My Cultural Diet

LAPD detective Mickey Delano is convinced that Japan’s yakuza is poised to take over the American west coast. Unfortunately, most of his fellow cops think he’s crazy, which forces him to resort to increasingly illegal tactics to gather evidence. Meanwhile, a Japanese cop named Akashi arrives in L.A. to avenge the death of his sister, who was murdered by the yakuza. The two cops team up to confront their common enemy, but the yakuza’s influence has spread throughout the city, meaning Delano and Akashi are truly on their own. Back in the ’80s, there was a growing concern that Japan, which was experiencing an economic resurgence at the time, was taking over America and making inroads into key American industries (e.g., the auto industry). It’s hard not to detect some of that in Ulli Lommel’s film, which he co-wrote with David Scott Kroes. There’s some pretty borderline racist stuff here, be it Delano’s yakuza paranoia or the fact that the Asian cast was required to play out various stereotypes. (For example, Akashi is prone to mystical koans about death and honor, and naturally, he’s an expert with the katana.) Overkill does occasionally seem on the verge of ascending to Samurai Cop levels of cheese, and nowhere more so than when Delano goes undercover as a male stripper. However, it really does seem like Lommel intended Overkill to be a “serious” gangster movie. But that intent is undercut by the film’s wooden acting and unintentionally hilarious dialog (early in the film, Delano yells “I was born in California and I’m gonna defend it!” as his rationale for taking on the yakuza), not to mention the ham-fisted editing, which makes Overkill feel about twice as long as it 82-minute runtime.

In the not-too-distant future, a woman named Gus (Karen Allen of Indiana Jones fame) is driving an advanced AI-powered truck through the countryside as part of an elaborate cross-country race. When she ends up off-course after her guidance system fails, she encounters a mysterious drifter (French rock star Johnny Hallyday) who becomes her only hope for completing the race and overcoming the sinister forces arrayed against them. At first, this French-German production looks like yet another post-apocalyptic road movie in the same vein as Mad Max, but as it unfolds, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the filmmakers had no idea what sort of story they were actually telling. There are glimmers of good ideas throughout Terminus, but it’s so vague and uneven, and its characters and their motivations so threadbare, that none of those ideas ever really materialize. What makes Terminus even more frustrating is that it does boast some cool images and production design, starting with the (I think) good guys’ neon-lit underground base. Unfortunately, the film’s style, which looks surprisingly modern at times, never overcomes or even balances out its lack of substance.

Aliens and Steven Spielberg go together like chocolate and peanut butter. Close Encounters of the Third Kind. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. War of the Worlds. Even Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. So Disclosure Day should be a walk in the park for the director, right? After all, it tackles some pretty big themes, like the effect that definitive proof of extraterrestrial life might have on human civilization. Unfortunately, Disclosure Day takes that high-concept premise and doesn’t really deliver on it. To be sure, it’s filled with bravura filmmaking; even though he’s pushing 80, Spielberg remains a master behind the camera. And John Williams’ score features his usual brilliance. But Disclosure Day’s story is half-baked, bringing up interesting points like it’s just checking them off a list and never really delving into them. (For example, it merely pays lip service to the challenges that alien life might pose for the world’s religions.) What’s more, the pacing feels off from the opening scene and it never really rights itself or develops a sense of momentum, which is ironic given that much of Disclosure Day is comprised of people chasing other people. I can see the ambition behind Disclosure Day, but overall, it’s a surprisingly ineffective film from one of our greatest filmmakers.

William Bang is the best hitman around, which means the local mob boss keeps him constantly busy. (Of course, with a name like William Bang, would you expect anything less?) When he’s gunned down and left for dead, though, and barely survives thanks to an emergency heart transplant, Bang starts to reassess his current life choices. But one doesn’t leave the underworld that easily, and Bang’s desire for a new life is obviously going to require more than a little bloodshed, not to mention some major suspension of disbelief on the viewer’s part as Bang’s plan starts to unfold. I went into Bang hoping for something along the lines of a Scott Adkins film like Avengement, something low-budget but also gritty and intense. Bang is certainly low-budget, as evidenced by the horrible CGI, laughable visual effects, and continuity errors, but it’s also the very opposite of “gritty and intense.” Lead actor Jack Kesy (Hellboy: The Crooked Man, The Killer) is woefully miscast; his attempts at making Bang seem introspective come off as empty and wooden, and the same holds true for his action scenes. Ironically, the film’s best action scene doesn’t even feature Kesy, but rather, Kane Kosugi, but even that scene is underwhelming thanks to the editing and camerawork. Meanwhile, Peter Weller’s efforts at scenery-chewing as the cruel mob boss are just awkward. (Sidenote: Bang never pauses to wonder why a gangster named Morgan Cutter might occasionally lapse into a bad Italian accent.)

Richard Harrison is best known for his starring roles in Z-grade Godfrey Ho ninja movies like 1984’s Ninja Thunderbolt and 1986’s Ninja Terminator. But during the ’80s, he also starred in several movies by Filipino director Teddy Page (aka, Teddy Chiu), including Blood Debts. Essentially a riff on Death Wish, Blood Debts stars Harrison — who also co-wrote the movie — as Mark Collins, a former Vietnam vet who just wants to settle down with his family in the Philippines. That idyllic life is tragically shattered, however, when his daughter is raped and murdered by a gang of thugs that Collins subsequently tracks down and kills within the movie’s first ten minutes. That vigilanteism catches the attention of both the police and other criminal elements, and the latter want to use Collins’ thirst for revenge to their own advantage. That’s an interesting twist, but even so, Blood Debts is nowhere near as gritty or seedy as any of that might make it out to be. Although director Page didn’t employ Godfrey Ho’s cut-and-paste filmmaking style for his movie, Blood Debts is still pretty nonsensical thanks to its wooden performances, stilted dialog, and awkward pacing, not to mention an ending that went viral several years ago for its stunning abruptness. (Apparently, we have Ferdinand Marcos’s dictatorship, and its harsh censorship laws, to thank for that ending.) Ending aside, my favorite aspect of Blood Debts has to be Patrick Wales’s soundtrack, which veers from ’80s news channel theme music to some blaxploitation-style funk.

Boxers, wrestlers, martial artists, and other combatants know the importance of not telegraphing your moves, lest you tell your opponent what you’re going to do next and give up the element of surprise. Normal is an action thriller that telegraphs nearly all of its moves, right from the opening prologue, which effectively undermines virtually any twist or surprise that might crop up in its story about a sheriff who discovers a dark secret lurking behind the picture-perfect veneer of his small town. As said sheriff, Bob Odenkirk once again taps into his ability to portray the least likely action hero imaginable, a role he perfected with 2021’s Nobody. Due to Odenkirk’s performance, I really wanted to like Sheriff Ulysses and be sympathetic to his plight as he finds himself more and more at odds with the entire town of Normal, Minnesota. But Normal’s storyline lacks little suspense or surprise, and eventually, the film’s increasingly inventive — and gory — kills begin to wear thin. When all’s said and done, I think I was expecting something a bit more subversive, especially with Ben Wheatley (Kill List, Sightseers) at the helm. In other words, if you want to watch a film about an upright lawman trapped in a seemingly idyllic small town that turns out to be anything but, watch Edgar Wright’s Hot Fuzz.

Filmed and released just seven months after The Heroic Trio to capitalize on that film’s success, Executioners reunites Anita Mui, Michelle Yeoh, and Maggie Cheung as a trio of superheroes trying to save their city. Set several years after the previous film, Executioners ups the ante, presenting a post-nuclear wasteland where water is scarce and the people are ruled by a totalitarian regime. That premise certainly seems pitch-perfect for Mui, Yeoh, and Cheung’s highly stylized and ultra-melodramatic heroics. Unfortunately, Executioners is a mess of a film that contains precious little of its predecessor’s style or panache. The story is disjointed and muddled, incorporating religious movements and even a disfigured mad scientist (played by Anthony Wong), and our three heroines share a surprisingly small amount of onscreen time. Co-director Ching Siu-tung brings some of his signature action to the table, but the dreary post-apocalyptic setting and flimsy plot make even his choreography look ridiculous. Fun fact: Executioners was the film debut of Takeshi Kaneshiro, who would immediately go on to star in Wong Kar-wai’s Chungking Express and Fallen Angels, establishing his heartthrob status.

In honor of Chuck Norris’s recent death, I decided to watch this, one of his most popular films, and his first collaboration with both director Joseph Zito and Cannon Films. Along with other ’80s films like Rambo: First Blood Part II and P.O.W. The Escape, Missing in Action drew inspiration from the idea of American prisoners of war still being held in Vietnam. Norris plays Colonel James Braddock, a former POW who returns to Vietnam as part of a U.S. delegation, though he has a far more violent agenda in mind. Missing in Action is unrepentantly patriotic, avoiding any semblance of moral ambiguity. Early in the film, for example, a Vietnamese general (James Hong, whose talents are wasted here) accuses Braddock of war crimes. While that might’ve made for a more interesting film, it would obviously undermine the righteousness of Braddock’s crusade. Notably, there are no similar reservations concerning Braddock’s willingness to sexually assault a woman in order to give himself an alibi. (Ah, the ’80s, when you could rip off a woman’s clothes and she’d still kiss you goodbye the next morning when you leave on your secret — and very illegal — mission.) A better, smarter film might interrogate its hero’s willingness to commingle revenge and desperation with a desire to save fellow soldiers. But its borderline jingoism, combined with Zito’s unimaginative direction and Norris’s perpetually grim visage, makes Missing in Action less gripping than it could’ve been. If I had to pick a Zito/Norris collaboration, my choice would be 1985’s Invasion U.S.A., a similarly uber-patriotic flick that more fully embraces its absurdity and goes bigger in the action sequences… and has better one-liners.

Tsui Hark, Jet Li, and Rosamund Kwan did not return for this installment of the vaunted Once Upon a Time in China series, and were replaced by Yuen Bun (in his directorial debut), Vincent Zhao, and Jean Wang, respectively — and it shows. Wong Fei-hung (Zhao) and his comrades are called upon to defend China once again after a group of other nations (including France, Germany, Italy, and the USA) sponsor an elaborate lion dance competition that’s intended to shame China and undermine its sovereignty. Meanwhile, yet another nationalistic cult — the all-female Red Lantern Sect — has begun attacking foreigners in an effort to preserve Chinese culture. The film’s plot, including the Eight-Nation Alliance and Red Lantern Sect, pull from actual Chinese history, albeit “enhanced” with high-flying “wire fu” and the incessant bumbling of Wong’s young acolyte, Leung Foon (played by Max Mok). Although he’s obviously not Jet Li, Vincent Zhao — who was also a national wushu champion — possesses some impressive skills, and as such, the film does contain a few rewind-worthy action scenes. However, Once Upon a Time in China IV ultimately feels like a retread of its predecessors, and its recycling of their ideas gets increasingly silly and incoherent, both narratively and visually. (The less said about the other nations’ entries in the lion dance competition, the better.)

Andrew Stanton is best-known for his work on Pixar classics like Finding Nemo and WALL-E, and he aims for something similarly ambitious with the live-action In the Blink of an Eye. Across three interwoven storylines — a Neanderthal family trying to eke out an existence in the distant past; a modern-day woman juggling career, romance, and her mother’s impending death; and a 25th-century astronaut trying to preserve the human race on a distant planet — Stanton and screenwriter Colby Day clearly want to communicate something profound à la Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life. Unfortunately, despite all of its earnestness, In the Blink of an Eye feels trite and vapid. (For example, the film’s biggest emotional moment isn’t the mother’s death, but rather, the “death” of the astronaut’s AI companion, which rings pretty false in our present AI slop-saturated age.) The Neanderthal storyline is the most well-executed but the other two storylines failed to connect on any level, emotionally, aesthetically, etc., which is ironic because the entire film is about the many things that connect us over space and time. When Slant’s Jake Cole described the film as “a commercial for life insurance that got out of hand,” he’s not wrong. In the Blink of an Eye sure looks pretty, thanks to the gorgeous British Columbia scenery, but I suspect you’ll quickly forget its profundities once the credits are done rolling.

What would you do if the monster under your bed was real and ate your parents one night? For young Aurora, the solution is obvious: hire the hitman living across the hall to kill the monster. Naturally, he doesn’t believe her and chalks it up to an overactive imagination. Before too long, though, the seemingly imaginary world under Aurora’s bed will collide with his violent world of assassins in ways that no one can possibly foresee. Clearly inspired by the films of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Luc Besson — think City of Lost Children meets Léon: The Professional — Bryan Fuller’s Dust Bunny tries to be dark and twisted but also charming and whimsical. Unfortunately, it ends up being none of those things. Fuller’s film consistently looks amazing, with sumptuous sets and stylized production design, but the arch dialog soon grates, as does the acting’s calculated whimsy. Ultimately, everything about the film’s dark fairy tale tone that feels like it ought to be clever and charming just ends up feeling forced and affected.

The fifth Lone Wolf and Cub movie begins in a really promising manner that suggests it might just be the franchise’s best title. Ogami Itto is contacted and tested by five retainers of the Kuroda clan, and as he defeats each one, they reveal the next piece of his mission. This is actually a really cool narrative device and makes for some delightfully insane moments, like the retainer who delivers his message to Ogami even as his body is consumed by flames. And when Ogami tries to complete his assassination, it leads to a bizarre supernatural moment that’s unlike anything else the franchise has offered to date. But then Baby Cart in the Land of Demons gets bogged down in a side story about Daigoro and an infamous pickpocket that I suppose is intended to prove just how brave and honorable Ogami’s young son has become. In truth, however, it’s a pointless rabbit trail that contributes nothing to the movie. By the time we get back to the original storyline about Ogami’s mission, the movie’s lost its momentum. Of course, the Yagyu clan are back, and there’s yet another grand finale involving Ogami slicing and dicing his way through countless samurai and ninja. It’s all pretty underwhelming, though, and I can’t stop thinking about the first act, and how it promised a far more interesting movie than the one we actually got.

The wealthy Davenport family is thrilled when their daughter Poppy agrees to marry her first cousin Archibald, since that means they’ll get to keep their fabulous estate. But when Poppy leaves Archibald at the altar, it falls to their other daughter Rose to save the family’s wealth. Unfortunately, Rose has all sorts of crazy notions about being an independent woman, and she also happens to be in love with one of the family’s servants, a lovable rogue with an entirely predictable secret. All bets are off, however, when the Davenport patriarch turns up dead one morning. On paper, mashing up Downton Abbey-style historical drama with ZAZ-style slapstick comedy (e.g., Airplane!, The Naked Gun) seems like a winning proposition. And perhaps it will be someday, but Fackham Hall isn’t it. This might’ve been a hilarious 10-minute YouTube sketch, but when stretched out to 90+ minutes, it quickly overstays its welcome with running gags that soon run themselves into the ground and a surprising number of jokes that just don’t land. I certainly chuckled on several occasions, but honestly, I expected more bite from comedian Jimmy Carr, who co-wrote the script. Even with all of the jokes about incest and bestiality, Fackham Hall is quite tame, and I’m surprised that Carr didn’t opt for a more ruthless skewering of his movie’s blue bloods. To their credit, the cast is clearly game for whatever the script asks of them — Thomasin McKenzie, in particular, manages to look radiant even as she delivers pratfalls and stupid jokes — but it’s just too bad that they weren’t in a funnier movie.

Continuing in my quest to watch all of those movies whose VHS covers fascinated me back in the early-to-mid ’90s, I checked out this dystopian martial arts action flick starring Billy Blanks (of “Tae Bo” fame) as a police-like enforcer who protects the underground city of the wealthy from the scavengers of the surface world. TC 2000 isn’t a great movie, even by cult standards, although Blanks certainly gives it his all, right down to some film noir-ish voiceovers. I do, however, have a fondness for how ’90s films envisioned societal and environmental collapse in the not-too-distant future — TC 2000 is set in 2020 — and in that regard, the film doesn’t disappoint. I love all of the ’90s architecture (e.g., Ontario’s Mississauga Civic Centre) as well as the little ways the movie tries to communicate “futuristic,” from the fashion to the vehicles. Still, it’s hard to watch TC 2000 and not be consistently reminded of far better films like The Terminator, RoboCop, and even Demolition Man. That, and the endless martial arts sequences eventually become a slog, meaning the film wastes both Blanks and Bolo Yeung. Oh, and the film also serves as a 90-minute promo piece for a line of martial arts gear. So take that for whatever it’s worth.

I’ve been a fan of Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips ever since I discovered Reckless back in 2023. The duo excel at spinning noir-ish, hard-boiled tales exploring the seamier sides of life, be it Hollywood’s golden age, ’80s suburbia, or 1930s New York. Kill or Be Killed is a modern-set story that introduces a supernatural aspect to the duo’s work. When a depressed college student survives a suicide attempt, he brings back an infernal presence that compels him to start killing the scum of the earth. Though billed as a vigilante tale, Kill or Be Killed also weaves in themes of addiction, mental illness, and family secrets and trauma. As such, it feels markedly unfocused compared to the rest of Brubaker’s writing, as if he couldn’t quite decide which angle to take, and so he tried to take them all. (An impression that’s further enhanced by the non-linear storytelling.) After awhile, the countless twists and turns start to feel increasingly rote and ridiculous. In fact, I’m pretty sure I literally rolled my eyes at the twist in the final panel, which came after a completely unnecessary denouement. As you can probably tell, Kill or Be Killed is my least favorite Brubaker/Phillips title to date.

I do enjoy a good story in which some bizarre otherworldly event irrevocably changes life here on Earth, usually in the form of humanity being overcome by, and learning to fight back against, terrifying phenomena from beyond. On paper, that’s precisely what Black Tide promises, as two strangers awaken from a one-night stand to a bizarre and horrifying new reality. Their situation grows only more dire when they become trapped in a car on a beach, surrounded by alien creatures on one side and the slowly encroaching waves on the other. I discovered Black Tide via one of those Facebook reels of someone listing their favorite horror novels, and based on their description, I went in expecting a harrowing journey. Unfortunately, Black Tide falls less in the “otherworldly horror” genre, and more in the “annoying characters doing stupid things and getting mad at each other for it” genre. I don’t think I experienced a single moment of suspense, never mind horror, on any of the story’s 242 pages. I did, however, become increasingly bored by the characters’ frequent bickering, as well as the author’s attempts to make their neuroses, dysfunctions, and personal traumas more dramatic than they warranted.

“Perfect for readers of Reckless and The Department of Truth,” claimed the promo copy. Since those are two of my favorite comic titles in recent years, how could I not be curious? But you know what they say about things sounding too good to be true… Linnea Kent is a former homicide detective who couldn’t hack it in the big city, so she’s returned to her hometown with her ex-UFC husband Parker to open a detective agency. Nothing serious ever happens in Linnea’s quiet little burg, and that’s the way she likes it. But when a missing persons case reawakens old memories, Linnea and Parker are forced to confront her hometown’s darkest secrets. Pine and Merrimac certainly possesses the elements of a good story (e.g., a haunted protagonist, a sleepy little town, secrets and conspiracies). Unfortunately, the writing and dialog are clunky, the story is just a series of tropes and clichés strung together, and the “shocking” twist ending feels cheap and unearned. In other words, just stick with Reckless and The Department of Truth.

For a movie called Ninja Thunderbolt, there’s a shocking dearth of ninja action here. Sure, there’s the opening sequence involving members of the evil Ninja Empire — Godfrey Ho was really taken with the idea of ninja empires (not that I blame him) — swearing their villainous vows, and there’s some ninja thievery, but most of the film follows the exploits of a headstrong detective and a kung fu insurance agent trying to stop an evil tycoon from committing insurance fraud, or something like that. Given that a third of the movie takes place in dark rooms or at night with the actors barely recognizable smudges, though, there’s probably a lot that I missed. I had high hopes for Ninja Thunderbolt given that it stars martial arts cinema icon Yasuaki Kurata, but that’s only because Ho apparently purchased the rights to Gam Ming’s To Catch a Thief, and as was his wont, sprinkled in a few shots of Richard Harrison to create an “original” ninja film. Ninja Thunderbolt’s not without charm; I couldn’t stop smiling as a gang of roller-skating ninjas chased the detective in his itsy-bitsy Mitsuoka BUBU 501 micro car, and the soundtrack features music from Barry White, Chris & Cosey, Logic System, Bill Wyman, and Lalo Schifrin’s Dirty Harry score (all legally licensed, I’m sure). As far as Godfrey Ho films go, though, this one ranks pretty low on the scale, which is saying something.

One does not look to Looney Tunes for subtlety. Even so, the never-ending barrage of over-the-top and outrageous jokes, pratfalls, and dialog in The Day the Earth Blew Up is exhausting and tedious. It doesn’t help that the vast majority of the film’s jokes feel dated right out of the gate. (A joke about stupid coffeeshop orders in the Year of Our Lord 2024? Really?) And the clueless henchman gag leaves one pining for the sublimity of Kronk Pepikrankenitz. Any moments of subversive glee — like Daffy trying to become an influencer by twerking on social media — are few and far between. On the one hand, I’m glad to see a modern Looney Tunes cartoon that clearly pays tribute to the classics with its artwork and music. On the other hand, The Day the Earth Blew Up has precious little of the sass and charm of those classics. (The fact that it had eleven writers and four story consultants probably didn’t help matters.)

During the ’80s and ’90s, Godfrey Ho would take the footage he shot for one film and simply cut it up and combine it with footage from other films — a sketchy process that allowed him to cheaply release a slew of ultra-low-grade “Z” flicks with titles like Ninja the Protector, Diamond Ninja Force, Full Metal Ninja, and Cobra vs. Ninja. Ninja the Protector stars a gloriously mustachioed Richard Harrison (whose acting career took a hit due to Ho constantly splicing him into terrible films) as an INTERPOL agent trying to shut down vicious counterfeiters who all happen to be ninjas. Fortunately, he happens to be a ninja, too. There’s also a subplot in there about an undercover agent infiltrating the gang, and his tumultuous relationship with his brother, but it’s loosely connected to the ninja storyline — emphasis on “loosely.” Put simply, Ninja the Protector is pretty far from anyone’s definition of a good film; it’s an incoherent mess, narratively, visually, and conceptually. (For example, you’d think that escaping police handcuffs would be a piece of cake for deadly assassins possessing nigh-mystical skills. Apparently not. And don’t get me started on the anticlimactic ninja motorcycle duel that ends the film.) If you don’t like cheesy cult films, then you’ll find this to be extremely painful viewing. If you’re like me, however, then you might just find that its weirdness and ineptitude gives it a sort of ungainly charm that feels channeled from an alternate cinematic universe.