Tag: USA

Asking For It (2021)

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★
“Just say no.”

Not to be confused with the other film of the same title, it’s likely significant it took me over three years to cover this, after mentioning it in the earlier review. I suspect I kept seeing the spectacularly bad reviews and finding more enjoyable things to do. That cat-litter box ain’t gonna clean itself, folks. Eventually, though, I bit the bullet, and… Well, by the end, a bullet would have been welcome. For debut director O’Rourke has made a rape-revenge film, without managing either to build on the tropes of the genre, or find anything new to say. It’s the kind of film which could only have come out of the brief period when #MeToo was considered relevant.

It has not aged well. In particular, casting Ezra Miller as a men’s rights activist, because they (to use preferred pronouns, albeit sarcastically) are now spectacularly cancelled. Instead of watching the movie, I recommend instead going down the Wikipedia rabbit-hole for amusement. My favourite sentence: “Miller believed people criticized their relationship with Iron Eyes because she is “an apocalyptic Native American spider goddess” who, along with Miller as Jesus Christ, will bring about an Indigenous revolution.” Alright then. Mind you, those reviews I mentioned suggest the film was poorly received at the time too. I suppose I should discuss it. I’d rather not. Can’t I just continue lobbing snark grenades from afar? [Monty Python voice: Get on with it!]

Joey (Clemons) gets date-raped. Through Regina (Shipp), a regular at the diner where she works, she is introduced to an all-female vigilante group, the Cherry Bombers. Their mission is to make any abusive men pay – naturally, they are the judge, jury and executioners of what constitutes “abuse”. The group’s Public Enemy #1 is Mark Vanderhill (Miller) who, conveniently, is about to stage a major rally for his Men’s First Movement. Oscar Wilde once described fox-hunting as “The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.” That’s entirely appropriate for this film too. Vanderhill is a pantomime villain, and the Cherry Bombers are an all-you-can-eat buffet of alphabet soup and minority groups, smugly sure of their righteous mission. I’m not sure who I hated more. 

The whole thing feels entirely like a vehicle for O’Rourke to tout his creds as an “ally”. The end credits even include a lengthy statement about native land and its use, for additional right-on points. And yet, O’Rourke was arrested for punching a trans woman in 2022. Awkward. I am equally sure these beliefs in no way qualify him as a movie-maker, and there is precious little indication here of relevant skill. Not in O’Rourke, nor the thirty-six credited producers of various kinds. Bandwagon much? At one point, a movie marquee in the background has screenings listed for Thelma & Louise and Switchblade Sisters. Unless “There’s nothin’ I love more than watching grown men squeal” (an actual line here) is your idea of moral philosophy, those are films for which this is not fit to make a sandwich. 

Dir: Eamon O’Rourke
Star: Kiersey Clemons, Vanessa Hudgens, Alexandra Shipp, Ezra Miller

Razor Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extremities

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★★★
“Not so extreme.”

In the mid-eighties, Farrah Fawcett underwent a bit of sharp change in career path. The previous decade had seen her become one of the biggest sex symbols of the seventies, a star in the first season of Charlie’s Angels, and selling millions of posters a year. But here and in 1984’s TV movie The Burning Bed, which addressed the largely taboo topic of domestic abuse, Fawcett’s work took on a pro-feminist tone. While Bed hit screens before this, her connection to Extremities predated it. The concept was originally a stage play, and Fawcett appeared in the original New York production – incidentally, replacing Susan Sarandon (Karen Allen, Ellen Barkin and Helen Mirren have also taken on the lead role). 

She was thus an easy choice for the film adaptation, to a mixed reception. While nominated for a Golden Globe, critics Siskel & Ebert called it one of the worst movies of the year – alongside the brilliance of The Hitcher, so I’m ignoring them. The origins on-stage are fairly obvious. The bulk of this takes place in the house shared by Marjorie (Fawcett), Terry (Scarwid) and Pattie (Woodard). Marjorie is recovering from narrowly escaping a rape attempt. With the attacker wearing a mask, the police are unable to act, and she is now living in fear, knowing her attacker has her wallet, and so knows where she lives. Rightfully so, for when Joe (Russo) shows up on her doorstep, it’s not with good intentions. 

With the help of a convenient can of wasp spray, she is able to turn the tables on her attacker. Joe is knocked out and tied up, while Marjorie prepares her own brand of justice, digging a grave in the garden, in which he will be buried alive. However, the return of first Terry and then Pattie to the house complicate matters, not least because Joe claims he’s the victim, and he and Marjorie knew each other before. Using information he had found in the mail-box, he’s able to spread dissension in the ranks, with Pattie – a social worker, so clearly a do-gooder on the side of the criminal – particularly averse to Marjorie’s plans. We also learn about an incident in Terry’s past, which colours her opinion.

In contrast to other entries like Hard Candy, there’s no doubt as to the antagonist’s guilt, and that certainty makes it a bit less interesting to me. I was impressed with Fawcett’s performance – the switch from victim to relentless avenging angel is sudden, yet does not feel unwarranted. Russo also deserves credit, for playing a compelling slimeball, who is also convincing enough when pleading innocence. The strong leads help counter what feels unnecessarily restrained, compared to other eighties entries in the genre, both in terms of the rape and the revenge: there were points where I wondered if this was a TV movie. The ending would be one such. I guess we discover that the way to a rapist’s heart, involves his crotch, a sharp blade and threats in lieu of actual mutilation.

Dir: Robert M. Young
Star: Farrah Fawcett, James Russo, Diana Scarwid, Alfre Woodard

The Protector

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★★½
“Post-apocalypse, talk will still be in abundant supply.”

[Note: not to be confused with Protector] The year is 2042. A plague knows as The Rot has decimated the land, and those who survived it are in a precarious state, with the water supply having almost run out. There is one source left: an underground aquifer which has enough water for a century. Needless to say, its highly coveted, but access to it has been cut off by the native American tribe under whose land it sits, with the road heavily mined by Chief Brand (Greene, in what must have been close to his final role before passing away). Warlord Gael (Aryeh-Or) lets Key (Moreau) out of jail, knowing she has a map through the minefield and can give him control of the aquifer.

But, wait! There’s more! Because another issue facing society is mass infertility, with children almost non-existent since The Rot. Key finds herself acting as guardian to one rare kid, Kellan (Lane) on her journey. Oh, and there’s also a mad pastime called “Dirt-Joust”, which is like jousting, only with hot-rods replacing horses – it appears fuel is not hard to come by – on which the combatants ride on the bonnet. It’s not a career choice with a pension plan, shall we say. To be honest, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of this sport, since the scene we do get is kinda rad. But then, doing so would have only been possible by cutting out the many, many scenes of chit-chat. 

That’s the main problem here, I found. The obvious point of comparison is Mad Max, and in its female protagonist, particularly the new iterations of the franchise, such as Fury Road. However, there, the plot was basically there to act as a delivery mechanism for jaw-dropping action scenes. Here, it’s as a vehicle for moral lectures, pontification and general conversation. It feels as if writer-director Gasteazoro did not understand the assignment, or the rules of the sub-genre. It’s a shame, because there are elements here which work. Not the least of which is Moreau, who looks the part of a world-weary heroine who has had it up to here, and carries herself well, on the rare occasions when she is called into action. 

The film also looks pretty nifty. I haven’t been able to find out the budget: it likely wasn’t a huge amount, yet unlike things like Road Wars: Max Fury, it rarely if ever looks cheap. Some wobbly CGI flames are about the worst element on offer. It instead feels like the film is mostly intended to be a vehicle – pun not intended – for Gasteazoro’s liberal views on a variety of topics, from ecology, through the rights of indigenous people, to same-sex marriage. I would venture to suggest that a post-apocalyptic film might not be the best route to change minds and influence people on these subjects. Give me ninety minutes of dirt-jousting instead, and I might be prepared to listen to you. 

Dir: Raul Gasteazoro
Star: Marguerite Moreau, Aryeh-Or, Mark Lane III, Graham Grene

Burner

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★★½
“Crime does pay…”

Kiki (Owens) was in a detrimental relationship with drug dealer Axar (Wheatley), until an arrest and subsequent jail time acted as a wake-up call. She cleaned up her act while inside, got out on probation, and has just succeeded in winning back custody of her teenage daughter, Lola Ray (Wylie). However, Axar – who slid out from charges on a technicality involving mishandled evidence – comes crawling out of the woodwork, wanting to resume their relationship, and offering one last score which will set the family up for life. This goes badly and violently wrong (of course!), but Kiki ends up in control of a cryptocurrency wallet containing close to a million dollars. Naturally, that’s not where the story ends. 

Indeed, the early going goes bouncing about in time like a rubber ball, beginning with Kiki being hauled out of a van by a masked man, in the middle of the desert. We then kick back to see the various events which led up to that point, as outlined above. I’m not sure this approach necessarily adds much, beyond offering an immediate hook at the start. It always feels like the use of this gimmick indicates film-makers are unsure about the overall strength of their narrative, having to cherry-pick an incident to lure people in. That is somewhat the case here, with a story that doesn’t have much to offer which wasn’t familiar.

For example, the mother prepared to go to dodgy lengths for her child is rather clichéd, and the supposed twist provided by the reveal at the end, of what actually happened, is nowhere near as much a surprise as the makers think. However, there are enough positives in other elements to make this a tolerable watch. Owens’s performance gives Kiki a commitment which helps paper over the cracks, and there are a couple of excellent supporting actors. Veteran Lew Temple only has one scene, as the detective investigating the shootout, but almost steals the film with his probing interrogation of Kiki. He knows for sure something is up; he just can’t prove it, given Kiki’s stonewalling. Similarly, Jolene Andersen is great in her single scene as very bad cop Stanikov.

However, these moments only highlight the rest of the film, which is nothing special at all. I didn’t feel Kiki was particularly sympathetic, not least because she jumps back in with Axar far too easily for my tastes. Certain subsequent events – part of the reveal – also suggest she’s hardly a good person or a fit mother. Indeed, you could credibly argue she’s worse than Axar, and certainly little worse than Stanikov. Again, this feels like a misstep by the makers, who seem to like their lead character more than they give the viewer reason to do so. Having a kid feels very much a lazy and insufficient excuse for her actions. While it’s understandable, this does leave the film touting a questionable moral, albeit unintentionally.

Dir: Robert Orr
Star: Kacy Owens, James Oliver Wheatley, Akina Wylie, Robert Laenen

Hurry Monday

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★★
“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

Virgin Pockets

  By

★½
“Don’t take this cue.”

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

Pretty Lethal

  By

★★★
“Nutcrackers Sweet”

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

Strong Hawk: My Sister’s Keeper

  By

★½
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

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

She Goes to War

  By

★★★
“S_e _o_s t_ W_r”

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