Tag: vigilante

Damsel: No More, by P.S. Power

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

It’s rare that I can pin-point so exactly, the moment at which a book jumped the shark. But in this case, I can. I came across a paragraph which was so striking in its badness, I actually put the book down, to ponder what the heck I just read. It did not improve on several repeat attempts, and thereafter, I was simply unable to enjoy the book. Oh, it hadn’t been any great shakes to that point, but it became a genuine chore, and if I did not want to write this warning review, would certainly have become a DNF. Here we go:

Instead, she got out of the car, let Veronica lock up and secure the used towel in the back, in the trunk, which had a change of clothing in it, which the woman grabbed, carrying it with her. Since she still had chemicals all over her, that made sense to see to.

I am not exaggerating when I say that my eleven-year-old self would have been embarrassed to assemble those words in this order in a story. That this book is somehow rated over four stars on Goodreads makes me weep for the literacy of the population at large. The cover is what lured me in. The concept isn’t bad. But the execution is like being trapped inside the head of Kim Kardashian, and I would not wish that on my worst enemy. The heroine is Hannah de Peyser, a rich, vacuous heiress, who has had enough after the fourth time she gets kidnapped. “She might not be a hero, but she isn’t going to be anyone’s victim, not any longer. The damsel is gone, and in her place is a force to be reckoned with.”

Except… not mentioned, is that this is a bad superhero caper, with the world populated by caped crusaders with various powers. Our heroine initially has no such ability, but develops over the course of it, the ability to remote view people. If you’re thinking this could easily be used as a crutch to escape bad writing… No comment. She’s also apparently good at convincing people, including really stupid scenarios, such as that they are coated with an explosive that will blow up if they return to the United States. I feel like I lost measurable IQ points reading that chapter. 

In regard to action, so far, she has spent almost all her time training in VR, with the actual action highlight being her foiling a robbery at a truck stop. There is a lot of space spent discussing thing like a “third gait,” which is apparently a better way of running. I did not sign up for a kinesiology lecture, but apparently some people did: again, four-plus stars on Goodreads. I somehow ground my way through the pages to an underwhelming ending. Do not hold your breath for any more reviews.

Author: P.S. Power
Publisher: Orange Cat Publisher, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Book 1 of 8 in the Damsel series.

Abigail (2023)

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★★★½
“Heathers: the seventies remix.”

This is now the third film with the same title to be reviewed on the site: no vampires or Russian sorceresses to be found here. This does get an extra half star for genuinely surprising me. In the early stages, I had a strong feeling I knew exactly where this was going to end up going. Men bad, white people bad – and white men? Well, they’re the worst of all. Call it a spoiler perhaps – we’ll get to those – but that is definitely not how this unfolds. It takes place in 1976 Alabama, where teenager Abigail Cole (Cantrell) and her mother Eve (Lynch) have just moved from California. It’s clear this was to get away from “something”.  Exactly what is unclear, but it seems to have had something to do with Abigail’s father.

She makes friends with Lucas (Reed-Brown), who lives next door and is the victim of bullies at school. Initially, Abigail’s behaviour is positively heroic, defending Lucas from his tormentors. Though the film never makes mention of it, Lucas is black. You feel this might have been an issue in seventies Alabama, but the insults hurled at Lucas are entirely of the f-word rather than the n-word, an interesting choice. Anyway, Abigail proves more than capable of taking care of both of them, wielding a baseball-bat, fire extinguisher and axe-handle to good effect.

[Spoilers] However, things are entirely upended when further incidents make it abundantly clear that Abigail is not a heroic vigilante, defender of the oppressed, so much as a psychopath who revels in the opportunity to use violence against others. I did not see that coming. From this point on, just about everything is reversed, because the character for whom you’ve been rooting the entire time, is now the villainess. Conversely, the local cop, who seemed the epitome of racist law-enforcement, turns out to be sympathetic to Lucas and his apparent plight. However, things only cascade further into darkness as we continue on. The truth about Abigail’s missing father comes out, and the body count continues to increase, as efforts are made to clear up the previous corpses. [End spoilers]

There are some plot-holes here: given Abigail and Lucas were hauled into the principal’s office for an incident involving one bully, they would (Lucas particularly, even if Abigail was discounted through seventies sexism) surely be prime suspects in his subsequent disappearance. However, I am prepared to cut it some slack, due to the glorious one-eighty pulled off in the middle, which can only be applauded. Credit in particular to Cantrell’s performance: I’m sure if you go back and watch it again, you would be able to spot the clues to her personality in the earlier scenes. However, I’ve a feeling the impact would likely be less on subsequent viewings, where you know what’s coming. This is likely to be a “one and done” for me, which is why it doesn’t get a seal of approval. Albeit a highly satisfactory “one”.

Dir: Melissa Vitello
Star: Ava Cantrell, Tren Reed-Brown, Hermione Lynch, Gene Farber

Birth of a Savage

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★★
“Not really very savage at all”

This is one of those films where the same person wrote, directed and starred in it, and once again, the results illustrate the problems with such an endeavour. Almost any project will benefit from an external perspective which can offer constructive criticism, but when this is removed, the flaws typically end up multiplied. That said, this isn’t terrible. I think Riches the screenwriter comes out best, with a story which bypasses the usual cliches of urban storylines e.g. gangster rising out of the gutter, and does offer some genuine surprises. Director Riches also gets some points for restraint on the soundtrack front; it’s not comprised entirely of her mates rapping badly. 

It’s as an actress that Riches is weakest. The story has her playing Tiana, a woman whose entirely life has been dogged by poor relationships with men, from a distant father through bad boyfriends, to a controlling and eventually abusive husband, who kicks her and young daughter Erica (Session) out on the street. The only thing keeping Tiana sane is the classes she gives at the local martial arts school, owned by Mr. Lewis (Hoo), and she decided to use these skills to make bad men pay for their behaviour. This comes close to home, because she suspects that her sister, Rochelle (Amor), is also in an abusive relationship. These suspicions prove well-founded, though in one of those genuine surprises, not quite as Tiana believes.

The problem is that Tiana is never even slightly convincing as a bad-ass. Her idea of martial-arts training is, I kid you not, jumping jacks, and most of the fights we see are poorly-staged and/or brief, I suspect out of necessity. It’s the kind of film which needs to go a lot harder than the lead actress is capable of. “Concerned mother” is within her acting range; “angel of vengeance” is not. I did appreciate how the script does not attempt to go #AllMen on us, with a couple of sympathetic male characters. Mr. Lewis is probably the most well-developed, though he does fall right into the wheel-house of the “wise Oriental spouting philosophical insights” trope instead. But he does deliver some unexpected truths.

The structure is either clunky or interesting, and I’m not sure which. It begins with her abducting one of her targets, then leaps back decades to tell Tiana’s story from the very beginning. I’m not certain anything useful is gained by this, and by the time it circles back, we’ve largely forgotten why we are supposed to care. The final act is the best in most departments, including Riches apparently doing one actual stunt which genuinely surprised me, and proceedings that capture a down-to-earth tone, missing in dumb plot threads like Mr. Lewis giving the dojo to Tiana. To be brutally honest, I’d not blame the viewer if they’d bailed by that point, having decided Riches needs to focus her talents on one area.

Dir: Jezar Riches
Star: Jezar Riches, Howard Hoo, Cheri Amor, Dalaini Session

 

They Turned Us Into Killers

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★½
“They turned us onto another channel…”

Well, this is a spectacular mess. Except, the word “spectacular” implies something of interest, and that’s far from anything this delivers in its boring trudge towards a predictable ending. It demonstrates the perils when you, as a film-maker, decide to take your story and fragment the timeline. This only works if the script is able to maintain coherence around the jumps back and forth. This painfully fails on that count, beginning in the middle, but then bouncing back and forth to the point you know little and care less about any of the participants, or what happens to them. How bad is it? It gets the rare honour of me starting on the review, when there’s still half an hour to go.

Loosely, it’s the story of Star (Scout-Compton), who decides to go full vigilante after her best friend, an addict called Karma (Francesca), had enough of life and killed herself. Fortunately for the plot, Karma left a letter behind which explained, in tedious detail, the reasons why she committed suicide. This would largely be the result of abuse at the hands of her boyfriend, BJ (Miller) and various members of his scummy family. Meanwhile, there’s also a connection to a vicious murder that took place forty years ago, and a police investigation, including a homicide detective sporting the most implausible Swedish accent this side of The Muppet Show. What there is not, however, is any reason to give a damn about any of it.

The makers even manage to waste the talents of a triple-bill of horror icons, in Michael Berryman, Kane Hodder and Bill Moseley, all of whom are capable of carrying films on their own. Here, they just kinda… exist, wheeled on screen and then shuffled off again without making any significant impact. Instead, it’s mostly Star yelling at BJ and their relatives, as they are abducted with remarkable ease, and tied up in a shed somewhere. This proves sufficient to reduce them to snivelling wrecks, apologizing for whatever they did. The notion that Karma might – as her name ironically suggests – be in any way responsible for the unpleasant consequences of her own actions, is never breached to significant degree.

I was certainly left asking myself questions. Unfortunately, the questions were along the lines of, “What happened to Taylor Scout-Compton’s once promising career?” or “How many incriminating photos does the writer/director have, in order to get this financed?” Because what you have here is an ugly, uninteresting mess, which fails on the level of basic coherence, and has almost nothing to offer the viewer. It’s startling to see an 86% audience score for this on Rotten Tomatoes; looking at the far more credibly harsh reviews on Letterboxd, I’m certainly leaning shill. Not even going to bother reaching my usual 500 words here. This simply doesn’t deserve it.

Dir: Thomas Walton
Star: Scout Taylor-Compton, Lauren Francesca, Bryce Draper, Taryn Manning

Good Morning, Verônica: season two and three

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★★★
“Good afternoon and good night.”

I’ll treat these two seasons as one entity. Indeed, there’s a case to be made that you could include the first season as well, given the way they are inter-connected. However, it feels that the second and third are more directly linked. If you recall, the initial series had Sao Paolo cop Verônica Torres (Müller) looking into a domestic abuse case. However, this turns out not be as simple as it appears, with the abuser being protected by a mafia-like group, whose tentacles are embedded in a selection of power structures, including the police force. Series #2 and #3 take a broader scope, Verônica looking to take down elements of the group, and end their systemic abuse of women.

The second series focuses on Verônica’s efforts against a church run by sketchy and abusive faith healer Matias (Gianecchini). He has a line in inviting poor hurt souls – albeit only attractive, young women – to stay on the church’s property, where bad stuff happens to them. His wife is firmly beneath Matias’s thumb, and Verônica is now operating more less unofficially, though with tacit help from some on the force. Her only hope is to get to the daughter, Angela (Castanho), who is lesbian because Netflix. If she can convince Angela her father is not the saint his public persona appears to be, they might have a chance to expose his crimes. But doing so simply removes another layer of the conspiracy, with the shadowy “Doúm” remaining at large.

Which is where the third series comes in, as she finds Doúm to be horse breeder Jeronimo (Santoro). Initially, he seems on her side, which is remarkably naive of her, because he set my alarm bells ringing from the very start. Doesn’t help that he looks like a creepy combination of Liam Neeson, Kid Rock and Tommy Wiseau. And that’s before we learn about the questionable relationship with his mother, or that he grew up in the same abusive orphanage as Marias. Such concerns are very justified, because it turns out Jeronimo is not just breeding horses for fun and profit. He has his eye on both Angela and Verônica’s daughter, as the next brood mares, ready to be auctioned off to rich clients.

I felt it all got a little silly and excessive in the third season, with the plot requiring events which stretched plausibility to a breaking point. It’s likely a good thing it was only half the length of the second series, at three episodes rather than six. While it ends with Verônica looking to continue the fight for justice in her extra-legal capacity, the show was canceled, and I feel that’s wise given the steadily diminishing returns. There was a nice sense of circularity, series 3 ending in a suicide, the way the very first episode opened. However, the televisual cycle of abuse was becoming repetitive, although both the second and third seasons had some interesting revelations about Verônica’s family background. While Müller’s performance held things together, it’s likely better this stopped too soon, rather than too late.

Creator: Raphael Montes
Star: Taina Müller, Reynaldo Gianecchini, Klara Castanho, Rodrigo Santoro

Trigger Warning

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★½
“May contain boredom, stupidity and poor action.”

There’s an old joke about bad movies: “This film wasn’t released, it escaped.” It seems disturbingly appropriate here, however, considering the shooting of this finished in October 2021, and it has been part of our annual previews for 2022, 2023 and 2024. Quite why Netflix sat on the end product close to three years, I don’t know. But having watched it, I can confidently say: it wasn’t long enough. This is the kind of movie that left me feeling actively more stupid by the end of it. Alba plays Parker, a soldier who returns to her hometown in rural New Mexico after her father is killed in a mile accident. Only, of course [and that whirring sound is my eyes rolling], it turns out not to be an accident.

From here spirals off a ludicrous plot in which local ne’er-do-well Elvis (Weary) is selling heavy armaments,  include machine guns and RPGs, to domestic terrorists. His family basically runs the town: brother, Jesse (Webber), is the town sheriff, and his father is Senator Ezekiel Swann (Hall), an obviously Republican politician running for re-election. It’s up to Parker to stop the bad guys, who are so evil, they burn down the bar which is Parker’s inheritance from her father. Named after her grandmother, he apparently built it when he wasn’t busy being a miner. Or a Green Beret. It’s all a bit vague. This is as authentic a portrayal of Hispanic culture as you’d expect, given a script written by three white people, which unironically uses the word “Latinx”.

It’s also directed by an Indonesian which, in a nod to the politics criticized by the movie, makes me want to go on a rant about foreigners coming over here and takin’ er jerbs. For, after all, there are plenty of American directors who are perfectly capable of making shitty action films with ham-handed social commentary. We do not need to be outsourcing this work. However, we maybe should look at outsourcing Jessica Alba. Possibly replacing her with a stick insect, since she is among the least convincing soldiers I’ve seen. The action is equally dumb: it’s the kind of movie where a bad guy picks up a chainsaw in a hardware store fight, and it starts, apparently being fully fuelled.

The whole thing is littered with similar elements which had me shaking my head. Parker can waltz into any location at will, such as finding the exact file she needs in the police station within ten seconds. While most recent Netflix action heroine films have been forgettably acceptable ways to pass a couple of hours, this one probably competes with Interceptor over the coveted crown of Worst Netflix Original. It’s amazing to think how far Alba has fallen from the glory days of work like Sin City. For Jessica’s sake, I hope her cosmetics company endeavour is working out. Because she seriously needs to rethink this whole acting thing.

Dir: Mouly Surya
Star: Jessica Alba, Mark Webber, Anthony Michael Hall, Jake Weary

Guilt

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★★½
“Guilty of being kinda dull…”

This starts off strong, with an attention grabbing scene where a woman gets a visit from a plumber. She offers him a glass of water, and… Things do not go as expected. For the woman is Jessie (Shay), a psychiatrist on a mission. She has made it her purpose in life to punish paedophiles whom she feels have been too lightly punished by the law. The man is one such, and it does not end well for him. Specifically, he is stabbed, and buried in a shallow grave, deep in the Australian outback. Safe to say the film has got my attention. Unfortunately, it’s more or less downhill all the way from here.

The main problem is probably the script, which fails to build on this dramatic opening. For example, shortly after, we see a policewoman, Detective Swan (McKenzie) puzzling over the unexplained disappearances of a number of paedophiles, and it appears to be setting up a cat-and-mouse hunt. Except, she all but vanishes for the next hour, only reappearing significantly at the end. There’s also Jessie’s relationship with her younger sister. Or the hint that some kind of PTSD is responsible for Jessie’s vigilante activity – either connected to her own childhood, or perhaps her experiences in the military, where she served in the Middle East. None of these elements ever come together, feeling more like loose ends than coherent parts of the story.

Instead, she eventually kidnaps Grace (Flowers), a woman who helped her boyfriend to traffic in young children, but who claimed to be abused by him, and so was considered a victim as well. Similarly, if properly developed, this could have been a good source of tension. Was she actually an accomplice, just playing the abuse card? Again, the script seems almost to get bored with itself and drifts away to Vigilante Movie Cliche #45, where Jessie discovers that one of her previous victims was actually innocent. This triggers an existential crisis in Jessie, and she carelessly leaves her thoroughly incriminating diary for the receptionist at work to find, giving Detective Swan the break in her case she needs. Yeah, you’ll understand why I rolled my eyes a bit at that.

I did appreciate the effort to be nuanced. Given the topic of avenging angel versus child molesters, it would have been very easy to become a one-sided and shrill polemic (we’ve seen those in the past). Here, there’s a bit more subtlety, acknowledging that everything isn’t necessarily black and white. It’s also very female-centred, with almost all the significant roles going to women, and the individual performances are decent or better. But the lack of a compelling narrative sinks this ship, with it left feeling like a series of largely unconnected strands. Perhaps if we’d been brought along on Jessie’s journey, and saw how she became a vigilante, it might have been different? As is, there’s not even much resolution, and we are simply 95 minutes later in the day.

Dir: Karl Jenner, Lyndsay Sarah
Star: Janet Shay, Hayley Flowers, Mikaela, Franco, Kirsty McKenzie

Bang Bang Betty

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★★½
“Why not Kill-shot Kiara?”

If I was feeling mean, I’d have tagged this as “Pretty shitty Bang Bang”. But while undoubtedly amusing, that wouldn’t be 100% fair. For in the field of low-budget urban action heroines, this is actually better than most. Now, by broader standards, that’s still not exactly great. However, I’ve seen enough of the genre to appreciate and welcome mere technical proficiency. Simply by having decent audio, I was already impressed. It’s the story of Kiara Sommers (Nunno-Brown), a former soldier who is now a prosecuting attorney. During a meet with one of her informants, she is shot and left for dead, but rescued by another veteran, Ray Smith (Parrish) and nursed back to health. [I’ve vague memories of a Chow Yun-Fat film with this plot]

She’s then able to take revenge on the man responsible, local crime-lord Darnell (Walzer). Which is a bit awkward, because he is her boyfriend. There’s also Valerie Mendez (Hernandez), who used to be a colleague of Kiara in the army, and is now walking a dangerous line, playing for both sides, as a cop and an inside woman for Darnell. It feels as if considerably more thought has gone into this than many in this field, whose plot could typically be written on the back of a beer-mat, and leave room for your pint. Some other elements also deserve praise, such as a soundtrack which isn’t just the director’s rapper mates on shuffle (though there is still a fair bit of that).

While Nunoo-Brown and Hernandez are decent enough in their roles, there are several elements that manage to stop this reaching three stars, which would be close to an all-time high for the genre. There’s a serious question over Kiara’s complete ignorance of her boyfriend being a organized crime boss. I mean, really? Some of the supporting cast are not very good: Walzer in particular struggles with his delivery. There’s also a point where a significant character is killed in front of another. It should have a devastating impact, yet their lack of reaction is notable. A few minutes later in the film, they’re cracking wise with Kiara and Valerie. The bruising on Valerie’s face is a continuity disaster. 

My biggest issue, however, was the bad CGI. The muzzle flashes were marginally acceptable, but the explosions are poor, and the CGI blood close to the worst I’ve ever seen. Having no blood at all would have been a vast improvement. It’s a particular shame, as some of the hand-to-hand action is decent enough (again, compared to what I’ve seen previously), with both lead actresses occasionally impressing. I did laugh when Valerie attempted a lucha libre throw on Darnell’s henchman, only to be tossed aside, and told “That superhero shit doesn’t work in real life, does it?” More of this degree of self-awareness might have been welcome, yet it’s probably wise not to ask for too much. I’ll settle for competence, and there’s just enough here to leave me mildly interested in the sequel, already in post-production: Bang Bang Betty – Valerie’s Revenge.

Dir: Alexander T. Hwang
Star: Kakra Nunoo-Brown, Gerald Parrish, Emily Rose Hernandez, Marc Anthony Walzer

La Madre

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★★½
“Is there such a thing as whiteface?”

I ask, because this film, made in Mexico City and starring mostly Mexicans, seems to be trying to take place in America. It’s not doing a good job of it. The heroine is Martha (Mazarrasa), a single mother running a shop in a border American city with the help of her two daughters, Eva (Reynaud) and Raquel. Then Eva is kidnapped by evil Mexican cartel boss, El Chacal (Guerrerio), and held by him, even after Martha pays the requested ransom. However, it turns out Mom has a hidden past, which gave her a set of special skills. With the help of sympathetic cop, Juan Cinderos (Dulzaides), she sets out to bring down his organization and retrieve her daughter.

It might have worked better if everyone has spoken Spanish, and they’d actually set this in Mexico. Not that Mazarrasa’s English is bad. It’s far better than my Spanish. But early on, she tells her daughters, “Our family has been in this [American] city for generations.” Yet she sounds like she’s still dripping wet out of the Rio Grande: “Ey neeeed tu dooo zees!” It feels particularly fake to me, since I’m married to a first-generation Hispanic immigrant, so know Chris and her siblings sounds completely indistinguishable from native citizens. Literally nobody in the film speaks without a notable accent: the closest is El Chacal, the character you’d least expect to know English. It’s all tremendously off-putting.

The rest of the plotting is similarly shoddy, in particular the way Martha is able to infiltrate El Chacal’s operations and get them taken down from the inside, in a way Paul and his pals have been utterly unable to do. I get that she’s operating outside of the usual legal encumbrances, but building her history and doing more than slapping a wig on her as a disguise, would have gone a long way to avoid my eyebrow entering “Oh, really?” mode. The way a random cop like Paul gets to take part in police actions South of the “border” – quotes used advisedly – didn’t help. All told, too many elements here seem to have wandered into this Tubi Original, from a script discarded by the Hallmark channel.

Yet it’s not entirely worthless, with Mazarrasa just about able to hold things together through a decent central performance. She had a long-running role in Camelia La Texana, so has a handle on the more soapy elements here, and is capable of putting over the raw emotion appropriate to the circumstances. The individual pieces could have been re-arranged into an effective combination. Perhaps if Martha had gone full Liam Neeson from the moment Eva was kidnapped, telling El Chacal, “You just messed with the wrong madre…”, instead of wasting time faffing around, naively trying to negotiate and pay the ransom. That is quite at odds with the street-smart, take no prisoners approach she later shows. Maybe her brains were in the wig as well.

Dir: Mitchell Altieri
Star: Tamara Mazarrasa, Giovanna Reynaud, Javier Dulzaides, Alex Guerrero 

Divide & Conquer

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★½
“If this is empowerment…”

There are times where I regret my choice of pastime. It means I end up watching things for this site that I would never give the time of day, given the choice. This is one such, having endured the almost physically painful experience which was Hellfire, starring the same three lead actresses, and to which this appears a loose sequel. In this case, Mercedes also took over directorial duties, and… it’s actually somewhat of an improvement. Still not good, by any objective standards, let’s be clear. Yet there’s a punky and unrepentant attitude that clearly doesn’t care what I, or anyone else, thinks. Put it this way, if you want a film which includes close-up shot of the director having a pee, here you go. Offense is its raison d’etre.

The story has (loosely) Greek goddesses Lilith (Divine), Athena (Peach) and Toxie (Mercedes) roaming the blasted hellscape of Tromaville, taking on the evil forces of misogyny and white supremacy, mostly through the superpowers of really bad acting and highly deliberate offense, it would appear. This probably teaches its peak with a recreation of the assassination of John F. Kennedy in a strip-club. It feels as if Mercedes simply threw every idea of questionable taste she could come up with into her script, and filmed the result, largely using her pals. If you want a puppet, voiced by Troma movies head honcho Lloyd Kaufman, sitting on the toilet and delivering a lecture on artistic freedom. Again: here you go.

There’s even stuff here I can’t describe, without getting down-ranked by Google for explicit content. Trust me. There is certainly an aesthetic here, and it’s one to which Mercedes is clearly 110% committed, and personally too. [Is it exploitation if you’re doing it yourself?] But it’s not a style which overlaps more than fractionally with my tastes. I’ve been a fan of Troma since back in the days of Toxic Avenger (its star Torgl has a supporting role as creepy motel owner N. Bates). That looks like a Christopher Nolan movie in comparison to Divide & Conquer. Philosophically, I tend to have a different view of empowerment. To me, it doesn’t mean women copying the worst of male behaviour, as seems too often the case here e.g. rape.

There are times when restraint is not necessarily a bad thing. If you drop F-bombs every second word, eventually people are going to tune you out, and this is pretty much the cinematic equivalent. About half way through, as the story meandered its way to, then past, a confrontation with a geriatric Adolf Hitler and his pet werewolf (there’s a phrase I didn’t expect to be writing today!), I simply lost interest. There’s only so much toilet humour, potty-mouthed dialogue and amateur acting I can take in one sitting. This provides an all-you-can-handle buffet of those things, with enough left over to feed your entire family the next day. I prefer something a little less in your face. Quite often here, literally.

Dir: Mercedes
Star: Irie Divine, Knotty Peach, Mercedes, Mark Torgl