My Cultural Diet

No less an authority than LoveHKFilm.com, one of the great Hong Kong cinema websites, has called Tsui Hark’s Peking Opera Blues “the perfect Hong Kong film.” With all due respect to Ross Chen and his staff, though, I don’t know if I’d go that far. Hark’s film is definitely ambitious, mashing together humor (often of a very exaggerated form), drama, political intrigue, and — because it features the Peking Opera, which historically served as the training ground for Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Yuen Biao, and other martial arts superstars — some high-flying action courtesy of Ching Siu-tung (himself a Peking Opera student). Brigitte Lin, Cherie Chung, and Sally Yeh star as three intrepid young women whose paths cross in early 20th-century China while revolutionaries and corrupt politicians clash in the aftermath of the Qing dynasty’s downfall. What ensues is a madcap tale of conspiracies, betrayal, love triangles, and yes, Peking opera hijinks — with an emphasis on “madcap.” My wife sat down to watch the last 20 minutes or so of the film, and I didn’t even try to explain the plot to her. Personally, I found the scenes of the actual opera troupe in action the most interesting (some awkward gay stereotypes notwithstanding), with the near-nonstop goofy humor undermining much of the film’s drama and intrigue.

For many years, the small glade behind her grandmother’s house has been Mabel Tanaka’s happy place, a place where she can experience peace, quiet, and natural beauty. So obviously, when the mayor announces plans to destroy the glade to make room for a new freeway, Mabel does her best to protest and fight back — to no avail. But when a top-secret technology lets her place her consciousness inside a robotic animal and live in nature, Mabel learns the truth behind the mayor’s plans as well as some shocking truths about the animal kingdom. Unfortunately, her impetuous decision could soon threaten the very nature that she loves. There’s no denying that Pixar’s Hoppers has its heart in the right place, and I appreciated its willingness to embrace some moral complexity. Much like a Studio Ghibli heroine, Mabel may be fierce and spirited, but she can also be shortsighted, rash, and stubborn to a fault. There are also some legitimately funny moments sprinkled throughout the film. In the end, however, Hoppers is so goofy, with a premise that starts to crumble as soon as you take any time at all to think about it, that it never really rises above mid-tier Pixar.

After thoroughly enjoying Undefeatable, I was compelled to watch another Godfrey Ho/Cynthia Rothrock collaboration. Released the year before Undefeatable, Honor and Glory is cut from the same B-movie cloth. That’s undoubtedly due to the fact that both movies were produced by Tai Yim, a real-life kung fu grandmaster and martial arts instructor, and star several of his students. Interestingly, Rothrock is barely in the movie despite getting top billing. (Apparently, she filmed all of her scenes in one week.) Most of Honor and Glory is focused on her sister, a journalist (Donna Jason) investigating a slimy businessman named Jason Slade (John Miller) who’s trying to sell stolen nuclear weaponry to the Middle East. Naturally, it’s the sort of investigation where kung fu comes in handy because in the movie’s world, everyone knows kung fu. Honor and Glory is a prime example of ’90s martial arts cinema that probably wouldn’t even rate as “direct to video,” but its wooden performances, awkward dialog, and lower-than-low-budget production values nevertheless possess an earnestness that’s quite charming. That said, it’s not as enjoyable as Undefeatable. Although Miller certainly hams it up as Slade, dropping such unforgettable lines as “Do you know a nuclear trigger from a Bulgarian dildo?” and “No woman can share my bed and not be mine for life,” Honor and Glory lacks the unhinged energy (i.e., a deranged serial killer with serious mommy issues) that truly confirmed Undefeatable’s cult status. (Note: In keeping with his infamous “cut and paste” approach to filmmaking, Godfrey Ho re-used footage from Honor and Glory for 1993’s Angel the Kickboxer.)

Long before the MCU was even a glimmer in Kevin Feige’s eye, Johnnie To created his own superhero world with The Heroic Trio, a deliriously campy and over-the-top film about three superheroines who take on an evil baby-kidnapping cult. As expected from a ’90s Hong Kong action film, The Heroic Trio is filled with wire-enhanced kung fu and physics-defying action — courtesy of Ching Siu-Tung — as Maggie Cheung, Michelle Yeoh, and the late, great Anita Mui strut their stuff across the screen. (Indeed, the film literally ends with them sashaying down the street with enough sass and style to make Beyoncé turn green with envy.) One doesn’t look to The Heroic Trio for logic or reason. How else to explain the fact that everyone’s completely oblivious to the alternate dimension lurking just below their city’s streets where an evil cult led by a eunuch seeks to restore China’s imperial line? (Seems like somebody in the Sanitation Department should’ve stumbled across that at some point in the city’s history.) Rather, you watch a film like this for the highly stylized visuals, from the aforementioned alternate dimension to the brutalist architecture to the secret lab filled with blowing paper for other reason than because it looks so. Darn. Dramatic. And speaking of drama, all three heroines have requisitely tragic backstories that — surprise! — are more connected than they realize, and for all of its camp, The Heroic Trio isn’t afraid to get surprisingly grim at times.

Eastern Condors is basically Sammo Hung and Golden Harvest’s attempt at making The Dirty Dozen, only set in Vietnam and featuring plenty of martial arts hijinks. But those hijinks prove to be a problem. Sometimes, Eastern Condors is a gritty war film, replete with POWs, traitors, and mad generals. At least, that’s the film that Hung seems to imagine that he’s starring in, if his perpetual stoicism is any indication. But there’s also a lot of silly slapstick humor like you might expect from an older Jackie Chan film, which makes Eastern Condors uneven to say the least. Which is a shame, because when Eastern Condors focuses on the action, be it of the kung fu kind or the pyrotechnics kind, it’s pretty amazing. Corey Yuen and Yuen Biao’s martial arts and stunt choreography is surprisingly brutal at times, and Hung films a lot of it in glorious slow motion. Which means you can basically see the stunt performers get concussions in agonizing detail.

First off, Takashi Nomura’s noir film deserves at least a star for its bad-ass title alone. As for its story about a professional hitman who successfully completes his job, but is forced to go on the run when his methods anger his employer, it’s definitely a bit of a slow burn — which gives you ample time to stare in befuddlement at Joe Shishido’s cheeks. (Frustrated with his lack of acting success, Shishido underwent cheek augmentation surgery in 1957 to give himself a more distinctive appearance. And “distinctive” is certainly a term for it.) As Shishido’s hitman tries to stay one step ahead of the gangsters seeking his head on a platter, you know the film is leading up to a final confrontation — which is, indeed, pretty satisfying and ends on an appropriately nihilistic note. A Colt Is My Passport is currently being remade by director Gareth Evans (Gangs of London, The Raid) with Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù, Tim Roth, and Burn Gorman, and I’m definitely interested to see how Evans — who’s no stranger to blistering action movies — updates Nomura’s film.

For many people, Bi Gan’s Resurrection would be the very definition of an “arthouse” film, albeit in a more pejorative sense of the term. That is to say, visually beautiful but completely inscrutable and nonsensical. And they’re not really wrong. To be clear, Resurrection is an absolutely gorgeous film, right up to its very last frame. Gan employs multiple filmmaking styles (e.g., silent film, German expressionism, film noir, ambitious long takes) and clever visual effects throughout the film’s 159 minutes, while cinematographer Dong Jingsong fills the screen with rich and vibrant colors no matter the setting. And of course, Shu Qi is as luminous as ever. But the vaguely sci-fi story about a distant future where humanity has achieved immortality by giving up the ability to dream, and the deformed monster who hides away in films in order to keep dreaming is just that: vague. It’s tempting to say that the film’s various segments, which chronicle the monster’s final moments and memories using different film styles, simply unfold according to an unconventional dream-like logic as befitting the visuals. But honestly, that feels less like an explanation and more like a copout. As true as that might be, it doesn’t necessarily make for the most interesting or satisfying narrative, even if you can’t tear your eyes away from Gan’s bravura filmmaking.

With Avengers: Doomsday coming out later this year, now felt like a good time to see what Victor von Doom’s been up to in Marvel’s pages. After taking the mantle of Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme from Doctor Strange, Doom sets out to take over the entire world — and succeeds. Delivering on such lofty promises as world peace and universal healthcare, it seems like Doom really is the world’s best bet. The Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and their superhero allies are skeptical, though, even as Doom continually stays one step ahead of their efforts to discover the truth behind his reign. Meanwhile, Doom’s ascension exposes Earth to otherworldly threats that may be beyond even his ability to handle. One World Under Doom isn’t quite as ambitious as 2015’s Secret Wars crossover, which also revolved around Doom’s megalomaniacal tendencies, but it’s still a pretty fun read. Interestingly, Doom’s ultimate weakness this time isn’t his hubris and arrogance, but rather something far more relatable and, dare I say, human. On a sidenote, it was difficult to read One World Under Doom and not think of a certain president who possesses a similar level of arrogance, though nowhere near as much class or competence.

When a man stumbles into a remote Nevada diner claiming to be the sole survivor of a nuclear bomb test gone wrong, he’s immediately treated with suspicion by the patrons. Until, that is, they’re attacked by grotesquely mutated creatures intent on spreading a deadly plague. Thus begins News From the Fallout, a sci-fi/horror graphic novel set smack dab in the middle of the Cold War. As far as its story goes, News From the Fallout is engaging enough with its tale of atomic monsters, alien plagues, demented generals, and desert ghost towns. What sets it apart, though, is Jeffrey Alan Love’s stark and distressed black-and-white artwork, which really helps to sell the nuclear nightmare.

Between this and Reacher, Amazon really have cornered the market on middle-aged dad programming. Aldis Hodge — who I still remember as the geeky hacker on Leverage — reprises his role as detective Alex Cross, who uses psychology to get into the minds of the worst of the worst. And it doesn’t get much worse than the billionaire with a messiah complex whom Cross and his team are tasked with protecting after the former is targeted by a serial killer with a quasi-religious vendetta. As expected, the season is filled with various storylines that you know will inevitably converge, with twists and turns aplenty. It’s certainly entertaining, though not exactly gripping, and the labyrinthian storytelling eventually requires an info dump in the season finale to try and wrap everything up. It also ends with the biggest fantasy of all: a United States senator actually standing up to wealthy CEOs and holding them accountable, which feels just a tad bit ironic given that this is an Amazon series we’re talking about. This season got bonus points from me for starring Wes Chatham (aka, The Expanse’s Amos Burton) as one of the bad guys and though Hodge gets top billing, he’s ably matched by his co-stars, especially Isaiah Mustafa — who you probably recognize from the Old Spice commercials — as his best friend and partner, John “Two John” Sampson.

At first, Biomega feels like a bit of a retread of Nihei’s magnum opus, Blame!. Both series feature a taciturn protagonist who travels through an increasingly bizarre post-apocalyptic landscape while battling transhuman horrors with the help of a tiny but super-powerful gun, all in the hopes of discovering the cure to a plague that’s devastating humanity. In the end, Blame! remains the superior work — Biomega’s story really goes off the rails in its final volumes, with an ending that feels rushed and incoherent — but it’s to Nihei’s credit as an artist that Biomega still carves out its own unique identity. Nihei’s architectural background serves him well in Biomega’s early volumes, allowing him to fill his pages with intricate, stunningly envisioned dystopian cities and gothic environments. His crafting of thrilling action sequences with just a bare minimum of panels is also second-to-none, as he draws his series’ taciturn protagonist — a super-powered synthetic human named Zoichi Kanoe who just so happens to have a bad-ass motorcycle — driving up the side of skyscrapers, into the air against fighter jets, and even into outer space.

There’s something perverse about watching a movie that celebrates the training and tactics of America’s soldiers even as said training and tactics are being used to wage an immoral (and likely illegal) war at the whim of the most vile, corrupt, and ignorant president in recent history. Of course, that’s not the fault of Patrick Hughes, Alan Ritchson, or anyone else involved in War Machine’s production. How were they supposed to know that Trump would start bombing Iran just weeks after their film began streaming on Netflix? Current geopolitical nightmares aside, War Machine is essentially a retelling of Predator, with a group of Army Ranger candidates encountering the titular alien monstrosity during a training mission. What ensues is a decidedly by-the-numbers survival film that makes for some decent late night popcorn viewing, thanks in large part to some impressive and gnarly stunt work. Ritchson, best known for his lead performance in Amazon’s Reacher series, doesn’t have much to do other than look grim and stoic, which he does pretty well. I just wish the film had given him a better one-liner than “Thermodynamics, motherfucker.” The film’s ending definitely leaves the door open for a sequel, which — let’s be honest, here — I’ll probably watch.

Much like the first Samurai Wolf movie, Hell Cut delivers a deeply cynical take on the samurai genre as the titular rōnin finds himself caught between a dojo that wants his head, a fellow rōnin out for revenge, and a violent gang illegally mining gold from under the Shogun’s nose. One thing I found interesting about Hell Cut is how it subtly deconstructs its hero. Kiba is initially presented as a deadly swordsman of some renown, but when he’s faced with true violence and vendetta, his composure seems to crack and his boasting suddenly feels like all talk. Unfortunately, the movie’s multiple storylines eventually trip over themselves, and Hell Cut starts to feel like two or three movies compressed into one — something its 70-minute runtime just can’t quite accommodate. That subsequently robs the film’s final shot, in which a despairing Kiba is confronted with the disastrous consequences of the rōnin lifestyle, of some of its cynical and tragic power.

Sci-fi movies require no small amount of suspension of disbelief, and that’s especially true of “end of the world” sci-fi movies like When Worlds Collide. Not only are we supposed to believe that the world’s nations would put aside their differences to deal with the impending apocalypse, but Rudolph Maté’s film also wants us to believe that wealthy industrialists would donate their fortunes, no strings attached, for the good of humanity. Yeah, right. There is one industrialist whose donation does come with strings attached, though, which feels far more believable and on-brand. That said, When Worlds Collide takes its outlandish scenario — another star will soon pass through the solar system and destroy the Earth — seriously enough, or at least as seriously as it can within its 80-minute runtime (and 27-day shooting schedule). When Worlds Collide was produced by George Pal, who also oversaw such genre classics as Destination Moon and The War of the Worlds, and it looks great. I’m a sucker for matte paintings and miniatures, and When Worlds Collide does the best it can with them to show off a global calamity. (The movie also boasts some surprisingly daring helicopter stunts.) The film’s very final shot sets up an obvious sequel, and one was planned. It was ultimately canceled, however, after one of Pal’s subsequent films — 1955’s Conquest of Space — failed at the box office.

The Institute for the Study of Complex and Dynamic Systems seems like a researcher’s dream come true, allowing one to pursue their chosen area of study without any interruption. But the isolated institute is not without secrets, and despite its precise arrangement and pristine facilities, seems to thrive on chaos — something that physicist Stéphane Douasy realizes when he and his neighboring researchers begin to explore the disappearance of one of their own, and the awesome implications of his research. Robin Cousin’s graphic novel is certainly more than your ordinary mystery thriller, and in the course of reading it, you’ll probably learn more about theoretical computer science and the P versus NP problem than you thought possible. And the setting — a remote scientific facility surrounded by endless forests — is intriguing. But even though I found The Phantom Scientist interesting, I never found it particularly gripping — which is what you really want in a thriller, even one featuring computer scientists, robots run amok, and chaos theory.

“Before Mad Max There Was Stone” goes the poster’s tagline. Which might lead you to believe that this 1974 film is some sort of post-apocalyptic adventure when in fact, it’s about the titular police officer (Ken Shorter) joining the notorious Grave Diggers motorcycle gang to track down an assassin who’s killing their members. Writer/director Sandy Harbutt, who also plays the gang’s leader, was clearly aiming for something countercultural, what with all of the sex, drugs, psychedelia, and subversive behavior. For starters, the Grave Diggers are loud and proud Satanists with names like Septic and Scrag, and as the film progresses, the straitlaced Stone actually begins to admire and adopt the gang’s free-spirited ways. Unfortunately, Stone’s not quite as subversive as it obviously wants to be. A meandering and underbaked plot involving environment-destroying industrialists hampers the film, as does dialog that surely must have seemed corny even back in the mid ’70s.

Lyssa Cadogan has devoted her life to hunting down fairies and their horrible creatures, all in the hopes of one day slaying the Beast that killed her brother when they were children. The Beast remains elusive, however, much to Lyssa’s frustration. But when she’s hired by Alderic, a foppish noble who claims he can lead her to the Beast, Lyssa might finally get her revenge. That is, if dark secrets from both her and Alderic’s past don’t undermine her efforts. Serra Swift’s debut novel is billed as a cross between The Witcher and Howl’s Moving Castle, which is certainly an interesting notion. (It’s also a deconstruction of a famous fairy tale, but I’ll let you guess which one.) Kill the Beast leans far more heavily towards the former, though, thanks mainly to a grim protagonist whose all-consuming desire for revenge blinds her to everything else and leaves her near-petulant at times — which can make it difficult to care or see her as the bad-ass monster hunter she’s meant to be. That said, Swift’s world-building is quite intriguing; the novel’s quasi-steampunk setting feels much like our world but with just enough difference to keep things interesting.

The third Once Upon a Time in China still finds China grappling with the ramifications of modernization and Western influence. In order to promote Chinese traditions, officials announce a national lion dance competition, which only leads to violence and corruption as ambitious men try to take advantage of it for their own ends. Naturally, Wong Fei-hung (Jet Li) finds himself in the middle of it all. National pride isn’t the only thing on Wong’s mind, though. His relationship with Siu-kwan (Rosamund Kwan) continues to deepen, leading to the possibility of marriage, but the arrival of a foreign suitor throws a potential wrench into those plans. And of course, there’s yet another conspiracy that needs undoing. Once Upon a Time in China III contains enough storylines for three separate movies, and as a result, is pretty muddled compared to the previous two films — and less enjoyable as a result. In particular, Max Mok’s antics as Wong’s impetuous student Foon were annoying in the previous film, but they’re pretty grating here. As for the martial arts, even those feel lacking here. The lion dances are certainly vibrant — kudos to cinematographers Andrew Lau and Chow Man-keung — but they’re edited so frenetically that watching them becomes physically exhausting after awhile.

When God suddenly falls dead from heaven and his body hits the ground, it sends shockwaves, both literal and figurative, across the war-torn world of Kerethim. Soon, everyone is laying claim to the divine corpse and any secrets — and wealth — that it might contain. Cast into this newly godless world is Zanzi Vuiline, a bloodthirsty soldier who simply wants to return to her home and family, even if that means traveling inside and through God’s own body. Make no mistake, Godfell has an intriguing premise, though it doesn’t get nearly as philosophical or theological as you might think. Instead, writer Chris Sebela (Captain Marvel, High Crimes, Injustice Ground Zero) focuses mainly on the (extremely) bloody action as Vuiline and her unlikely companion carve a swathe through the various factions vying for control over God’s body. Godfell is never not entertaining, but don’t be surprised if you end the book thinking that it could’ve been more interesting than it was.

The third Lone Wolf and Cub movie veers back towards arthouse territory thanks to its slower pace, complex plot, and less reliance on gratuitous content. Make no mistake, though, this is still a Lone Wolf and Cub movie, as evidenced by the abundance of arterial spray. This time around, the ever-stoic Ogami Itto — who has yet to crack even the slightest hint of a smile — sacrifices his honor to save a young woman sold into prostitution even as he’s still being pursued by his rivals in the evil Yagyu clan. Along the way, he encounters a former samurai who’s desperate to die with honor and a corrupt ruler. The film’s final battle is a doozy, with the titular baby cart revealing a veritable arsenal of machine guns and cannons. (Historical accuracy be damned here.) At times, director Misumi and writer Kazuo Koike seem to be questioning deconstructing the samurai code of bushido, which holds that a samurai can still be considered honorable even after he tried to cover up rape and murder, as much as uphold and idealize it. The film is far too concerned with spectacle to offer a really thoughtful deconstruction — Harakiri, this most certainly is not — but the moral ambiguity is interesting to consider.