Tag: USA

Strong Enough

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★★★½
“Fit for most purposes.”

This is a very small-scale and restrained production, which unfolds, largely in real time, over one afternoon in the single location of a cross-fit gym. Athlete Sam (Jerue) is set for an attempt to see five world records in a 30-minute span, supported by her trainer Shane (Grosse) and under the eagle eye of adjudicator Alec (Sawyer) – it’s clearly intended to be the Guinness Book of World Records, but their name is never mentioned! However, a fly in the ointment shows up, just minutes before Sam is scheduled to start. Her husband, Charlie (Kershisnik), from whom she is currently separated, arrives at the gym, followed rapidly by Sam getting served with divorce papers, in what can only be called a dick move. 

This does feel very artificial, an obvious and contrived attempt to add external drama to what should be a purely internal situation: Sam versus herself, in an effort to push further than anyone has gone before. However, it’s a little more complex than it initially seems. Charlie may appear not much more than a bad guy, yet by the end, your feelings towards him may well be modified: he’s not entirely the villain he seems. It still does feel superfluous, as if the makers weren’t confident in the ability of the central struggle to hold the audience’s attention. In some ways, they’re right. You’re watching someone do squats, or chin-ups. How exciting can that be?

The answer might be, more than you’d think. In Jerue, the makers have some who actually is a well-regarded cross-fitter, and that means there’s no stunt doubling or cut-aways. Foss simply drops the camera back to mid-range, and you get an unbroken sixty seconds of his lead actress doing what she is supposed to be doing. As someone whose fitness stops at 30 minutes of moderate intensity on the elliptical, I have nothing but respect for those who push their bodies as far as possible (unlike one reviewer of the film who wrote sneeringly, and I quote, “Cross Fit feels like a gateway drug to fascism”. I wonder what his BMI might be. Just curious). I like American Ninja Warrior, The 100 and its ilk. This is not dissimilar.

It does skirt perilously close to some of the usual sports cliches, though by this point, it’s difficult to come up with a credible scenario which doesn’t. Either your protagonist prevails over their opponent (which may be internal, as here), or they go down bravely: as Shane puts it, “Like the gladiators of old would say: let me win, and if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.” That is, basically, your two categories of sports movies, and there’s not much attempt to escape the mould here. However, all the characters seem genuine; I’m not sure how much “acting” is require from Jerue the cross-fitter, playing Sam the cross-fitter, but she acquits herself reasonably well. I ended up watching the final half-hour from the elliptical, and might just have pedalled a little harder than normal.

Dir: John Foss
Star: Ashley Jerue, Demetrius Grosse, Cameron Sawyer, Noah Kershisnik

Desert Redemption

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★½
“Hell on earth.”

I’ve no problem per se with faith-based cinema. My main issue is that they tend to be, literally, preaching to the converted, and if you’re not already on board, they tend not to work, purely from a cinematic perspective. There are exceptions: The Furnace is a solid enough tale of struggle against adversity. This, however, is not. It is instead a woefully dull entity, whose religious coating seems more like a layer of gold plate on a tin bauble, and about as honest.

It focuses on a family of three: father Bill (Way), mother Rebecca (Roberts) and teenage daughter Katie (McMahon), who go on a hike in the desert for Mom’s birthday. Question #1: what was wrong with a nice dinner at Olive Garden? For a more inept group of explorers it’s hard to imagine. Rebecca falls off a cliff; Bill breaks his ankle going for help, also losing both their map and the car keys; and Katie gets bitten by a rattlesnake. Personally, I’d take these as messages from God that they should have gone to Olive Garden. It’s up to Katie, as the least injured of the trio, to try and make it out to get help. She’d better hope some divine entity is on her side, because the family’s desert survival skills are negligible.

I mean, if you’re going to try and hike out, even I (who does not hike), know to set out as soon as it’s light enough to see, rather than wait until the sun is blazing down.  I could forgive the idiocy, if it led to exciting predicaments. Nope. If you want to watch first Bill, then Katie, staggering around the desert in scenes that seem to last forever, you’ll love this. There’s no sense of Katie having admirable resilience or any talent that she uses, instead relying on blind luck and prayer to get out of her predicament. There is a failed example of Chekhov’s Gun – or, in this case, Chekhov’s Coyote. The family encounter said animal near the beginning of their trek, and given the cover (above), I kept waiting for it to show relevance in some way. Let me spoil this for you: it never happens.

We do get Bill suffering severe religious guilt over being tempted by an invitation from the office harlot (Sample), and vowing to be a better man if only God would spare him and his family. Here’s an idea: just be a better man? Mind you, he goes off such a creepy vibe, I would not be surprised if he has a hooker tied up in the basement. Positives in this are hard to find. The photography isn’t bad, with some nice desert locations. The presence of cameoing saguaro cactii makes me wonder if it was filmed here in Arizona. However, I can’t say for sure, since the credits consist of nothing except the cast. It’s as if no-one behind the camera wanted to accept responsibility for this, and I can’t say I blame them.

Dir: Auturo Gavino
Star: Savanah D. McMahon, Bill Way, Gloria Jean Roberts, Brooke Sample

Orphan: First Kill

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★★★
“This sister is still doing it for herself.”

I’ve not seen the original Orphan. I suspect this does not matter very much, since what we have here is a prequel. I will admit to having been lured in by the barking mad central idea. It does justice to the lunacy, though can’t sustain itself entirely, and at least somewhat collapses under its own weight. We begin in Estonia, where Leena (Fuhrman) is a very, very angry 31-year-old. Not without justification, being trapped in a 9-year-old’s body due to a hormonal condition. Previous violence has got her committed to a secure facility, but Leena breaks out and decides to adopt the identity of Esther Albright, an American child who went missing years previously. 

This plan works surprisingly well, with few questions being asked and no pesky DNA tests. There is some precedent: the documentary The Imposter chronicles the story of a con artist who convinced a Texas family he was their long-lost son. There is also a good reason why Mom Tricia (Stiles) and brother Gunnar (Finlan) don’t want to rock the boat. Quite why Dad Allen (Sutherland) doesn’t do his due diligence is less clear. So the film can happen, I guess. It’s all very awkward, especially when “Esther” starts having most undaughterly feelings towards her not-father. Yeah, the whole thing is creepy on a variety of levels, and gets increasingly so, the more we learn about the Albright family and their assorted dysfunctions. 

I have to say, the makers did a startling job with Fuhrman, who in reality is now thirteen years older than she was at the time she starred in Orphan. They use a combination of makeup, forced perspective shots and child stand-ins to have her play a nine-year-old, and you truly cannot see the joins. Just a pity the same level of effort and craftsmanship was not applied to the story elements. Having read a synopsis of the original movie, if not exactly an everyday story of normal folk, it seems it might not require the same helping of what Chris calls “I’m so sure…” This likely goes to a solid 11 in that department. 

Not that it matters, providing you are fine with a pot-boiler of lurid elements, that exist largely to make the viewer feel uncomfortable. Which is, I guess, I point of most horror, admittedly. The tension between mother and “daughter” escalate like a pressure cooker, leading to a final confrontation, pitting them against each other in a burning building which is… Well, I’d say it is undeniably in line with what has got us to that point. In other words, it’s ludicrous and overblown, yet I’d be lying if I said I was not entertained. I do wish they had gone full-throttle into the possibilities of the scenario, for example sending Esther off to school to interact with actual nine-year-olds. The implications of the scenario are, overall, probably more horrific than the way it plays out on the screen. 

Dir: William Brent Bell
Star: Isabelle Fuhrman, Julia Stiles, Rossif Sutherland, Matthew Finlan

Kung Fu Ghost

  By

★★
“The spirit is willing…”

This is another example of someone simply trying to do too much on their movie. For Linch not only starred in, produced and directed this, she also edited it, did the sound design and was the colourist. It’s not hard to predict her talents are not equally divided. It’s a shame, since I really wanted to enjoy this: much like its heroine, there’s a plucky, can-do attitude present, which can only be admired. Unfortunately, anyone above the age of eight is going to be quite hard-pushed to overlook the flaws. While the action is not especially one of those, the volume there is underwhelming, and the romantic, comedic and dramatic elements are hugely variable, to put it politely.

Daisy (Linch) returns from Vietnam after inheriting the house belonging to her late grandfather (Dawson). This turns out to be handed, both by his spirit and that of William (Sargent), a younger, cuter ghost. It’s actually a good thing, because it turns out some bad people are after an artifact hidden in the house. It can confer the gift of eternal life, and they send a selection of thugs and ninjas to take the relic. With Grandpa now dead, it’s up to Daisy to take over his role as its guardian. While she’s training up to be able to do the job herself, Grandpa is capable of possessing her when necessary, which imbues her – not entirely willingly – with his martial arts abilities.

It is certainly family-friendly, emphasizing the importance of familial loyalty, hard work and honour. So that’s nice. Linch knows her way around a fight sequence; unfortunately, the same can’t be said for delivering her lines in English. A thick accent, compounded by ropey audio work, may well leave you straining to figure out what she is saying, though fortunately she can still emote well enough to put over the gist. The romance between Daisy and William is strictly boiler-plate stuff, and the comedy is not much better, despite a Ghost parody which does at least reach moderately amusing (I did also laugh at the Jean-Claude Van Damme reference). This leads to long periods where there is simply not enough happening to hold your attention.

It is the kind of story which I could imagine coming out of Hong Kong in the early nineties – perhaps with Sammo Hung as the grandfather, and Moon Lee as the heroine – so I get the concept for which Linch was aiming. This has to count as a swing and a miss: even the notoriously variable HK comedy would likely be an improvement over what we receive here. That said, I’d not be averse to seeing more of Linch, in the right vehicle instead of this misfire. Despite the problems, Daisy is a genuine and likable character, and I did want her to succeed. Though my biggest unanswered question is probably: what happened to the cat she left behind in Vietnam? Inquiring minds need to know…

Dir: Jennifer N. Linch
Star: Jennifer N. Linch, David S. Dawson, Noah Sargent, Rene Fernandez

A League of Their Own

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It has been a very quiet year for action heroine films. Here we sit, entering the sixth month of the year, and the only one of the top 100 movies in 2023 at the North American box-office I’ve reviewed here is Everything Everywhere All at Once – and that actually came out in April last year. [I’ll probably add Polite Society to the list shortly] There have been a couple of high-profile streaming titles, such as The Mother, and last week, I discovered the third series of La Reina Del Sur had hit Netflix. It made the top ten shows in the US, which is quite impressive. But it’ll take a few months for me to get through its 60 episodes.

Since there’s nothing new to “feature”, I decided to dip back into the archives and revisit some old reviews, which are in need of updating for one reason or another. I’m starting with League of Their Own. This is partly because it deserves more than the three hundred words it got when originally reviewed 20+ years ago, and partly because of the Amazon reboot into a TV series which came out (as we’ll see, a very apt phrase!) last year. I think my original review (below) was a little harsh, though it may be that I’ve changed since. Baseball is now an intrinsic part of my everyday life, especially during the summer, and I can perhaps appreciate the film that much more.

Indeed, of all the films about baseball – and there have been some classic – I’d rate League behind only The Natural overall. The latter captures the mythic, almost epic quality of the sport, but League simply sparkles in terms of story, characters and dialogue. Virtually everyone involved gives at or near career-best performances, and considering that includes Tom Hanks and Geena Davis, this is a high bar indeed. Hell, even Madonna is good, though it feels more as if the character was written for her, rather than she’s playing a role.

At its heart is the relationship between sisters Dottie (Davis) and Kit (Lori Petty). Kit has been overshadowed by her sister for her whole life, but can at least hold her own in the baseball arena. When the chance comes to play professionally, it’s Dottie the scout wants, but Kit who needs the opportunity, and convinces the scout to take them both. Thereafter, it’s partly about Kit trying to come out from under the shadow of her sister, but also coach Jimmy Dugan (Hanks) rediscovering his love for the game, and all the women proving the game they provide can be every bit as entertaining for spectators as the male version, even if the quality of play is lower]

[Diversion. The distinction between quality and entertainment was made clear to me over the past few months as I’ve followed the battle for Wrexham to get promotion from the fifth to the fourth tier of English football. The talent on view is not of Premier League quality, clearly. But the decisive contest against rivals Notts County – won 3-2 by Wrexham after their keeper saved a penalty in injury time – was the most dramatic and enthralling game of football I’ve ever watched. So, the appeal of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League doesn’t need explaining, even if they’re not the major-leagues]

Writers Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel do a remarkably good job of keeping all the threads of the story moving forward over the course of the season. Events culminate in the final game, where the two sisters face off, on different teams, for the championship. Dottie knows its her last game, since she’s going to quit and start a family. Kit, however, needs the win, for her self-esteem. It is, of course, Sports Cliche 1.0.1, with the title decided on the final play, Kit barreling into Dottie at home-plate. Yet it still works. Even the wraparound segments, which I disliked at the time, now seem to provide a suitable send-off for the characters we have grown to love over the preceding two hours. Hence, its rating is upgraded to a very solid ★★★★.

Then there’s Amazon’s League of Their Own. It’s basically unwatchable. I tried, trust me. But it takes a story that operated at the intersection of sports and humanity, and turns it into one firmly located on the cross-streets of sexuality and race. And that’s fine. It’s certainly a version which could be told about the AAGPBL. But it isn’t what I wanted to see, and it certainly shouldn’t have been called A League of Their Own, because that creates a set of expectations which the film is unable to fulfill, despite forcing in famous lines like “There’s no crying in baseball!” Call it Lesbians in the War Who Occasionally Play Baseball: that’d be a more accurate reflection of the show’s interests.

Even as that, it’s not very good. The CGI used during the baseball games is flat-out terrible: nobody involved here looks even slightly competent (an area where it differs radically from, say, GLOW). It’s also a thoroughly unconvincing rendition of the period. The dialogue, attitudes and even the incidental music, all appear to come from significantly later times, to the point why you wonder why they bothered setting it in in the forties at all. Turning a frothy and subtly empowering comedy-drama into a social commentary sledgehammer, where baseball is an escape from straight society, was never a good decision. At least the largely (and justifiably) forgotten 1993 series, for all its flaws, operated in the same thematic ballpark. Pun not intended.

None of which takes away in the slightest from the joys to be had in the original movie. We watched it last night, and never mind baseball, it has to be one of the best sports movies, regardless of gender, of all time. That’s probably because it’s a rare entity which works both in terms of its sport and without it. You could remove every scene of them playing baseball and you’d still have a thoroughly entertaining, if somewhat confusing, film. About an all-women bus tour of the Midwest, I guess. But the AAGPBL was an entity that certainly needed to be better known too, and A League of Their Own is the telling of their story which it deserves.

★★★½
“A chick flick with balls…and strikes.”

Deserving credit for being about the only female sports film of note, this is actually pretty good, despite a pointless and schmaltzy wraparound, which gives us nothing but some wrinkly baseball, one of Madonna’s least memorable songs and Geena Davis as a thoroughly unconvincing pensioner. Which is a shame; if the bread in the sandwich is stale, the meat is tasty and filling.

From 1943 to 1954, women played professional baseball, a fact largely forgotten until this film. Davis plays the star catcher, taken from the countryside to play ball – giving a new meaning to “farm team”, hohoho – along with her sister (Petty). The movie covers the first season, under a recovering alcoholic coach (Hanks), leading to a face-off between siblings in Game 7 of the championship.

Davis is excellent and entirely convincing (she’d go on to make final trials for the US 2000 Olympic archery team): the interplay between her and Hanks is great, and most of her team-mates are also true personalities. However, Madonna is superfluous, given the similar presence of Rosie O’Donnell [I’m struggling to avoid obvious jokes here]. Jon Lovitz steals the first quarter as an acidic scout, and it’s a shame when he leaves.

If the characters are great, there’s a lack of narrative drive; how can you get excited over playoffs, when it looks like every team qualifies? The friction between Davis and Petty vanishes for much of the movie, in favour of a series of entertaining but – being honest – unimportant diversions. When we reach the finale though, it’s great; ever bit as exciting as any World Series Game 7. And coming from an Arizona Diamondbacks fan, that’s praise indeed.

Dir: Penny Marshall
Star: Geena Davis, Lori Petty, Tom Hanks, Rosie O’Donnell

Family Blood

  By

★½
“Bloody hell.”

Tubi TV has become a goldmine of obscure, weird and, very occasionally, wonderful content for me. When I say “obscure”, I mean their selection includes films like this, about which the IMDb has only the barest of information. No external reviews; no user reviews; not even a rating. The film exists, and at the time of writing, nobody on the Internet has apparently noticed. To be honest, there is  good reason for this: it’s another one of those modern blaxploitation vehicles, which seem to exist mostly for the director’s pals to show up on the soundtrack. Yet even by the low standards of that genre, this is technically inept, with woefully shoddy audio and almost no storyline to speak of.

What there is, occurs ten years after the event – not that you’d know it, if it wasn’t for a caption saying “TEN YEARS EARLIER”.  Det. Lens Smith (Stagger) tells the story of his ultimately unsuccessful efforts to locate a group of women assassins, operating at the time in Las Vegas. There was Dawn (Jaye), Phoenix (Cantrell)… and it then appears the group ran out of proper names, with the others being called Red Death (Douglas), White Tiger and – I kid you not – Yellow Fever. I have to repeat, there’s really no plot here. One of them is married to another LVPD detective. There’s some light bickering among the women. At the end, Det. Smith gets up and walks away, vowing to re-open the case. That’s it. 

Pluses are hard to find. It’s barely an hour long: that’s one. Initially, I thought it might eschew the usual crap rap, with the first murder accompanied by electro-Celtic bagpiping, which was at least different. This didn’t last long, unfortunately. There are occasional moments of droll humour, referencing the Die Hard and Lethal Weapon franchises, and one victim gets an extra bullet, for having had the temerity to touch his assassin’s ass. Though most of the killings are uninteresting or even unintentionally laughable. What assassin worth their salt, would climb to the roof of a building to try and shoot their victim on the sidewalk with a silenced handgun? I know nothing about guns and still realize that’s flat-out stupid.

As is sadly common, the audio is about the worst aspect. The talking head interview of Det. Smith is the only time where this is acceptable. Anything outside is doomed to be muffled; anything inside is equally inevitably afflicted with a tinny echo. I had to keep my finger permanently hovering over the volume button, turning it up whenever anyone was speaking, knowing that at any second the crap rap would burst out and send my ear-drums to Bleeding Town. In the end, I enabled the closed captions instead. Problem solved. The women are reasonably attractive, and keep their clothes on, with nothing more than a bit of cleavage to show for your troubles. It’s all, very definitely, not one of Tubi’s finest moments.

Dir: Bowfinger Stagger
Star: Kevin Stagger, Marlo Jaye, Porsha Cantrell, Ta’Sha Douglas

Paradise Highway

  By

★★½
“Mother trucker.”

I spent much of the first thirty minutes here going “That can’t be Juliette Binoche.” Yet, it is, the French actress looking thoroughly unglamorous and very convincing in her portrayal of white trash trucker Sally. Her brother Dennis (Frank Grillo, whose role isn’t as big as the poster would have you believe) is in prison, and under pressure from even sketchier parties, so Sally has been delivering packages for said parties as she criss-crosses the country. He’s about to get out, so this will be her last run. She’s still shocked to discover the item in this case is a very young girl, Leila (Finley), though she has no alternative but to comply. Except, the hand-off goes violently wrong, the intended recipient ending up dead in the dirt. Sally flees with Leila in tow, and tries to figure out what to do. In pursuit are both the girl’s “owners”, and the authorities, led by federal agent Sterling (Monaghan) and ex-agent Gerick (Freeman), who is now an FBI consultant.

If you’re think this seems like a cross between the various versions of Gloria and The Transporter, you would be about right. Things unfold almost entirely as you’d expect, with the relationship between Sally and Leila going from suspicion and mistrust to affection. Nor will you be surprised to discover that Sally has a background of abuse herself, giving her a particular reason to want to protect the child from the thoroughly unpleasant fate for which she was slated [The film never details it, but a scene where Sterling and Gerick find the traffickers’ den gives you enough of an idea] The problem is we don’t need this justification: wanting to protect a child should be the natural response of any right-minded individual. As a result, this set-up is largely a waste of time, and in a film which runs an overlong 115 minutes, is certainly unnecessary.

Much the same goes for the way the film splits its focus between the two pairs: Sally and Leila, or Sterling and Gerick. I couldn’t help feeling they should have stuck to one or the other, instead of what feels almost like an even split, leaving both somewhat under-served. The agents don’t seem to have a particular purpose, except perhaps to indicate that not all agents of the system are bad – despite the way it has clearly and monumentally failed Leila. It’s always a pleasure to watch Freeman act, and that remains the case here. Indeed, the goes for Binoche: all the performances are good enough for their roles, and make the relationships the best thing about this. They just seem to exist in a vacuum, servicing a plot that doesn’t manage much more than a shadowy antagonist until the very end. There are too many under-developed elements, such as the posse of other women truckers, who exist purely to come to Sally’s aid, as and when necessary. This big-rig looks imposing, yet is running empty in terms of any emotional payload.

Dir: Anna Gutto
Star: Juliette Binoche, Hala Finley, Morgan Freeman, Cameron Monaghan

Sever

  By

★★
“When you order À l’interieur on Wish…”

The French film À l’interieur (a.k.a. Inside) is one of the most ferocious and intense of all action-heroine films. It’s the story of a pregnant woman who has to defend herself and her unborn child from an absolute psycho who turns up on the doorstep of her remote house one night. This film, more or less, has the same plot. It is, however, a pale imitation in just about every single way. Where À l’interieur was spare and taut, this is bloated and meandering. When it had nothing but excellent performances, the ones here are largely poor or worse. And while the French movie delivered on its hellish premise, this possesses almost no impact at all.

The targets here are Cord (Caillouet) and Mindy (Kavchak), an apparently happily married couple, who are having a weekend getaway at their family retreat, deep in the Rocky Mountains. Their vacation is interrupted by the arrival on their doorstep of a stranger, a woman who claims to need help. With the cabin having no phone, and ‐ this is my thoroughly unsurprised face – being out of cellphone range, Cord invites her to stay the night, without even consulting his wife. This is the first of many truly poor decisions the couple will make. For the woman is Martha (Cruz), who recently staged a brutal escape from the psychiatric facility in which she was incarcerated, and is now intent on making her unwitting hosts, Cord in particular, pay for the sins of the past.

Which is part of the issue: the resulting narrative is so convoluted it becomes ridiculous. Though especially in the final act, I actually found myself thoroughly amused by its excesses. The problem is, I think I was supposed to take it seriously. Yeah, that’s gonna be a “No” from me, dawg. The other big flaw are the performances of Kavchak and, especially, Caillouet. The former is flat and thoroughly unconvincing as a woman in peril of her life. She is still Oscar-worthy compared to the oak wardrobe which is her on-screen husband, delivering lines with all the energy of an airport departure announcement. A cord of wood might have made a better Cord.

The only thing which kept this watchable was Cruz (credited as Batya Haynes). Her bible-spouting religious fruitcake was a genuinely scary creature, truly devoted to her philosophy of life. If it may not be one with which you can agree, it is possible to see where she’s coming from. You certainly have to admire the commitment to her chosen purpose, even though such fanaticism is terrifying at the same time. It’s just a shame it’s not a performance in the service of a better movie. I’ve just realized I’m not even sure if Mindy actually was pregnant. If so, it never played much part in proceedings. I suspect I may simply have spliced that plot-point in from another, far superior one. No prizes for guessing where.

Dir: Matthew Ryan Anderson
Star: Batya Cruz, Maia Kavchak, Garret Caillouet, Phyllis Spielman

Black Site (2022)

  By

★★★
“Better Red(box) than Net(flix).”

This has a fair amount in common with the disaster which was Interceptor. Both films were produced for streaming companies, and are about a sole woman in a remote military location, that is attacked by a terrorist or groups of terrorists. She then has to survive, take on the threat, deal with treachery on the inside, and handle a ticking clock scenario. It is fairly basic storytelling, occasionally dumb, and there’s nothing of note in either, we haven’t seen a hundred times before, with male or female leads. However, this is significantly more watchable, perhaps because it doesn’t push the envelope. One problem with Interceptor was its #MeToo messaging. There’s no such soap-box concerns here, and Black Site is better for it.

The heroine is Abby Trent (Monaghan), a CIA analyst whose husband and daughter were blown up in a terrorist attack on an “Istanbul” hospital. I use quotes, because when the camera zooms out to a satellite view, Istanbul has apparently relocated, from Turkey to somewhere down the Red Sea in Saudi Arabia. It’s not the last time the film’s geography is shaky. Anyway, Abby devotes her life to tracking down “Hatchet”, the man responsible, and is currently working at a secret interrogation facility in the Jordanian desert. Two things about it made me go “Hmmm.” Firstly, it doubles as a data storage location: that’s a no from me in IT. Second, a Mossad (Israeli intelligence) agent is wandering about. Seems unlikely.

Anyway, #2. Hatchet (Clarke) is captured and sent to the facility, only to escape almost immediately. A lockdown is put in place, but comms get cut off, and the rules – at least in this movie – are that after an hour, they’ll be deemed compromised, and a drone strike will wipe everyone out. Abby has to figure out Hatchet’s agenda, deal with insubordination and flat-out double-agents on her side, and discover the truth about the hospital bombing before the clock runs out. Despite the various idiocies noted above, it is all kept moving forward at a decent pace. Once things kick off with Hatchet’s Houdini-like escape and particularly vicious stabbing of his first two victims, there’s little slack or down-time until things go boom.

I’d like to have seen Monaghan given more to do on the action front. There is a decent fight against the in-house traitor; otherwise, she is largely limited to creeping about corridors with a gun. There are subplots, such as the team member who thinks his active experience puts him above taking orders from Abby, which ends with him taking on Hatchet hand-to-hand in a decent battle, albeit with an entirely expected outcome. Indeed, the same can be said for the film as an entity. There are no surprises, yet the action is handled in a professional manner, and this helps paper over the obvious flaws. Director Banks does solid work, considering this was her first feature, so we’ll see where she goes from here.

Dir: Sophia Banks
Star: Michelle Monaghan, Jason Clarke, Jai Courtney, Pallavi Sharda

Death Hunt

  By

★½
“What a stupid hunt…”

Despite a striking poster (well played, PR team), for the first hour, you’ll probably be wondering why this is included here. Corporate lawyer Ray Harper (Tucci) is on the road, trying to convince reluctant local farmers to sell their land for development. He’s also taking advantage of the away time to hook up with his bit on the side, Brooke Hamilton (Malcolm). Both these enterprises are rudely interrupted when the couple are pulled over by corrupt cop, Williams (Johnston), and abducted at gunpoint. They are the next “guests” on an island run by TJ (McDonald), where he and his pals can get together to hunt… The Most Dangerous Game. Except, they can’t find any of that, so have to make do with a middle-aged executive and his other woman.

There have been a whole bunch of these in the past, with the results ranging widely in quality. Done correctly e.g. The Hunt, they can be thoroughly entertaining. Done badly, however… Oh, look: here we are. For this gets just about everything wrong. Let’s start with the genuinely terrible audio mix, in which the dialogue is frequently buried entirely. On the other hand, not hearing the dialogue is often for the best. The redneck hunters come off the worst in this department, being given lines which Larry the Cable Guy would reject as stereotypical and cliched. Just to show how evil they are, the director hangs a Confederate flag on the wall of the island cabin. That’s the level of subtlety we plunge into here.

It’s a good 40 minutes before any significant hunting gets going, and when it does, the entire rest of the film is characterized by rank stupidity on everyone’s part. The hunters mention this is the fifth year they’ve done this, and frankly it’s a miracle they haven’t shot each other in that time, such is the level of their incompetence. They can’t even hit a target which is standing still, in the open, in front of them. Fortunately for the trio, Ray is no more blessed in the woodcraft smarts department, and this brings us to the final 30 minutes, where Brooke suddenly turns into Rambolina. This is a surprise to everyone, since there’s absolutely no foreshadowing of this, such as her being ex-army, or even having a concealed carry permit.

It could have become a sly commentary on sexual politics, with “the little woman” ending up being the one best equipped to survive the situation, going from overlooked bimbo to overpowering. However, that’s a transition which would require actual writing skill, something apparently entirely absent in the creators here. Instead, she ends up more or less handed fully loaded automatic weapons, a radio, and all the equipment needed to survive and turn the tables. Do not get me started on the box full of dynamite conveniently stashed in the cabin. At least they do appear to blow things up physically, rather than relying on crappy CGI explosions. That’s a small mercy indeed.

Dir: Neil Mackay
Star: Marlene Malcolm, Terry McDonald, Omar Tucci, Greg Johnston