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Wheels on Meals (1984)

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Next up in Eureka Entertainment’s noble ongoing mission to bring all the great Jackie Chan movies to Blu-ray, it’s one of the key films (another being Project A, also released by Eureka last year) which the Hong Kong legend made alongside longtime collaborators Yuen Biao and Sammo Hung. The careers of all three men have had more than their share of idiosyncrasies, so it’s saying something that Wheels on Meals is among the quirkiest entries on their collective CV. This quirkiness should be evident right away from the title – reportedly changed from the more logical Meals on Wheels at the behest of studio Golden Harvest, who feared titles starting with ‘M’ were unlucky after the critical and commercial failure of western co-productions Megaforce and Ménage à Trois (AKA Better Late Than Never) – through to the central premise of two Chinese guys running a food truck in Barcelona, who somehow wind up the sworn protectors of a mysterious young woman being threatened by shady criminal forces.

Thomas (Chan) and David (Biao) are the aforementioned food truck guys, who make their living feeding the crowds on the streets of Barcelona. As well as utilising their cooking skills in their all-in-one kitchen/vehicle, the job sees them wait tables on skateboards, and when things get particularly fraught they also have their martial arts expertise to draw on. Circumstances see the duo meet the elegant Sylvia (Lola Forner, also seen in Project A and Armour of God), with whom they’re both immediately smitten. However, Sylvia promptly proves to be a great deal more trouble than they expected, as, on top of being a prostitute and a pickpocket, she also seems to have bad guys on her trail, who want a lot more than their wallets back. Just why these villains are after Sylvia, none of them know – but it might have something to do with the case assigned to bumbling private investigator Moby (Hung, sporting a curly perm and dress sense that makes him look like a proper 1980s scouser. All that’s missing is the moustache and the tendency to say “calm down, calm down.”)

It’s a goofy premise and no mistaking, and it makes for no shortage of suitably slapsticky shenanigans. The opening act feels less like a set-up, more a loosely assembled series of comedy sketches of the sort that dominated British TV around the time. Take Yuen Biao getting distracted by a pretty girl whilst washing the truck, then unwittingly throwing his bucket of water in the face of a passing policeman. We might easily envisage Benny Hill or Kenny Everett pulling off a similar gag, only it’s rather less likely we’d have seen either of those men showing off eye-popping Kung Fu moves and ripped torsos mere moments earlier. This pre-PC comedic sensibility is heavily in force throughout, with abundant fat guy jokes made at the expense of Sammo (who, we ought to mention, also directs here), scenes in a mental institute played for laughs, and Jackie and Yuen struggling to protect their philandering Italian neighbour from his homicidally jealous wife. Naturally this lack of political correctness extends to the representation of Lola Forner’s female lead: a shrewd and callous manipulator of men, yet at the same time an utterly hapless damsel in distress perpetually in need of protection.

Still, if you’re looking for progressive attitudes in a 1980s Hong Kong action comedy, you’re quite clearly barking up the wrong tree. These are films that balance cartoonish humour with incredible feats of physical daring, and whilst in this instance the comedic elements might leave a bit of a bad taste in the mouth, the action should more than make amends. Wheels on Meals has fights, stunts and car chases galore on the streets of Barcelona, all pulled off as expertly with as little regard for the well-being of the performers as anything the central trio ever shot on their own soil. Most memorable, though – and most outlandish given how things build up to it – is the grand finale, which sees our heroes stage an assault on a castle. While this is a great showcase for all three men – Sammo has a great fencing match, whilst Yuen showcases his acrobatic ability battling through a room filled with leather armchairs – this whole sequence is most notable for sporting one of Jackie’s most celebrated fights against Benny ‘The Jet’ Urquidez. This lengthy one-on-one seems heavily indebted in spirit to the similarly iconic fight between Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris in Way of the Dragon, and perhaps it’s for this reason that the battle is played surprisingly straight and hard-edged, with precious little of Jackie’s signature humour. Tonally, this might jar just a little with the rest of the movie, but damned if it isn’t one of the most exciting and memorable moments of Jackie’s filmography, and clearly the highlight of Urquidez’s acting career.

Wheels on Meals is an odd mish-mash that might not stand up that well to critical scrutiny, but like most other Hong Kong productions of the era, it’s readily apparent that it wasn’t made with critics in mind. There’s an infectious sense of fun about it all, and the silliness is very much part of that. Hang up your hang ups, get into the spirit of things, and there’s no reason not to have a great time. Not that existing devotees of Jackie and co will need any further persuasion to snap it up; and I’m happy to report that Eureka continue to do a great job bringing these movies to Blu-ray. It looks and sounds great, with options to watch with the original Cantonese dub and soundtrack plus the alternate international soundtrack (familiar from the UK VHS release), the original English dub and an alternate 2006 English dub, interviews with Sammo Hung, Benny Urquidez and Keith Vitali. Plus we get the end credits from the Japanese cut, under the somewhat tougher-sounding title Spartan X, which is notable both for the fact that it launched the popular Spartan X video game series in Asia, and also for being the first instance of out-takes used over the end titles of a Jackie Chan movie.

Wheels on Meals is available now on Blu-ray from Eureka.

Leprechaun Returns (2018)

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As much as I shouldn’t make broad assumptions, when it comes to horror properties getting rebooted I rather doubt that too many fans are likely to get up in arms regarding Leprechaun. Sure, the series that began with Mark Jones’ 1993 movie notched up five direct sequels and one existing reboot, making it one of the few enduring horror properties to have originated in the 90s; yet it’s never had anything like the devoted following of Halloween, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Hellraiser or Child’s Play. Indeed, held up alongside those, Leprechaun’s seemed something of a ‘poor man’s’ horror franchise, taken a lot less seriously than its peers, in part because almost every entry went straight to video, but also because, well, they’re about a deformed Irish imp with a taste for gold, a weakness for shoes, and a tendency to speak in rhyme. In short (pun sort-of intended), they’re bloody silly films. But of course, this knowing absurdity is all part of the appeal, and as Leprechaun Returns director Steven Kostanski argues in the DVD extras, perhaps horror could do with a bit of that right now, given how seriously so many genre entries seem to take themselves.

Considering that it comes in the wake of 2014’s poorly received Leprechaun Origins, plus the fact that it’s a SyFy production, we might be forgiven for not expecting much from Leprechaun Returns. And, really, that is the correct mindset to approach the film: it’s a low-brow, low-budget TV movie, and there’s no mistaking it for anything more. However, this is one of those rare examples of that format which shows how, when entered into in the correct spirit, you can wind up with a perfectly charming, thoroughly enjoyable 90-odd minutes of undemanding entertainment. After going in with basically no expectations, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun with a low-budget, cinema-skipping sequel since Wrong Turn 2.

Spoilers for the original Leprechaun coming up…

Taking a similar approach to 2018’s Halloween, this eighth entry in the Leprechaun series disregards every film since the 1993 original, to which it serves as a direct follow-up (call it a retcon or rebootquel if you must). For those who can’t remember that far back, that movie ended on a kid saying “fuck you, Lucky Charms” and firing a four leaf clover into Warwick Davis’s mouth with a slingshot, which sent sent the little green bastard hurtling to the bottom of a well with his flesh melting off. And, in this version of events, that’s just where the Leprechaun stayed for the subsequent 25 years, by which time the old abandoned farm house is playing host to a small group of college girls, among them Lila (Taylor Spreitler), daughter of Jennifer Aniston’s character from the original. While the young women work to turn the ramshackle dump into an off-grid, self-sustaining, eco-friendly sorority house, they get the genius idea of trying to get the well up and running again – and, wouldn’t you know it, they inadvertently set free the malevolent Leprechaun, who is resurrected with a quarter century’s worth of killing to catch up on.

To address the most obvious fan concern immediately – sadly, the Leprechaun we see reborn here is not Davis, who took the title role in the initial six entries before hanging up the jaunty green hat. Fear not, though, as Linden Porco proves a more than satisfactory replacement. Not only does the Canadian actor bring a similar blend of wit and menace to the role, he also manages an accent that really could pass for Irish (sorry Warwick). We don’t tend to have quite so many wisecracking slasher villains knocking about these days, so it’s an agreeable blast from the past to see Porco revelling in his nastiness, sending a succession of hapless youngsters to their increasingly gooey and ridiculous demises. There’s a wonderfully old school quality to the kills, even if modern technology is utilised in some fun ways; and, as the 18 certificate reflects, the fact that it’s a TV movie doesn’t mean they’ve held back on the bloodshed. That having been said, the rating is scarcely warranted, as – again, being a TV movie – there’s no sex or nudity, no F-bombs, and while the gore is more than satisfactory it’s certainly no more gruesome than anything in, say, the recently 15-rated Deadpool 2 or The Predator.

Of course, it ain’t all about the killer and his carnage; we need to give a damn about his victims in waiting if we’re going to be invested in it at all. Happily, Leprechaun Returns sports an endearing ensemble. Taylor Spreitler’s Lila makes for a great final girl, and fans of the 1993 original will be touched to see Mark Holton return as the good-hearted simpleton Ozzie, whose role takes some nicely unexpected turns. We also have a nice supporting turn from Pepi Sonuga, who’s building up a respectable horror CV having previously appeared in season 2 of Ash Vs Evil Dead. And in another Ash Vs Evil Dead connection, one of the show’s writers Suzanne Keilly is responsible for the screenplay here, and she does a great job putting smart and funny lines in the mouths of characters we might otherwise deem disposable.

I realise there are few phrases more platitudinous than “they don’t make ’em like they used to,” but I daresay that’s probably the case with movies like Leprechaun Returns. Once again, I didn’t go with any great expectations, in part as the franchise has never been especially dear to me, but also as I’m no great fan of Steven Kostanski’s previous directorial work with Astron-6 (I recall quite enjoying Father’s Day, but Manborg and The Void left me cold). In any case, there’s no questioning Kostanski’s enthusiasm for that era of late 80s/early 90s horror when direct-to-video took over, and he and his team have done a great job capturing that spirit, with a film that’s easy to envisage becoming a gateway for a new generation of viewers. Leprechaun Returns is every bit as flawed, lightweight and silly as any DTV horror movie of yesteryear, but we shouldn’t ask for anything more or less.

Leprechaun Returns is out on DVD (individually, plus in a two-disc set with the original 1993 Leprechaun) on 1st April, from Lionsgate.

Top Knot Detective (2017)

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In recent years we’ve had no shortage of tongue-in-cheek exploitationers presenting themselves as lost movies from decades gone by, but Top Knot Detective takes this same jumping off point from a different angle. This Australian indie comedy from writer-director duo Aaron McCann and Dominic Pearce (making their feature debut here) posits itself not as rediscovered material, but as a documentary chronicling the rise and fall of a popular Japanese TV series from the early 1990s which mysteriously vanished from screens, only to resurface as a cult phenomenon via pirated VHS tapes. Those grindhouse/rewindhouse aesthetics are out in full force, with bad acting, blatant continuity errors, madcap tonal shifts and shoddy special effects aplenty; but by interspersing these scenes amidst talking head interviews and pseudo-archival footage, Top Knot Detective tells us a far richer and more personal story than we might anticipate, with an often surprisingly emotional edge. It’s all so detailed and multi-faceted that you’d be forgiven for thinking it was all for real – and, indeed, you may well find yourself half-wishing it actually was.

Toshi Okuzaki stars as Takashi Takamoto, a J-Pop star whose success sees him unexpectedly handed the reins to his own TV series when Sutaffu, the corporation responsible for his record career, decides to branch out into television. The show in question is Ronin Suiri Tantai, and as well as taking the lead role of Sheimasu Tantai – a police detective who goes rogue in search of his master’s murderer – Takashi also takes responsibility for the writing, directing and editing, and as a flagrant egomaniac he’s quick to take credit for plenty more besides. While the show proves a big hit, the battle for ratings and the demand for product placement sees the initially straight period drama shoehorn in all manner of ridiculous, incongruous plot devices, whilst the arrogance and increasingly erratic behaviour of the show’s figurehead leads to a great deal more drama behind the scenes.

Even when we put aside the self-conscious absurdity, there’s so much about Top Knot Detective that beggars belief. First, and perhaps most notably, it’s a true masterclass in production design and period detail. Going in blind, you honestly might think it was a bona fide documentary in a similar spirit to those of Mark Hartley, for not only do we have abundant footage from the lost TV series, we have clips from chat shows, news reports, music videos, commercials, paparazzi photos, tabloid headlines and more besides. While there’s certainly a – what’s the best word here – heightened quality to all this material, it’s presented in such a way that it could very easily pass for real, particularly given the wobbly VHS ageing effect; the extras reveal that the bulk of the film was shot digitally, but that much of this footage was in fact transferred onto VHS for editing. Plus, given that the story spans decades, with the cast and crew of the show appearing as interview subjects some 25 years later, the ageing make-up work is truly quite remarkable; the young folks swinging swords and laughing theatrically in the early days scenes really do look like the years have taken their toll in the contemporary-set moments.

The fact that McCann, Pearce and their team were able to achieve such verisimilitude on what is their first feature-length work is really quite staggering, to say nothing of how beautifully their direction and script captures a Japanese tone, despite them both being white westerners. Major props also due to Toshi Okuzaki, who, the extras also inform us, is by trade a teacher rather than a professional actor. His histrionic turn as the Top Knot Detective is the bedrock on which the whole enterprise is built; and, as was no doubt the intention, “deductive reasoning!” is destined to become a heavily quoted catchphrase. (It definitely helped sell it to me that one of my favourite bands in the world, Shonen Knife, deliver that line early on.) Yet we also can’t overlook the genuine pathos Okuzaki brings via his scenes as Takashi Takamoto; at once a contemptible figure, yet also clearly a product – and victim – of Japan’s corporate-controlled entertainment industry. On which note, Mayu Iwasaki gives us some of the most affecting moments in the film via the character arc of supporting star Mia Matsumoto. Top Knot Detective may be a heartfelt tribute to Japanese pop culture, but it doesn’t ignore the dark underbelly of that industry.

When all’s said and done, though, you’re unlikely to take too much enjoyment from Top Knot Detective unless you have an appreciation for ludicrous over-acting, unnecessary zooms, graphic violence utilising unconvincing prosthetics, gratuitous go-go dancing and karaoke, giant robots and monsters, plinky-plonky synth pop, and other such audiovisual treats so beloved of retro cult aficionados these days. Of course, if absolutely none of that sounds like fun to you… then, well, I don’t really know what I can say. Everyone else, go check out Top Knot Detective, and I can pretty much guarantee you a good time.

Top Knot Detective is available on region free dual format DVD & Blu-ray on 18th March, from Third Window Films.

Kolobos (1999)

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Ask me to name a reality TV-related horror movie from the turn of the century, and my first responses would be My Little Eye and, after a moment of head scratching, Series 7: The Contenders, whilst doing my best to black out Halloween: Resurrection. One title which, before now, would never have come to mind is Kolobos. Indeed, I’m fairly certain I’d never heard of the film at all until getting word that Arrow were putting it out on Blu-ray. It seems I’m hardly alone in this, as this 1999 US production from a group of recent film school graduates wound up going direct to video and for the most part disappearing under the radar of even the most attentive horror devotees. Yet it seems that Kolobos did that insidious cult movie thing, becoming an object of obsession among the few it did manage to reach, and gradually reaching out its tendrils in search of an audience which, now 20 years on, might be more receptive than they were on release.

While I think it would be a bit of a stretch to declare Kolobos a lost classic, it’s still easy to see where the fascination might come from. Compare it with the bulk of the American horror to have washed up in the wake of Scream, and it’s clearly a much more thoughtful, imaginative and bold piece of work. Given that it favours a harsh, in-your-face approach to violence and gore, it’s not hard to see why it might have failed to curry favour when arriving back to back with a certain other 1999 film school graduate production, The Blair Witch Project (although I daresay it may share some common ground with Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2). Combine this emphasis on brutality and use of lethal booby traps with an audio-visual aesthetic which draws heavily on Italian horror, right down to theme music which is to Suspiria as Start! is to Taxman, and it might well be argued that Kolobos blazed a trail for another notable film debut which arrived a few years later, Saw.

Still, any way you cut it, it’s not hard to see why Kolobos didn’t capture the public imagination the way Eduardo Sanchez and Daniel Myrick’s film did, or how James Wan and Leigh Whannel’s would five years later. While it’s handsomely shot, sports a good-looking cast and takes the time-honoured, ever-marketable approach of trapping them all in a house and chopping them up one by one, directorial duo Daniel Liatowitsch and David Todd Ocvirk and co-writer/producer Nne Ebong have something a bit more cerebral and abstract in mind, which I doubt was ever going to be to the taste of a mass audience – but is, I suppose, just the ticket for late-in-the-day cult status.

After a POV-shot prologue showing a bloodied, heavily traumatised, as-yet unidentified woman staggering from the streets to the hospital, we then skip back in time a little and meet five fresh-faced twentysomethings who have auditioned and been accepted as part of a mysterious experimental film shoot. There’s no script, and no clear indication of what is expected of them; just that they have to be in a house together, where they will be filmed at all times. The chosen five are your standard stew-pot of the ambitious and the attention-seeking, from motormouth party girl Tina (Promise LeMarco) to ‘serious’ actress Erica (Nichole Pereline), bad boy stand-up comic Tom (Donny Terranova), aspiring filmmaker Gary (John Fairlie), and introverted artist Kyra (Amy Weber). It all starts out simple enough, with the usual awkwardness and personality clashes – but, as ever, it isn’t long until shit meets fan and everyone left standing succumbs to panic. Moreover, it also becomes apparent that not everyone inside has revealed the full extent of their involvement in the night’s bloodthirsty developments.

From the premise, it’s small wonder that the directors admitted their main inspiration behind the film was watching MTV’s pioneering reality TV show The Real World, and fantasising about murdering the entire cast. However, it’s surprising how little bearing the reality TV theme has on Kolobos once things are in full swing. Indeed, given the way the tide was turning in 1999, it’s a relief that the film wasn’t shot on DV in what would soon become known as the found footage format. As it is, the film’s visual style is a huge part of its appeal, looking nice on 35mm film with a lighting scheme and use of the camera which clearly owes a great deal to the old maestros of Italy. Hand-in-hand with this, Kolobos is hugely reminiscent of Italian horror in its plotting and structure – which is to say, if you attempt to work it all out with conventional real world logic, you are liable to give yourself a migraine. One of the biggest problems I’ve always had with Argento is how little sense his films make from a narrative viewpoint; this being the case, it’s small wonder I had similar issues with Kolobos, which only gets more bizarre and less coherent as the 80-odd minute running time progresses. (It may be telling that, according to the extras, about 20 minutes of this was added to the film after initial production, when the rough cut proved just an hour long.)

Even so, while Italian nightmare logic has never been entirely my cup of tea, I realise that it’s something a great many horror fans respond to; and I can also appreciate that, in certain circumstances, films which so flagrantly throw sense and reason out of the window do so in a way that proves genuinely compelling, even vaguely hypnotic. Kolobos does a pretty damn good job of this, so I’ve no doubt that many will greet its rebirth into the HD age with open arms. And, of course, Arrow Video give us a package which is as nice an introduction to Kolobos as anyone could hope for, with the film itself looking and sounding terrific, plus all-new extras including a making of featurette, interviews with actor Ilia Volok and composer William Kidd, commentary from Daniel Liatowitsch and David Todd Ocvirk, an early short film from Liatowitsch, and a series of interview snippets – featuring some faces familiar to us at Warped Perspective! – with viewers from Kolobos’ UK premiere as a mystery film at Abertoir’s 2018 Cardiff event. (And yes, guys, I winced on your behalf when the film’s directors said they were happy to know it was being watched in England.)

Kolobos hits UK Blu-ray on 11th March, from Arrow Video.

Sister Street Fighter collection (1974-1976)

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As I type these words it’s International Women’s Day, and audiences worldwide are eagerly flocking to the multiplexes to see Captain Marvel, so I guess it’s as good a time as any to remind ourselves that bad ass female action stars are not a 21st century invention. In the annals of Japanese exploitation cinema, Etsuko Shihomi may not be as instantly recognisable a name as, say, Meiko Kaji, but in a career that ran from the early 70s up to the mid 80s she notched up a string of screen roles, the most noteworthy of which – including but not limited to the four films under discussion here – drew on her considerable skills as a martial artist.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you may have first heard of Sister Street Fighter in 1993’s True Romance, when Christian Slater discusses going to see it as part of a Sonny Chiba triple bill. However, while it’s a spin-off of sorts, there’s no actual narrative connection between the Street Fighter and Sister Street Fighter franchises. Reportedly studio Toei were looking to launch a female-fronted action series, and having been impressed by Shihomi’s performances in The Street Fighter and Return of the Street Fighter, they elevated her to leading lady status. (Get this: the first three Street Fighter films and the first two Sister Street Fighter films were all made in 1974 alone. Small wonder Shihomi was ready to retire little more than a decade later.)

Sister Street Fighter introduces Shihomi as Li Koryu, a half-Japanese, half-Chinese martial arts expert whose brother, an undercover narcotics cop, has disappeared in Yokohama. Leaving behind her Hong Kong home, Koryu ventures into the dangerous Japanese criminal underworld to find her brother and finish what he started busting up the despicable drugs ring. There she finds a powerful ally in Seiichi Hibiki (Chiba).

It’s a very simple low-budget action set-up, establishing a formula which would be repeated throughout the series: a relative of Koryu is in trouble with gangland villains, she goes in to help, bloody retribution ensues. Indeed, taking in the first three films back to back, you can almost set your watch to them. We open on the exact same montage of Shihomi showing off her skills – not that it’s any less impressive third time around – then cut to hackneyed stock footage of Hong Kong, as a wise elder gives Koryu her mission. (We learn very quickly that, if you’re in any way biologically related to Koryu, you’re almost certainly fucked; but then, so are those responsible for your demise.) Next she hits the streets of Japan, shady gangster types act all shady and gangster, and emotional family reunions lead to crushing heartbreak and loss, which in turn leads to a batshit finale with blood spraying left, right and centre.

The real revelation about the Sister Street Fighter series is Etsuko Shihomi herself. While the first film, and this boxset, may be sold largely on the more marketable name of Sonny Chiba, he appears only in the first film, and even there very much in a supporting capacity, with Shihomi proving more than capable of carrying the film alone. For one, and most obviously, her physical prowess is quite the sight to behold, from kicks, punches and throws to swordplay, nunchucks, gymnastic flips and proto-parkour wall-climbing. Sure, there’s the occasional bit of screamingly obvious wire work to facilitate proceedings, but – much as with the excessively red, excessively gushy arterial spray – that’s all part of the disbelief-suspending fun.

More surprising is how at no point over the course of the films is the leading lady treated as a sex object, or in any way a lesser figure than her male co-stars. Given that 45 years later, representations of women in action cinema still invariably come with a “we can do it too” prefix and men acting all shocked at a girl being able to fight, it’s striking that the Sister Street Fighter films for the most part don’t present Shihomi’s Koryu any differently to how a male action star of the time would be presented, nor do any of the characters treat her any differently than they might a male hero.

Still, before we declare the Sister Street Fighter series a triumph for feminist action cinema, it’s very much worth noting that, while Shihomi herself is never objectified, there’s still a great deal of the standard objectification and sexism of the time on display. For starters, the first three films all feature gratuitous topless bar scenes, and show secondary female characters being raped, with the usual excuse that the rapists will die horribly in the final act. Second entry Sister Street Fighter: Hanging By A Thread works in a particularly bizarre plot device designed to pack in more nudity, as young women who are sold into prostitution are also used to smuggle diamonds, with the jewels in question hidden… okay, for the sake of spoilers I won’t give it all away, but it’s one of those plot devices you only find in this kind of grade-A exploitation.

Yet even though the films are not without their unsavoury overtones (really, would it be proper exploitation otherwise?), Sister Street Fighter, Sister Street Fighter: Hanging By A Thread and Return of the Sister Street Fighter make for a very satisfying all-action trilogy. The jury’s out a little when it comes to Sister Street Fighter: Fifth Level Fist, a name-only sequel which casts Shihomi in a marginally more demure role as Kiku, a young karate instructor whose overbearing parents are trying to marry off, but who – now brace yourselves for this – finds out some of her nearest and dearest are caught up in a secret drug smuggling ring, and must soon seek revenge. This one plays a bit more to gender stereotypes and too often leaves Shihomi standing at the sidelines, leaving you impatient to see her kick arse centre stage.

As ever, sterling work has been done by Arrow Video, with terrific sound and picture quality across the board, and some nice extras including new video interviews with Sonny Chiba, director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi and screenwriter Masahiro Kakefuda, plus a limited edition booklet written by Chris Poggiali on the first pressing. All in all, existing fans will have plenty to pleased with, and I should think it’s more than enough to leave a new generation of viewers in awe of Etsuko Shihomi.

The Sister Street Fighter collection is available now on Blu-ray from Arrow Video.

Evil Dead 2 (1987)

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As I remarked the last time we got a Blu-ray edition of Re-Animator (it wouldn’t surprise me if there have been more since), there are times when the task of reviewing a ‘new release’ of an old genre favourite feels arbitrary in the extreme. For anyone who knows their movies, there are some titles that really need no introduction, so integral are they to the structure of the cinematic landscape. And if I consider that true of Stuart Gordon’s 1985 splatter spectacular, it must be doubly (triply? Quadruply?) true of Sam Raimi’s 1987 sequel to his notorious breakthrough horror classic. Evil Dead 2 is a film I’ve discussed at length before;  the film, the franchise as a whole, and its lead protagonist are all very, very firmly established as cornerstones of modern horror. There’s very little debating its significance; in genre circles and beyond, Evil Dead 2 is held up as a masterpiece, and one of those select few sequels that almost certainly surpasses its predecessor in every respect. Nor am I just going along with the consensus in saying this, as Evil Dead 2 is easily one of my top ten, probably even top five all-time personal favourites.

With this said, I do find myself uncertain whether I can come up with much fresh insight into the film for this look at this new edition from Studiocanal, which sees Evil Dead 2 released to 4K Ultra HD for the first time in the UK. Still, far be it from me to assume that all readers are as familiar with the film as I am, so the bulk of what follows is primarily for the benefit of those who might need a bit more of an introduction. (As for the rest of you; I rather doubt you need me to say anything more to give you an incentive to buy this. It’s Evil Dead 2, and it’s never looked and sounded better. Shut up and give Studiocanal your money.)

The first important thing to note if you’ve never seen Evil Dead 2 is that it doesn’t matter one iota if you haven’t seen the original Evil Dead either. Indeed, in a way it might actually be helpful if you haven’t, as in most respects the film is more remake than sequel, and seems specifically designed to be accessible to the uninitiated. The opening scenes play out as a condensed retread of the events of the first film, with Bruce Campbell’s Ash – now a square-jawed twentysomething, as opposed the puppy-fat sporting teen of the original – drives up to a remote cabin in the woods with his girlfriend Linda (Denise Bixler) for a romantic weekend getaway, which promptly goes to hell when the couple come under attack by some unseen demonic force which turns Linda into a bloodthirsty deadite. Somehow managing to stay alive, yet unable to escape, Ash holes up in the cabin where he comes to endure all manner of bizarre torments. However, help is on the way in the form of Annie (Sarah Berry), daughter of the historian whose research into the fabled Necronomicon is indirectly responsible for this dreaded deadite outbreak.

The original Evil Dead was surely the best known title caught up in Britain’s infamous Video Nasty panic; banned outright for most of the 1980s, it was only released uncut in 2000, and the sequel too initially had trouble with the censors, only getting an 18 after a few seconds of cuts. As such, it might raise some eyebrows that this fully uncut version of Evil Dead 2 is now rated 15. However, by contrast with its deliberately outrageous predecessor – and, for that matter, with the franchise’s similarly envelope-pushing TV offshoot, Ash Vs Evil Dead – Evil Dead 2 is far less interested in prompting shock and awe than it is in simply thrilling, delighting, and tickling the funny bone. While there’s certainly plenty of bloodshed, it’s presented in such a cartoonish manner that it can’t possibly be taken seriously, and more often than not green slime and/or black goop take the place of your standard red gore. Beyond a single F-bomb, swearing is largely absent too, and while the sequel does revisit the original’s still-controversial ‘tree rape’ sequence, it makes a point of downplaying any sexual overtone this time around. Indeed, Evil Dead 2 is so low on explicit content that in some households it might even pass for family entertainment.

The result is not so much ‘the ultimate experience in gruelling terror’ (the Stephen King quote around which the legend of the original Evil Dead was built), but rather a fairground haunted house attraction, with puppets and people in masks jumping out and yelling ‘boo!’ in such a way as to both alarm and prompt laughter at the same time. As I think is pretty well established, audience reactions to comedy and horror aren’t really that far removed, and Evil Dead 2 plays in the grey area betwixt those two arenas to arguably greater effect than any film before or since. This is largely thanks to the partnership between two truly remarkable artists doing what almost certainly stands up as the best work either have ever done: director Sam Raimi, whose hyper-kinetic camerawork, plus use of editing and sound, redefined the visual vocabulary of horror (and beyond); and leading man Bruce Campbell, whose screen presence and physical comedy chops truly are second to none.

I can also safely say that I’ve never seen Raimi’s vision look better than I have in this new edition. Whilst I should stress that I didn’t look at the 4K edition (sorry tech heads, I’m still a comparative luddite), the Blu-ray looks and sounds absolutely great, with far greater nuance and detail visible than in earlier DVD editions, and from the looks of things more than a couple of digital touch-ups: some previously visible wires appear to have been wiped away. It’s also a great package in terms of extras, although again most of these have been reproduced from earlier editions: amongst others, we have the commentary track and featurettes from the original Evil Dead 2 DVD, plus 2011 feature length documentary Swallowed Souls: The Making of Evil Dead 2, and French documentary Bloody and Groovy, Baby!, which sports a wide variety of filmmakers discussing the film and its impact.

It really isn’t overstating matters to say that Evil Dead 2 is one of the greatest, most significant horror movies of the last four decades which belongs of the shelf of any self-respecting collector, so this is absolutely the edition to get your hands on if you don’t already own it, as well as being a wholly deserving trade-up for existing owners who want it in higher-res. Enough of my yammering, go buy it.

And would you believe it made it all this way without once saying “groovy?”

Evil Dead 2 is out now in a 4K Ultra HD & Blu-ray combo edition, plus Blu-ray and DVD, from Studiocanal.

Slaughterhouse Rulez (2018)

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Love them as we may, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost are perplexing figures at times. Given their obvious, long-proven skill as both performers and writers, it’s hard not to be struck by how often they lend their talents to projects that are clearly beneath them; this is especially true of Pegg, who may have carved out a respectable niche for himself as a Hollywood supporting actor, but whose lead work outside of the Cornetto trilogy has left a great deal to be desired. Now in fairness, Pegg and Frost are neither the lead actors nor the writers of Slaughterhouse Rulez, but it’s the first film to come out of their production house Stolen Image, and as executive producers with key supporting roles the film is largely being sold on their presence. (As if any modern comedy horror, from Britain in particular, needed more reason to be instantly compared and contrasted with Shaun of the Dead).

Well, who knows; maybe the project looked like a safe bet in the early stages. Certainly from the central premise – an upper class English boarding school comes under attack from subterranean monsters – there was hope for a fun creature feature. Alas, Slaughterhouse Rulez (and no, I don’t know what the thinking is behind that moronic title either) is yet another mid-budget genre production that aims high and falls flat on its face almost immediately.

Unassuming young northerner Don Wallace (Finn Cole) is a new arrival at Slaughterhouse, a very expensive and exclusive public school (clarification for international readers: in the UK a ‘public school’ is in fact a private school) situated on a remote country estate. Assigned to the least respected school house with outcast Willoughby (Asa Butterfield) as his room mate, Don quickly learns the hard way that life is hell there for anyone not at the top of pecking order. However, Hell is on its way to Slaughterhouse in a more literal sense, as fracking on the school grounds – all very much approved by Michael Sheen’s upper class twit headmaster – is leading to very strange and sinister goings-on, as mysterious, carnivorous creatures from deep underground make it to the surface with a taste for posh kid meat.

It all sounds like great fun, and there’s really no reason it shouldn’t have been, if only director/co-writer Crispian Mills (yes, 90s kids, the former lead singer and guitarist from Kula Shaker) had approached it with a clearer idea of what he was trying to make. On the one hand it’s going for a standard teen friendly comedy horror; on the other, it has aspirations of topical satire. On top of the fracking subplot, efforts are made to critique the public school system, the toll it takes on those trapped within it, and by extension the detrimental effects this has on the country as a whole; it’s no accident that all the posh boy bullies look and sound like future Conservative front-benchers. Yet when it’s trying so hard to be all thoughtful and edgy, Slaughterhouse Rulez completely neglects to build three-dimensional characters, a compelling story, or – most importantly – be in the least bit funny or scary.

I haven’t seen Mills’ previous film with Pegg, 2012’s A Fantastic Fear of Everything, but I’ve heard almost nothing good about it, and on the strength of this I certainly don’t think he’s got much of a future as a director. Despite having a very decent cast, a clearly reasonable budget, some nice practical effects work (the monster designs aren’t half bad) and a premise with clear potential, Slaughterhouse Rulez is an ungodly mess. Again, this makes Pegg and Frost’s connection to it all the more unsavoury. Revisit Shaun, Hot Fuzz and The World’s End; they’re pretty much masterclasses in fully rounded storytelling, character building and narrative structure, which make a point of packing in as much real wit and heart as possible. This just feels like Mills and co flung as much shit at the wall as possible and waited to see what would stick; and very little did.

Slaughterhouse Rulez is available now in the UK on digital download, and comes to DVD and Blu-ray on 11th March, from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.

Dave Made A Maze (2017)

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In a world where we so often feel like every story has been told, perhaps a movie about a guy who builds a cardboard labyrinth in his apartment is just what we need to make us believe in original ideas again. A bizarre low budget comedy from first time director and co-writer Bill Watterson, Dave Made A Maze is at once a heartfelt homage to the Spielbergian fantasy adventure, and a very modern, very hipstery indie film about the difficulties faced by those of us still harbouring creative ambitions well into adulthood, yet struggling to realise those dreams. Appropriately enough it’s a very ambitious piece of work, and there are certainly places where it might fall a little short of what it’s aiming for, but there’s no denying the level of imagination and wit that’s gone into it.

Annie (Meera Rohit Kumbhani) and Dave (Nick Thune) are by all appearances a fairly typical thirtysomething couple. While we’re not given too much detail on their backstory it’s apparent that they’ve spent some years together having bonded over their shared artistic aspirations; but where Annie seems to have grown up and gone professional, Dave still can’t get his head out of the clouds long enough to either a) see any of his projects through to completion or b) get a job. For better or worse, this changes when Annie goes away for a few days on business, and a sudden hit of inspiration sees Dave get to work on the aforementioned cardboard maze. When Annie gets home, she finds what appears to be an oversized box fort in the middle of the apartment, with Dave unseen within, insisting it’s not safe for him to come out or for her to come in. Naturally fearing her beloved is having a nervous breakdown, Annie calls in their old friend Gordon (Adam Busch, best known as that bastard who murdered Tara on Buffy), but when he in turn proves unable to persuade Dave to leave the maze he chooses instead to make the most of the interesting situation and call in their filmmaker friend Harry (James Urbaniak), his crew and a few assorted hangers-on to document the event. Against Dave’s wishes, they all soon enter the maze to get him out – and find that, as Dave had told them, it’s somewhat bigger on the inside. Indeed, it’s not just a mock labyrinth, it’s a sprawling maze of cardboard catacombs which has taken on a life of its own; and what labyrinth is complete without its share of potentially lethal surprises?

As should be clear from that synopsis, this is a film whose characters are all arty-farty psuedo-intellectual types spouting pithy self-referential observations at every turn. It’s entirely likely that this slightly smug sensibility is liable to put some viewers off, and I’d be lying if I said it was necessarily laugh-a-minute stuff, which we can certainly deem a considerable issue given that Dave Made A Maze is first and foremost a comedy. Even so, while the humour may not always land, and the characterisations lean towards over-familiar stereotypes (the angst-ridden struggling artist, the long-suffering level-headed girlfriend, the wisecracking best friend with a beard), there’s enough chemistry between the cast to keep the viewer invested.

Of course, the actors are in this instance little more than the window dressing on what has to be one of the most jaw-dropping feats of production design I’ve ever seen in such a clearly low budget production. Plenty of penny-pinching fantasy films have built their sets out of household materials, but Dave Makes A Maze does so without ever attempting to hide it, the homemade nature of the fantastical construction being entirely the point, and this is where both the film’s wonder and most of its comedy value come from. We might easily be looking at a booby-trapped network of cavernous tunnels from an Indiana Jones adventure or The Goonies, but for the simple detail that literally everything is constructed from cardboard and other such readily available objects from around the house, and the level of artistry and imagination that has gone into even the smallest, most transitory aspects of the maze are really quite astounding. So great are the intricacies, it seems inevitable that new details will pop out with each viewing, no doubt helping the film’s chances of attaining cult status. (Given that premier cult label Arrow Video have picked it up, clearly someone fancies its chances there.)

We might easily question just how well knowing, adult-oriented hipster humour can sit alongside such fantastical elements drawing on a childlike sense of wonder and disbelief suspended to breaking point (I’m clumsily mixing analogies there, but you get the gist). However, in a sense this reflects the dilemma at the heart of Dave Makes A Maze: the struggle to balance the dreams of youth with the realities of adulthood. Dave’s anxiety over hitting his thirties without having done half the things he meant to do is sure to strike a chord with many, and one suspects it’s something that resonates deeply with director Watterson, given he’s making his first film as a man in his mid-forties (although he’s got quite an acting CV to his name). Of course, both the director’s work here and the arc of his lead protagonist serve to demonstrate that it doesn’t matter how fast you are out of the gate, so long as you find your own way eventually. In all this, Dave Makes A Maze very much appeals to the glass-half-full optimism of my better self, and I daresay you’d have to be a thoroughly cynical bastard for it not to warm your heart just a little.

Dave Made A Maze is released to Blu-ray, VOD and download in the UK on 28th January, from Arrow Video.

Lifechanger (2018)

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I have to say right away, it takes some balls to slap a title like that on a low-budget indie horror from a largely unknown cast and crew. It’s almost as if writer-director Justin McConnell and company are inviting the likes of me to snidely declare that it’s far from a life-changing experience. By extension, this would seem to indicate confidence on the part of the filmmakers in the quality of their product; yet as we’ve seen plenty of times, indie horror can often be a little misguided in such self-certainty. Happily, this is not one of those occasions. Lifechanger certainly hasn’t changed my life (that’s the last time I’ll say it, I promise), but it is a fine piece of work, with a compelling central conceit: a monstrous protagonist who repeatedly switches bodies. And if that brings up memories of Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday, don’t worry as this is an entirely different kettle of fish. (Although, side note, it does share some common ground with Jason Goes To Hell director Adam Marcus’s most recent movie Secret Santa, in that it’s set at Christmas time. And why not.)

The prolific Bill Oberst Jr. provides narration as our protagonist Drew, yet initially it’s not quite clear how the voice of this middle-aged man relates to what we’re seeing, as we open on a young, dark haired woman named Emily (Elitsa Bako) waking up in bed alongside another woman, dead. Even with the heavy onset of decomposition, the physical proportions and hair of this corpse are noticeably similar to the very much alive woman who soon gets up and sets about disposing of the body with the precision of one who’s gone through this routine many times before. This, we soon discover, is because Emily is not Emily; she’s in fact Drew, a man afflicted with some mysterious ailment which forces him to absorb the life force of other people, changing his body into an exact copy of theirs and leaving their bodies lifeless shells in the process. When Drew does this he takes over the unfortunate person’s life for a time, but this new form will only last so long until he needs to absorb another. And whatever form he happens to take, he keeps ending up in one particular bar, talking to one particular woman named Julia (Lora Burke).

From the premise you might anticipate a very Cronenbergian body horror, and doubtless many viewers will be disappointed that Lifechanger tends not to emphasise the actual shape-shifting process in much gory detail. However, it’s an intriguing experience watching a movie in which the protagonist is portrayed by a different actor every 10-15 minutes or so. The connecting thread of Julia occasionally puts a bit of strain on that old suspension of disbelief (is she really in that bar every damn night, and does she really get into a full-on heart-to-heart with a total stranger every time?), yet it all plays into what we gradually realise is Drew’s one prevailing motivation: to be reunited with the one person he ever felt a true connection to, and continues to a find a connection with even in all these different bodies.

The film’s weaknesses, although minor, are familiar for low budget horror: the writing and acting isn’t always as strong as we’d like, some of the more physical moments could have been staged and shot better, and there are aspects of the fantastical hook which aren’t as well realised as they might have been. Specifically, the broader ramifications of Drew adopting these new bodies could have been explored more thoroughly; we’re told he not only takes on their physical form but also absorbs their memories and personalities, yet we never fully get a sense of this. However, as an exploration of how what a person might consider true love can in fact be an unhealthy and dangerous fixation, Lifechanger really works, and it certainly touches on some interesting, haunting questions about the nature of individual identity.

So, while Lifechanger might not be a lifechanger (oops, I said I wouldn’t say it again, didn’t I?), it’s still an interesting, imaginative and fairly atmospheric film that’s well worth a look.

Lifechanger is available on demand now in the US via Uncork’d Entertainment, and will be released to DVD and digital HD in the UK on 11th March as part of Signature Entertainment’s FrightFest Presents line.

In Conversation: Ben & Keri’s Favourite Films From 2018

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2018’s as good as over, so it’s end of year review time. Having gone through this old routine a good few times already, Warped Perspective’s editors Ben Bussey and Keri O’Shea decided to take a different approach this year and get together for a virtual discussion of their favourite films of the year; and for the sake of brevity, opted to each list their top 5 rather than the traditional top 10. (Click on the titles to go to our reviews.)

Keri: Okay, so I guess we could start by naming our favourite five films of the year? I’m curious as to whether there’ll be any overlap; I feel like a few of mine are lesser-known at this point in time, though hopefully that’ll change.

Ben: I thought maybe we could name them one at a time, and discuss the choices as we went along? Although yes, it is entirely possible there will be overlaps.

Keri: Okay, we’ll do it that way.

Ben: Well I was a bit tardy so seems only fair you go first. What’s your number 5? Oh, and incidentally have you arranged them in preferential order? I haven’t, really.

Keri: Not really. Okay, my first choice is actually the first film I saw and reviewed in 2018 – Rabbit. I don’t think you’ve had a chance to see it yet, but I definitely recommend it. Very atmospheric. I don’t like to bandy ‘Lynchian’ around, but there’s something of that in there.

Ben: No, I have not seen that one but I do recall your review.

Keri: It starts quite cliche – girl running through woods – but it has this roaring soundtrack, and it takes its storyline in some very strange directions, which I loved.

Ben: As we’ve noted before, the term ‘Lynchian’ tends to get over-zealously applied to anything a bit weird, but if you’re using for Rabbit I guess that means there’s a genuinely abstract sensibility at play.

Keri: Yes, right down to the appearance of the characters, the locations, and the dialogue. It has a very dizzying effect.

So what’s made your list?

Ben: Well, just as you started on something small, independent and little-seen, I’ve rather gone to the other end of the spectrum on my first choice, which I’m assuming won’t have made your list: Black Panther.

Keri: Ah, indeed. Yes, a massive hit! What did you personally rate about it?

Ben: I thought it really brought something fresh and different to the superhero blockbuster format, which has obviously grown very well-worn. It hit all the right beats for your typical big budget action adventure, but I thought it also brought some real heart and ingenuity.

And such a great ensemble cast; so many endearing performances, even down to comparatively minor supporting characters like M’Baku.

Keri: I suppose as a non-fan of the glut of superhero films in general, it was always going to be a gamble for me. And, I can’t enjoy a film in a vacuum, and the gratuitous worship of the film turned me off majorly! Which is daft, I know, as it’s not a bad thing when a film garners so much support.

I’m still blown away that the film unself-consciously had the lead saying taking in refugees would jeopardise the quality of life in Wakanda!

Ben: It’s certainly true that superhero movies walk a very awkward tightrope when they try to apply real-world ethics to stories of super-powered individuals flexing their might; even more notably in this instance given the hero is a monarch. And I can see why the excess of praise around the film, most of it more to do with its progressive qualities than its strengths as a piece of film-making, could be off-putting. But I felt it all worked really well.

Then again, I do really like superhero movies, and got out to see the bulk of them this year: really enjoyed Deadpool 2 and Avengers: Infinity War as well. But I liked that Black Panther for the most part was a true standalone, not so dependent on broader knowledge of a cinematic universe.

Keri: I’ll give you that – I had never read anything about its universe before, and it made sense. And it had rhinos, which is in its favour.

Ben: Yes, rhinos make everything better.

Keri: Well, to get to my second film, I’m afraid it’s yet another lesser-known one. And another animal-related title – so we’ve had a rabbit, a panther, and now a Hippoptamus.

Ben: 2018 was an animalistic kind of year, it seems.

Keri: Hippopotamus is the second film on my end-of-year favourites list which I got to see thanks to the fine people at the East End Film Festival – and in all honesty, the beginning of the film didn’t exactly fill me with promise. A young woman, imprisoned in a barren room. Oh, here we go, I thought. Well, I do like to be wrong in this kind of situation!

Ben: This is another I haven’t seen but can recall your review of. Sounds like basic torture fare, but proves to be something more?

Keri: Yes. It centres on a girl, Ruby, who is being held captive by someone. Her legs are broken, she’s amnesiac, and terrified. Gradually, she begins to uncover information about her captor and, well, things are not what they seem.

I was impressed that the filmmaker, Edward A. Palmer, managed to reinvigorate what has come to be a very tedious trope. I was hooked.

Ben: I’ll be honest, it sounds like the sort of film I’d be told about and then decide not to see these days. I was never that into the grim ordeal horror thing which dominated the genre for so long, and as a result I don’t take as many chances on new films that would appear to lean that way, particularly when they’re low-budget indies.

Feel quite bad admitting that, really, but we both know what a lottery new indie horror can be.

Keri: Definitely, the initial write-up gave me cause for concern. I would definitely recommend this one, though – it really doesn’t turn into a torture-fest. It’s very well-paced and leaves you doubting everything you’ve seen.

Ben: Sounds good. I feel like we should mention, have Rabbit and/or Hippopotamus had an official release? (I’m assuming readers won’t have much difficulty locating the other film we’ve mentioned.)

Keri: Rabbit has, but I think Hippopotamus has yet to. (If you know different, please let us know!)

Ben: Okay, well on to my next I suppose, and I feel like a pattern’s emerging as I’ve picked yet another major studio release seen by loads of people; although I will also say, this was the one pick in my top five that it took me the longest to settle on. And the film in question is – A Quiet Place.

Keri: Okay, that would definitely be an honourable mention from me, too. We seem to be in the throes of sensory deprivation horror these days – take Bird Box and It Comes at Night as other examples. A Quiet Place really did well with the idea, though. Very accomplished piece of work.

Ben: Still yet to see either of the others you mention, but yeah, seems an interesting subgenre of sorts. Don’t Breathe, from a couple of years ago, rather fits with that too. Not sure how much else could be done with it; a movie when the monster can smell you coming?

Keri: Maybe! If anyone can make that scary or creepy, I doff my cap to them.

Ben: Anyway, A Quiet Place has obviously been discussed more widely in the context of Get Out and It before, and Hereditary and the Suspiria remake since; this new wave of mainstream horror treating the genre more seriously, which of course the independents have been doing for a long time.

There are ups and downs to this: haven’t seen new Suspiria so can’t comment there, but I did share many of your misgivings about Hereditary. There’s a danger that these films get too concerned with being clever-clever and forget to actually be entertaining.

A Quiet Place did a lot better there, I thought. It had its understated character-based emotional content, and credited the audience with intelligence, but also made a point of having well-crafted suspense sequences, and scary monsters which you actually get a proper look at.

Keri: It’s definitely a dark day when filmmakers are more concerned with being taken seriously than telling a story, yes. The former follows on from the latter. And I’d agree with you on A Quiet Place – it felt as though it had a real story to tell. It’s not easy to kickstart a completely new mythology, either – it would have been a much weaker film had it opted for tried-and-tested monsters.

Ben: Yeah, I really liked the creatures. Nice and grisly beasts. Almost surprising that those would pass in a PG-13 across the pond! I definitely think it earned its 15, although it’s clearly a milder one. Bit sceptical about them doing a sequel to it, but there’s certainly scope to explore that world further I think.

Keri: I hadn’t heard that was the plan; I guess there could be more to tell. Though hopefully a different spin on it, if it comes. Much as Cloverfield Lane was a worthy successor to Cloverfield – it was made in a different enough style.

Ben: That’s probably the way to go, yeah, not sure there’s much more to be done with the same characters. Anyway, unless we’ve anything more to say there, on to your number 3?

Keri: Mandy has to be in there for me. It’s the most vivid, trippy, fucking metal film ever! I do get that it’s a divisive one. And I’m actually no great lover of the ‘full Nicolas Cage’ generally, but here it worked absolutely beautifully.

Ben: Ah yes, I thought you’d be including that. It’s a close runner-up for me, probably just because watching it on my own at home surely pales next to what an experience it would be on the big screen – although you saw it at home too, didn’t you?

Keri: I did, sadly I couldn’t find it in a cinema! Maybe one day I’ll get to rewatch it on the big screen.

Ben: That’s what we get for missing the first night of Celluloid Screams!

Keri: Indeed! It still worked bloody well on the small screen, mind. A really original, heady film. The colour palette alone made me feel like I’d taken some weird hallucinogenic.

So yeah, I really rated it. And I felt like (with the ‘metal logo’ being used, as well as some of the music) it seemed to be directly addressing metal fans. Or maybe I just wanted that to be the case!

Ben: The trippy aspects were definitely what worked best for me; that scene between Mandy and the cult leader, their faces almost imperceptibly morphing into one another – that’ll mess with your head. But to be honest, it lost me a little once it became all about the revenge. Much of it just felt a little bit goofy. A bit *too* goofy I should say; it’s not as if anyone involved didn’t realise how over the top it all gets.

Keri: What’s your next choice?

Ben: Okay, I suspect my next may possibly be on your list as well… it’s Summer Of 84.

Keri: Indeed it is. A pleasant surprise, if ‘pleasant’ is the right term; what makes the film stand out is how far it moves away from the kind of kitsch nostalgia it at first seems to be channelling.

Ben: I’ll admit I can be a sucker for all this 80s retro; love Stranger Things and Ready Player One. Even so, I didn’t necessarily go into Summer of 84 with the highest expectations as I knew it was from the makers of Turbo Kid, which I wasn’t that impressed with. But as you say, this one has quite the sting in its tail, and really tears away that comfort blanket of nostalgia by the final act. I said in my review that it was one of the most genuinely startling endings I’d seen in a long time, and I stand by that; I really didn’t see it taking that dark a turn.

That having been said, I still appreciated the simpler, kids on holiday antics building up to that point. You and I of course saw it together at Celluloid Screams, and I recall us both recognising how true to life that whiskey-drinking scene is.

Keri: Yes, it manages to go from well-observed and plausible, likeable characters to somewhere completely unexpected and unparalleled, in terms of how nasty it gets.

Ben: Well hey, we shared an entry there so we saved a bit of time. So – onto your number 2? Tee hee. Oh wait – that was your number 2. So, probably better it’s my number 2. This doesn’t stop being funny. Anyway – my next pick is Overlord. Did you get a chance to see that?

Keri: Sadly not: sell it to me!

Ben: It’s another one I went back and forth over; it was between that and The Predator, both of which I thought were great large scale gory B-movies, and neither of which got the attention they deserved. The Predator, in fact, was really unfairly maligned. But Overlord got the edge just because of how wonderfully crazy and excessive it is: a grim World War II movie which gradually turns into a mad scientist Nazi zombie romp with gruesome contortions, gushing exit wounds and stuff blowing up all over the shop. So much fun to see the Nazi Zombie movie done with a big budget.

Keri: Sounds good, so it’s another title I need to catch up with. Nazi zombies always seem to make for an entertaining film.

Ben: They do indeed, and I think Overlord really hit the spot. A great one for Friday nights with beer and curry. Assuming I’ve got my sums right this time, that leaves us with one more each to name?

Keri: Yes indeed. My last pick is the second title from the East End Film Festival – The Isle. I thought it was very good indeed, again a film drawing something new out of mythology. Its location is incredible, too, very evocative. I thought its ambition paid off – and I am a sucker for a period setting.

Ben: Yet another I haven’t yet seen, sadly: I’m sure I say this every year, but I really need to make a point of seeing more festival films. Although my last pick is another festival title too, which I’m far from alone in heaping praise on: One Cut of the Dead.

Keri: I’m so sad I had to miss this! Sounds great.

Ben: It really is. It’s also another one that it’s hard to discuss in detail for fear of ruining it for the uninitiated, suffice to say it takes some really unexpected turns, but all builds up into something which pays off beautifully, and I’ve no doubt it will reap further rewards on repeat viewing. Happily, it’s getting a limited cinema release in January right before it comes out on DVD and Blu-ray, so all being well you won’t have long to wait to see it.

So yeah – all in all I think 2018’s been a pretty good year for film. As ever there are a ton of widely praised films I’ve missed, but I’m happy to say there haven’t been too many new movies I’ve seen this year that I genuinely disliked, although as ever there were a few pretty underwhelming direct to DVD/VOD releases.

Keri: Yeah, there seems to be more extremes. When they’re good, they’re very very good, and when they’re not…

But yes, although I have missed plenty I’m sure I’d have loved, I still get to look forward to seeing them!

Ben: That’s the great thing about film; doesn’t matter if you weren’t there when it first arrived, as once they’re out there, they’re out there forever in one form or another.

Keri: Here’s to 2019,then!

Ben: Yes indeed. Let’s hope it’s a good one, as Yoko Ono once shrieked.

Once Upon A Time In China collection (1991-1997)

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If you’ve seen your share of historical martial arts movies, chances are you’ve heard the name Wong Fei-Hung. A real life pioneer of Kung Fu and Chinese medicine and all-around folk hero, he’s been heavily mythologised in Hong Kong action cinema, notable films including Drunken Master and Iron Monkey. However, where both those films followed a young Wong before he became the figure of legend, the Once Upon A Time In China series showcased him at the height of his powers. Beyond this, the series – or its earlier entries, at least – made a point of exploring the troubled state of the nation during Wong’s lifetime, in the last years before the establishment of the Republic of China in 1912. Of course, given the films were made in Hong Kong in the early 1990s – i.e. immediately prior to the region returning to Chinese rule – it’s hard not to ponder the historical parallels. In all this, Once Upon A Time In China became arguably the last great franchise to emerge from that golden era of Hong Kong action film-making, and many would say they’ve remained the crowning achievement of both leading man Jet Li and director Tsui Hark. This being the case, it’s very nice to see the series (or, at least, the bulk of it) come to Blu-ray in the UK via Eureka Entertainment, who’ve been doing a great job bringing Hong Kong action classics to HD of late.

1991’s original Once Upon A Time In China (simply entitled Wong Fei-Hung on its native shores) is, to be frank, a fairly rare breed of martial arts film: one in which the plot and its broader context are every bit as compelling as the acrobatic action. Even the staunchest defender of the genre has to admit that much of the time the story in these movies is there primarily to string the fight scenes together, but in this case we’re presented with a genuinely fascinating story world in which the conflicts that are not necessarily resolved physically still pack as great a punch. Li’s Wong is a martial arts instructor and physician in Foshan, where tensions abide thanks not only to local criminal gangs, but uneasy relations with Western settlers. Wong’s own feelings on this matter are challenged with the arrival of Siu-Kwan (Rosamund Kwan), whom he insists on addressing as 13th Aunt (they’re distantly related by marriage) for matters of propriety, despite the fact that they’re roughly the same age and clearly attracted to one another. Siu-Kwan has spent much time in the West and has come home wearing their clothes, speaking their languages and utilising their technology, none of which sits well with the staunchly traditional Wong, who is one among many suspicious of the West and its impact on China’s culture and identity. They’re given ample reason to doubt the West further once it comes to light that American officials are quietly dealing in human trafficking, which naturally isn’t something the bold martial artist will take lying down.

On top of boasting really quite beautiful production design and cinematography, Once Upon A Time In China also had a hand to play in establishing the more lavish, wire-based martial arts choreography which swept Hong Kong in the 1990s, and not long thereafter made its presence felt in Hollywood. It does seem curious that the filmmakers would choose to utilise such flagrantly non-naturalistic, gravity defying fighting techniques for a film ostensibly based on real characters and events (although truthfully I’ve no idea how historically accurate any of it is: I suspect the answer is ‘not very’). That’s just Kung Fu movies for you; without the sense of spectacle, the rest of it just isn’t there, and if you can’t suspend your disbelief accordingly you’re robbing yourself of some real enjoyment. Sure, the HD presentation means the wires are occasionally even more visible than they were beforehand, but there’s no denying there’s some thrilling action in here, and this remains the one defining trait that runs through all the films in this box set.

This is not to say that the Once Upon A Time In China series immediately fell prey to the law of diminishing returns, however, as 1992’s Once Upon A Time In China II improves on its already impressive forebear in just about every respect. Not only that, but it advances the core theme of China’s turn-of-the-century identity in an intriguing and perhaps unexpected manner. As previously stated, these films arrived in the run-up to Hong Kong being re-appropriated by China in 1997 (technically they’re all HK-Chinese co-productions), and as such it doesn’t seem too great a stretch to deem them propaganda for spreading Chinese nationalism, particularly given how heavily the first film would seem to demonise the Western influence. By contrast, the core threat in the sequel is a fanatical sect of Chinese nationalists preaching religious fundamentalism and extreme xenophobia, declaring that anyone and anything they deem tainted by foreign influences must be destroyed. In challenging this, Wong – and the film itself – clearly lean in a moderate direction, recognising that cultures need to embrace change, and that this needn’t equate to the destruction of all they hold dear; no small point, given that those most resistant to change frequently cause the most destruction. And of course, as much as this film builds on its predecessor in theme and narrative, it also ups the ante on the action; and it obviously doesn’t hurt that Donnie Yen joins the cast as a shady police official, who – but of course – trades blows with Li’s Wong.

These first two films set the bar pretty damn high, so it was sadly inevitable things could only go down from there. Even so, while 1993’s Once Upon A Time In China III is clearly a lesser film, it’s still a fine piece of entertainment. Political overtones are somewhat less prominent this time around, with a greater emphasis on building on the characters in a more light-hearted, almost sitcom-like fashion, in particular the awkward romance between Wong and 13th Aunt, as she’s still most commonly known. The main plot thread of a competition between lion dance troupes feels somewhat slight in comparison to the first two films, but it still leads to plenty of wire-enhanced fun and frolics, and there’s still a bit of political intrigue thanks to some meddling in local affairs by shady Russian politicians. Ooh, contemporary resonance.

One might be forgiven for wondering just why Eureka are selling this new box set as the Once Upon A Time in China trilogy, given that it actually boasts four films. Well, it seems this is one of those instances where many prefer to think of the series of having ended at that point. Not included here are the fourth and fifth entries in the series, made in 1993 and 1994, without Jet Li, Tsui Hark or any of the key players from the original trilogy; while I haven’t seen either film I gather they’re not held in anywhere near as high a regard. Nor is the fourth and final film in the box set, 1997’s series closer Once Upon A Time In China and America, which follows Li’s Wong, Kwan’s Siu-Kwan and returning Part 3 actor Hung Yan-yan as Wong’s student Clubfoot Seven, as they venture into the Wild West for the opening of the first Chinese medicine clinic in America. While it deals heavily with the oppression and bigotry faced by the first Chinese-Americans, all in all this a far goofier proposition than the preceding films, awkwardly blending Kung Fu action and broad Hong Kong humour with the motifs of the Western, to often somewhat cringe-worthy effect. Tsui Hark’s replacement behind the camera by another HK legend, Sammo Hung, may have had a detrimental effect there; while Sammo may be a true master, he’s certainly not known for his subtlety. No one’s helped by the meandering and overloaded narrative, sidetracked by a rather tedious thread in which Wong suffers amnesia and is taken in by a Native American tribe. On which note, the prevalence of both Western and Asian actors donning redface isn’t likely to go over well with much of the contemporary audience.

All this having been said, Once Upon A Time In China and America is still undemanding fun, and certainly shouldn’t detract from the overall desirability of this box set. While regrettably I haven’t had time to have a proper look at the extras, there’s plenty of them, with new and archival interviews with key cast and crew members, commentary tracks, behind the scenes material, a 48 minute featurette on the real Wong Fei-Hung, and a collector’s booklet boasting essays on all the films from James Oliver. While the latter two films may be largely disposable, the first two might well be among the very best Kung Fu films ever made, so no fan of the genre should overlook this set.

Eureka Home Entertainment’s Once Upon A Time In China Blu-ray box set is available now.