Tag: vigilante

Mary Magnum: Jiu-Jitsu Nun

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★★★
“God forgives… I don’t.”

It’s likely a fair summary, that this film shamelessly uses the above line – the title of a 1967 comedy/Western starring Terence Hill and Bud Spencer – with the straightest of faces. Obviously, the title creates a certain set of expectations, which the film somewhat fulfills. I did tag this as “grindhouse”, but it is light work in this category. If you’re expecting full-on nunsploitation, you will be disappointed. Because, despite being firmly bi, Sister Mary remains more or less firmly attached to her habit. And “more or less” is only because on multiple occasions, she throws off her nun’s garb for dramatic purposes. If this merited an R rating, it’s only going to be for language.

All that aside, the heroine is former soldier Edwina Philomena (Taylor), who has returned to civilian life. She’s torn between her love for Vicky Mendez (Lopez) and her calling to a religious order. The latter wins out, though only briefly. For the new Sister Mary discovers the local priest is a paedophile, and after he threatens her, the military reactions kick in. She keeps the costume though. Mary then discovers Vicky is in a highly toxic relationship with local scumbag and city councilman, Vlad Russo (Dill). With the help of one of Vlad’s henchmen, Johnny Stryder (Watson) – who himself is the son of a famous nineties action film star – she sets out take down Russo’s organization, and rescue her lover. 

This is a mix of elements which work surprisingly well, and those which very much do not. The former would be led by Taylor, who handles herself impressively in the action scenes, and decently enough in the dramatic ones. Dill also makes a good villain, considering we’re never given any real reason to hate him, outside of his treatment of Vicky. He tells a good story, about how he acquired his lethal twist wrist punch; the first victim “sounded like a Soviet dishwasher trying to confess its own sins.” Less effective is Stryder, in part because he ends up with his own reasons to take revenge on Vlad. Clearly, only Johnny or Mary will ultimately get to do so, leaving the other one rather unfulfilled. 

There is also a final twist which feels unnecessary, and comes over as a little reactionary, given the progressive approach to things like Mary’s sexuality. Finally, there are points where the script feels padded and unnecessary chatty. We don’t really need multiple scenes of Edwina and Vicky in bed, exchanging banal terms of affection. At the risk of stating the bleedin’ obvious, this is not why we are watching a film called Mary Magnum: Jiu-Jitsu Nun. When it sticks to delivering on expectations created by the name, it’s done well. Montesinos doesn’t engage in weedwhacker editing, and it helps that Taylor is efficiently effective with her punches and kicks. Overall, this was a pleasant surprise, especially after the near-blasphemous abomination which was Bikini Nuns.

Dir: José Montesinos
Star: Paula Rae Taylor, Robert Dill, Thomas Patrick Ryan Watson, Laura Lopez

Brutal Fury

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★★
“Cover not necessarily representative.”

While technically a 1993 release, the copyright date on this is five years earlier. That seems about right, because a more eighties movie, you would be hard pushed to find. The hair! The synth score! The fashions! But, to be fair, this makes it ahead of its time in some ways. It definitely predates Heathers, with which it shares a number of elements in common. It takes place in small-town Texas, where Lincoln High School is home to a group of female vigilantes called The Sisterhood. They take it upon themselves to act as moral enforcers, punishing with violence those who sleep around, take drugs, etc. Their latest recruit is Misty (Greene), recently arrived in town.

However, Misty is barking mad, the result of a lifetime of indoctrination by her evangelical and fundamentalist minister father. While The Sisterhood go no further than beating up those they find guilty, Misty is… more enthusiastic. The predatory lesbian gym teacher? Stabbed and pushed off a roof. The rapist football player? Suffocated and left dangling from the goal-posts. Detective Bill Griffin (Campitelli) doesn’t know what to make of it. Not least because his wife, Molly (Gebron), is currently undercover at the school, trying to bust open a drug ring. You’d think that might have merited attention from The Sisterhood, but apparently not. I guess they are too busy holding quasi-Satanic initiation ceremonies, which look they might have strayed in from the director’s cut of Spinal Tap. 

Molly isn’t exactly convincing as a teenager, despite dressing from the “Sexy Punk Rocker” aisle at Party City. But that’s alright, because the pupils at the school also look closer to their mid-life crises. Naturally, she ends up becoming one of the targets for Misty’s big finish, after she gets kicked out of The Sisterhood for being too extreme. There is certainly a lot to unpack here, and it definitely feels like there are a plot or two in excess of what the director could handle. In more skilled hands, this would definitely have had potential as a cult classic, mixing religion, morality and violence. But this was apparently Watkins’s debut, and little of the potential is realized.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deliver gratuitous nudity. I mean, staging a meet for the drugs outside of a topless bar? Sheesh. That’s your B-movie license revoked, right there. Greene is likely the best thing here, selling both of her personalities effectively: shame this was her only film. The rest of the cast vary from competent enough to “Was there really nobody else available for the role?” It is just in desperate need of executing its ideas with considerably more energy than Watkins can bring. Lean into the insanity more, play up the exploitation elements (for despite the title, it is neither brutal nor furious) and this would have the potential to become one of Quentin Tarantino’s favourite movies. Someone needs to remake it along those lines. 

Dir: Fred P. Watkins
Star: Lisa-Gabrielle Greene, Tom Campitelli, Annette Gebron, Karen Eppers

Saint Clare

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★★½
“Burned at the stake.”

Bella Thorne’s struggle to appear in a film which reaches three stars on this site, continues unabated. While probably not helped by my tendency to confuse her with Kristen Stewart, that’s five attempts now. Although, for a minute here, I thought this might be the one where she finally cracked it, with a potentially interesting first half. But it could not sustain itself, and as the final credits rolled, and I saw Guinevere Turner’s name as the co-writer… Yeah, it all made sense. I mean, she wrote Bloodrayne. And I’m one of the few people who didn’t utterly hate that. She has… a certain type of script, shall we say, and leave it at that. 

Here, the heroine is Clare Bleecker (Thorne), a high school student – Thorne was 24 when this was filmed, so about that… – recently transferred in from the East coast after the death of her parents. She’s staying with her grandmother (De Mornay), and moonlights as a vigilante. We first see her allowing herself to get picked up by a sketchy driver, whom she strangles and stabs to death. The resulting police interrogation brings her to the attention of Detective Timmons (Phillippe). But Clare is undaunted, and proceeds to look into the string of girls who have gone missing in the town, crimes going back decades which have never been solved. When her friend Julianna (Rovaris) becomes the latest to vanish, Clare decides the time for passive investigation has gone. 

The early stages are, as noted, interesting enough to be intriguing. There’s a nice touch where her conscience is represented by regular visits from the ghost of one of her victims – albeit an accidental one. However, he all but vanishes after she discovers there’s a bigger problem in town than just random scum-bag men, and the film’s issues tend to multiply thereafter. It’s never adequately explained why Clare has gone all Death Wish in her teenage years, or the Joan of Arc inspiration. Perhaps the book on which the film is based, Clare At 16 (or, I guess, at 24), does a better job of that, but without a particular motivation beyond “Men are bad, m’kay?”, the flaws in plotting became increasingly apparent to me.

And others too, apparently: it took three years to get distribution. I do respect Thorne for trying, even if the results have been underwhelming, and would encourage her to keep trying. As I suspect I’ve said before: she isn’t particularly the problem here, so much as the material. There’s an entire thread about Clare trying to get a part in the school play which is spectacularly out of place. But Thorne’s post-Disney career has never exactly been one known for her making good choices: witness the whole OnlyFans debacle. I was more interest in watching Clare operate as a small-town version of Dexter, punishing the guilty while maintaining a facade of normality. The further this went, the more ludicrous this instead became.

Dir: Mitzi Peirone
Star: Bella Thorne, Ryan Phillippe, Joy Rovaris, Rebecca De Mornay

Act of Vengeance

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★★½
“How do you feel about forming a rape squad?”

By pure coincidence, I watched this the same day as Asking for It, and despite this being close to fifty years older and very, very dated, it’s still the superior movie. It ain’t great – or even good, to be clear. But as the poster suggests, it has no other aim than being a straightforward rabble-rousing group vigilante flick. Vengeance was released hot on the heels of Death Wish, which came out just a few weeks earlier in the summer of 1974. Here, Linda (Harris) is a victim of a serial rapist, who wears a hockey mask (six years before Jason in Friday the 13th) and makes his victims sing Jingle Bells (!).

‘The police are less than helpful, all but blaming her for the attack. However, when attending an identity line-up, Linda is able to meet other victims, and they band together to form a support group for women. Initially, this is through a phone helpline, accompanying victims to the police station, etc. They also take a self-defense class from a woman with a black belt in karate, Tiny (Lada Edmund Jr., who would go on to become, allegedly, the highest-paid stuntwoman in Hollywood). The women then escalate to taking direct action against a man who date-raped a woman, coating his dick in permanent blue dye (!!). But the group’s actions have drawn the attention of Mr. Hockey Mask.

His behaviour escalates as a result, attacking and strangling to death one of their friends, and he then begins targeting the squad specifically. He lures the women to an abandoned zoo – apparently, with some vague intention of pulling a five-for-one special, though the film is vague on the details. This is a bit of a problem throughout the film, with a number of points at which characters act in ways which are more necessary for the plot to happen, than in any way real people might behave. I’m also startled by the apparent complete lack of firearms in seventies America. Then there’s the film’s desire to be both empowering and sexy, e.g. the women plan their activities while lolling around topless in a hot-tub (!!! – and that’s enough exclamation points, I think).

Certainly, the assaults that pepper the early going in the film are likely more disturbing now, because they almost seem intended to be titillating – they are the reason why the film is still unavailable in the UK without cuts. The film is on better, and certainly more entertaining ground, when they are actively engaging with the enemy, such as a pimp roughing up one of his stable of women. There’s no moral ambiguity or depth to be found here: this is a bludgeon of a film, which likely would be unable to spell the word “subtlety.” It may be most effective as a time-capsule of the mid-seventies, and does showcase how society has probably improved since them – at least slightly. 

Dir: Bob Kelljan
Star: Jo Ann Harris, Peter Brown, Jennifer Lee, Connie Strickland
a.k.a. Rape Squad

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

The Seasoning House

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★★★
“Sour and bitter in flavour.”

This is a nasty and grim piece of work, after which you will probably feel like taking a shower. However, I actually mean this in a (grudgingly) complimentary fashion, because it’s clear that director and co-writer Hyett was aiming for exactly that. Well done, I guess. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though, and this is not a film I have any interest in revisiting. It takes place in an unnamed part of the Balkans (though my money is on somewhere in Serbia), during the ethno-religious wars which tore apart the region in the late nineties. All manner of highly unpleasant things went on: here, it’s a brothel in which kidnapped women are forced to service militiamen.

Working for the man who runs it, Viktor (Howarth), is a deaf-mute girl, whom he has named Angel (Day). She was also abducted, and could only watch as Goran (Pertwee) and his men killed the rest of her family. In some small amount of good fortune, Viktor has taken a shine to Angel, and so her duties are of the housekeeping kind, rather than being raped on a daily basis. But the things she sees, as she scurries around the air-ducts of the decrepit building, are the stuff of nightmares. Things come to a head after a platoon show up, assaulting the closest thing to a friend she has, Violeta (Walton), who already had her pelvis broken during a previous session. For the soldiers’ commanding officer is Goran…

This is where, mercifully, the worm turns, with Angel using her secret passages to avoid capture, as she takes out Goran’s men. The first, in particular, is a spectacularly brutal death by pointy object, which feels extremely cathartic. Thereafter, it does a decent job of not having her go toe-to-toe with larger and stronger opponents. The cramped spaces of the air ducts act as a great leveller in this regard, right up until the end. Well, almost the end. Because the final act has her trying to get help from the locals, and is a fraught endeavour in itself. I was reminded in this aspect of a certain other horror movie, though I don’t want to be any more specific there. 

The first hour in particular is a little too close to torture porn for my taste. It’s not necessarily especially graphic, though not pulling its punches. However, it still makes for uncomfortable viewing, and the abuse seemed, to me, to go on beyond what was necessary to make its point. A lot of credit to the production designer, who created sets which feel like you can taste the dirt and the sweat. Effective stuff, without question. Again: not to my particular taste, and I would have preferred it if more time had been spent on Angel making Viktor, Goran and the other bastards get their extremely well-deserved just deserts. Instead, I’ll be over in the corner, turning on this fire-hose.

Dir: Paul Hyett
Star: Rosie Day, Sean Pertwee, Kevin Howarth, Anna Walton

The Sundance Revenge, by Mike Pace

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆½

This takes place in the ski resort of Park City, during the event it’s best known for: the Sundance Film Festival. Beginning with a plummet from a chair lift, the town is plagued by a series of “accidents” – quotes used advisedly. For they are actually the work of a female vigilante calling herself the Sword of Justice, and dedicated to punishing men for their crimes against her gender. On the other side is Belle Bannon, a former Marine, who had anger issues even before going into the military. Now a hunting guide and member of the ski patrol, she is determined to find and stop the killer. 

However, it’s complicated by the fact that the Sword of Justice has close ties to some very unpleasant and dangerous people, involved in the local drug trade, led by Danny Pagano. He does not take kindly to Belle’s investigation, and the closer she gets to the target, the more he feels threatened. It all leads to a plan for a mass chemical attack on the town’s water supply, with the aim of targeting a law-enforcement officer investigating the gang. Belle, along with help from a descendant of The Sundance Kid who now works for the DEA, needs to find a way to stop this, end the Sword of Justice’s vigilante campaign, and survive a final face-off deep underground, in a disused silver mine. 

To get the bad out of the way first, this desperately needs an editor to tidy this up. It feels as if, in the first draft, it was originally written in the first person, but was then changed to the third person. However, the update seems to have been executed sloppily, meaning there are still multiple sentences where the perspective is inconsistent, changing in the same sentence, e.g. “they had the place to ourselves.” Elsewhere, exact sentences get repeated a page or two apart, or we learn Pagano is from Denver, but shortly after that, Belle tells him to head “back to Phoenix.” Normally, I’m oblivious to this kind of thing; this is the first time I’ve felt compelled to mention it, which should give you some idea how prevalent it is.

On the other hand, that I still not only finished it, I was adequately entertained, is a clear positive. You get a good sense of place, and the silver mine is an excellent, spooky location, used more than once. It’s an interesting twist to have an ex-military heroine whose mental problems are not the result of PTSD, and Belle is someone you’ll find it easy to cheer on. I’m not entirely convinced about the logic of poisoning a whole town to nail one person, even if you do try and blame it on an industrial accident. But it does certainly up the stakes, and things are fairly non-stop thereafter. Falls an earnest bit of proof-reading short of a solid recommendation. 

Author: Mike Pace
Publisher: Foundations Book Publishing, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 3 in the Belle Bannon series.

Hot-Blooded Angel

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★★
“Luke-warm vigilantes.”

Watching this one, I had a very strong sense of deja-vu, to the point I started looking for a previous review. Turns out, none such existed, because I think my previous encounter with it was on one of those dodgy, “pirate” YouTube channels, under the different name of Scarlet Strike. I skipped writing about it, since I wasn’t able to determine any information off that, such as cast and crew. Because, it turns out, that wasn’t its real title. A month later, I watched this official copy one morning, while Chris was taking our new cat to the vet to be neutered. There were points where I suspect the cat had the better day. 

Ok, it was not quite that bad, but coming the morning after Lamb Game, the gap in quality was palpable. It takes place in Chinatown, so I guess… not in China? A dubious businessman, Mr. Ba is seeking to knock down all the small businesses and family homes for the usual property development reasons. Standing against him are a pair of orphan sisters (Feng and Sun), who run a sweet shop, as well as the “Guardian Angel” (Xu), a masked vigilante who keeps the area safe from predators of all kinds. Basically, it ends as a team-up, especially after Ba decides to kidnap one of the sisters for use as leverage. The other sister and Guardian Angel then have to go rescue her from his headquarters. 

From a technical point of view, it’s competent enough. However, the characters all seem the epitome of blandness. There is what appears to be an effort to inject some kind of romantic interest in the shape of honest cop, Officer Wu (Huang). However, there’s absolutely no chemistry between him and any of the three female leads, so I’m not sure why they bothered. There are also a series of confusing flashbacks to childhood, though I’m uncertain to which character they refer. I’m still trying to work out whether the Guardian Angel is intended to be a long-lost sibling. Between her and Ba’s pair of minions, it appears Chinese orphanages may be a hot-bed of martial arts training. 

Looking at the poster, it’s either generated by AI or bad PhotoShop. The former would make sense, if only because the script could be from the same source. The action is rarely better than mid-tier, and there’s a lengthy section in the middle where it vanishes entirely. Instead, we get some genuinely bad attempts at comic relief, and it’s at that point I would have happily swapped places with the house feline. A brief spurt of fighting towards the end briefly reawakened interest. However, we suffer through a poorly-conceived finale involving a device, not previously mentioned, that can decrypt Mr. Ba’s hard-drive, and a coda which feels longer than the one at the end of Return of the King. This one certainly coughs up a hair-ball. 

Dir: Jin Xin
Star: Xu Dong Dong, Feng Yan Yan, Huang Tao, Sun Wen Xue

American Woman

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★½
“Doctor in the house.”

I guess some credit is due here for going against type, at least. Molly Reese (Stack) is not your typical vigilante. She’s actually a doctor who works in an emergency room, and suffers a debilitating mental blow when her husband and daughter are both killed in an accident. She subsequently goes to a very dark place psychologically, telling her therapist she has thoughts about killing people. This is particularly unfortunate, after she is unable to save a local mob-boss, and his gang decide she is to blame. For Molly gets to put all those murderous impulses into action, under the guise of self-defense, and then proceeds to take the fight to the gangsters, all the while becoming increasingly unstable. 

It’s an interesting concept, and the potential is there: a doctor using her medical skills in ways of which the Hippocratic Oath would not approve. As noted, she doesn’t initially look like a crazed vigilante, and that might have been leveraged to good effect. However, the execution here is flat-out terrible, in a variety of ways. Stack as the protagonist isn’t particularly one of them, though her descent into insanity is largely depicted by Molly pulling increasingly deranged faces, and steadily worse hair-styles. It’s everything else. For example, the gangsters, who could not be a more shallow cliche of Italians if they tried. We know they are gangsters, because the restaurant where they hang out plays Nessun Dorma on a loop, I kid you not. 

Their competence leaves a huge amount to be desired too, perpetually losing fights – both gun and hand-to-hand – against a middle-aged physician with no previous experience. This makes them largely useless as villains, since they’re no threat. Though Mikey (Rosing), the one mostly in charge of hunting Molly, at least looks the part, ponytail and all. However, the actual battles are terribly staged, such as a lengthy gun-battle in a bowling alley, where none of the bullets seems to hit anything at all. There’s another member of the gang, Vito (Zambrano), who seems to have a thing for Molly. Don’t worry, since this proves to be of no significance. It’s all unfocused and poorly structured, up until an ending so abrupt, it suggests everyone involved suddenly realized they’d made a terrible mistake.

Probably the worst thing in the movie though, is Mollie’s neighbour, David (Tyler). I’m not sure if this depiction of a mentally-challenged individual was intended to provide humourous relief. If there’s blackface and brownface, is there such a thing as “retardface”, where someone pretends to be intellectually disabled for comedic purposes? Even if Tyler is genuinely like that (doubtful), it’s horribly exploitative, and would be among the most cringe-inducing portrayals of the year. It sums up a severely misbegotten adventure, that might have worked better as a short. It certainly has “Not ready for first feature” written all the way through it. Although for writer-director Siegel, the only way from here is up. 

Dir: Artie Siegel
Star: Katelin Stack, Joe Rosing, Frank Zambrano, Vic Tyler

Redhead

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★★
“Better dead than redhead.”

Written, directed by, and starring husband and wife team Sam and Johnna Hodge, this is the kind of film it would be easy to deride as poverty-row garbage from the bottom drawer. There’s precious little plot, some of the performances are painfully amateur, and it seems to exist mostly as a show-reel for spraying around corn syrup with red food colouring in it. And yet… If Chris and I made a movie – something we have discussed – it might well end up being not too dissimilar to this. On the other hand, if we had a spare $55,000 lying around – the budget here, according to the IMDb – we’d probably go on a nice holiday instead. 

Autumn Blacksmith (Hodge) survived being abducted and tortured by infamous psychopath Oscar Sawyer (Stinnett), finally escaping after killing him. However, the experience left her severely traumatized, and the slightest unfortunate interaction with any man is sufficient to push her over the edge into a murderous rage. Cue the corn syrup. Rinse, repeat for 90-odd minutes, until the end credits roll. Occasional hallucinations of Sawyer returning from the grave to haunt her, and a brief attempt by her therapist (Holland) to check in, offer a small touch of variety. The West Virginia cops, led by Detective Rogers (Robinson), are not exactly Sherlock Holmes. Then again, locals are remarkably chill about Autumn’s spree. The bartender where she kills her first victim says of him, “He was always an asshole.”

I was reminded of Michael and Anne Paul, another husband and wife film-making duo. They made Roman’s Bride, where the red-headed wife also goes on a killing spree. I think that worked a bit better, because its lead actress had an innocence about her, that provided an interesting contrast to her savagery. Here, Autumn is more blatantly mad, to the point you wonder why any man would try to chat her up. As a viewer, you’re never brought along on the journey into insanity. The way some of the local community end up assisting with, or even active participants in, her murders could have been used to provide another twist to the narrative. Nah. Open another bottle of Karo instead. 

Technically, it’s okay: the camera gets pointed in the right direction, it doesn’t succumb to underlit scenes, and the audio is fine. The soundtrack, also by Sam Hodge (not a surprise), has a nice throwback vibe, sounding like it was ripped off an eighties video nasty. But there is no real sense of progression or development, and the ending feels particularly sudden, going to the end credits immediately after she has disembowelled her final victim, a peeping Tom. We’re very little forward from where we were after her first murder. A sequel is in production though, so it appears there was enough of a market for this kind of thing. Will I watch it? [Sighs heavily] Yeah. I suspect I probably will.

Dir:Johnna Hodge, Sam Hodge
Star: Johnna Hodge, Ashley Stinnett, Will A. Holland, Travis Robinson