victim, a peeping Tom. We’re very little forward from where we were after her first murder. A sequel is in production though, so it appears there was enough of a market for this kind of thing. Will I watch it? [Sighs heavily] Yeah. I suspect I probably will.

Dir:Johnna Hodge, Sam Hodge
Star: Johnna Hodge, Ashley Stinnett, Will A. Holland, Travis Robinson

Compulsion

  By

★★★
“Rated R, for raunchy and rough.”

The “erotic thriller” now seems almost as quaint a part of cinema history as beach party films. It feels partly as if the Harvey Weinstein scandal made nudity and sexuality taboo in Hollywood. The rise of the Internet also provides easy access to all the naked flesh anyone could possibly want. Regardless of the cause, there are no longer big budget films like Basic Instinct or Wild Things being made, let alone being #6 at the North American box-office for the year, as Instinct managed [that said, United Artists paid $2 million for the reboot rights earlier this year. We’ll see; I’m not optimistic]. So in some ways, this feels like a throwback, drawing influence from Brian de Palma and Paul Verhoeven.

It’s the fourth, and supposedly final, collaboration between director Marshall and his wife/star Kirk. Two of the previous ones have been covered here, in The Lair and Duchess; I haven’t yet seen the other, witchcraft film The Reckoning. But there can’t be many directors who have worked so often with their spouses. Maybe Paul W.S. Anderson and Milla Jovovich? The results for this couple have certainly fallen short of peak Marshall, such as The Descent, or even Doomsday, both commercially and critically. While this likely won’t change the narrative, I’m not averse to a nostalgic combo of gratuitous nudity and graphic violence. I’ll leave Mr. and Mrs. Marshall to figure out what it means for the relationship, in their couples’ therapy sessions. 

It takes place in Malta where a shapely cat-suit clad serial killer is committing some particularly brutal murders. Investigating the case is local detective Claudia Cavara (Gorietti), with the two main suspects Diana (Kirk), a bisexual thief with a hot boyfriend (McGowan), and her lesbian neighbour, Evie (Sieklucka). Will there be steamy trysts, voyeurism, and a Euro-pudding of accents, from Poland to Yorkshire? Yes, of course! Sieklucka was in those 365 Days films on Netflix, after all. You will also experience what may well be the stabbiest scene in film history, making Psycho look like a Sunday School play. While I felt the victim was certainly deserving (I hated his hair), it showed Marshall has clearly taken influence from Italian giallo films, with their masked killers and hyperviolence. 

It is, however, nowhere near as good as Basic Instinct. Kirk isn’t fit to hold Sharon Stone’s ice-pick, and the whole police side of things is embarrassingly half-baked. It also feels as if Marshall was more into the violence than the sex, and there was a point, probably about two-thirds in, where I realized I didn’t particularly care about anyone. The decision to make it a whodunnit backfires too, because there are an extremely limited number of possible suspects. The end result is therefore quite a mess, and I can understand the critical disdain. However, it’s a mess which had its moments, and was definitely among the most R-rated of movies I saw this year. More of those will always be welcome. 

Dir: Neil Marshall
Star: Charlotte Kirk, Anna-Maria Sieklucka, Zach McGowan, Giulia Gorietti

Torment

  By

★½
“Car trouble.”

I’m tempted to be very snarky, say something like “The torment here is entirely on the viewer’s end” and make that the totality of the review. However, that’s a dangerous precedent, one I don’t want to set. Before long, I’d be phoning it in, and churning out nothing but single sentence reviews. I would instead spend my time sitting on the couch, eating Doritos and scrolling idly on my phone, before dying prematurely of a heart attack, and turning Chris into a grieving cat lady. Do you want that to happen, Torment? Do you, really? However, it probably does say something that such morbid speculation is still considerably more fun than either watching or writing about this. 

It’s one of those films where the time-line is jumbled up. This kind of script requires a lot of writing rigour to work, and Leone doesn’t have it at all. Though I already had a sinking feeling with an opening title sequence which looks like it was made on Windows Movie Maker. And not a current version, either. We begin with a woman picking up another women off the side of the road, and the title card. We then get a woman leaving her apartment, walking down to the car-park, getting in her vehicle. She drives around. Fills it up with petrol. Drives around some more. Parks in a different parking structure. We’re eight minutes into a 73-minute film, and I am already checking out.

Turns out there’s someone locked in the trunk. Though do not make the mistake of thinking it’s the woman picked up at the beginning. Dear me, no. That sequence turns out to be the opener for the final part of the film, a bit of stalking of the hitch-hiker through the woods. It gives the strong impression of having been tacked on as emergency filler, after the sudden realization they had done with the main plot, and only had 55 minutes of material. That is mostly to do with the woman in the trunk, who is radio host Elaine Margo (Bird). She has been kidnapped by the mysterious driver (Cay), because… Uncertain. Elaine obviously has murderous secrets of her own, but how they impact her abductor is never adequately explained.

Instead, there’s a lot of driving. Which I get. it’s clear there wasn’t much money here, so the makers went with a concept that requires few locations, and a very small cast. But it doesn’t help that the two leads are similar in appearance, so when we get scenes outside the car, it’s often unclear who is involved in them. This is just another misstep in a movie which seems compulsively drawn to making them. You’ll reach the end – which is really the beginning – and will likely feel nothing more than bemused irritation at best. It almost made a nihilist out of me, because I was left questioning the point of this film’s existence, as well as my own.

Dir: Anthony Leone
Star: Amy Cay, Paisley Bird, Isabella Giardini, JD Isabelle