★★
“Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Mondays.”
The phrase “blandly competent” comes to mind here. There’s not a great deal to criticize about this, from a technical standpoint. For example, the dialogue is audible, although does vary somewhat in tone, depending on the location. It’s reasonably well-shot, and knows better than to try and go beyond the restrictions of its resources. However, this lack of ambition may be its biggest problem as well, because it’s very intent on colouring strictly within the lines. Smaller-scale films need to push the envelope a bit to stand out, and this instead seems content to go the obvious route at almost every turn. Even the story’s main surprise was not much of one, and provoked little more than a shrug.
The heroine is Nedraphine Ramos (Salgado) – known as Ned by most, for obvious reasons. She and her partner David (Hu), have just pulled off a major jewel robbery in Los Angeles. This netted them ten flawless gems, worth over a million dollars. But the aftermath sees David shot dead, forcing Ned to high-tail it out of California. She heads back to her home town of New York for the first time in years, seeking to fence the loot to a mysterious, little-known individual called the Nubian, before dropping off the grid. She bumps into former high-school sweetheart, former soldier Dale Matthews (Renard). But it quickly becomes clear that someone wants to get their hands on Ned as well as the gems, and will stop at nothing to do so.
I only finished watching the movie a few hours ago, and I’m already struggling to remember many details about this. It does feel in need of both more and better action. There are significant periods which feel more like Ned is driving and/or walking around New York, while listening to a mix tape of slow jams. For example, an extended scene of her driving to a date with Dale, accompanied by one tune, is followed by one of them wandering about together, while another, slightly different song is played. I may have been making “hurry up” gestures at the screen. I could also think of a number of more interesting potential twists: for example, David had faked his own death.
Not sure we ever did discover who was behind the attempted abductions, or what they were trying to achieve with them. There’s only one antagonist, and Ned is looking to arrange a meeting with them anyway, so what was the point? There are fragments where something intriguing does peek through. The notion of a whole, almost John Wick-esque world of thieves and fences, has potential. The best scene might be a simple conversation between Ned and the Nubian – the latter has a calmness about them, which I found highly effective. However, the movie doesn’t appear interested in exploring this in any depth. Not when there’s another song which needs to be levered into proceedings.
Dir: Vaughn Christion Star: Sofia Salgado, Wesley Renard, Crawford Hazelwood, Owen Hu
In sports films is, actors don’t necessarily have to be able to play the game in question. But they should be able to fake it – if not necessarily at a level capable of fooling professionals, at least to get it past the casual viewer. When it comes to ball and cue games, I am certainly a casual. Unfortunately, the two players are the core of proceedings here do not look like pro players. They look considerably closer to me, down the pub, after a few pints. The major difference is, they at least do not look pleasantly surprised when they knock in a ball. But when one half of the “sports drama” equation is unconvincing, it puts a lot of weight on the other.
It fares at least somewhat better there. This is the story of veteran pool hustler, Lizzie Monroe (Madison), who avoids the bright lights of the pro tour circuit. Instead, she hustles players in various bars and other establishments, with the help of manager ‘Grace’ Scott (Krukowski), because “That’s where the real money is.” Admittedly, there’s no particular indication of this being true here, with the money changing hands not exactly life-changing. Anyway, Lizzie meets Jordan ‘J.J.’ Jamison (Grace), a younger and rawer player who uses her sex appeal to help her win, albeit with penny ante rewards. An unimpressed Monroe hustles the hustler, but is eventually convinced to become a mentor to J.J, and show her the proper way to play.
If you’ve seen any films from this genre, you can probably figure out how this is going to go. Eventually, there will be dissension in the ranks, J.J. will go her own way, and the mistress will end up facing off against her student. Give yourself two points, since that’s exactly what happens. To get there, however, you have to sit through an awful lot of pool montages, accompanied by music from mediocre punk(ish) bands – presumably friends of the director, likely sourced from the local scene in Erie, Pennsylvania where this was made. It’s filmed almost glamour style: with many shots of our leads’ cleavages and butts leaning over the pool table. Can’t say I minded, and yet…
Because, cheesecake aside, the pool is probably the least entertaining thing about this. You never get to see much apart from random shots, so there’s absolutely no sense of ebb and flow or contest progression. Rather than the humdrum mechanics of playing the game, what I did find interesting was the psychology of hustling, and the strategy of how you can lure someone in, to take all their money. The best sports films transcend the game they’re about, to tell a story which can resonate, even if you aren’t a fan. Only occasionally does this spend long enough away from the table to be capable of simply engaging the viewer. And inevitably, a few minutes later, you’re back to enduring another montage of unconvincing players making simple shots.
Dir: Paul Gorman Star: Marie Madison, Chexy Grace, Jeremy Krukowski, Shannon Solo
To be fair, this was actually announced back in February 2023. Though that was still after Ballerina had wrapped its original shoot. At the time, the title was Ballerina Overdrive, with the cast including Lena Headey, in the role subsequently played by Thurman. Now, it comes out feeling more than a bit as if it is trailing in the wake of Ballerina. Coming out on Amazon Prime rather than theatrically doesn’t help its prestige. While nobody is going to call this great, and it’ll be forgotten as quickly as most other streaming originals, it does at least deliver on the premise. These are actual ass-kicking ballerinas, and their artistic talents are an intrinsic component of their fighting styles.
A Los Angeles ballet troupe of five young dancers, including the working-class Zoe (Apatow) and her appropriately named nemesis, Princess (Condor), are on their way to Budapest for a performance. The bus from the airport breaks down, and they end up in the Teremok Inn, an establishment run by Devora Kasimer (Thurman). When the troupe’s instructor finds out Devora is not exactly just a boutique hotelier, and then spurns the advances of local mobster Pasha Marcovic (Sipos), it does not go well for her. The ballerinas are suddenly witnesses, and therefore very much surplus to requirements. That’s the plot, more or less. Oh, there are slight wrinkles. Devora turns out to be a former ballerina herself. But it’s mostly run, hide and fight.
This is all adequately entertaining nonsense. Disbelief obviously needs to be suspended as you watch 90-pound girls beat up men twice their size. At least there is some effort put in to making them, in the main, use their agility and flexibility, rather brute force. There’s some cool stuff with razor blades, embedded into ballet slippers or taped to fingertips, which works well. Though the sequence I enjoyed most was the one where they went full corps de ballet on Pasha’s men. It’s impossible to take seriously, yet is done with so much inventive energy I was left with a big, goofy grin on my face. Shame there wasn’t more. It’s certainly lighter in tone – and likely more entertaining – than director Jewson’s previous GWG entry, Close, with Noomi Rapace.
I actually grew to like the characters more over the course of proceedings. Admittedly, this is because my initial reaction was… not good. Obvious trope followed obvious trope. But by the end, I had even warmed to the obnoxious Princess. She gets a great moment, confronting one of the henchmen, and going on a rant which begins by complaining about the wifi, drifts through reality TV, and ends up in a sad psychic story. Finally, an amusing anecdote. While we were watching this, Chris pipes up, “You know who’d be good as Devora if they remade this? Uma Thurman.” While I certainly couldn’t argue with her there, I did have to break the news, gently, that it already was Uma Thurman.
Dir: Vicky Jewson Star: Iris Apatow, Lana Condor, Uma Thurman, Tamás Szabó Sipos
One of the potential pitfalls of making a low-budget film, is assuming you’ll get the chance to make another. It’s different with a book, where the production (or not) is entirely in your own hands. But if you opt to create your film on the basis there will be a franchise, and there isn’t… You’re likely to leave the audience severely peeved. That’s where we find ourselves here. This came out in March 2022. Three and a half years later, I could find no meaningful evidence of the sequel this desperately needs. As a result, all the set-up which is carried out in this initial installment, leaving precious little time for much else, appears likely to be wasted.
Things begin fifteen years ago, when there is a battle for supremacy between various families, whose members possess superpowers. Eva Hawk and her husband are lost in one battle. To protect her daughters, they have their memories scrubbed so they have no knowledge of their abilities and are adopted out. Fast forward to the present day, and that conditioning is breaking down, with Elegance (Anderson), Vengeance (Mora) and Liv (Evans) being trained to use their talents for good, along with their cousin Keisha. The aim is for them to take on Ms. Brimstone (Dervin), the leader of the clan responsible for what happened to their parents. Needless to say, she’s not happy about it, and sends her minions to make sure the Strong sisters cease troubling her.
You have to wait a very long time for anything of much significance to happen, after the initial flashback to previous events. Character introductions (and there’s no shortage of them), the trio discovering that they have abilities, the ramifications of that, training of their abilities by their Uncle Al, encounters with minor bad guys to hone their powers, etc… It’s really only in the final fifteen minutes or so, that we get to the expected confrontation with the Brimstone clan. And when it shows up, it’s nothing special. The superpowers appear to have been consciously chosen for the cheapness with which they can be captured on film, e.g. mind control/reading, telekinesis (basically limited to people flinging themselves about), computer hacking, etc.
I do feel slightly bad about the low rating here, because it does feel like the makers’ hearts are in the right place, and there are occasional moments where it feels like things work. However, some of the performances here would not pass muster in community theatre of the least discerning kind, and the story is several revisions short of working. Most glaringly, one person is not killed by the Brimstone clan when they have both every opportunity to do so, and no apparent reason to keep them alive. It’s plot manipulation of the most basic kind, and was the point at which I stopped being able to give this the benefit of the doubt, and resorted to energetic eye-rolling instead.
Dir: Ramasses Head Star: Kara Anderson, Cash Evans, Sierra Mora, Keely Dervin
If the above doesn’t make much sense, there’s good reason for that. Things tend not to, when half of them are removed. Albeit for reasons that are largely not the makers’ fault, because this film only partially survives. Originally released in 1929 with a running-time of 87 minutes, the only version that remains is one re-released about a decade later, which has been chopped down to under fifty minutes, including new opening captions which comment on the looming second global conflict. What remains still packs quite the wallop, as an anti-war movie which doesn’t shy from the brutal nature of World War I. It’s a part-talkie, with sounds for some of the music and dialogue, and it’s very effective when used.
For example, we hear Rosie (Rubens, in one of her last roles before dying tragically young) sing a jaunty little number called “There is a Happy Place (Far, Far Away)” to cheer up the troops. A few minutes later, she sings it again to a dying soldier, as heroine Joan Morant (Boardman) watches from the shadows, and it’s utterly heart-breaking. Joan is there for reasons which have largely been lost in the edit down to the shorter version. But they seem to be related to her boyfriend, Reggie (Burns), who has gone off to war – he has a drinking problem, though whether this is a result of the conflict is similarly hard to determine. She disguises herself as a man in order to replace him after his drinking renders him unfit for active duty. This exposes her to the true horrors of trench battles, which go far beyond what she could possible have imagined.
It’s an area where the poor quality of the surviving print work for the film, because the battle re-enactments (including some impressive model work for the nineteen twenties) almost look like grainy newsreel footage. Of course, Boardman is as convincing a man as most cross-dressing soldiers are i.e. not very. You have to accept that conceit as a given, and not ask awkward questions about things like bathroom facilities. After about the half-way point, the dialogue all but stops, and things unfold thereafter accompanied only by music and some sound effects. Some sections are truly the stuff of nightmares, such as when the soldiers have to advance, only to be driven back by the enemy unleashing a tidal wave of liquid fire against them.
Seeing the men trudging back, as the entire skyline burns behind them, or (the then newly-invented) tanks driving into the same fiery hell, are images which feels like they could easily come out of 1917, or any modern war movie. The chaos of warfare is reflected in the way it’s almost impossible to tell friend from foe, in the flames and the smoke and the near-darkness. The troops advance again, coming under withering fire from a German machine-gunner. Joan shoots him in the head, after running away from a would-be rapist (!). But it’s all too much for the poor girl, and she has to be carried back to safety by the truly heroic (and non-alcoholic) Sergeant Pike (Holland), whose entire back story was another victim of the editing. It’s all frustrating, and makes it very difficult to judge, because I’m basically watching half a movie. What there is, however, packs considerably more of a punch than I expected.
Dir: Henry King Star: Eleanor Boardman, John Holland, Edmund Burns, Alma Rubens
Are women pirates in vogue again? It’s safe to say that the startling failure of Cutthroat Island holed that subgenre of action heroine movies below the water. That was over thirty years ago now, and this may well be the first time Hollywood has returned to it since. [I found an indie film about Irish pirate Grainne Uaile which wrapped shooting in February 2014, and still hasn’t received a release] Though even here, there isn’t much high seas action here. Outside of the opening scene, where Captain Connor (Urban) boards a ship run by Captain Bodden (Córdova) and finds gold stamped with Connor’s hallmark, this takes place almost entirely on land, specifically the island of Cayman Brac.
Connor heads there, that being where Bodden’s ship came from, in search of the rest of the gold. This was taken from him years previously by then piratical associate Bloody Mary (Chopra Jonas) , who stabbed Connor in the chest and left him for dead. She is now Mrs. Ercell Bodden, having abandoned the nautical life, and started a family. The arrival of her ex-lover upends her domestic bliss, and forces her back into the violent way of life. It’s all kinda like The Long Kiss Goodnight, without the amnesia thing. She has to protect her crippled son Isaac and rather flighty sister-in-law Lizzie (Oakley-Green), while figuring out how to rescue her husband from Connor’s clutches.
The two leads are probably the best things about thus. Chopra Jonas has been ramping up her action chops since her co-starring role in Citadel – also an Amazon product – and does a good job throughout. Urban makes for a great villain, despite being solidly into his mid-fifties. He still commands a fine screen presence, almost thirty years after playing Julius Caesar on Xena. However, the other elements aren’t quite as impressive – or, at least, not consistently so. Flowers doesn’t have a lot of directorial experience, especially in the action genre, and sometimes that shows. There are some good sequences, such as where Ercell fends off buccaneers in her own home. But others, such as a battle in a cave complex, come over as dark and muddled.
The same lack of consistency hampers the rest of the film. For every cool moment – such as the discovery that there are caimans on Cayman Brac – there are elements that don’t work, like Ercell’s relationship with Lizzie. Another issue is that since the days of Cutthroat Island, the genre has been redefined by the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. Any pirate movie will inevitably be compared to it, and any hero(ine) to Jack Sparrow. It’s an awkward situation, and it feels as if The Bluff is torn between pandering to this, and being its own thing. Whatever Cutthroat‘s issues – and they were numerous – that wasn’t one. But if this can prove the viability of female pirates again, it’ll have been worth the effort.
Dir: Frank E. Flowers Star: Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Karl Urban, Safia Oakley-Green, Ismael Cruz Córdova
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
I am quietly co-opting the title of the recent Netflix documentary, for a more general piece on the topic of Aileen Wuornos – arguably the first, and certainly the most infamous, female serial killers. Firstly, I do have some qualms about including her here. After all, she’s certainly not what you’d call an “action heroine”. But a girl with a gun? Definitely. Representing the dark side of that trope, absolutely. But that doesn’t, and shouldn’t, mean people like her shouldn’t be covered here. Especially when, as with Wuornos, they have inspired any number of cinematic works, ranging from the straight-laced documentary to the luridly sensational. Both directions have their own merits.
With that out of the way: was Wuornos, as is often claimed, “the first female serial killer”? That’s largely a matter of definition. There were certainly earlier women who killed indiscriminately, some in much greater numbers than Wuornos’s seven confirmed victims. The most famous would be Countess Elizabeth Báthory – herself the inspiration for many movies – who was accused of killing as many as 600 in 17th-century Hungary. But, in general, multiple murderers seem to have had different motivations depending on gender. Women are more likely to kill for profit; men for sexual gratification.
History precedes her
Indeed, the modern era killer with the highest possible number of victims is a woman – probably one you’ve never heard of. Mariam Soulakiotis, known as ‘Mother Rasputin’, was the abbess of a Greek monastery. She would typically lure wealthy women to the convent, torture them until they donated their fortunes, then kill the “donor”. She also had a scam involving a cure for TB, which inflated her numbers dramatically, albeit through negligent homicide. During her trial, figures of 27 murders and 150 negligent homicides were given, though some suggest the true total for which she bore responsibility was over five hundred. That figure would surpass the tally even of the likes of Pedro Lopez, the “Monster of the Andes”, often regarded as the most prolific serial killer.
Here are a selection of other women, generally regarded as having killed considerably more than Wuornos’s seven victims – and mostly had cool nicknames bestowed upon them in the media. I’ve not included medical personnel like Jane Toppan, because that would be a whole other list.
35 victims: Vera Renczi, Romania, “the Black Widow” – poisoned two husbands, multiple lovers, and her son with arsenic during the 1920s. But her existence is unconfirmed, and she may be an urban legend.
17 victims: Irina Gaidamachuk, Russia, “Satan in a Skirt” – pretended to be a social worker to gain access to the homes of elderly women, kill them with an axe or hammer, then rob them (pictured, right).
16 victims: Juana Barraza, Mexico, “La Mataviejitas (the little old lady killer)” – A former pro wrestler known as “The Silent Lady”; like Gaidamachuk, she targetted old women, bludgeoning or strangling them during robberies.
14 victims: Belle Guinness, USA – enticed men to visit her rural property through personal ads. Her crimes were only discovered after her supposed death in a fire, though her fate is unconfirmed.
14 victims, Sararat Rangsiwuthaporn, Thailand, “Am Cyanide” – Borrowed money to feed an online gambling addiction, then poisoned those to whom she was in debt.
13 victims, Tamara Samsonova, Russia, “the Granny Ripper” – Started killing at age 56. Murdered, dismembered, and in some accounts cannibalized, people in her flat.
12 victims, Enriqueta Martí, Spain, “the Vampire of Barcelona” – Self-proclaimed witch that abducted, prostituted, murdered and made potions with the bodies of small children. That’s enough Wikipedia for me.
11 victims, Nannie Doss, USA, “the Giggling Granny” – Confessed to killing four of her husbands, her mother, her sister, her grandson, and her mother-in-law by arsenic poisoning.
11 victims, Marie Alexandrine Becker, Belgium, “the Belgian Borgia” – Poisoned wealthy clients in order to supplement her income while working as a seamstress.
10 victims, Jeanne Weber, France – Strangled ten children, mostly while babysitting them, though also including her own. In the most unsurprising verdict ever, found not guilty by reason of insanity.
Damaged people damage people
If you ever want proof of the above, Aileen Wuornos’s early life would be it. She came from a broken home, her mother filing for divorce from her father shortly before giving birth to her daughter at the age of sixteen. When Aileen was three, her mother abandoned her, and she was taken care of by her grandparents. Who were both alcoholics. Aileen accused her grandfather of molesting her, and by the age of 11, she was sexually active, exchanging her favors for cigarettes and drugs. She became pregnant at 14, and was thrown out her grandparent’s house shortly after giving birth, living rough in woods and turning tricks to survive.
Her life from there through the late eighties, was an all-you-can-eat buffet of more or less petty crime (theft, check forgery, robbery) and suicide attempts. There was also a bizarre marriage at age 20 to the 69-year-old president of a Florida yacht club. This proved short-lived – likely mercifully for everyone – being annulled after nine weeks. In 1986, she met motel maid Tyria Moore in Daytona Beach, and the pair moved in together. But in November 1989, Wuornos killed her first victim, 51-year-old store owner Richard Mallory. She later claimed this was in self-defense, after Mallory attacked her. There may have been some truth in this, because he had been convicted of attempted rape, albeit back in 1957.
However, it’s stretching credulity to accept this also applied to all of the six other men she shot dead, between May and November the following year. Naturally, such a spree did not go unseen, with an increasing media frenzy, especially after a witness reported it was two women she had seen abandoning a victim’s car. Fingerprint evidence – obviously, her dabs were on file in Florida due to her criminal record – helped the net tighten on Wuornos. After the arrest Moore, who had fled to her family home in Pennsylvania, agreed to turn state’s evidence against her lover, in exchange for immunity from prosecution.
In January 1992, she went on trial for the murder of Mallory. After a two-week trial, she was found guilty and sentenced to death. Wuornos subsequently pleaded “no contest” (effectively guilty) or guilty to five other murders, with one left uncharged because the body was never found. She also received the death sentence for those killings. Her attitude and explanation changed dramatically over the years. At some points she stoically maintained the self-defense claim. But at other times, she admitted her guilt, saying in court, “I am as guilty as can be. I want the world to know I killed these men, as cold as ice. I’ve hated humans for a long time. I am a serial killer. I killed them in cold blood, real nasty.”
The wheels of justice ground slowly, as they tend to do in these cases. It was more than a decade after receiving her first death sentence, that Aileen Wuornos was executed, in October 2002. It had taken so long, the state of Florida had switch from the electric chair to lethal injection as the preferred cause of death. Anyone hoping for closure from her final words would likely have been more confused than anything: “Yes, I would just like to say I’m sailing with the rock, and I’ll be back, like Independence Day, with Jesus. June 6, like the movie. Big mother ship and all, I’ll be back, I’ll be back.” To date she has not, in fact, come back.
However, approaching a quarter century since her execution, the ghost of Wuornos still haunts society in a variety of ways, remaining a topic of dark fascination. There have been books, there have been TV investigations, and even an operatic adaptation of her life. There have, naturally, been movies, at all levels. The best-known is 2003’s Monster, which won Charlize Theron an Academy Award for her depiction of the killer. But we also have seen the more lurid Aileen Wuornos: American Boogeywoman. Below, we’ll cover the first fictional retelling of Aileen’s story; a documentary which came out not long after her death; and as evidence of the ongoing interest in Wuornos, a Netflix film about her, released just last October.
Overkill: The Aileen Wuornos Story
★★
“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
★★★★
“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
Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers
★★
“More of a propamentary.”
This would likely have benefited had I not watched Life and Death the previous night, because any comparison does not work in this documentary’s favour. Titled on the print just Aileen, forgetting that awkward serial killing thing, this is less balanced, and skews heavily towards Wuornos as victim – of the legal system, her clients and life in general. “Actually, she was made, and that’s chilling,” said co-director Turner, apparently opting to ignore the concept of free will. The bias is apparent, in the way the film concentrates heavily on Wuornos’s first murder, that of Richard Mallory. While that is the only one where there was a full trial, it’s also the only one where I think there’s credible evidence to support her claim of self-defense. The film barely mentions the other six victims.
I won’t argue that prosecutors did everything they could to obtain a conviction. That would be… their job? The footage of a reporter quizzing lead prosecutor John Tanner about Mallory’s sexual assault conviction in the fifties, just made me wonder, how the heck Wuornos’s team didn’t pick up on this? Checking the background of the victim for something like that seems like Defense Lawyering 1.0.1. In general, though, Turner and Cunningham are largely re-treading the same ground as Nick Broomfield: indeed, some footage here appears to be repurposed from his films, or at least comes from the same sources. I was a little surprised how this largely glossed over Wuornos’s upbringing, which I’d have to consider a huge factor in her issues.
The new stuff is mostly from Australian film-maker Jasmine Hurst, who corresponded long-distance with Wuornos for year, and interviewed her in 1997. I felt she was the whole endeavour’s weakest aspect. Her adoration for the killer is wildly improper from that start, Hurst drooling over Wuornos: “She’s like the trifecta. Gay, female, sex worker. And killing white men.” Hey, it is the Netflix trifecta, anyway. Later on, Hurst delivers this doozy of a statement: “It didn’t matter to me at all if none of the men had raped her. Those men may not have raped her in the moment, but they are icons of previous rapists that she didn’t fight against.” That the makers saw fit to leave that comment in the movie, says a lot about their agenda.
For, make no mistake, an agenda is what we have here, and what differentiates it most sharply from Broomfield’s work. Turner and Cunningham aren’t seekers after truth. They are convinced they know it, and want to drag the viewer to agree. That’s why we get comments on Reddit about the film like, “I feel so dumb for falling for the Aileen is evil stuff. This doc changed my mind completely.” More than one thing can be true, y’know. Yes, she did not receive a fair trial. Yes, she had a rough life. But she was also evil, and an incredibly angry sociopath. Not that you’d know it from the footage here, almost all showing Wuornos at her most serene.
It’s always interesting to watch these early entries in the women-in-prison genre, and see the elements which are still staples of the genre, close to seventy years later. Well, some of the elements anyway: this dates from 1955, so is obviously tamer than a kitten on Valium in terms of sexual content. No strip searches. No prison showers. And when it’s revealed that one of the inmates is pregnant, it’s almost as much of a surprise to the audience as it is to the authorities. But it’s still recognizable as an ancestor, thanks to things like the sympathetic prison doctor, new inmate who shouldn’t be there, and the sadistic warden who rules things with an iron fist.
It is an ensemble piece, whose focus shifts throughout. Initially, it seems likely to be the story of “fresh meat” Helene Jensen (Thaxter), who is doing time for vehicular manslaughter, and has a tough time adjusting to life inside. Then it shifts to Joan Burton (Totter), an accomplice to her robber husband, Glen, who is doing time in the men’s prison next door. He has something vital to tell her, and makes repeated attempts to sneak across the border to visit Joan. On the other side of the bars is the power struggle between the warden, Amelia van Zandt (Lupino) and jail physician Dr. Crane (Duff). Her methods are anathema to Crane, who flat-out calls van Zandt a psychopath. He may have a point.
Despite the lack of salacious elements, this is still entertaining fodder. There are a lot of amusing characters among the inmates, from cheerful fraudster Brenda Martin through to black inmate Polyclinic Jones – named after the hospital where she was born! She’s played by Juanita Jones, who’d be Oscar nominated a few years later. Interestingly, despite this being years before the Civil Rights era, the prison is not segregated: the black inmates have their own cell, but otherwise mix freely with the white prisoners. Race is never even mentioned here. There’s an impressively meta moment too, when two guards are discussing a cinema trip. “They never get things right in prison pictures,” muses one, and is told, “I know, but I like to pick out the flaws.”
This happens just before another familiar element: the prisoners riot and take over, after being pushed too far. In this case, it’s van Zandt’s brutal interrogation of Burton which proves the tipping point. Or at least, “brutal” by fifties standards; it’s not much more than a bit of light slapping around. The rebellion leads to tear-gassing and hostage taking, as the women seek to make van Zandt pay, plus Glen roaming around with a pistol. Really, the men’s side need to look into their security protocols, I reckon. For all its innocence in many ways, bordering on naivety, there are still moments which have an emotional impact; I found the death of one inmate surprisingly affecting. Released in Germany as Revolte im Frauenzuchthaus, which I only mention, as “frauenzuchthaus” may be my new favourite German word.
Dir: Lewis Seiler Star: Ida Lupino, Howard Duff. Audrey Totter, Phyllis Thaxter
I’m inclined to look kindly on this, because I suspect it was a local production, filmed here in Arizona. While the end credits are silent on the topic, there are enough saguaro cacti about, to make it likely the faux Western town and other locations used, were somewhere near me. I recognize an actor or two as well. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a film I would hold up as a shining example of quality Arizona cinema. While clearly set in the Old West, the movie is stuffed with anachronisms, from haircuts through a terrible British accent to glasses. It consequently never succeeds in establishing a convincing sense of period. This is a bit of a shame, since the Western horror action heroine isn’t one we see often.
In this case, it’s vampires which provide the darker elements – though these can daywalk, probably because it’s harder to film at night. A small clan are seeking the location of Drakul, a senior bloodsucker who can grant a blessing to his chosen one. Emphasis on “one”, leading to dissent in the ranks. Meanwhile, the bodies they left behind causes local Sheriff Jack Barton (Prell) to assemble a posse. Included is Billie (Hsu), who was languishing in Barton’s jail, but is allowed out due to her tracking skills. There’s also a Van Helsing type, in the shape of black “British” guy – did I mention the accent? – James Underhill (Monroe), who seems to know a lot about them. One might say a suspicious amount.
A simple approach would have worked better here, pitting cowboys against vampires in a straightforward action adventure. But the film diverts too much time and energy into uninteresting areas. For example, it tries repeatedly to generate romantic tension between Billie and Jack. However, when this relies on lines like, “I’m plenty good – and I’m good at plenty”, it’s a struggle which is more uphill than the side of El Capitan. Similarly, one of the vampires (Conran) has taken up with a prospector (did I mention the haircut?), a thread which occupies running-time and little else. The same goes for Billie’s back story, involving sexual abuse and revenge. Couldn’t she just be a gunslinger without a tragic past?
Things grind to a particular halt in the middle, freeing me up to consider whether or not this was better than the infamous and similarly themed 1966 B-movie, Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. Given John Carradine called the latter the worst of the 343 feature films in which he appeared, the competition is tough. This probably isn’t quite as bad: Hsu does what she can with dialogue which is often spectacularly terrible. But much like its predecessor, this fails badly as a Western, and likely even more so as a horror film. I was left with a greater understanding of precisely why the two genres have largely gone their own way. Though the general ineptness in this production certainly doesn’t help.
Dir: Paul Tomborello Star: Olivia Hsu, Frank Prell, Zion Monroe, Veronica Conran
The phrase “blandly competent” comes to mind here. There’s not a great deal to criticize about this, from a technical standpoint. For example, the dialogue is audible, although does vary somewhat in tone, depending on the location. It’s reasonably well-shot, and knows better than to try and go beyond the restrictions of its resources. However, this lack of ambition may be its biggest problem as well, because it’s very intent on colouring strictly within the lines. Smaller-scale films need to push the envelope a bit to stand out, and this instead seems content to go the obvious route at almost every turn. Even the story’s main surprise was not much of one, and provoked little more than a shrug.
In sports films is, actors don’t necessarily have to be able to play the game in question. But they should be able to fake it – if not necessarily at a level capable of fooling professionals, at least to get it past the casual viewer. When it comes to ball and cue games, I am certainly a casual. Unfortunately, the two players are the core of proceedings here do not look like pro players. They look considerably closer to me, down the pub, after a few pints. The major difference is, they at least do not look pleasantly surprised when they knock in a ball. But when one half of the “sports drama” equation is unconvincing, it puts a lot of weight on the other.
To be fair, this was actually announced back in February 2023. Though that was still after 
One of the potential pitfalls of making a low-budget film, is assuming you’ll get the chance to make another. It’s different with a book, where the production (or not) is entirely in your own hands. But if you opt to create your film on the basis there 
. Albeit for reasons that are largely not the makers’ fault, because this film only partially survives. Originally released in 1929 with a running-time of 87 minutes, the only version that remains is one re-released about a decade later, which has been chopped down to under fifty minutes, including new opening captions which comment on the looming second global conflict. What remains still packs quite the wallop, as an anti-war movie which doesn’t shy from the brutal nature of World War I. It’s a part-talkie, with sounds for some of the music and dialogue, and it’s very effective when used.
Are women pirates in vogue again? It’s safe to say that the startling failure of 
★★
I am quietly co-opting the title of the recent Netflix documentary, for a more general piece on the topic of Aileen Wuornos – arguably the first, and certainly the most infamous, female serial killers. Firstly, I do have some qualms about including her here. After all, she’s certainly not what you’d call an “action heroine”. But a girl with a gun? Definitely. Representing the dark side of that trope, absolutely. But that doesn’t, and shouldn’t, mean people like her shouldn’t be covered here. Especially when, as with Wuornos, they have inspired any number of cinematic works, ranging from the straight-laced documentary to the luridly sensational. Both directions have their own merits.
Here are a selection of other women, generally regarded as having killed considerably more than Wuornos’s seven victims – and mostly had cool nicknames bestowed upon them in the media. I’ve not included medical personnel like Jane Toppan, because that would be a whole other list.
However, it’s stretching credulity to accept this also applied to all of the six other men she shot dead, between May and November the following year. Naturally, such a spree did not go unseen, with an increasing media frenzy, especially after a witness reported it was two women she had seen abandoning a victim’s car. Fingerprint evidence – obviously, her dabs were on file in Florida due to her criminal record – helped the net tighten on Wuornos. After the arrest Moore, who had fled to her family home in Pennsylvania, agreed to turn state’s evidence against her lover, in exchange for immunity from prosecution. 
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 
This would likely have benefited had I not watched Life and Death the previous night, because any comparison does not work in this documentary’s favour. Titled on the print just Aileen, forgetting that awkward serial killing thing, this is less balanced, and skews heavily towards Wuornos as victim – of the legal system, her clients and life in general. “Actually, she was made, and that’s chilling,” 
It’s always interesting to watch these early entries in the women-in-prison genre, and see the elements which are still staples of the genre, close to seventy years later. Well, 
I’m inclined to look kindly on this, because I suspect it was a local production, filmed here in Arizona. While the end credits are silent on the topic, there are enough saguaro cacti about, to make it likely the faux Western town and other locations used, were somewhere near me. I recognize an actor or two as well. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a film I would hold up as a shining example of quality Arizona cinema. While clearly set in the Old West, the movie is stuffed with anachronisms, from haircuts through a terrible British accent to glasses. It consequently never succeeds in establishing a convincing sense of period. This is a bit of a shame, since the Western horror action heroine isn’t one we see often.