Tag: soldier

The Mother

  By

★★★
“Jenny from the Glock.”

It has been a very quiet year for big-budget action heroine movies so far. Here we are, more than one-third of the way through 2023, and this Netflix Original is likely the highest profile entry to date. There is a certain pedigree here, albeit of the direct-to-streaming variety, with director Caro having also helmed the (considerably more expensive) live-action remake of Mulan, which went straight to Disney+. Lopez has dabbled in the action field before, including the likes of Anaconda and Enough, but this is certainly her first full-on entry into our field. The results are workmanlike, and occasionally reasonably impressive, but there’s nothing outstanding or original enough here to make much impression.

Lopez plays an unnamed former soldier – “The Mother” is all even the credits call her – who gets involved with a pair of arms dealers, then betrays them to authorities. In revenge, one of them, Adrian Lovell (Fiennes) finds her and stabs her heavily pregnant belly. The resulting baby daughter survives, but the mother is convinced to give her child up for adoption, and vanishes off the grid herself. 12 years later, she’s told by FBI agent William Cruise (Hardwick), whose life she previously saved, of am impending kidnap attempt on her daughter, Zoe (Paez). The mother comes out of hiding to protect Zoe, though re-establishing any kind of relationship proves difficult. Not least, because Lovell is still intent on getting his revenge. Still, bonding over wilderness survival training salves all emotional wounds, apparently.

It’s all fairly straightforward, and you can likely predict where the film is going to head, at any given point. At 117 minutes, it feels somewhat too long, and there’s a split in focus as far as the antagonist goes, with Gael García Bernal playing arms dealer Héctor Álvarez. I wonder if merging his character with Lovell would have made more sense. There’s also too much time spent on the relationship between Zoe and her mother, along with a painfully obvious metaphor in the shape of a wolf bitch and her offspring, which teeters perilously close to dead horse territory much of the time. It doesn’t help that Paez has a severe case of Resting Teenager Face, and I found it almost impossible to care about her.

The film is considerably better when the characters stop speaking and begin chasing, stabbing and shooting each other instead. Even if the action sequences are sometimes over-edited, they are decently staged, I particularly enjoyed a chase, involving the Mother using her feet, a motor-cycle and a car, through the streets of “Havana” (actually Las Palmas in the Canaries). Now and again I could believe that Lopez was not just sitting in her trailer, letting her stunt double do all the work. Like most Netflix Originals e.g. The Old Guard, this will pass muster as entertainment, before vanishing off the front page of the streaming service, and heading into long-term obscurity, forgotten by most who saw it.

Dir: Niki Caro
Star: Jennifer Lopez, Lucy Paez, Omari Hardwick, Joseph Fiennes

Mercy

  By

★★
“Die Hard in a hospital.”

I’m almost tempted to leave it at that, because there are points where it feels like writer Alex Wright left it at that as well. Heroine Michele (Gibson) gets down to her vest? Check. Takes a walkie-talkie off a bad guy? Check. At one point, she even lost a shoe. If she’d gone crawling through an air-duct, I’d have flipped a table. Anyway, Michele is a former military doctor, now working in a civilian hospital. Rushing in one day is an FBI agent with Ryan Quinn, son of an Irish crime family, who was shot in an ambush after agreeing to flip on his relatives. Not far behind is family boss Patrick (Voight) and Ryan’s brother, Sean (Meyers), the latter intent on finishing the job.

The resulting hostage situation unfolds more or less as you’d expect, especially after you’re introduced to Michele’s son, Bobby (Bolognese) – and wouldn’t you know it, today is his birthday! That’s one of a few moments where your eyes will be forgiven for rolling enthusiastically. I think we reached peak ocular orbital velocity when Michele heads across the hospital roof, and the cops below pause to salute her. No, really. Quite why she’s on the roof at all, escapes me, and it’s very much a case that for every step the script takes forward, it tends to take two back. The film is a bit better when simply engaging in crunchy violence, and reaches adequate levels in this department now and again.

What probably stops things from collapsing are a decent cast, who are mostly much better than the script deserves. Voight and Meyers in particular, have a very good dynamic, their relationship gradually becoming more fractured, especially after Patrick realizes it was Sean who shot Ryan. The pair are fun to watch, and in Sean we have a particularly nasty villain, with absolutely no qualms about cold-blooded murder. Even here though, the story manages to screw things up, with a ludicrous brawl between father and son. Jon Voight is eighty-four years old, people. When I reach that age, I’ll be satisfied simply to be walking without assistance, and will not be fighting anyone. Trust me.

There might be a bit less of Gibson in this than I expected, with the movie occasionally appearing to forget about her. The army background does give a solid base to explain her hand-to-hand skills: she wasn’t “just” a medic, shall we say. There’s a largely unnecessary prelude which throws in a dead husband and apparently gives Michele bomb-disposal skills, courtesy of the ghost of her husband. Ok, while I made the last bit up, it probably makes as much sense as what the finale provides. It’s the kind of film where I feel a bit sorry for the leads; I can’t help feeling they deserve better material.

Dir: Tony Dean Smith
Star: Leah Gibson, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Jon Voight, Anthony Bolognese
The film is released in select theatres on May 12, on digital May 19, and is available On Demand from June 2.

No Honor in Death, by Eric Thomson

  By

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

This SF novel takes place in the future where the human Commonwealth is engaged in a brutal space war against the militaristic Shrehari Empire – imagine Klingons on krack, perhaps. They have superior technology, but humanity’s ability to think outside the box and improvise has helped level the playing field. Siobhan Dunmoore has just survived  – emphasis on “just” – a battle against the Imperial cruiser Tol Vakash of Captain Brakal, forcing him to retreat by attempting a kamikaze crash of her badly-damaged craft into his. As a “reward”, she is assigned command of the Stingray, a craft with a bad reputation. Its previous captain is now facing a Disciplinary Board, and the crew are barely even trying. It seems Dunmoore has been set up to fail, and she’ll need to overcome resistance from enemies both domestic and alien, as well as overt and covert, before she can even think about going another round with Captain Brakal.

I felt the most interesting section of this was following Dunmoore as she attempted to lick her crew and the Stingray back into a shape, where they could survive an encounter with the Shrehari. Both of them are in need of a lot of work. The former are utterly demoralized after events under the previous captain (including a number of suspicious deaths), and the latter has been short-changed on supplies and resources, to the point it’s largely held together with sticks and wire. Fixing them require their new captain to use a lot of psychology, both in order to get the crew to trust her, and extract the necessary materials from the Commonwealth and its bureaucracy. It works almost as a “how-to” manual for aspiring leaders, and even if that’s not exactly me, still makes for an engaging read. I also liked the very final face-off between Dunmoore and Brakal, their two ships edging round the perilous environment of an asteroid field, where Stingray‘s manoeuvrability gives it an edge. 

However, in between the Stingray taking off and the last battle, the book struggles with its descriptive passages. There is a large chunk taking place in hyperspace, and Thomson never manages to make clear the rules which apply here, resulting in the discussion of “jumps” and “bubbles” failing to make sense. Worse, this brings the pace of the book to a halt, with entire pages you find yourself barely skim-reading. There’s also rather too extended of a coda after the battle, as the book tries to tie up a lot of loose ends – mostly ones we never particularly cared about to begin with. On the other hand, I did appreciate the effort put into making Brakal an interesting adversary, with his own set of motivations. He and Dunmoore represent the book’s greatest strengths, and it’s at its best when concentrating on them. If subsequent volumes do that, I’d be tempted to try them.

Author: Eric Thomson
Publisher: Sanddiver Books, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
1 of 7 in the Siobhan Dunmoore series.

The Lair

  By

★★★
“Russian about.”

There is a tendency for directors married to actresses to make them action heroines. This perhaps started with Renny Harlin and Geena Davis, but the most famous example is probably Paul W.S. Anderson and Milla Jovovich (she was previously married to Luc Besson too). It seems that Marshall and Kirk may be heading that way, with her starring in his last two movies. First there was witch-pic The Reckoning, and now this, which blends elements from a number of genre films. Not the least of which are Marshall’s own Dog Soldiers and The Descent. However, you can also throw in Predator, Aliens and perhaps even Starship Troopers. The result is, obviously, derivative as hell – yet I can’t deny, I enjoyed it.

Pilot Capt. Kate Sinclair (Kirk) is shot down in hostile Afghani territory. While being pursued by insurgents, she stumbles across and takes refuge an abandoned underground base left over from the Soviet occupation in the eighties. What’s inside turns out to be very aggressive and unpleasant, and Sinclair barely escapes with her life. She finds refuge in a nearby allied base commanded by Major Roy Finch (Bamber), and her tales of Soviet engineered monstrosities meet with understandable scepticism. Until night falls, and the creatures emerge from their laur and go on the offensive. The next day, Capt. Sinclair and the survivors decide they need to go back to the Russian base and plant enough C4 to reduce it and its inhabitants to their constituent atoms.

The last Marshall film we covered here was Doomsday back in 2008. Since then he has honed his skills more in television; of particular note, a couple of episodes from Game of Thrones, including the spectacular “Blackwater”. He seems to have put the experience to good use here, with a fine eye for the fight sequences between the soldiers and the creatures. There are a lot of practical effects, and the Resident Evil franchise is another clear influence. I do wish the creatures’ talents had been further illustrated: for instance there’s one point where Sinclair is grabbed by a monster’s multiple tongues. I kept expecting this feature to return later; it never does.

There are, unfortunately, too many holes for this to be a classic, with a heroine whose behaviour falls  short of logical, or even making sense. I get the “no man left behind” thing, but dragging all your comrades back into danger, in order to rescue one person, is very different from going in alone (as Ripley does, to rescue Newt, at the end of Aliens). Some of the accents here are flat-out terrible: Bamber’s Southern drawl is the worst – were there no actual actors available from South of the Mason-Dixon line? – but Ockenden’s Welsh isn’t convincing either. I’m also impressed by the way Sinclair’s hair and make-up remain pristine through the entire movie, regardless of what grubby underground trench she has had to crawl through: I guess being the director’s wife has its benefits… As an entertaining B-movie though, I’ve no complaints, and if this couple want to continue down the Anderson/Jovovich road in future, I’ll be fine with that.

Dir: Neil Marshall
Star: Charlotte Kirk, Jonathan Howard, Jamie Bamber, Leon Ockenden

Mayday

  By

★½
“Send help.”

Yes, this is one of those cases where the title is the review, because I suspect many viewers will be signalling enthusiastically for help before reaching the end. I would start off by saying something snarky, like “That’s an hour and a half of my life that I’ll never get back.” But this would imply the film actually held my attention for an hour and a half, which would.. not be entirely correct. I was in the same room where it was playing. My eyes were open. I am not prepared to commit to much more than that. I also note that at the North American box-office, it took a grand total of $4,382, including a whopping $209 over its second week of release. I trust everyone involved in the production learned a valuable lesson from this.

This is a “war of the sexes” picture thinly disguised as fantasy, which throws elements from Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan and Lord of the Flies into a blender, in the belief that doing so makes for some kind of feminist statement. It doesn’t. Not even when you burden the cast with lines like, “You’ve been in a war your whole life, you just didn’t know it,” or “You need to stop hurting yourself and start hurting others.” It begins with downtrodden waitress Ana (Grace Van Patten) crawling through an oven in the hotel where she works, and emerging onto a vaguely WW2-era shoreline. There, she bonds with a group led by Marsha (Goth), who lure male soldiers to the beach using fake Mayday signals, sniping dead any who make it past the turbulent conditions. Because all men are predators who deserve to die, right?

It plays like an “Is caffeine-free Pepsi alright?” version of Sucker Punch, with Ana crawling into her own headspace, trying to escape the traumas of everyday life, in a world with repurposed characters. For example, Marsha is the same, reluctant bride Ana comforted in the bathroom shortly before her break from/with reality. The only element of interest was Ana’s refusal to go down the same murderous path of intent as her colleagues. though this does lead to a feeling the movie doesn’t quite know what message it’s trying to send. At least Paradise Hills, which occupied similar territory, had a gorgeous visual sense to paper over the weaker plot elements. Here, there’s no such distraction.

This is not quite the worst “young women trapped in a surreal landscape” movie I’ve ever seen. That would be the near irredeemable awfulness of non-GWG film, Ladyworld. However, that I found myself consciously comparing this to it, is not a parallel to any movie’s credit. If there’s a lesson to be learned from Ana’s eventual fate, it’s that the cure for what mentally ails you, apparently involves a psychotic break, along with some quality girl time spend living on the beach alongside a crew of Aileen Wuornos wannabes. I guess it probably works out as cheaper than therapy.

Dir: Karen Cinorre 
Star: Grace Van Patten, Mia Goth, Soko, Havana Rose Liu

Juana la Cubana

  By

★★★
“Showgirl by night, armed revolutionary by day.”

A long time ago – 17 years or thereabouts! – we reviewed another Chagoyan/Fernandez production, La Guerrero Vengadora 2. It has taken me that long to find another of her films in a format I can understand without having to rope Chris into translating for me (I’d rather save the martyr points required for something more worthwhile). This follows Guerrero by three years, yet is more than slightly similar. In both, the heroine has a secret identity; and both also end with a helicopter going up against a rocket-launcher. Ok, technically it’s a bazooka here. Close enough for anti-government work. For that’s Chagoyan’s main pastime here, after her father was betrayed and executed by the unpleasant Colonel Pereza (Estrada).

To this end, her formal job is as the title character, the star of a nightclub show, where she sings, dances and wears costumes which are capable of blocking out the sun. This gives her access to all the high officials, including her lover, Colonel Montero. But when not performing moderately well-staged musical numbers, she is also Commander Zeta, leading the rebels from the front. She gets some help from the CIA, because it turns out the concentration camp set up by the regime, populated by captured rebels, is being use to provide subjects for a germ warfare project, under the control of an Iraqi scientist. So between stopping that, taking revenge on Pereza and performing complicated cabaret numbers twice nightly, Juana has quite the to-do list.

It is, of course, utterly implausible nonsense, which barely stands up to a first glance, never mind a second one. However, the saving grace is that everyone involved, not least Chagoyan, goes at it with admirable seriousness. The rebels believe in Commander Zeta, the authorities believe in Commander Zeta, and undeniably, Commander Zeta deeply believes in Commander Zeta. Nowhere is this more evident than when she whips her top off to lure government forces into an ambush. I guess it’s fortunate none of the soldiers to whom she bares her breasts, have ever been to her nightclub. But in terms of action, the resulting battle between tanks and horses is likely the film’s best work. It ends in Chagoyan catching a lit Molotov cocktail out of the air, and slam-dunking it down a tank hatch.

Admittedly, that isn’t quite as good as that sounds – it’s only barely lit. But considering the time and place this was made (1994 Mexico), this is impressively progressive. Juana is a decent heroine, not needing a man, yet still capable of loving one. Though by the time we reach the face-off against that helicopter, the body count has been surprisingly high. There are, admittedly, at least two musical numbers too many, to the point where this felt more like a Bollywood production on occasion. However, this was likely still better than I expected given its origins, and I was entertained to a quite acceptable degree.

Dir: Raul Fernandez Jr.
Star: Rosa Gloria Chagoyan, Erik Estrada, Rolando Fernández, Manuel Ojeda

Interceptor

  By

★½
“Why Netflix is a joke.”

Two minutes in, Chris turned to me and said, “Is this an Asylum movie?” Oh, that she had been right, for the net results might have been more entertaining. This is truly the dumbest film I have seen in a very long time. It feels like a throwback in content to about thirty years ago, except with a script that makes your average Cannon product look like Citizen Kane. It’s set on a missile interceptor station in the middle of the Pacific, to which Captain J. J. Collins (Pataky) has just been assigned again. Barely has she dropped her bags off in her cabin, when word comes that their sister base in Alaska has gone dark, and terrorists have stolen 16 Russian ICBMs. Before you can say “shitty Die Hard knockoff”, trust-fund kid Alexander Kessel (Bracey) shows up, intent on removing America’s last line of defense. It’s up to J.J. and plucky SigInt guy Rahul Shah (Mehta) to prevent them – or the terrorists will have won, literally. 

Writer-director Reilly is, I believe, a popular author of thrillers. I say that, because there’s no evidence here he could write his way out of a paper-bag, with so many, painfully obvious plot-holes. The way the terrorists pointlessly go public with their theft. Kessel and his minions kill everyone on the platform except J.J. and Shahul, keeping them alive for no reason. The villain has codes which will sink the base, yet doesn’t use them until only 30 minutes are left. I could go on. It’s a parade of eye-rolling inanity, made worse by cringeworthy dialogue, such as the line shoehorned in to explain the lead actress’s heavy Spanish accent. The final nail is the irrelevant wokeness, from J.J’s sexual harassment past, through the redneck henchmen and her Muslim sidekick, to the female US President (who is completely useless, incidentally). If only Reilly had put as much thought into his script, as his virtue signalling. 

To be fair, I didn’t mind Pataky as a heroine, and the action is occasionally up to what I wanted. There’s a decent brawl with the female terrorist (played by stuntwoman Ingrid Kleinig), and a couple of imaginative deaths, including the novel use of a firearm. However, the rest of the performances are almost uniformly terrible, and the story had lost me entirely, well before the ridiculous finale. While Netflix Originals come in for a lot of criticism, I’ve enjoyed my fair share: The Old Guard was decent, and Extraction (starring Mr. Elsa Pataky, Chris Hemsworth, who cameos here) was as good as any action movie of 2020. Hell, I even enjoyed 6 Underground. So I’m no snob. This, however, was bad enough to have us reconsidering our subscription to the streaming service, once we polish off watching Stranger Things. With the price also increasing sharply, the reality is that you can find considerably better movies than this for free. Certainly, I’ve better things to do with my time and money. 

Dir: Matthew Reilly
Star: Elsa Pataky, Luke Bracey, Aaron Glenane, Mayen Mehta

Black Crab

  By

★★★
“Let slip the slogs of war…”

Rapace seems to be turning into a female version of Ryan Reynolds. By which I mean, it seems that hardly a month goes past without a new Netflix Original coming out starring her. Ryan had 6 Underground, Red Notice and The Adam Project. Noomi has given us What Happened to Monday, The Trip and, now, this. Still, much as with Reynolds, I’m happy to see her working regularly, and while the results may be a bit variable, they’re usually worth a look. This is no different, though I’m not sure whether its story, driven by a (largely generic) war in the Eastern half of Europe, is helped or hurt by its timing. On the one hand, it gives this a certain “ripped from the headlines” topicality. On the other, I largely watch movies to escape everyday life, not have my nose rubbed in it.

Rapace plays Caroline Edh, who was split up from her daughter in the war’s early stages and has never been able to find her in the years since, as the conflict has turned her homeland into a meat-grinder. Now a soldier, she gets talked into a perilous mission that could turn the tide of the war, with the promise that her child is on the far end of it. She’ll be part of a group of six, skating across a treacherous frozen archipelago in enemy territory, to deliver a package – with the usual, stern “Don’t dare open it” warnings – to a research facility.

I do wonder why they sent a group: it’s not as if the package is large. One person, the quickest skater going undercover, could potentially slide beneath the radar, when a platoon of soldiers attracts more attention. I suspect it’s simply so the various perils, of thin ice, enemy combatants and unfriendly locals, can thin the herd of the operation. Some of them are so thinly-drawn, the makers might as well have slapped a red shirt on them, and been done with it. However, it’s still an impressively filmed, brutal slog of a journey, across a hellish landscape, which will have you reaching for a warm blanket and cup of cocoa. This likely reaches its peak when the group stumble into an ice graveyard: it’s quite the imagery.

We are, of course, here for Rapace, who learned to skate and broke her nose during filming. Despite one of the ugliest hair-styles in her filmography, her performance, along with the visuals, keep things adequately interesting, when the plot and supporting characters often fail to do so. In particular, the last half-hour (though it runs 114 minutes, so there’s quite a lot before that point) is almost entirely predictable, with the big twist actually weakening the lead character, by making Edh seem too gullible for her own good. Consequently, the subsequent redemption feels a bit too much of an uphill struggle. And even a novice like me knows that skating uphill is a tough ask…

Dir: Adam Berg
Star: Noomi Rapace, Jakob Oftebro, Dar Salim, Ardalan Esmaili

Girl Force, by Jonathan J. West

  By

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

On the one hand, this is a book in desperate, desperate need of a copy-editor. Seriously: this is littered with more typos, grammatical gaffes and clunky phrasing than any other book I’ve ever read. I don’t know what the process was, which brought this to market, but it clearly fell dramatically short of adequate. Even as a first draft, this is something of which I would be flat-out ashamed. At times, I had to read a sentence three times, just to try and figure out what was meant. I have DNF’d books for far, far less. 

And, yet… Not only did I finish this, I genuinely enjoyed the whole, lunatic experience. I don’t know if the editing got slightly better as the book went on. Maybe I just became used to the style, which flies defiantly in the face of, not just all literary convention, but the basic rules of English. Bizarrely, by the end, I found myself almost appreciative of the stream of consciousness, neo-Joycean approach. It’s better demonstrated by example, than description, so here’s a sample paragraph – neither particularly good nor bad by the book’s standards:

Terrorist fighters were all except the junior member the fifteen-year-old boy, all dead, all taken out with kill shot perception of naturality of the cold kill of special forces combat. As feeling neither angry or regret did the unit, the squad of Girl Force have. It was a job that needed to be done and done with maximum efficiency it was.

Imagine 176 pages, just like that. But for all the shortcomings in grammar. spelling, and frequently,  coherence, it doesn’t lack for sheer energy. The five women of the title are a super-secret black ops group, who carry out impossible missions on behalf of the US government, while bickering amiably about what tunes should be played [There’s a blackly funny moment involving suicide bombers and the song It’s Raining Men…] GIRL Force – it stands for Ground Infantry Reconnaissance Logistics – are a vastly disparate quintet, in terms of background and culture. They run the gamut from “hee haw rootin’ tootin’ dixie chick farm girl” Annabelle Huston, to Hannukah Jones, “at the top of the top from Persian and African royalty.” But they are all amazingly talented, in everything from dance to martial arts, loving their country (and puppies), while hating injustice with an equal and admirable passion.

The first mission is an extraction out of China, which escalates into an extended chase sequence, worthy of a Michael Bay movie, before they are swept up to safety. After a brief pause to meet their boss, General Sofia-Jones Washington in their state-of-the-art headquarters, and her nemesis, Senator Karen Mann, it’s back out into the field. For a terrorist  attack has led to the brink of World War III, and GIRL Force represents the only chance of stopping it. But can these five brave women really defeat the five hundred terrorists of ISIL splinter group Crimson Jihad? Oh, who am I kidding. It’s a light challenge. For they are so good at everything, this reads partly like a sly parody of the dreaded Mary Sue trope (which was, itself, originally created as a parody of Star Trek fan-fiction).

Indeed, I’m not sure how much of this is to be taken seriously. If forced into judgment, I’d say rather little: I’d line it up alongside the original Charlie’s Angels movie.  Taken in that light, it’s a fast, frothy read which, against all odds, did have me interested in finding out what happens next. But you definitely need a huge tolerance for what My Fair Lady’s Professor Henry Higgins called the “cold-blooded murder of the English tongue.” Never mind homicide, this may be guilty of war crimes against the language. 

Author: Jonathan J. West
Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book

Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl

  By

★★½
“In plane sight.”

This is the story of Gunjan Saxena (Kapoor), one of the first women to be admitted into the Indian Air Force as a pilot. Near the beginning is a rather effective scene in which she’s taken up to the cockpit of the jet on which she is flying with her father (Tripathi). The look of wonder on the young girl’s face as she sees the flight deck does a better job of putting over the sheer joy of flying than all the many montages that will be crammed in over the next 110 minutes. It’s a “Miyazaki moment”, if you are familiar with the work of Hayao Miyazaki, which often features sequences that capture the same joy.

She wants initially to be a commercial pilot, against the wishes in particular of her older brother Anshuman  (Bedi) and her mother. But her father is encouraging and sympathetic, even when her career diverts Gunjan into the Air Force, part of the first batch of female recruits. The rest of the film is notable most for its well-crafted and polished predictability. She has to overcome barriers, both physical (she’s too short to become a helicopter pilot – fortunately, she has long arms. No, really: that’s literally the get out) and those of a military culture which is not yet prepared to treat women as equals. Inevitably, there’s a commanding officer who takes the recruit under his wing, and Gunjan overcomes her own self-doubt, with the help of her father’s encouragement.

She is sent into battle as part of the Kargil war in 1999 (more of a spat, really, lasting a couple of months on the border between India and Pakistan), but public concern over her possible fate as a POW forces her removal from the front lines. It all ends up looping back to the scene at the beginning where, equally inevitably, an emergency gives her the chance to redeem herself, on a mercy mission to rescue injured colleagues who are under enemy fire. Apparently, disobeying orders in the Indian military gets you feted for your initiative, which would seem to be something more likely to happen in movies about the military, than the actual armed forces. 

There have been significant complaints about this being an unfair depiction, with the Air Force writing to the Indian censors objecting to the way it was portrayed. That may explain the lengthy pre-film disclaimer, including this odd paragraph:

The producers, directors, artists or others associated with this film are all law-abiding citizens and have not created this film to incite any disorder or lawlessness.

Saxena herself said she never experienced discrimination at the organization level, only from individuals. Obviously, I can’t speak to that, and my concerns are more about the very obvious and cliched nature of the script. There is a good point to be made, about the importance of chasing your dreams, in the face of adversity, and Kapoor’s depiction is winning and likable enough. I certainly can’t complain about the technical aspects, especially in the flying sequences, which are also well constructed. It’s just that the “woman overcomes the adversity of being a woman” story is a cinematic dead horse, and this has little or nothing new to add to it.

Dir: Sharan Sharma
Star: Janhvi Kapoor, Pankaj Tripathi, Manav Vij, Angad Bedi