Tag: r

Relentless

  By

★★
“Hell Salvador…”

From just about all I’ve read, the director seems entirely earnest in his desire to make a serious film about a serious problem, human trafficking in Central America. That the end result falls almost entirely wide of the mark is a bit of a double-edged sword. In terms of making its intended point, that it feels more like a B-movie from the fifties is a bad thing. But on the other hand, the serious film about the serious problem would likely be considerably less amusing.

Holly Drew (Shaw) runs a coffee shop in what I’m guessing is Portland, carrying on a family tradition of working with farmers in El Salvador: fair trade, ethical production, etc. Her daughter, Ally (Sweeney), is visiting the coffee farm there, somewhat reluctantly: some kind of college credit seems involved. Her stay is rudely interrupted when she and a local friend are kidnapped by Los Discipulos, a local gang. With the local cops worse than useless, Holly goes down there herself, and plunges into the underworld with the help of slightly sleazy but good-hearted Fern (Castro), on the trail of Ally before she can be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

A major problem here, is that Tracy clearly wants to be sympathetic to the locals. It opens with stuff about the civil war there causing a cycle of poverty and violence, etc. Yet in the light of subsequent cinematic events, this comes over more excuse than rational explanation. Because for the purposes of the film, modern-day El Salvador has to be depicted as a “shithole country” (to quote the current American President). Otherwise, where’s the threat to Holly and Ally? So for example: the local police are depicted as being thoroughly corrupt or entirely useless, and no-one beyond Fern seems willing to help Holly in the slightest. If you come away at the end doing anything except agreeing with Trump, you haven’t been paying attention.

The other big problem is character motivation, especially for Fern. He abandons Holly, right at her moment of greatest need… except he subsequently doesn’t. Neither his departure, nor his return, make sense, except that both are necessary for a film in which he’s a supporting character to the “relentless” mother. Similarly, the actions of Los Discipulos often left me scratching my head. They didn’t fit the likely behaviour patterns of the hardened criminals they are supposed to be – again, save for being required by the plot.

We’ve seen almost exactly this kind of “lost daughter” scenario before, in the decent Never Let Go and slightly less-decent Taken Heart. Whether due to the sense of (literal) deja vu, or just because the components aren’t as effective, this falls below the standard of either. Shaw’s performance is likely the only half-decent aspect, and it needs to be in the service of a more considered script. If I’d been making this, I’d have had Fern part of the notorious El Salvadorean anti-gang death squad, La Sombra Negra, and taken Holly down a darker path of vengeance. Sadly, what we have here is considerably more lightweight and predictable, and almost entirely forgettable.

Dir: Lance Tracy
Star: Lauren Shaw, David Castro, Sydney Sweeney, Peter Holden

Raazi

  By

★★★★
“The Spy Who Loved Me”

This Indian spy thriller manages to be both remarkably restrained and human, avoiding a potentially jingoistic approach, and going for something considerably more measured. It takes place just before the war between India and Pakistan in 1971, when Indian agent Hidayat Khan is pretending to give information to Pakistan. In order to get close to their top brass, he convinces his daughter, Sehmat (Bhatt), to enter an arranged marriage to Iqbal Syed (Ahlawat), an officer whose father (Sharma) is a Brigadier in the Pakistani army. After being trained by senior intelligence officer Khalid Mir (Kaushal), she goes to join her new husband, and begins operations as a spy inside the Brigadier’s household.

From there, it’s a series of tense incidents, with a servant becoming increasingly suspicious of Sehmat, but her also falling for Iqbal, and realizing that the enemy are not so different. These conflicting loyalties create emotional carnage, not least when she has to kill multiple people in order to protect her mission. [One of whom is killed using an umbrella laden with a ricin pellet, which is odd, since this was seven years before the KGB used exactly this method to assassinate a dissident, Georgi Markov] She does succeed in sending back vital information to Mir, but he has great difficulty in getting the Indian military to take the data seriously, being uncorroborated evidence from a rookie agent. When the Pakistanis start rolling up Sehmat’s local support cell, it becomes a race against time to extract her before she is caught in the net.

What I particularly liked about this was Sehmat’s “ordinariness”: she has no amazing abilities or combat skills. She is brave, smart and very committed, yet far from immune to the hellish toll a mission like this takes, especially on the psyche of someone thoroughly unprepared for it. The film does a much better job of depicting this than, say, Red Sparrow, in particular with an ending which is genuinely poignant, and a far cry from the black and white depiction which I was expecting. There’s as much ground to criticize the Indian side – not least for their cynical exploitation of a young girl’s desire to satisfy the wishes of her father – as the Pakistani one.

This was one of the highest-grossing Bollywood movies with a female lead ever, trailing only romantic comedy sequel Tanu Weds Manu Returns, and it’s easy to understand why. About the only misstep I can think of, was giving Sehmat’s father lung cancer, as if relying on her daughter’s sense of filial obligation and patriotism wasn’t sufficient moral blackmail. It’s a sloppy and unnecessary bit of early melodrama, whose lack of subtlety is severely at odds with the rest of the film. In a world where most spy movies treat death as a throwaway trifle, this goes a long way to remind us that the taking of another human’s life is absolutely not a trivial matter, regardless of the reason.

Dir: Meghna Gulzar
Star: Alia Bhatt, Jaideep Ahlawat, Vicky Kaushal, Shishir Sharma

Ride the River, by Louis L’Amour

  By

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

Goodreads characterizes this novel, set in 1840, as the fifth volume in the author’s Sackett series. The fictional Sackett family, in L’Amour’s writings, are descended from tough, larger-than-life Barnabas Sackett, who emigrated to America in the 1600s and settled on the frontier, and who laid down a law for his descendants that whenever a Sackett was in trouble, the rest were bound to lend their aid. This book is indeed about a Sackett, and no doubt chronologically the fifth in that sequence. But the sequence forms a multi-generational saga in which the individual books are generally about different people; though some knowledge of the family origins, as mentioned above, might be helpful (and is repeated in the text of this book, for readers who didn’t read the series opener), they can be read perfectly well as stand-alones. (I haven’t read any of the other Sackett novels.) L’Amour also wrote sequences of novels and stories about two other fictional families that bred adventurous pioneers, the Chantrys and the Talons, whose paths sometimes cross those of the Sacketts –and the paths of a couple of the Chantrys will bring them into this tale as well.

Sixteen-year old Echo Sackett, of the Tennessee Sacketts, lives in the mountains with her family. Her pa is recently dead; her brothers are on an extended trapping expedition further west, and her uncle is laid up from a bear attack. So when an unusual circumstance brings an ad in a peddler-borne Pennsylvania newspaper to light, seeking the youngest descendant of one Kin Sackett to claim an inheritance, it falls to Echo to undertake the long and somewhat dangerous round trip to Philadelphia to receive and bring back the money. Readers accustomed to judging teens by the most immature and irresponsible examples that 21st-century American entitlement culture can produce might well see this as a foredoomed exercise that should never have been contemplated. But Echo is a product of a very different kind of culture. A crack shot who packs a pair of Doune pistols (see this link: http://firearmshistory.blogspot.com/2010/12/pistols-highland-pistol.html ) and is accustomed to shooting game for the table without missing, self-reliant, mature and capable Echo is a formidable young woman, not a child. She might need her cool head and firearms skills (and her “Arkansas toothpick”) on this trip, because there are those who didn’t want that ad seen to start with, and who’d prefer to have that money in their own pockets, rather than hers.

One reviewer said he felt this novel was “gimmicky.” I’m not sure what he considered the “gimmick” –possibly the protagonist’s gender, or the Sackett family’s clannish ethos of sticking together and helping each other in the face of trouble, including attacks by outsiders. Personally, I didn’t consider either element a gimmick. For me, seeing competence and fighting skills on the distaff side of the equation is a strong plus; I don’t see those kinds of qualities as inconsistent with female nature in any way, and Echo has plausible reasons for her characteristics. The Sackett ethic strikes me as something all families could profit by internalizing, and as such a worthwhile message for contemporary society. L’Amour’s knowledge of his settings, from 1840s Appalachia to distant Philadelphia, and of relevant history, is clearly extensive; he brings his world to life well. The characters, especially Echo herself, are vividly drawn and evoke reactions from the reader. In much of his work, L’Amour’s plotting is often predictable, but he managed to take me by surprise with one key development here –in a good way! There’s no sex and very little bad language here, and respectful treatment of a black character. With plenty of effective action scenes, the book is a pretty quick read.

There’s also a element of low-key, but serious, romantic attraction that develops in the book. For some readers, this will be problematic because of Echo’s age; while the age difference per se isn’t excessive, at this time of her life, it happens to put her love interest above 18 while she’s below that age. This didn’t scandalize me, in context; as I said, Echo is a woman, not a child (and in her community, she’s considered to be of a normal marriageable age). I didn’t consider the mutual attraction to be in any sense pedophilic or abnormal.

My one criticism of the book is the slipshod writing/editing in several places. Echo serves as first-person narrator for most of the book; but for scenes to which she isn’t privy, or where he wants to give us a different perspective, L’Amour occasionally uses other viewpoint characters, in third person. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, and it even enhances the story at times. But at other times, L’Amour forgets which narrative thread he’s using, and is inconsistent with pronoun use in the same sentence or paragraph. That takes a reader out of the story, and is particularly frustrating when you’re reading this aloud (as I was, to my wife). Just for that reason, I deducted a half star.  But that didn’t keep me from really liking the book! Any read by L’Amour has always been a winner for me, and this one was no exception.

Author: Louis L’Amour
Publisher: Bantam, available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.
Book 5 of 19 in the Sacketts series.

Red Sparrow

  By

★★★
“The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!”

There was a while there, where Russia dropped out of the top spot as far as being cinematic villains were concerned. No longer the “Evil Empire” of the Reagan era, they had largely been replaced, in the post 9/11 landscape, by Islamic fundamentalism. But now, those pesky Russkies are back as the bad guys once again, following their interference in the sacrosanct and solemn process of Americans electing a president. [I really must figure out a sarcasm font for this site] While this is supposedly set in the present day – I say that, because at one point, cutting-edge computer software is delivered on a set of floppy disks! – this feels more like something born out of Peak Cold War.

Ballerina Dominika Egorova (Lawrence) suffers an accident on stage that ends her career. Living in a Bolshoi-provided apartment and with a sick mother, things look bleak until her uncle Ivan Egorov (Schoenaerts) steps in. He offers her a job as a “sparrow”, honey-potting foreigners in order to obtain intelligence from them. After some qualms, Dominika accepts, and undergoes training designed to remove all her inhibitions. Her first target is Nate Nash (Edgerton), a CIA operative now in Budapest. He had to leave Moscow after an incident involving him and a high-level Russian agent; that agent’s identity is what Dominika has to discover, in her guise as an embassy translator.

The most obvious recent touchstone is Atomic Blonde, which I found considerably more entertaining – even if it is, I would venture, considerably less realistic. This is dour stuff by comparison, almost unremittingly grim in the dehumanizing way the Russians use Dominika, Dominika uses Nate, and Nate uses Dominika. For it’s clear from the start that he is not taken in by her facade and sees the honey-pot for what it is – yet thinks she can still be a useful asset, who can be recruited and turned. Or is that actually part of Dominika’s game-plan, to appear as a potential defector? It’s only right at the end, by the time many wheels have turned, that we discover whose side she’s really on: not much of a spoiler to reveal that it’s her own.

One thing which is clear. is how the film has been misunderstood, reading reviews which say things like, “Red Sparrow is intended to be a sexy thriller.” No, it’s not, any more than Showgirls was. Both are often about sex; yet that doesn’t make them “sexy”, especially when the director depicts the ugly aspects as much as (if not more often than) the erotic. Here, the sexual encounters are weaponized, and are as much about power as anything. Nothing illustrates that better than Lawrence’s nude scene, during a very public training session as what she herself calls “whore school” A classmate who had previously tried to rape Dominika is ordered to have sex with her. But, partly in response to her taunting, he’s unable to perform. If you think it’s supposed to be “sexy”, you’re the problem, not the film.

The trailers may have somewhat betrayed it, making it look like a modern version of Atomic Blonde (or even an origin story for Black Widow!). It isn’t, and you should not expect anything with such gleeful abandon, or such a defiant sense of era and location. Sparrow could easily take place in any Eastern bloc city, at any time since the end of World War II. It’s no less brutal than Blonde, deserving its adult rating for violence and torture as much as the sexual content. The heroine is certainly not as active a participant, though it’s creepy as hell to see Dominika energetically wielding a tool usually reserved for carrying out skin grafts. But it is considerably more serious in intent, though the case could be made (and has been), that it’s ultimately less empowering and more exploitative.

Not sure I’d go that far: I know it’s a great deal less fun, and also which of the two is the only film I’ll have in my collection. This doesn’t necessarily make it a bad movie; especially if you can get past Lawrence’s accent, her performance is worth a look, and as an ice-cold tale of deep-frozen international intrigue, the 140 minutes go past quicker than I initially thought they might. The actress is re-teamed here with Hunger Games director (who is no relation), and I’m not sure he’s the best person for the task, seeming to rely heavily on trotting out tropes of the genre we’ve seen too often before. However, a bigger problem is likely Edgerton as the male lead, who has close to zero charisma, and even less chemistry with his co-star. That, however, may be intentional, since they’re both playing the other as a patsy, with the “real” emotions involved being questionable.

The rest of the supporting cast aren’t bad. Having recently seen Jeremy Irons being criminally wasted in Assassin’s Creed, I was much more pleased with his performance here, though both he and Charlotte Rampling (as a Nikita-esque head of the school for sparrows) have something of the same accent issue as Lawrence. It always seems odd: we are supposed to be able to accept the conceit of non-natives playing foreigners who speak English to each other… only if a fake local accent is applied on top? It’s about as necessary and convincing as the glasses on Clark Kent. Mary Louise Parker also shows up, as a US senator with a taste for booze, whom Dominika opportunistically swipes from another agent.

The makers deserve some credit for making a feature film that is clearly intended for a mature audience, something which we don’t see enough of out of Hollywood these days [why bother, when you can churn out sequels and comic-book movies to greater profit?]. But the result here, while well-crafted, is almost entirely cheerless. It’s hard to engage with a heroine whose initial action are altruistic, yet appears to become, by the end, amost as soulless and propelled by self-interest as the state who recruited her.

Dir: Francis Lawrence
Star: Jennifer Lawrence, Joel Edgerton, Matthias Schoenaerts, Jeremy Irons

Red Sparrow (alternate review)

  By

★★★½
“From Russia without love.”

So, I saw “Red Sparrow”. But I was hesitant. So hesitant, I actually pressed the button to get off the bus when I was still not so far away from my flat. But the door didn’t open; I interpreted that as force majeure and stayed until I reached the cinema.

First of all, this movie is not what it seems to be – or is marketed as. Which you could already sense; I mean, if you see a trailer for a 140 minute-movie and there is not the slightest indication of action, it could perhaps be guessed that it’s not really an action movie. And indeed, it’s not. If someone goes into the movie expecting a movie like Atomic Blonde, Unlocked, Salt or Haywire, he/she will likely be disappointed. The action early on is only with Joel Edgerton, not with Lawrence. And despite beating up a treacherous couple responsible for the end of her ballerina career, and an extended torture scene at the end that ends with a stabbing, Dominika is usually not involved.

This movie reminded me most of all of the American remake of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: long and drawn-out, but without the suspense. You have to have what we call in Germany “good seating-flesh” – you’re sitting a long time in the cinema! When the film ended, an old woman behind me who was there with her son and his wife whispered, “Schwere Kost, nicht wahr?”. That translates as “A heavy meal, wasn’t it?”, meaning it’s not easily digestible. I was also reminded of John LeCarré movies, where everything is all talk and no action at all. So it’s not an action-adventure, or a “girls with guns” movie. But I think that fans of Jennifer Lawrence (mainly in the USA, not really in Germany) and feminists won’t likely embrace or love this movie. It’s not really an “enjoyable” movie, that can serve a quasi-feminist agenda in the way Wonder Woman did.

No, the main theme of the movie is the constantly shifting sands underfoot, which could easily open up at any moment and swallow the main protagonist. Some characters die during the course of the story, and it’s not necessarily the guilty ones who catch a bullet. But it’s a problem that there are hardly any sympathetic characters in the movie. Even Dominika is a big question mark, as the Russian secret service tactics force her to play a game of deception and manipulation, exactly as she was trained for. It leaves you, even at the end, guessing on which side she is/was/may have been on, in shades of Atomic Blonde. Things constantly change…

It also reminded me of Child 44 with Tom Hardy, Gary Oldman, Noomi Rapace and – hey! – Joel Edgerton.  This was a serial killer story set in Stalin-era Soviet Union, in which you could constantly lose your head or fall victim to intrigue. The feeling of constant threat and danger was stronger there. But I note, “Soviet Union,” because confusingly, this movie seems to play in contemporary Russia. Which is…. quite strange: the “red sparrow” program did exist in the 1960s but may not even have survived that decade, never mind existing today. The movie adapts the first book in a trilogy by a former American agent so he presumably knows what he wrote about; it all appears very realistic.

But with modern Russia as the background? I find that a bit hard to believe. German reviewers tended to complain about old clichés, thicker than in classic James Bond movies. They may be partly right. When I saw Charlotte Rampling standing and explaining to Lawrence what her duty is, in front of the “school for whores”, I was very much reminded of Lotte Lenya as Rosa Klebb, setting Daniela Bianchini up to attract James Bond. And the Secret Service of Russia appears to come right out of the 50s/60s, not today. Much has also been made, mainly by American reviewers, about the sex/nude/violent scenes. While they are all part of the story, if you are looking at the whole of the movie – once again, 140 long minutes – it doesn’t feel as spectacular or scandalous as the articles made it. Strangely, even Lawrence seemed to play up the sex angle in interviews (also causing a minor outcry by puritans when she appeared at a premiere of the movie, showing some cleavage…). Yes, you see her nude in the movie but I can’t personally say a 3-second shot of one breast and 10 seconds on her butt would be worth the admission!

I mean. Jennifer, you know there exists something called internet pornography? You really think we men are so hormone-driven that a glimpse of your almost-naked body for a few seconds would make us buy a (not really that cheap) ticket for a 140 minute movie? Reeaalllllyyy? ;-) But then this may also be testament to a certain kind of desperation on the part of the studio: how else to sell this clunky piece of espionage fiction. What do you do when you have no big action scenes or robots from space?

There is a nasty but quick rape scene, but we saw worse in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo movies. It has to be said, this scene seemed stolen almost 1:1 from Stoker, with Mia Wasikowska and Nicole Kidman. There are some ugly torture scenes but they are similarly brief, except for the last one. And as I hardly sympathized or identified with any of the characters, they also failed to make an emotional impact on me. I really have to say: After having explored the “Giallo” genre, I can say these kinds of movies – done almost 50 years ago – were much more terrifying when it came to violence, and more daring with regard to nudity or sex. So, I have a problem when some articles seem to celebrate Jennifer Lawrence’ dedication for “revealing so much” and “daring”. Maybe it’s shocking for today’s (female?) American cinema-goers, I don’t know. By my standards and in my opinion, it’s quite tame in all aspects.

I do give credit to Lawrence, who never saw an acting school from the inside, and has matured – yes, even by my standards! – into a “real actress”. I personally find it very positive that a studio is willing to make a movie almost entirely focused on its story with a nice budget ($69 million) instead of the next action-SFX-extravaganza. But I have seen better. That said, for those willing to invest the time and money, the movie may actually provide something. The actors are all good – I have not mentioned Mary Louise Parker in surprise cameo in the middle of the movie), the production design is impressive (even if Film-Russia seems to have a preference for 1970’s interior design) and the James Newton Howard (Salt, btw.) score is solid as always, even though it mainly plays in the background.

The studio’s idea behind the green light for the movie may have been to create another successful franchise. The formula? Actress Jennifer Lawrence + director Francis Lawrence + adapt a successful bestseller. It worked with the Hunger Games movies – Lawrence directed the last three – but I fear won’t be the case here. While I can imagine that the book may have been a great read for those who love a good spy story, that alone does not necessarily recommend it to become a blockbuster movie, despite some admirable achievements by the team in front and behind the camera.

For fans of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or The Russia House, it may be worth the admission. Everyone else, can wait for the movie to become available as a rental or on TV. Honestly, I would prefer a sequel to Atomic Blonde or The Man From U.N.C.L.E. [The latter should have been so much more successful, but didn’t get the same advertising push as this new J-Law vehicle] While it’s no bad movie at all, people may be lured in based on wrong assumptions, such as thinking this is some kind of Black Widow origin story. They’ll leave disappointed, and I predict another flop in Lawrence’s career.

Dir: Francis Lawrence
Star: Jennifer Lawrence, Joel Edgerton, Matthias Schoenaerts, Jeremy Irons

Revenge

  By

★★★★½
“Women always have to put up a fucking fight.”

This French rape-revenge movie is the most blood-drenched GWG film I’ve seen since Kill Bill, Volume 1, and is not for the faint of heart. However, the good news is, it’s not the rape part of the equation which is hard to watch: this is depicted with admirable restraint, occurring mostly off-camera. The director has stressed that the story isn’t about the rape, and I’m delighted with that: it has always struck me as the least interesting element. It’s a plot device, to kick-off what matters. Focusing on it, as some films have done, seems to me like focusing on turning the ignition key, instead of driving the car. This, instead, offers a road-trip to remember.

The victim is Jen (Lutz), a young girl having a weekend in the Moroccan desert with her rich, married boyfriend, Richard (Janssens). He’s also there to do a spot of hunting with his pals, Stan and Dimitri (Colombe and Bouchède). They four have a night drinking and dancing, but the next morning, when Richard heads off to make travel arrangements, Stan rapes Jen. On Richard’s return, he tries to smooth things over. Jen is having none of it, and storms off. Knowing that any legal complaint would destroy his marriage, Richard fakes calling for transport out, then pushes Jen off a cliff. Her landing is… not a soft one. Convinced the problem is solved, the men leave disposing of the body until later. Except, Jen isn’t dead, and when the trio go back, she’s not there. Helped by some impressively strong peyote – in this case, the drugs clearly do work – she patches herself up, and turns the hunters into the hunted.

First, let me address the improbably-resilient elephant in the room. Yes, her survival and pursuit is implausible, with a couple of large holes. Literally: one of the film’s two highly cringe-inducing pieces of self-surgery shows Jen patching up a hole in her stomach. Yet there must, of necessity, be an even larger one in her back. What happened to that? To be honest, they didn’t need this aspect at all: simply surviving the fall would have been hardcore enough. She also goes barefoot through the entire film, without a whimper. In the Arizona summer, I can’t take the garbage out barefoot without leaving singed skin on the drive. One shot of her pulling the shoes off her first victim would have fixed that.

It’s a shame, albeit a minor one, because virtually everything else is perfect. The transition of Jen, from the stuff of Richard’s fantasies, to that of his nightmares – he’s the one who delivers the tagline above – is impeccably handled. Even her good looks transform. At the beginning, it’s a shallow and utterly conventional prettiness – which she has exploited into a weekend getaway to a luxury location. By the end, she has paid a terrible price for this. Yet even as she’s missing minor body parts, disfigured, drenched in blood (both hers and others) and covered in desert grime… she’s glowing. Her inner beauty shines through, increasingly illuminating the bad-ass bitch she has become over the course of proceedings.

For a film lauded for its supposed up-ending of the male gaze, this feels a bit odd, since it could be read as the sexual assault triggering Jen’s blossoming: rape as psychological therapy. She should thank her attackers! [The image of a rising phoenix branded into her skin, due to her impromptu first-aid, is not exactly subtle in its imagery. Then again, the entire film is not exactly subtle, and proudly defiant as such] If that reading is on shaky ground, it’s also amusing to note Revenge utterly fails the dreaded Bechdel Test, despite being brutally empowering, to a degree rarely seen. More evidence – as if it were really needed – of how shitty the Bechdel Test is at evaluating films.

The good thing is that the feature’s entertainment value in no way relies on any kind of Identity Politics 1.0.1. to work. It functions perfectly well as a stripped-down pursuit, which neither asks for, no offers, any kind of quarter on behalf of the participants – for their genders or any other reason. There’s a steady, relentless escalation to proceedings from the moment Jen takes flight, to a final confrontation which redefines “paint the walls blood-red”. That’s a jaw-dropping pursuit round the house where things began, and includes proof that cling film, like duct tape, has a thousand and one uses.

The director says the only previous example of the rape-revenge genre she watched was Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left. Though if true, the proximity of names for the heroine here and in the genre’s most infamous entry, I Spit On Your Grave, is a striking coincidence. That aside, it’s interesting to note that the only other female-directed entry, Baise-moi, was also from France. And in tone, this has almost as much in common with À l’interieur (Inside), which was just as blood-drenched, and similarly gave absolutely no fucks. Much credit to Fargeat for this “take no prisoners” attitude, and delivering a thoroughly uncompromising piece of cinema; kudos for all of her cast as well, in particular Lutz, who go all-in to no less a degree.

I’ve been watching extreme films for thirty years or so, and let’s be honest, you get a bit desensitized to it all. We went to see this one at a local art cinema, and from their reactions, it was clear that most of the audience were, let’s say, not as “experienced” in the ways of savage cinema as Chris and I. Their responses merely added to the fun: I’d kinda forgotten how audience reaction can enhance a film (their goddamn rustling of snacks… not so much, but let’s move rapidly on). At the end, after all was said and done, one of the other attendees blurted out loud, “Best ten bucks I’ve ever spent.” I’m not inclined to disagree. Despite its flaws – which I acknowledge and embrace – if 2018 offers a film which packs a bigger punch, I can’t wait to see it.

Dir: Coralie Fargeat
Star: Matilda Lutz, Kevin Janssens, Vincent Colombe, Guillaume Bouchède

Rain Dance by D.N. Erikson

  By

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

The saying, “You only live twice,” is supposed to be a metaphor, but for Eden Hunter, it ends up being very much a statement of fact. She’s a former con-artist, dragged back from beyond the grave by vampire warlord, Aldric. He puts her to work on a hidden island as his personal soul-harvester, with a strict quota per week. It’s not great work, but it’s steady – at least until Eden’s beach-front house is attacked by a werewolf with murder on its furry mind. She then finds herself seen by the FBI as their prime suspect after an old partner in confidence tricks turns up dead on her doorstep. But, wait! There’s more! She has to deal with the rain goddess – presumably, the source of the title – to whom Eden is also in thrall, and whose rules she just broke. A gang involved in robbing her boss of millions in gold bullion. Her dead sister. A serial-killer politician. Oh, and a talking cat.

Overall, the main problem is that this feels like Book 2, rather than Book 1. Rather than starting off at what might be considered the more logical point of Eden’s first death, it joins her career as a reaper, already well in progress, opening with the werewolf attack. There is a fair amount of information – and quite important data, at that – which is not provided to the reader until some distance into the story. As the paragraph above suggests, there’s not exactly a shortage of plot threads either: as a result, some of them inevitably end up feeling under-developed. The goddess, for example, seems to show up at the end, purely to provide an adversary for the heroine’s boss, and I’m still not sure about the point of the politician. Conversely, some things feel under-explained. The island is supposedly hidden… yet the FBI know where it is? Who delivers – oh, I dunno – milk to it? It has an awkward sense of being something which looked a good idea at the time, only was never thought through properly.

It’s probably not the book’s fault, but there was a sense of deja vu too for me. Only a couple of months ago, I read Fugitive of Magic by Linsey Hall. It was also a story told in first-person perspective, about a paranormal heroine accused of a murder she didn’t commit, who has to find the real perpetrator in order to prove her innocence. Having recently read that story, I didn’t find a revised version of it especially interesting. The main positive is Eden herself, who made for a decent central character. There was a nice moral sense of grey about her choices, with her trying to do the right thing, even though those choices were frequently constrained by the unfortunate circumstances which she inhabited. If we’d been brought along with Eden on her resurrection, rather than being dumped into the middle of it, this would likely have been a more worthwhile story.

Author: D.N. Erikson
Publisher: Watchfire Press, available through Amazon as both a paperback and an e-book.
Book 1 of 3 (to date) in the Sunshine & Scythes series.

Run Coyote Run

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★
“Coyote ugly.”

runcoyoteI must have masochistic tendencies. For having seen Bryan’s Lady Streetfighter, which I described as “Legitimately terrible, among the worst films I’ve ever seen,” I inexplicably decided to watch this half-sequel, half-remake, from the same director. It was Sunday and I was bored. What can I say? This isn’t quite as awful. Emphasis on the “quite,” however, for it’s still very, very bad.

That lack of quality begins right from the thoroughly confusing concept, which has the same actress as in Streetfighter (Harmon), portraying psychic Interpol agent Anne Wellington, who is the sister of the character she played previously, Linda Wellington. Anne is looking into the mysterious death of Linda, and discovers that her sister was close to acquiring a highly-incriminating cassette, in which an organized crime source spills the beans, naming names. Needless to say, the local mob are keen for this tape not to fall into the hands of the authorities, and send a hitman biker priest (Neuhaus) after Anne.

The whole “psychic” angle appears largely an excuse to re-use scenes of Linda taken from Streetfighter, which Anne sees in her dreams. This is perhaps credibly economical, and fits in with the plot. But those more familiar with the director’s work than I ever want to be, report that Coyote also includes footage out of other, entirely unconnected Bryan films. Perhaps he’s relying on the idea that nobody would notice – which makes sense, since it would require someone to watch more than one of his movies. Guess he under-estimated the hardiness of true bad-movie fans.

For, make no mistake, this is every bit as bad, as you would almost inevitably expect a film to be which consists of scenes taken from multiple different features, spliced together with entirely new footage. [I added the word “almost”, having remembered the incredible Final Cut: Ladies & Gentlemen, which puts together clips from 450 movies into a story that’s not just coherent, but also emotionally engaging] It peaks early, with an opening gun-battle and resulting car-chase that borders on the competent, for Bryan’s strength seems to be when he is not having to handle dialogue.

Or plot. Or acting. For it then plunges downhill thereafter, to a finale where the bad guys get blown up because they spend their time banging on a closed door, rather than – oh, I dunno – snuffing out the fuse on the dynamite which is sitting on the table beside them. Harmon’s thick, middle-European accent returns, and at least they made the effort this time to give her an overseas back-story, Shame they didn’t also make her a cyborg psychic Interpol agent, which would have helped explain her monotone delivery. If this does anything positive, it’s re-calibrating my genre scale: it’s comforting to realize that, 14 years into this site, I can still identify the garbage which borders on unwatchable.

Dir: James Bryan
Star: Renee Harmon, Frank Neuhaus, Timothy De Haas, William A. Luce

Revengeful Swordswoman

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★★½
“Can’t argue with the title, certainly.”

There’s no hanging around here. Virtually as we meet our heroine, Hsiang Ying (Lee), she’s getting tossed off a cliff by her kung-fu teacher, into a pack of wolves. Having survived that and made her way back – perhaps assuming this was all some terrible misunderstanding – her master then disavows her, announces he was the man responsible for killing her father, and locks her up in a cage. This all happens within, literally, three minutes of the film starting. Fortunately, a passing stranger sees fit to free her from the cage, and the ‘Heartless Lady’, as she becomes known, can go on her way, with the eventual aim of being exactly what the title suggests: revengeful.

Not much in the way of surprises either, although there’s no shortage of action, some of which might possibly be quite good. I am, unfortunately, not able to speak with authority, as there does not appear to be any version of this available which comes close to approximating the correct aspect ratio. This is “pan and scan” at its most annoying – and making matters worse, there’s no panning. You simply get the middle chunk of the screen, regardless of relevance. Which leads to a surreal moment later on, where there’s a discussion between two characters, both of whom have managed to be cropped out of the picture, leaving an entirely unoccupied frame. Antique still life: Chinese room, with conversation.

I might be inclined to give the film the benefit of the doubt, except for the hideous attempts at “comedy” – and, please, take the quotes there as necessary. For some reason, the script decides to give Hsiang a buffoon for a side-kick: he’s named “Clown” in the English dub, more in hope than an accurate reflection of any amusement gained from his presence. For virtually any scene in which he appears, will have you wishing the cropping of the print had been even more extreme. This reaches the pits in a scene at a brothel, where he and Hsiang are seeking information about their target, and is so painfully unfunny as to be borderline offensive. When one aspect of a film sucks so badly, it’s harder to believe it’s good anywhere else.

Yet, there are occasional moments – maybe no more than three or four consecutive seconds, when Lee is shot from far enough way that she fits completely on the screen – which are almost impressive enough to make you go. “I should try and track a good-quality copy of this.” Lee is fluid and graceful in motion, not dissimilar from her Hong Kong contemporary, Angela Mao, although the supporting cast here is more knock-off, and fails to make anything of an impression. In the end, this is all just too generic, from the title through the environment to, pretty much, the entire plot. As noted elsewhere, I watched this the same day as another film made in approximately the same time and place: the two have already merged into one Taiwanese blob of fu.

Dir: Artis Chow
Star: Judy Lee, Wen Chiang-lung, Man Kong Lung, Li Tung

Red Heroine

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★★½
“The more things change…”

Tied somewhat to our March feature on the earliest action heroines in cinema, is this Chinese film, It’s not just the oldest surviving action heroine film from that country, it’s the oldest martial-arts film of any kind. This silent feature dates from all the way back in 1929 – I had to keep reminding myself that the “red” in the title was not a Communism reference, this being from well before such things. It’s most likely an attempt to cash in on The Burning of the Red Lotus Temple, a now-lost film series whose highly successful release had begun the previous year.

Heroine, like Temple, was a serial, in this case consisting of 13 feature-length episodes. This was #6, and I’m not sure quite how it fitted into things – it stands on its own perfectly well. The heroine is Yun Ko (Van – for all character names and credits, I’m using the names given in the intertitles), whose village is threatened by the approach of an invading army, under General Chiny Che Mang (San). While trying to flee, her blind grandmother is killed and Yun Ko captured.

She’s just on the edge of being forced to become one of the General’s scantily-clad harem – an aspect which seems very racy for the twenties! – when she is rescued by a Daoist monk, the White Monkey (Juh). He had met Yun Ko’s cousin (Wen), who informed Monkey of her plight. After being taken to her grandmother’s grave, she vows that those responsible will pay, and becomes a pupil of the monk. Three years later, with the invaders now in full control, the General is still up to his lascivious tricks, arresting a girl’s father on trumped-up charges, to get her to accept his sordid demands. It’s time for White Monkey and Yun Ko finally to strike.

In some ways, it’s most impressive how little has changed in the almost 90 years since this was released. The most standard of all martial-arts movie plots – “You killed my (insert family member), and you must pay” – is clearly in play, as is the student who must learn from a master in order to take that revenge. I also note that crappy subtitling was there, right at the birth of the genre. On the other hand, I’m quite impressed a print with any English-language content survived at all, even if it’s at the level of this exchange between Yun Ko and White Monkey:

“Are you not care to revenge?”
“As I am so weak, how could I to revenge?”
“Don’t kill yourself. I’ll teach you my military skill.”

The first third of this is very solid, with Van making for a good heroine. She has the extraordinarily expressive eyes essential to a silent star, putting across the horror of what has befallen her, and the “worse than death” fate yet to come. However, once she teams up with her kung-fu guru, they both vanish from the film until the very end: clearly the concept of the “training montage” had still to be invented. What replaces them – the General’s conniving against a completely different target – is far less interesting, little more than silent soap-opera, draining the film of almost all its energy.

Our revengeful duo finally return, sailing briefly through the air in an early and extremely primitive version of flying fantasy or wuxia. Equally primitive are the fight scenes, which certainly remind the modern viewer we’re still four or more decades before Bruce Lee showed up. This is still a somewhat interesting watch, for anyone with an interest in martial arts films. However, it’s really only of note for being the first of its kind, and this aspect is purely a result of circumstance, rather than its own inherent merits.

Dir: Wen Yeh Ming
Star: Van Shih Bong, San Kwan Wu, Juh Yih Fong, Wen Yih Ming
a.k.a. Hongxia