Tag: USA

Ballistic

  By

★★
“Can’t spell Ballistic without balls…”

You know you’re in for a slice of stinky, nineties action cheese from the opening sequence. Undercover cop Jesse (Holden) has just taken down a sleazy yuppie drug-dealer, and a homeless woman tells her, “You know what you are, sweetie? You’re ballistic!” We probably need to explain why the film is titled that way, because there’s really not an enormous amount of great action here to justify it. Jesse is your typical, no-nonsense cop, who has just transferred from homicide to the Urban Crime Taskforce, where she is meeting resistance from her new colleagues. She is also trying to help her father (Roundtree), a former cop now doing 20 years after being framed with kilos of coke.

Jesse inevitably makes enemies: she comes under suspicious when a witness is killed on her watch, and is then suspected of the murder of the other cop who was in the safe-house. In reality, it’s all a plot by “respectable businessman” Braden (Jones), who inevitably is a dealer in both drugs and illegal weapons. He runs illegal fights in a warehouse lined with cardboard boxes: his top henchman, the person who killed the cop, is actually a woman, Claudia (the impressive looking body-builder Corinna Everson), and we get a small role from Michael Jai White, who would go on to considerably better things than this. As would the movie’s composer, Tyler Bates, and the cast also includes veteran cult actor Charles Napier as Jesse’s superior.

Despite a relatively good cast, it’s largely dull, often almost painfully so, with the action scenes suffering from a particularly brutal style of editing. Holden comes at at six foot even in height, towering over some of her male co-stars even when not wearing high heels, and does have a degree of film presence. It’s just that Bass, making his directorial debut, does not appear to have any idea of how she should be used. Early on, she’s treated as not much more than a slice of cheesecake, e.g. the opening credits feature Jesse showering in slo-mo, for no reason beyond titillation. The sex scenes with her boyfriend (a character which serves no purpose) are little better, and you could make the case Claudia is actually treated more seriously than the heroine.

The film does at least have the courtesy to give us a fight between the two women, though like much of the rest, the results are far from overwhelming, with them lazily snapping kicks toward each other, at a glacial pace. That’s about the peak as far as Jesse is concerned, with the movie’s climax thereafter largely involving a lot of running round the warehouse by everyone involved. It’s difficult to believe this kind of feature would ever have passed muster, even in the days of straight to video schlock. Though given this was the effective end of Holden’s career as a leading lady, perhaps it didn’t.

Dir:  Kim Bass
Star: Marjean Holden, Sam J. Jones, James Lew, Richard Roundtree
a.k.a. Fist of Justice

Catch the Fair One

  By

★★★
“Down for the count.”

Quite often, in films featuring women who are supposed to be boxers, they simply do not look the part. Safe to say, this is not an issue here. That is apparent from the opening scene, in which Kaylee (Reis) is preparing for a fight. As she warms up with her trainer, the speed and power of her punches is clear, and not cinematic trickery. It’s unsurprising, since Reis is, at time of writing. the current WBA, WBO and IBO light-welterweight world champion. It’s just a shame this movie chooses not to make more use of her undoubted talents in the combat field, and is a tad too earnest to be value as entertainment.

Kaylee falls into a downward spiral after her sister Weeta (Borrero) vanishes, and is barely scraping by, but then receives information that Weeta was abducted by a sex trafficking ring. With the authorities unwilling to do anything – the number of indigenous women who suffer this fate, or are flat-out murdered is startling – it’s up to Kaylee. She infiltrates the ring run by Bobby (Henshall), only to find it’s a lot harder to get out than in, and that he isn’t necessarily the man in charge. If I may trot out a tired boxing cliche, she’s in for the fight of her life, as she seeks the truth about what happened to her sister, and whether Weeta is alive or dead.

Reis is the best thing this has going for it, and the makers know it. There’s a raw intensity which is utterly convincing, as she throws herself into a terrible situation in pursuit of Weeta. Though you do have to wonder why she apparently waited so long before trying to track down her supposedly beloved sibling, leaving the trail close to stone-cold. I mentioned “value as entertainment” above, and that should probably be stressed. This isn’t a Taken-style popcorn audience pleaser. It’s more of a descent into hell, which will leave neither Kaylee nor those with whom she crosses paths unscathed, to put it mildly. The heroine was already badly damaged going in: she sleeps with a razor-blade tucked in her mouth for defense purposes, a note that goes nowhere except as a character trait.

Much the same is true of her boxing talents, which never particularly come to the forefront, leaving me wondering why they made them part of the film. I did have to admire its relentlessly grim tone: there’s hardly a moment of light here, until the very end of the movie. Even then, the carpet of comfort is brutally yanked out from underneath the feet of the viewer with the final shot before the credits roll. I’m not sure if Reis has any future as an actress – or even whether she has an interest in such. However, if this proves to be the beginning and end of her career on-screen, it will still be better than many more accomplished actresses manage.

Dir: Josef Kubota Wladyka
Star: Kali Reis, Daniel Henshall, Kevin Dunn, Mainaku Borrero

Steele Wool

  By

★★★
“Puts the ‘hard’ in hard of hearing…”

Daphne Wool (Varela) has finally had enough of her abusive husband, so has killed him, chopping up the corpse and keeping it in a storage locker. Which actually is a good thing, because it turns out he was wanted by the Mob, and there was a price on his head. For their “help” in carrying out the hit, Daphne and pal Tony Steele (Cappello) are rewarded, but things go further. Daphne becomes a full-time assassin for the gangsters, learning to kill with everything from a paper-clip up, while Tony acts as her facilitator. However, they quickly become a liability to the organization, and are given a “poison pill” contract, being sent to kill weapons inventor Vincent McCabe.

The approach here is very much light in intent. Witness how Daphne’s training is largely watching movies like La Fille Nadia [sic], or the way in which she does, in fact, use a paper-clip as the instrument of one target’s demise. The film does a decent job of countering this with an awareness that this is a dirty and unpleasant business, as when she visits (from a distance) the widow of a target and their now fatherless child. It is a difficult balance for a movie to strike, and I’m not convinced Cappello gets it right, resulting in some awkward lurches in tome from the comedic to the supposedly heart-felt. Both come off a bit flat: I never got past a wry smile, and was never completely engaged.

This is not Varela’s fault, nor that of her character. Daphne is played gloriously against all the tropes of the female assassin: it’s no coincidence her most effective undercover disguise is an estate agent. Add to this, Varela is deaf: this element affects, yet does not define, her character and that’s exactly the way disability should be portrayed. It is even worked nicely in to the plot, with one of McCabe’s weapons in development being a sonic cannon. However, I’d like to have seen more of her in action; perhaps for budgetary reasons, this is limited, or perhaps Cappello just wasn’t interested in that aspect.

This brings me to the other issue: Cappello the director is too much in love with Cappello the actor. The latter wears out his welcome well before riding to the rescue of the supposed heroine, in McCabe’s underground lair. This is a shame, since Daphne is such a gloriously unconventional character, the reverse should have happened. Tony is never interesting to begin with, the script (also by Cappello, naturally) forgetting to give him any particular reason to exist, beyond Daphne needing someone to talk to. Having him become the hero for the finale, feels forced and unnatural. This is not enough to derail an excellent concept, or negate what I think is likely only the second disabled action heroine on this site, after Ready, Willing and Able. Yet it’s definitely a pity.

Dir: Frank A. Cappello
Star: Cami Varela, Frank A. Cappello, Nicholas Ontiveros, Arina Manta

Fountaine and the Vengeful Nun Who Wouldn’t Die

  By

★★
“Jack of all trades, master of nun…”

You will probably understand why the title more or less rocketed to the top of my watch-list, especially when accompanied by the poster (right). Naturally, it was almost inevitable that it could not possibly live up to either: the question was mostly, how far short it would fall. The answer is, “a fair bit, yet not irredeemably so,” even if the first half if considerably duller than I wanted. Indeed, it’s also rather confusing, in terms of what’s going on. As well as I can piece things together, Mary (Stern) is a nun who gets sent to an asylum after losing her sister, though it turns out to be less a mental-care facility than you’d expect.

There, she meets and falls for another nun, Lee (Tripp), and the pair escape. Mary eventually falls in with a vigilante group, intent on taking down the criminal empire of Fountaine, while Lee is abducted by the same group. With the help of trusty sidekick Sam (Clower), who was also Lee’s adopted brother, Mary acquires the set of special skills necessary, in addition to a fetching zebra-striped eye-patch and a very pointy Samurai sword This leads to storming Fountaine’s headquarters, in order to rescue her love. I think that hits most of the main points, though I accept no responsibility if I’m wrong. To be honest though, this is not really plot-oriented, being a collage of elements from exploitation cinema over the last fifty years.

The most obvious influence is probably Kill Bill, which was itself a patchwork assembly, so we’ve got to the point where exploitation cinema truly is eating itself. The other angle is clearly the nunsploitation genre of sinful sisters, though it has to be said, this is remarkably chaste in comparison. I think there is only one pair of breasts and zero full nudity in the whole thing, a tally at which Jess Franco would laugh patronisingly. It isn’t even close to being the first “retro grindhouse” entry that harks back to the style, trailing a decade behind both Nude Nuns With Big Guns and the recently reviewed Sister Wrath (a.k.a. Nun of That), the latter in particular doing a better job at being more than a third-gen photocopy of the genre.

Instead, it concentrates on the violence, though to mixed results. When it concentrates on practical effects, it’s not bad and occasionally reaches impressive. However, bad CGI is something you would never have seen in the seventies, and its presence here is equally unwelcome and unsatisfactory. The other problem is the lead actress falling short of the charismatic heroines in the films which inspired this. Pam Grier. Tura Satana. Dyanne Thorne. Meiko Kaji. Christina Lindberg. Stern will not be joining them in the pantheon of greats any time soon. And good retro grindhouse is capable of being entertaining, even if you have no knowledge of the genre’s history. I’m rather less than certain that’s the case here.

Dir: James Dean
Star: Mallory Stern, Ron Clower, Jaclyn Tripp, Zera Lynd

Sister Wrath

  By

★★★½
“Nun-conformist”

I think it’s safe to say you’ll probably be able to decide within a few minutes, whether or not this is your cup of tea. The opening scene is set in a strip-club where the next act on the main stage is dressed as a nun. After a couple of minutes, she pulls out an unfeasibly large weapon from under her clerical garb, and guns down the mobsters present, in gory fashion. Thereafter, you can expect more of the same, along with extremely savage jabs at organized religion. Catholicism is the main target, but Judaism and Hinduism get their share of jabs: for example, Gandhi is a martial arts teacher. Or there’s a Yiddish hitman, Viper Goldstein (Lavallee), who practices the art of “Jew Jitsu”. If you just roll your eyes at that, this is likely not for you. However, if you roll your eyes and also laugh, then you, like me, may be the intended target audience.

The heroine is Kelly (Nicklin) an aspiring nun with a bad temper, who ends up enrolled, not entirely willingly, in the Order of the Black Habit – though surely Order of the Bad Habit would have been an even better name? Whatever… They are a group of fighting nuns, each named after one of the seven deadly sins. Unsurprisingly, Kelly becomes Sister Wrath, and joins her colleagues, such as Sister Pride (Cipolla), in taking down the criminal empire of Momma Rizzo (Tretheway, shamelessly channeling Shelley Winters in Bloody Mama). Momma isn’t going to sit back and let that happen, however. After her own goons prove not up to the task of taking on the Black Habit, she brings in Goldstein and his Ninja Throwing Stars of David, to escalate the war. With the help of a mole inside the church, he kidnaps Sister Pride, in order to lure Wrath and the rest of the nuns into a trap.

There’s a lot of glorious invention here, not least the remarkably catchy musical number in heaven, which rivals the one at the end of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. [In one of the film’s rare subtle moments, the same actor is here playing both Jesus Christ and the Devil] It’s gory and foul-mouthed, though for whatever reason, remains remarkably chaste: the stripper in the opening scene is wearing pasties. Likely only a lack of the necessary gratuitous nudity prevented this from getting a seal of approval, because the rest of it is right in my wheel-house of poor taste. Cameos from Debbie Rochon and Lloyd Kaufman – again, if you don’t know who they are… – only add to the sense of fun. The latter plays the Pope, who shows up late to absolve everyone of their sins. If not quite reaching the dizzy heights of post-grindhouse classics like Hobo With a Shotgun, it’s one of the rare cases where a B-movie genuinely lives up to the promise of its poster.

Dir: Richard Griffin
Star: Sarah Nicklin, Alexandra Cipolla, Rich Tretheway, David Lavallee Jr.
a.k.a. Nun of That

Jailbait

  By

★★★
“Old for her age.”

Of all the scathing reviews this has accumulated on Letterboxd.com, I think my favorite is the one which starts, “Obviously written by someone who knows absolutely nothing about the penal system.” Yes, seriously. I strongly suspect things like this were written by people who know absolutely nothing about women-in-prison films, and who inexplicably managed to overlook the title of the damn movie in their expectations. Me, I had initially overlooked this, believing it to be just a retitling of the same director’s Locked Up, a glorious slab of WiP insanity. When I discovered it was actually a different movie entirely. it went quickly to the top of my pending pile.

While an earlier work, and it’s clear Cohn is still honing his exploitation craft, this is still a fine slice of modern B-cinema, Not least is the casting of Lane, at that point in her thirties, as “teenager” Anna Nix. This certainly does not hang around. Inside five minutes, including opening credits, she has killed her step-father as he tries to be molest her, been tried convicted and sentenced to 4-9 years behind bars in juvenile detention. Only a few seconds later, we get our first of many looks at the lead actress’s spectacular breasts: artificially augmented, yet top tier work. It’s not long before there’s lesbian sex with her cellmate Genie (Jacobs); abusive sex with sleazy warden Frank Baragan (Hanks); drugs, first smoked, then injected; solitary confinement while naked; and coercion from Kody (O’Brien), the leader of the Low Riders prison gang, who says Anna must join them or face the consequences. Followed, eventually, by more lesbian sex.

In other words: everything you would expect from the genre. Of course, if you go in expecting Orange is the New Black – and, let’s be honest, making that comparison on the poster (above) was… unwise – then you’re probably not going to be happy. Me, though? I went in, looking for something along the lines of Locked Up, and will be checking “Satisfied” on my customer survey. Sure, the only thing less convincing than Anna’s teenage credentials is probably her cello playing (don’t ask), while both script and performances appear to be there, only because Cohn was told they were required elements in a feature film. This is me not caring.

To my surprise, the “Based on a graphic novel” claim is actually legit. I wondered what the creators thought when they heard the rights to their work had been bought by infamous studio The Asylum. Then I saw the cover of issue #1. I suspect the reaction was likely, “Cool! Where’s the cheque?”, and also that the resulting adaptation is a faithful one. Of course, this is a penal establishment where a SWAT team is immediately ready to rush in at the drop of a shiv, yet inmates are allowed to shoot up openly in the prison yard. It’s utterly ridiculous, and complete nonsense. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dir: Jared Cohn
Star: Sara Malakul Lane, Erin O’Brien, Steve Hanks, Jennifer Robyn Jacobs

Asking for It (2020)

  By

★★
“A Net loss.”

Not to be confused with the 2022 rape-revenge film of the same name (which I’ll get round to reviewing down the pipe), this is somewhat lighter in tone, though there’s a case to be made that this clashes terribly with the subject matter. Jenny (Hsu) is a journalist, working under Cheryl (Garofalo),and her work has brought her to the attention of an online stalker, who sends her increasingly disturbed and disturbing emails. When the harassment begins to move from the cyberworld into the real one, and the authorities fail even to reach the level of disinterest, Jenny teams up with room-mate Lisa (Morales), to hunt down the perpetrator and bring him to justice themselves.

In case the above is not clear, this is a comedy.

Yeah, I’m a bit uncomfortable about this. Not necessarily about the subject matter, as I tend to think any topic can be seen through the lens of humour. However, the more problematic your target, the less room for error. If you want to joke about, say, the Holocaust, you’d better bring your A game. This isn’t anywhere in the same league as a subject; however, nor is the comedy here anything close to an A game. There are a few amusing moments involving veteran Garofalo, who has the timing to hit home, with her depiction of a jaded and cynical writer. Yet otherwise, it’s mostly a weirdly toothless kind of satire, possessing too many “Is that supposed to be a joke?” moments, e.g. the blanking out of all the F-bombs.

I did enjoy the performances, with Hsu an appealing lead, and Morales doing some heavy lifting as the weirdo housemate from hell, whose special skills are indispensable to the plot. Though her “hacking” scene is another of those “Is that supposed to be a joke?” moments. The best scene probably has the pair heading to utterly deadpan teenage gun dealer, Lisa’s step-daughter, Missy. She delights in speeches like, “You left your G-string, by the way… I wore it. And then I sold it. On a website for perverts. And then I donated that money. To an elephant. Charity,” or “I don’t know how any of them work… I’m not a school shooter. Jeez, I’m sorry I can’t tell you the science behind riflery.”

Outside of those five minutes, the rest does not consistently work, either as a comedy or a thriller. I think it’s mostly a scripting problem, not least because the identity of her stalker is painfully obvious from the moment he first appears. You have to wait about an hour for Jenny and Lisa to catch up, and the pickings in that time – save Missy, who deserves her own movie – are slim. I was left mostly wondering why anyone would want to a) live in New York, and b) work as an online writer – fortunately, this is not my day job. I suspect this was not exactly the intended take-away. 

Dir: Amanda Lundquist, Becky Scott
Star: Stephanie Hsu, Irene Morales, Colin Burgess, Janeane Garofalo

Divided We Fall

  By

★½
“Failed to sustain my undivided attention”

We begin with the usual disclaimer for films of this kind: middle-aged white guys like me are not the target audience. However, I think it’s fair to say that concepts like story-telling and character development are not limited to any particular race, colour or creed, so I still feel equipped to offer an opinion on these aspects. Though, actually, what felt like it worked best here was its strong sense of place. I’ve never been to the projects in Jamaica, New York (though Chris grew up elsewhere in the same borough of Queens). But the film does a good job of showing you that environment; it certainly works better than the (largely token) efforts to convince you some scenes take place in Miami, or even Moscow.

I guess loosely, it’s the story of Keisha (Diamond) and her all-female gang, whose robberies and other action kick of an escalating series of retribution and other incidents. For it turns out the target of the robbery was a front for the Russian mafia, who are none too happy about being on the receiving end of criminal activity themselves. They send a team of enforcers over to find the culprits and wreak retribution. Meanwhile, Sha (Brown), the local boss of drugs and other illicit things, gets summoned to Miami and made an offer he can’t refuse. Finally, the feds are sniffing around, drawn by all the carnage, and to make matters worse, turns out the boyfriend of one of Keisha’s crew is in the FBI.

There is a lot going on here: to be frank, far too much. It runs 107 minutes, yet would probably need at least twice that length to do justice to all of the threads (and the above is by no means an exhaustive list). I tried my hardest to keep track of exactly who was doing what to whom, and why. But the Russians were about the only ones who seemed to have a clear motive and acted towards it. We also come in with the story feeling like it’s already in progress, and Keisha spends half an hour or so introducing us in voice-over to the various players, making her own character and aspirations feel very much like an afterthought, when they eventually turn up.

It is really the brutally obscure plotting which sinks this. The camerawork is occasionally impressive, and compared to other entries in the genre I’ve seen, the production values are mostly decent – the courtroom scene looked like a proper courtroom, though some of the FBI offices did feel rather… residential, shall we say! The ending isn’t even a proper ending, just a vague cliffhanger where the Russians head to Miami. I’ll confess to having drifted off about 70 minutes in, but like a good, conscientious reviewer, I rewound the movie (well, the digital equivalent of “rewound”!) and watched the rest again. The sad thing is, it didn’t make very much more sense when I was fully awake.

Dir: Jamal Doctor
Star: Yellow Diamond, Pritti Militant, Levar Hosten, Shamel Brown

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

District Queens

  By

★★
“Queen of the East.”

The latest stop in our ongoing tour of female-driven urban crime movies brings us to the nation’s capital in Washington, where the police are celebrating just having taken down a leading light in the city’s organized crime industry. Now, they set their sights on a new target: the gang led by Racine Robinson (Vaughan) and her two daughters, Kat (Crosby) and Candy (Bethea). These might prove a tougher nut to crack, since the Robinson crew have a harsh, zero tolerance policy to anyone who messes with them in the slightest, yet also gathered local support during the coronavirus pandemic. Indeed, Racine is so popular in the neighbourhood, a run for political office is not out of the question. However, she has rivals, who have more than a passing interest in seeing her taken out of the picture – albeit for very different reasons, in order to make room for them to rise up.

This is a real grab-bag of elements, ranging from those which work very well, to those which are almost unmitigated disasters. To start on the positive side, there’s a callous disregard for human life here that’s genuinely disturbing. Even if the CGI splatter is far from convincing, head shots abound. And unlike some entries, the women in this one have no issue getting their hands dirty, for even the most trivial of reasons e.g someone tossed water at them. The guns they tote on the cover aren’t just for show. There are plenty of strong female characters on both sides of the law, from the Robinson family through Police Commissioner Stallworth, to dirty cops who have no issue shooting someone in cold blood and planting a gun on them. Perhaps the most impressive is Jada (Simmons), who looks like she actually would pop a cap in you for looking at her the wrong way. Even if there are points where I wondered if I was watching a black Russ Meyer movie, there are worse things as influence.

These good points are, unfortunately, outweighed heavily by the other side of the scale. Some of them are par for the course, such as the way the movie appears a vehicle for the makers to tout their pals’ music, businesses or whatever, in a painfully obvious way. The shaky technical elements are also unsurprising, with a “police station” that is little more than empty rooms. Audio is, as usual, the main culprit: there are points where two sides of the supposed same conversation will sound radically different. The main problem though, is a script which has no idea of the direction it wants to take, once it has set out its pieces on the chess-board. Scenes happen, with little or no connection to each other, and supporting characters drift in, drift out or (more often) get gunned down, without ever establishing relevance. Throw in embarrassingly amateur lesbian canoodling, without delivering any actual nudity, and you have a film which swings wildly from “That’s actually well-done” to “How could they include this without cringing?” every couple of minutes.

Dir: Roosevelt Jackson
Star: Rochelle Vaughan, Kathleen Vaughn Crosby, Stacie Bethea, Sasheen Simmons