Tag: USA

Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby

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★½
“Hugely disappointing sequel, that’ll make you want to hurl.”

Wow. This is dreadful, and I speak as someone who enjoyed its predecessor, appreciating its excessive updating of Little Red Riding Hood. Bright tries to capture lightning in a bottle here, this time going for Hansel and Gretel, but it’s largely a miserable failure, imploding in screeching one-note performances from the two leads and far too many scenes of teenage girls vomiting. Yep. Girls vomiting. The scenario has Crystal Van Meter (Lyonne) sentenced to 25 years in prison, by a judge (a cameo by John Landis) fed-up of her petty criminality. There, she meets fellow desperado Angela “Cyclona” Garcia (Celedonio), a teenage serial killer with even more anti-social tendencies. After much binging and purging, the pair break out and go on the lam, heading for Tijuna and Sister Gomez, whom Garcia believes can solve their problems. But the Sister is not quite what she seems… as should be clear when I tell you she’s played by Vincent Gallo.

That chunk is really the only area where the film is remotely salvageable, capturing the surreal horror of a depraved, cannibalistic Mexican cult, which is both grim and Grimm. Until that point, however, you have painfully little of interest, with Bright failing to provide anything that’s interesting in the way of characters, plot or even bad-taste, despite one sequence where Crystal projectile vomits over a guard, in a manner last seen in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, and she is just about as repugnant a creation as Mr. Creosote. Indeed, the whole film is shot through with an unpleasant loathing of all humanity, whether it’s her lawyer (David Alan Grier), who gets public hand-jobs from his clients, or the two cops trailing the fugitives. It’s a nasty, sneering approach which leaves the viewer wanting to take a shower, even if you discount the fascinated depiction of bulimic regurgitation.

Even if you stick to the simple math, Lyonne is clearly much less than Reese Witherspoon in the original, and for the first hour you’ve got absolutely no reason to watch: I’ll confess I spent some time in the next room, trying to fix a computer, rather than listening to the leads’ screeching at each other. Chris bailed in the first scene, claiming she had a strong aversion to Grier, and while I initially was peeved by her snap judgment, in the end, I can’t argue she was dead right.

Dir: Matthew Bright
Star: Natasha Lyonne, María Celedonio, Vincent Gallo, Bob Dawson

Bare Knuckles

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★★
“Disappointing where it matters, surprisingly good where it doesn’t.”

Samantha Rogers (Roxborough) works in a bar, where her no-nonsense approach draws the attention of somewhat shady fight agent Sonny Cool (Kove), who convinces her to try her hand in the world of unsanctioned women’s MMA. While the money’s good, a brutal beating at the hands of current champion Mona (Bridgett Riley) convinces Rogers to give up. However, Cool comes knocking on her door with news of a 16-woman contest with a six-figure, winner take all payout, that would set single-mom Rogers and her disabled daughter (Roxborough’s real daughter) up for life. The bad news is in two parts: it’s no-holds barred, and Mona will also be in the field, along with thoroughly shady agent Nedish (Mandylor), for whom Cool has no affection.

Yeah, stop me if you’ve heard that plotline before. This would be tolerable – heck, JCVD pretty much made a career out of it – if the action was anything to write home about, but it occupies an uneasy ground between being realistic and choreographed, which satisfies as neither. This results in the viewer watching a supposed MMA fight, in which the combatants do front-flips, splits and other moves that you just do not see inside the octagon. Similarly, these are supposedly the baddest women on the planet…and they all look like supermodels? I’m also forced to wonder how an event, staged in front of, ooh, perhaps dozens of people, can fund a purse of half a million dollars. If that truly were the case, I’d have sold this site to News Corp, and be typing this from a beach somewhere in the South Pacific.

Surprisingly, the best things about this are the performances. Roxborough is convincing, Kove unexpectedly likeable, Mandylor appropriately sleazy and Mulkey, as Al the trainer, channels Michael Madsen to good effect. I imagine Etebari probably met Roxborough on the set of Witchblade, where he played Ian Nottingham, and she doubled for Yancy Butler. [I note, with amusement, that a scene with Oscar-winner Sir Anthony Hopkins, who happened to be on location one day, ended up on the cutting-room floor!] Perhaps the standout was Spice Williams-Crosby as a veteran fighter, who advises Samantha – she has been doing stunt-work for over a quarter of a century now, and brings that experience and intensity to her supporting role. However, on balance, I’d rather have had action that worked and acting that didn’t; the end result is largely forgettable and fails to deliver as promised.

Dir: Eric Etebari
Star: Jeanette Roxborough, Martin Kove, Louis Mandylor, Chris Mulkey

War Cat

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½
“Time to put this cat out, permanently. “

There aren’t many times I agree with censorship, but the British Board of Film Classification rejected this movie entirely when it was submitted in 1987. I’d like to thank them for saving the public from this appalling piece of dreck for 25 years, even if I think they were probably confusing it with Abel Ferrara’s Ms. 45, which was also known as Angel of Vengeance in the UK. I can’t believe they actually watched this, as it’s so entirely harmless, the only threat it could have posed to the public at large would have been from the wholesale gnawing off of limbs, by viewers desperate to escape the ordeal.

I’ve seen a few Mikels movies now, in and out of our genre here: none have been great, few have even reached acceptable, but this was truly the bottom of the cinematic barrel. In Mikels’ defense, it was a troubled production, to say the least, with original director Ray Dennis Steckler being fired two days into shooting. Producer Jeff Hogue “came up with new ideas almost every day,” according to Mikels, and the cast included Poynter, who had been a cocktail waitress at a Las Vegas casino wuth no acting experience at all. It’s remarkable anything ended up getting released at all.

The story, such as it is by the time all this was endured, focuses on a militia group out in the desert, under Major Hargrove (O’Hara), and to a significantly lesser degree, on Tina Davenport (Poynter), who is writing a book on her deceased father, who just happened to be a soldier. This attracts the attention of some of the more brutish members of Hargrove’s survivalists, who end up kidnapping Tina and taking her out to the camp. Hargrove is annoyed by this, having recently spent a significant chunk of the running-time killing a biker gang, but agrees to Tina’s proposal to give her a chance. Rather than killing her outright, he lets her go, to provide a training exercise for his men, by hunting her down. Of course, her military background means they’re in for a nasty surprise.

It’s nowhere near as interesting at that may sound, not least because the hunt only takes place in the last 30 minutes or less of the movie, and is so badly put-together and executed as to suck any life out of the concept. Up until then, you’ve got to endure an endless stream of scenes that redefine “turgid,” and don’t develop storyline or character. Not even entertainingly bad, just incredibly boring: avoid, at all costs.

Dir: Ted V. Mikels
Star: David O’Hara, Jannina Poynter, Macka Foley, Carl Irwin
a.k.a. Angel of Vengeance

Chikara: Joshimania

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★★★★
“They Came From Japan…”

If I’d heard about this event in advance – rather than the first I saw of it being a review of the opening night – a road-trip to the East coast might have been in order. For this would have been a chance to see some of the giants of Japanese women’s wrestling – known as “joshi” – on a rare trip to the United States for three shows on successive nights. That includes Toyota who, in her mid-90s heyday, was perhaps the best female wrestler ever, and was among the very best, of either gender, at the time: from 1992-95, she wrestled in no less than ten bouts rated as five-star by the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, two of which were named the world-wide Match of the Year. Fifteen years later, I was curious to see if she and other icons like Kong could still bring it, and also to check out Sara Del Rey. A few years ago, Del Rey had been a regular part of IZW, the local promotion we helped at, and her reputation now had her among the best indie workers in the US.

Some general thoughts before we get into each event. If you’re used to the WWE and their “divas”, these events would be a startling change, on a whole variety of levels. Most obviously: the matches aren’t three minute bathroom breaks. For instance, on the debut show, all the women’s matches ran for at least ten minutes, with Toyota vs. Toshie Uematsu running just short of twenty. And, just as important, the skills on view are undeniable, both technically and from the ‘in-ring story telling’ point of view – which is basically an ignored aspect in WWE, where it’s get in, string a few spots together, pin-fall and get out. Here, there’s a palpable sense of effort going in to building a character as heel or face, especially necessary in a one-off set of shows like this, where there’s no back story on which the crowd or wrestling can rely to create atmosphere.

As with just about all wrestling shows, not all matches are equally good, or equally relevant. and I’ll generally be concentrating on the the main bouts more than the undercards – though there were still some moments worth mentioning from the latter. The three nights of Joshimania also included some men’s bouts: Chikara is mostly a male promotion, with even Del Rey fighting against men. I acknowledge the existence of these matches here, and will not cover these again, though they were generally entertaining.

Night 1: December 2, ECW Arena, Philadelphia. A good example of those “mentionable moment” came in the opening contest, an inter-gender match where the joshi trio of Kaori Yoneyama, Tsubasa Kuragaki & Hanako Nakamori beat the Chikara heel team of Archibald Peck and Los Ice Creams. This ended with the submission move shown below on the left, in which Kuragaki lifted two opponents across her shoulders. It was the move of the night, amazing especially if you consider that most divas – with the honorable exceptions of Beth Phoenix and Kharma (who was a tag partner of Aja Kong in Japan in the mid-2000’s) – would crack in a stiff breeze. That was the highlight of the undercard, with the GAMI vs. Sawako Shimono bout rather slow and uninteresting, coming across as too obviously staged.

Things perked up with Cherry & Ayako Hamada vs. Mayumi Ozaki & Mio Shirai, the latter playing the cheating heels to impeccable effect, and this really showcased the character aspect of pro wrestling. In particular, the veteran Ozaki had a grudge against the “rookie” Cherry, and concentrated on bullying her every chance she could get, legally or otherwise. It’s the first time I’d seen Shirai, and she made a great impression too, in what was probably the most entertaining bout of the opening evening. Manami Toyota is now into her forties, and has probably lost a step or two from her peak, but is still an unrivalled combination of high-flier and technical expertise – her misile drop-kicks remain a thing of wonder. Her opponent was Toshie Uematsu, another veteran, albeit one three years younger than Toyota. This was a solid enough match, between a pair of veterans who are more than familiar with each other, but the lack of an obvious heel/face may have robbed this of some drama.

No such problem with the final bout: it was clear who was who, from the moment Kong spurned Del Rey’s offer of a handshake pre-bout, leading the US wrestler to yell “Too good to shake my hand, Aja?” at her opponent. Del Rey threw everything she at at Kong right from the start, but Kong wouldn’t go down – for instance, after being hit by Del Rey’s headbutts, she went over and started headbutting the corner turnbuckle. What this did was set up the later parts, when Del Rey’s offense did have an impact, such as the massive suplex dropping Kong on her back. Del Rey took her share of punishment, including a metal can to the head after the a ref bump took the official out. The finish came after Kong missed her finisher, the uraken or spinning back fist; Del Rey took advantage to roll Kong up for the pin, ending the first night’s events.

Night 2: December 4, Everett Rec Center, Boston. Okay, a little outside Boston, technically, but let’s not split suburbs. Many of the same competitors from last night were seen again, with the matches swapped around to provide a different set of contests. The crowd looked a bit smaller than Night 1, but were probably a little bit more into things – it’s amusing to be reminded of how wrestling fans anywhere (be it Massachusetts or Arizona), tend to react the same way. More than once, I thought, “Is that Chikara’s equivalent of ?” Wherever you go, there you are. Which has probably just made this the only review of Joshimania to quote Confucius. Or Buckaroo Banzai, if you prefer.

Quickly to go through the undercard, GAMI still continues to underwhelm; watching her and her opponents dawdle their way across the ring at leisurely paces, was like watching furniture being rearranged. However, Kaori Yoneyama did prove impressive in her match against Hanako Nakamori. That was especially so, given her small stature – she’s only 4’11” – but that did not reduce her impact in the match one bit. It was mentioned several times that Yoneyama was going to retire shortly, but it seems this tour helped lead to a change of heart, with Yoneyama announcing, literally during her retirement ceremony, that she’d be carrying on. Glad to hear that, since I enjoyed her matches: the promoters of that final event were none too happy, and had to offer refunds to those who’d attended!

Things literally kicked into high-gear with Mayumi Ozaki vs. Mio Shirai – they’d been losing tag partners last night, and based on this one, each blamed the other, because this was phenomenally stiff. Shirai’s kicks and Ozaki’s punches were the stuff of nightmares: the latter won out in the end, and even Chris nodded approvingly, saying “This is real women’s wrestling.” Hard to argue with that. Sara Del Rey took on Tsubasa Kuragaki in the next match, which for my money just took Bout of the Night honours, though it was hard to separate the singles matches in terms of quality. This was a blitzkrieg of perpetual near-falls, and you had the sense the match could end at any time, in either direction, which made for engrossing viewing. An amazing strength move by Del Rey, suplexing her opponent, out of the Royal Butterfly submission hold [with both her opponent’s feet already off the floor], proved decisive.

Manami Toyota was in action next, but as part of an 8-man tag match – or, rather, a 6-man 2-woman match. Listing the participants would use up all my space, so I’ll just say it was as packed with action as you’d expect from such a crowded ring, though I’d rather have seen a ring goddess like Toyota as more than 1/4 of one side, even if she was certainly involved more than one-quarter of the time. I was a little surprised, given their lengthy track record, we didn’t see the “obvious” match of Toyota vs. Kong, one-on-one, in this series. Instead, the main event here was Kong vs. Ayako Hamada, with Hamada giving away about 80 lbs or so. Can’t say I felt the outcome here was ever in doubt, but credit Hamada for withstanding much punishment, e.g. Kong stomping on her body, before catching an uraken. Goodnight, Vienna: though even Kong – ever the monster heel – acknowledged Hamada’s effort after the bout, a nice touch.

Night 3: December 5, Highline Ballroom, Manhattan One of the problems with one-off shows like this is there’s no possible story arc; a key aspect of pro wrestling is threads that run over multiple consecutive events, typically building to a big finish in some way. With a fresh audience each night, that’s not possible here, but what is lacking there is largely made up for in personality and ongoing character. By the time I got to the third show, I knew that Mayumi Ozaki would cheat like a three-card hustler, Aja Kong would no-sell just about every bit of offense thrown at her, and Sara Del Rey would stand her ground against the best joshi could throw at her. This predictability might seem a deficiency, but it’s what we want. This is soap opera with violence, and is designed to give viewers what they want, not confound expectations. This night’s showed delivered impeccably.

On the undercard, I should mention Saturyne, who was one half of an impromptu tag-team taking on Los Ice Creams, and was more or less an unknown. She made a good impression, taking a good deal of punishment but also showcasing some spectacular high-flying moves. One to watch. This was followed by GAMI vs. Portia Perez, and while I was unimpressed with the former in the other two nights, this was her best match of the weekend, with some great strength moves, including holding a vertical suplex for a full 20 seconds. The final match of the half saw Toshie Uematsu fit in nicely with the demonic Batari trio, and take on Cherry and the Colony (all three Ant fighters) in an eight-person bout that was no less frantic than the one the previous night.

It was certainly warmly appreciated by the audience, and I they were the “extra man” which helped make this night’s show the best one. They seemed really into almost every bout, and their reaction to the moves certainly enhanced their impact. It was a “cosy” venue, with the fans almost on the edge of the ring, and this made for a great atmosphere, despite the early 4pm start. After intermission, they really started to get into things with the Ozaki vs. Yoneyama match – as noted above, this delivered exactly what you’d expect, with the OZ twisting all the rules and Yoneyama [coming to the ring in s head-dress, for some reason…] taking all the punishment and bouncing back like a Duracell bunny made of latex. I think it was this bout which included a Human Centipede reference from the commentator. Not something you get on WWE.

Manami Toyota, Sawako Shimono & Hanako Nakamori vs. Aja Kong, Tsubasa Kuragaki & Mio Shirai. Frak me, this was good. If you buy only one DVD, Show #3 would be it, and if you watch only one match on one DVD, it’s this one. It ran for twenty-eight minutes, fifty-seven second. Let me repeat that. No, better yet, merely appreciate it was about ten times as long as your average Divas contest, and that’d include the WWE introductions. And you know another thing? There wasn’t a dull moment. Little wonder the crowd were chanting “This is awesome!” while the bout was still in progress. I was expecting this mostly to focus on Kong and Toyota, but it was a real barn-burner, with all six women both taking and delivering an impeccable showcase for women’s wrestling. While most of the matches in these three night were good, this one was outstandingly well-paced and entertaining.

The last bout had Sara Del Rey go for the triple-crown, having gone 2-0 against Kong and Kuragaki so far. Ayako Hamada stood in her way, and this one started cautiously, with both women trying to find an opening that would give them an advantage. Eventually, however, all such pretense at subtlety was replaced by them kicking each other in the head. Repeatedly. With feeling. Del Rey eventually prevailed after fifteen or so minutes, courtesy of a spike piledriver, to complete her undefeated run. While a solid main event, it definitely came up a step or two short of the fabulous bout which immediately preceded it. However, given the amazing pedigree of those involved, Del Rey shouldn’t be embarrassed in any significant way.

Conclusion. This was a heck of an event, and kudos are due to Quackenbush and the entire Chikara organization for the undeniably huge effort that went into putting these three shows on. It’s probably not much of a stretch to describe them as the finest series of women’s wrestling shows ever put on in the United States, and for any fan of the genre, the DVDs – available from Smart Mark Video for $15 each, and the digital downloads are less than ten bucks – are almost essential. As noted, if you can only get one, the third night is likely the one to have, containing the standout bout of the trilogy, as well as a number of extremely solid other matches. And even if all you’ve ever done is yawn your way through a two-minute Divas match on Monday Night RAW, this is the equivalent of a triple-shot expresso, injected directly into a vein.

Date: December 2-4, 2011: Philadelphia, Boston, New York.
Star: Manami Toyota, Sara Del Ray, Aja Kong, Mayumi Ozaki
[Tip of the GWG hat to Minoh Kim for the Sara Del Rey illo, and Makeway Graphix for the event poster.]

Hired to Kill

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★★½
“A product of a different era, when men were men…and so were the women.”

Mercenary Frank Ryan (Thompson) is hired by a shadowy private entiry to go to a Mediterranean dictatorship, and bust out the leader (José Ferrer) of the rebels, so he can lead a revolt against current leader Michael Bartos (Oliver Reed). The only way to get in, is for Ryan to become a “faggot” fashion designer, along with a team of special-ops trained supermodels – or perhaps that should be, supermodel trained special-ops ladies, since they’re mostly bailed out of Turkish prisons, federal detention facilities, or otherwise have dubious pasts. After putting on their fashion show, and gaining Bartos’s trust, the team hit the road and head cross-country to the remote jail where the leader is being sequestered.

I liked the subversive nature of this. Ryan is a homophobe, making his role somewhat troublesome – particularly when Bartos grabs his junk and snogs him, to see if Reed’s undercover persona is who he claims (the most horrible thing about that is probably Reed’s handlebar mustache). And he’s also a chauvinist, bordering on the misogynist, unimpressed with his female associates, despite their obvious competence, especially crossing swords with local contact Ana (Moffett) – naturally, they end up bonking. Hey, it was 1990… I also enjoyed the variety of action heroines, each of whom have their own skills, useful to the mission, and genuine characters; despite the ubermacho cover, featuring Thompson looking very rugged, it does qualify for inclusion here.

What doesn’t work is the plot. The supermodel angel is just too ludicrous and contrived a concept to be credible in any way, and if you can’t come up with a hundred better reasons, you’re not trying. Also, let’s just say, what counted as “high fashion” at the time…now, not so much. There are other script holes, such as Bartos conveniently deciding to fly his chopper right into the battle zone, on discovering the plan. This helpfully sets up the final showdown (and, unfortunately, also led to the death of stuntman Clint Carpenter while performing an aerial stunt); however, it’s not quite what we saw from, oh, Colonel Gadaffi. Still, this entertaining nonsense should keep your eyelids open as things unfold, and the scenery (of both kinds) is pleasing enough.

Dir: Nico Mastorakis and Peter Rader
Star: Brian Thompson, Michelle Moffett, Barbara Lee Alexander, Jordana Capra

Bail Enforcers

  By

★★½
“Insert “Can’t get no Stratus-faction” pun here.”

The films put out starring WWE wrestlers are a bit of a mixed bag: some are mindlessly entertaining, while others are near unwatchable. And much the same goes for their Diva’s division: some are actually good wrestlers, others are clearly chosen for their looks. Stratus does probably fall into the former category, but this doesn’t do her adequate justice, and top-billing is probably a bit of a stretch – she’s held hostage more than she kicks ass. She plays Jules, one of three bounty-hunters, who pick up a guy that suggests a deal: let him go, and he’ll point them to a wanted man with a $100,000 reward. They accept, but when taking the guy in, get a call from mob boss Hal Lambino (Rafla) who offers them one million dollars if they deliver the bail-jumper to him instead. Needless to say, the transaction doesn’t go smoothly.

Stratus isn’t bad, especially considering this is her feature debut. However, cinematic fighting isn’t the same thing as fighting the WWE, and it shows: bounty hunters shouldn’t be using flying scissors and hurricanranas – it takes the viewer completely out of the scenario they are trying to build. To be honest, in that department, Stratus is entirely outclassed by Andrea James Lui, who plays one of Lambino’s heavies, and is impressive in every action scene she has – the two fights the pair have against each other, including a confined-space battle in an ambulance, showcase the difference in styles nicely. If you think Stratus looks better, you’re clearly a fan.

The main problem beyond this is a tired storyline, with aspects that should simply have been strangled at birth. For example, Jules working as a waitress in a strip-club, which is purely an excuse to get her into a schoolgirl uniform, serving no point otherwise. Fortunately, Chris has bailed for Facebook poker on seeing the words “Trish Stratus” – her tolerance for WWE Divas is close to zero – or the sarcasm levels in the room might have bordered on the lethal. There are ooccasionally moments of levity, mostly from Phillips; it’s worth sticking around for the end credits, to see some of the alternative takes unleashed. However, there’s little here which isn’t familiar, and between the brawls, it doesn’t do enough to hold the viewer’s attention.

Dir: Patrick McBrearty
Star: Trish Stratus, Boomer Phillips, Frank J. Zupancic, Joe Rafla
a.k.a. Bounty Hunters

Haywire

  By

★★★★½
“First Form at Mallory Towers”

Soderbergh has never shied away from using unconventional cast members in his movies. Bubble was made entirely with non-professional actors, and when he wanted someone to play a high-class call-girl for The Girlfriend Experience, he went with renowned adult actress, Sasha Grey. Continuing this trend, Haywire revolves around MMA star Carano, which I guess means Soderbergh’s recent leading ladies could, in real life, kick your ass or lick your ass. Ok, I’ll stop. Here, Carano plays Mallory Kane – I keep wanting to type Mallory Knox – an employee of a shady private contracting firm with links to the government, who do the dirty jobs for which the feds want plausible deniability.

We first meet her in a diner, where Aaron (Tatum) meets her. It’s clear there’s some tension, with Aaron having been ordered to bring her in. After a brief, brutal brawl, she knocks him out and escapes, in a car belonging to startled patron Scott (Angarano). There she reveals what led up to that day: an operation in Barcelona, supposedly to rescue a hostage, followed by another in Dublin, which turned out to be an attempt to tidy up the loose ends from Barcelona, The plan is to frame Kane for multiple murders and portray her as a rogue operative. Kane needs to get to her boss, Kenneth (McGregor), and expose the truth before she’s gunned down.

It’s a deliberately-vague plot, with the characters speaking in clipped obscurisms, that leave the audience to piece things together. Don’t worry, it all becomes clear by the end, but it is probably fair to say that you have to pay a bit more attention than is usual for this kind of Hollywood thriller, between the fractured timeline and doubtful loyalties of most characters. It’s economical, at a tight 91 minutes (about 22 minutes shorter than the average Jason Bourne movie to date), and much like Carano, there’s not much fat on its bones: every scene serves a distinct purpose, which is definitely the way I like my movies.

I find it hard to criticize Carano’s acting, because it’s not clear how much acting is involved. Mallory Kane does not just possess physical prowess, but one who is also extremely comfortable with using it, and has a quiet confidence in her abilities. Any similarity to Carano is clearly not coincidental, and there isn’t much more required of her, in terms of emotion or depth. Unlike most action heroines there is no “personal” agenda e.g. Sarah Connor in T2, Ellen Ripley in Aliens, or The Bride in Kill Bill, it’s simply a case that her enemies are out to get her. In that aspect, Knox is not a particularly-“feminine” character. Just as Salt was originally envisaged as a male role, it’s easy to imagine someone like Jason Statham playing this part; hardly any plot changes would be needed.

And then there’s the ass-kicking, of various kinds. It’s good, Carano demonstrating a no-nonsense style that’s highly-effective. Perhaps too effective, in fact, since it seems that hardly any of the fights last longer than about 30 seconds – even the hotel bedroom one, which is certainly one of the roughest male/female brawls seen this side of Terminator 3, feels like it ends, just about when it should be getting going. While it’s nice to be left wanting more, rather than less, it’s still not quite the all-you-can-eat buffet of action I wanted. There also is no real sense of escalation; her final battle isn’t particularly different from the one which opens the film, in the diner; it has another location, and that’s about it, there’s no indication her adversary is any more of a challenge.

While the battles are well crafted – I note that the fight co-ordinator was J.J. Perry, who worked on Sunland Heat back in 2005 – perhaps my favorite scene was not actually one of them, but an extended scene where Mallory has to shake off her pursuers in Dublin. It is adequately extended, contains a number of twists and turns over its length, and showcases Carano’s physical prowess in more than just brutality, as she glides through and over buildings. I also enjoyed a snowy car-chase, which ends in a way which, I’m prepared to bet, you haven’t seen in a movie before. One senses Soderbergh and writer Lem Dobbs enjoyed playing with the usual expectations of the genre.

It’s certainly shot in typical Soderbergh style. He throws all manner of styles in there, from black-and-white through hand-held to the heavy use of colour filters. Mostly, these flourishes enhance the film, rather than distracting from it, and a billion nods of approval are due for avoiding the rapid-cut style of editing, which is the bane of modern action cinema (except for the rare cases where it’s done properly). Still, there’s no question it’s obvious who made it, to the point that I actually laughed when a shot of Kenneth appeared in sepia – having seen Traffic, I knew, before it was explained, that he had to be in Mexico.

All told, if not quite an all-time classic, this is more than acceptable, upper-tier work. Carano is by no means out of her depth, despite a heavyweight supporting cast including the likes of Michael Douglas and Antonio Banderas, and has an understated charisma which works in her favour. I don’t know if her future plans involving returning to the octagon, or sticking with the acting, but if it’s the latter, she’d certainly be a welcome addition to the (fairly short) roster of credible action-heroines from which Hollywood can draw.

Dir: Steven Soderbergh
Star: Gina Carano, Ewan McGregor, Channing Tatum, Michael Angarano

Mama’s Dirty Girls

  By

★★½
“Poster not necessarily representative of movie contents.”

While the title suggests something inspired by Corman’s Big Bad Mama, this is a contemporary tale which, in some ways, is actually closer to Faster Pussycat. It has a great deal more nudity, right from the opening scene in which Becky (Rialson) stares into a mirror, and puts on her bikini-top… very… slowly… However, the titular Mama (Grahame) is nowhere near the level of Varla, and the movie feels more like a pale imitation, despite the additional breasts.

Mama Love is a ‘black widow’, who travels the country, finding rich, eligible men whom she marries and then disposes of – in the first case we see, faking her husband’s suicide after using Becky to lure him into a compromising situation. Moving on, they stop at a motel owned by Harold (Lambert), whose wife recently died, apparently making him an ideal target for Mama’s wiles. She poses as a rich widow, travelling cross-country while she waits for her inheritance to be settled, and marriage soon follows, but that’s where things get sticky.

For it turns out Harold is a ‘black widower’, having killed his previous spouse and made it look like she drowned. Having exchanged wills leaving each other the beneficiary, both he and Mama ach now believe the other to be rich, and are out to collect. Meanwhile, one daughter has fallen for the local sheriff, helping him out of his loveless marriage in the only way she knows how, by killing his wife, and the motel’s sub-normal handyman has his eye on another daughter. It all eventually snowballs, into Harold taking a hostage and running for the hills, with Mama, the sheriff and everyone else in hot pursuit.

The makers are a good deal more interested in sex than violence, as far as exploitation goes. If I’d been directing this, I’d have turned the second half into a blackly-humourous War of the Roses story, with Mama and Harold going to ever more extreme lengths to collect. As is, the cast are generally a cut above the usual – if well short of Tura Satana and her crew – but they are largely stuck in a storyline that doesn’t have sufficient content, and delivers what it has with less than adequate energy to make this memorable.

Dir: John Hayes
Star: Gloria Grahame, Paul Lambert, Sondra Currie, Candice Rialson

Stand Off

  By

★★★½
“Reservoir Bitches“

A series of bank raids has local police baffled: ‘The Executives’ specialize in slick, swift in and outs, never over-reaching themselves. They’re also very well-dressed, which might actually be a clue, since these four robbers are women, under veteran criminal Fox (Evans). But all is not well in this gang of thieves, with some seeking a bigger score. Matters come to a head when they find a cop (Lombardi) nosing around their headquarters, and a tracking device attached to their van – all signs point to an informant within the gang, Is someone seeking to take over from Fox? Or is Fox herself tired of her accomplices? Let the accusations – and the bullets – fly.

The obvious touchstone can be found in the brief summary above, though clocking in at a crisp 61 minutes, the script does avoid the rambling on about tipping, the meaning of Madonna songs and the other verbal diarrhea which bog just about all of Tarantino’s scripts down. It’s ironic – presumably deliberately – that the Executives explicitly state they take inspiration from the likes of Point Break, while appearing to be blissfully ignorant of the closest parallel for their actual situation. I note that Notarile’s Blinky Productions, as well as original films, make fan films using characters such as Daredevil or Snake Plissken. This feels a little too close to a fan tribute to Reservoir Dogs; given my general skepticism over Tarantino (Kill Bill 1 aside), that’s a mixed blessing.

However, there’s still plenty to enjoy here, even for a Quentinophobe like myself. Notarile has a very good eye for action, directing it with a crisp efficiency that clearly captures what’s going on, generating tension and urgency. The bank-robbery which opens proceedings, for instance, would not be out of place in any Hollywood movie, it’s that slick. Similarly, the gunplay never succumbs to the sloppily-shot mentality, where the only way to figure out what’s going on, is to count the bodies afterwards and see who’s missing. The performances are also solid, with Evans and Santiago the most impressive, though all the characters are drawn and fleshed out effectively.

On the down side, there’s some plot holes that stood out. For instance, why do the gang simply dump the cop in a room, not bothering to handcuff him to anything? And why does he attach a tracker to the van? He has an informant, just ask her where their hide-out is. Something also felt fractionally “off” about the editing of the dialogue. The pacing and rhythm was sometimes weird, as if the conversations were spliced together from multiple different takes, and as a result, don’t always flow as they should.

All told, however, these are small quibbles, and the bottom line is: we enjoyed it. Someone should give Blinky enough money for a proper movie – but I suspect, Notarile will likely keep on making films, whether anyone does or not! I’ll be looking out for them.

[Director Chris Notarile emailed us to say, “The reason why the tracking device was on the van at all was pretty simple. It was part of Cole’s plan. If he were to call the cops in, and ______ (spoiler!) was going to be his informant, it would be best if he made it look as official as possible. A tracking device seemed cooler than him just randomly knowing or popping up. As for him being locked up, the girls didn’t think he’d break free the first time, but he did – thus Fox cuffed him the second time.]

Dir: Chris R. Notarile
Star: Mandy Evans, Kim Santiago, Kerri Miller, Roberto Lombardi

Warriors of the Apocalypse

  By

★
“We watch this shit, so you don’t have to.”

And winner of ‘Least Accurate Movie Tag-line of 2011’ goes to this one, by a country mile. “Sucker Punch on steroids”? Well, let me tell you something. I know Sucker Punch. And Warriors, you’re no Sucker Punch. The drugs reference is fitting, though I’m thinking less steroids, and more likely an overdose of Vicodin. Everything about this, from martial-arts fights staged at the speed of a reluctant glacier, through lighting of scenes that’s so poor as often to be non-existent and obvious digital gunfire [as seen in an extended scrap-yard gun-battle, without any glass being shattered at all], to a painful, sludgecore metal soundtrack presumably made by some mate of the producers, combine into a deeply uninteresting viewing experience.

It takes place after the apocalypse, when society has devolved into an almost entirely feral state outside the cities, where a small number of the population survive, and jealously guard their privileges, restricting entry to their number. The rest of the country is left to fend for itself, desperately seeking for what it can to survive in the ruins. Through this blasted land drive Luca (Caine) and her two female friends, with the aim of getting into a city, and with no intention of letting anyone get in their way. This is clear from their first encounter, when a routine stop for water becomes the first in a series of confusingly-composed battles, against an already resident group of scavengers. As well as the locals, they also have to handle soldiers dispatched by city dictator Rollins (D), who is out to stop them reaching their goal.

The lead actresses aren’t bad, even Caine, a veteran of low-rent soft-porn like Lord of the G-Strings. That’s the only positive thing I can say about this, and they certainly deserve an awful lot better than this strictly-amateur effort [and, as we’ve seen already this month with Carlito’s Angels, I have a decent tolerance for microbudget cinema]. But I got bored very quickly with the poorly-staged action, and a cinematographer who thought he could regenerate the missing excitement by shaking the camera violently. How bad was this? I started playing with the Kindle application on my phone…and didn’t even have any books on it to read. Yes: a useless Android app was more engaging and interesting. World War III, as depicted here in copious stock footage of atomic bombs, would actually come as a relief.

[Update: January 2017] Goddamit. Slightly over five years later, I sat and watched this entire piece of garbage again, under an alternate title. I was about to start my review, and it was only when I went to the IMDb page, and saw I’d already rated it, that I discovered it was a rewatch. It failed to hold my attention on a repeat viewing either, and I once again started playing with my phone instead of watching the film!

Dir: Len Kabasinski
Star: Darian Caine, Pamela Sutch, Brian Anthony, Debbie D
a.k.a. Apocalypse Female Warriors