Musashi Miyamoto (Toshirô Mifune) faces the possible end of his adventures when he’s challenged by a young and talented swordsman (Kôji Tsuruta) who possesses the same sort of drive and ambition that Musashi once had in his younger, more reckless days. Asking for a year to prepare, Musashi moves to a distant village to live a more peaceful life, only to find his new home beset by vicious bandits. And if that weren’t complicated enough, Musashi still finds himself in a love triangle with the guileless Otsu and scheming Akemi. The love triangle in Samurai III: Duel at Ganryu Island really does get ridiculous and over-the-top at times, with both women constantly swooning and pining after Musashi even though his samurai’s honor compels him to focus on the blade alone. It all leads up to the titular duel, climactically fought beachside at dawn amidst the roiling surf. As with the previous films in the Samurai trilogy, Mifune is quite magnetic here. Also worth nothing are the film’s theatrical flourishes, which give it a more stylized aesthetic compared to its predecessors.
My Cultural Diet
Any film that stars Toshirô Mifune is going to get an extra star simply because the man is so darn entrancing to watch. Even just walking, never mind fighting, he expresses a raw emotion and passion that are impossible to ignore. And his face… few things in cinema are more enjoyable to look at than a classic Mifune grimace or glower. All of these are on full display throughout the second film in Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai trilogy. Musashi Miyamoto has been traveling around Japan to develop his samurai skills through dueling. But when he embarrasses the Yoshioka school, he becomes a target of their ire and must try and survive their machinations. Things get even more complicated, though, when women start falling in love with him. Will Musashi choose the love of women? Or will he remain faithful to the blade? The second Samurai movie suffers from being a bit disjointed, especially compared to the first, and the melodrama is hiked up even more by Musashi’s romantic entanglements. Still, it’s a pleasure just to watch Mifune strut and stalk about the screen, katana in hand.
I watched Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai trilogy many years ago, and as I recall, I was less than impressed. I now stand ready and willing to recant my previous opinion, of the first film anyway. Sweeping, epic, and deeply melodramatic, this fictional account of the early days of Musashi Miyamoto — arguably Japan’s most famous samurai and swordsman — is centered on a solid performance by the legendary Toshirô Mifune. (Would you expect anything else?) He captures the young Musashi’s boorishness and thirst for glory and then, as the film progresses, his frustration, anger, and regret. Kaoru Yachigusa also delivers as the long-suffering Otsu, who initially resents Musashi for taking her fiancé away from her and then slowly becomes his advocate. Her performance is sentimental to the hilt, but her empathy and lack of guile elevates what could’ve been a thankless and clichéd role. Add in Ikuma Dan’s sweeping score and some gorgeous shots of the Japanese countryside, and it’s easy to see why Samurai I won the Oscar for “Best Foreign Language Film” in 1955.
After seeing Shōgun, I’ve been in the mood for more samurai and jidaigeki titles. Hideyuki Hirayama’s Sword of Desperation has been on my list for awhile now, so now seemed like a good time to check it out. Contrary to what the title might suggest, Sword of Desperation is a total slow-burn of a movie, following the life of a samurai who’s imprisoned after killing his lord’s consort in apparent cold blood. Of course, things are slowly revealed to be more complicated than that. Unfortunately, Sword of Desperation is so much of a slow burn that its story ultimately lacks any sense of momentum. When the final — and in hindsight, inevitable — revelations finally come about, it’s actually a bit of a letdown, lacking the emotional import that they certainly feel like they should have.
Ryo Saeba is a crack sharpshooter, expert martial artist, and skilled detective feared and respected throughout the Tokyo underworld. He’s also a horny little dork who loses it at even the slightest glimpse of cleavage. Adapted from Tsukasa Hojo’s long-running manga, City Hunter is the perfect example of film that’s juvenile, ridiculous, and over-the-top — which is sometimes its greatest strength, but ultimately, its greatest weakness. To be sure, there are some hilarious scenes and inventive action, and Ryohei Suzuki gives it his all as the perv-y Saeba. (The scene where he cosplays as a cowboy with a crotch horse — yes, I said what I said — is pretty hilarious.) In the end, however, City Hunter is just too over-the-top and uneven for its own good, with a rather perfunctory plot that tries to pull on the ol’ heartstrings when it’d probably be better served leaning into comedy antics.
I went into this film knowing very little about it other than it’s one of Quentin Tarantino’s favorites. And it’s easy to see why. On the surface, its story about a Vietnam vet who returns home to San Antonio and subsequently goes on a rampage after his wife and son are killed by burglars, seems like pretty straightforward exploitation fare. And make no mistake, Rolling Thunder does get a bit sleazy in places. But I was intrigued by the little details that it captured about America circa 1973, and even more so as it delves into the protagonist’s psychology as a man unable to reconnect to “normal” life after being a POW. This angle could’ve gone poorly, trivializing the POW experience, but Paul Schrader’s script and William Devane and Tommy Lee Jones’ performances pull it off. The film’s a definite slow burn leading to a bloody and inevitable, if abrupt, climax, which I found interesting, but your mileage may vary.
Why do I enjoy Tremors? The answer’s simple, really: Tremors knows precisely what it is — an action/horror comedy about a small desert town terrorized by giant underground worms — and never tries to be anything else. Yes, it’s pretty cheesy, the sort of genre film that dominated late night cable TV in the early-to-mid ’90s, but there’s not a single thing wrong with it. The practical effects still hold up after 34 years, the desert backdrop is equally gorgeous and ominous, the camerawork draws from the Sam Raimi school, and Ernest Troost’s score is delightfully bombastic. And then there are the colorful characters, starting with Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward’s down-on-their-luck handymen who are forced to become giant worm exterminators, followed by Finn Carter as the geologist who helps the town fight back and Victor Wong as an opportunistic shopowner. But Michael Gross, who had wrapped up Family Ties the year before Tremors, steals the show as conspiracy theorist and doomsday prepper Burt Gummer, who ultimately becomes the face of the entire Tremors franchise.
Given that it was directed by Yuen Woo-Ping (Iron Monkey, Wing Chun, The Tai Chi Master) and stars Donnie Yen, I had high hopes for In the Line of Duty IV. Of the first four In the Line of Duty films, this installment definitely has the highest amount of martial arts, as Yen, Cynthia Khan, and Yuen Yat-Chor (the brother’s director) face off against drug dealers, corrupt cops, and even the CIA. (On a side note, the film’s storyline was obviously inspired, in part, by the Iran-Contra affair.) The martial arts action is thoroughly enjoyable, as you’d expect given the names involved. Unfortunately, as with the other In the Line of Duty titles, this one suffers from a lack of focus. Sometimes it’s a gritty crime thriller, with Yen chewing up the scenery as a hot-headed cop not above beating up his suspects, and sometimes, it revels in antics that would probably be more at home in a Jackie Chan film.
The third In the Line of Duty film is a bit of a downgrade from the first two installments, 1986’s Royal Warriors and 1985’s Yes, Madam!. This time around, a Hong Kong inspector (Cynthia Khan) must track down a pair of Japanese thieves and terrorists while also battling the sexism and bureaucracy of the Hong Kong police department. The storyline is slight — I much prefer Hiroyuki Sanada’s Japanese detective in Royal Warriors to Hiroshi Fujioka’s here — and stylistically, the film is a bit all over the place. But the action scenes are still pretty fun, highlighting Khan’s atheleticism and aerial kicking skills. It was interesting watching this so soon after the new Road House. Both films employ lots of hyperkinetic editing during their action sequences. But whereas Road House’s editing obscures the action, the Hong Kong film’s editing, though considerably rougher (and obviously free of CGI enhancements), is more entertaining and leaves you more impressed with the actors’ (and stunt performers’) abilities.
The original Road House is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a great film. But it does have plenty of personality and charisma, both of which are in very short supply in this modern remake from Amazon and director Doug Liman. Jake Gyllenhaal is largely wasted here as a former UFC fighter (with some demons in his past, natch) who’s hired as a bouncer by a bar in the Florida Keys that’s terrorized by some thugs. It’s fun to see Gyllenhaal’s character put the arrogant rich boy villain in his place, but the film’s a tonal mess. When Gyllenhaal finally switches into Hulk mode and unleashes his angry side, it’s pretty underwhelming. Ironically, given the film’s premise, the numerous fight scenes are pretty underwhelming, too; they’re edited to within an inch of their lives in an effort to make them look seamless and then “enhanced” with CGI, silly POV shots, and other pointless tricks. Give me Patrick Swayze’s haymakers and roundhouse kicks any day of the week. As for Conor McGregor, his swaggering enforcer does inject some fun into the film, but his novelty also wears off pretty quickly.
When two Hong Kong cops (Michelle Yeoh, Michael Wong) and a Japanese detective (Hiroyuki Sanada) kill a couple of terrorists trying to a hijack an airliner, they land in the crosshairs of the terrorists’ comrades — with predictably dire and action-filled results. Given that premise, 1986’s Royal Warriors — the first of the In the Line of Duty films that popularized the “girls with guns” genre in the ’80s and ’90s — is a surprisingly grim movie. I say “surprisingly” because you’d never guess that from the film’s flashy style, ’80s fashion, and jazz-funk soundtrack, as well as Wong’s constant attempts to woo Yeoh even after a terrorist tries to gun them down in the most ’80s nightclub of all time. Royal Warriors is a bit of mess, tone-wise, but the action’s phenomenal. This being a “girls with guns” movie, Yeoh gets top billing, but Sanada — who, for the record, is currently killing it on Shōgun — steals every scene he’s in, playing a haunted family man pushed to the brink of revenge. I’d watch a whole ‘nother movie that was just about his character.
Dragons Forever is not my favorite film starring the legendary “Three Dragons,” aka, Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, and Yuen Biao. (That would be 1984’s Wheels on Meals.) The plot of Dragons Forever is pretty silly, as a lawyer (Chan) representing a big factory tries to prevent a local fishery from suing his client for polluting the environment. He teams up with an arms dealer (Hung) and a criminal (Biao) to discredit the fishery’s owner, only for some romance to complicate things. The comedy is pretty nonsensical, as is the romance. Of course, with Chan, Hung, and Biao on the marquee, you know the film’s action and stunts are going to be the real draw — and on that front, Dragons Forever does deliver, and then some. You just have to wade through a lot to get to the good stuff. The final fight, featuring Benny “The Jet” Urquidez as the big bad, is an all-time classic. As great as Chan and Hung are, though, Biao steals the show with his acrobatics.
Since Amazon Prime is releasing a Road House remake later this month, it seemed like a good idea to rewatch the original 1989 film starring Patrick Swayze in all of his ’80s glory. It’s an enjoyable enough film, an example of prime ’80s cinema that’s all vibe — and feathered hair. It’s also patently ridiculous, be it Swayze’s philosophical, Tai Chi-practicing bouncer (who has a tortured past, of course), the love interest who loves him simply because he’s Patrick Swayze, or the main antagonist, a slimy tycoon played to the hilt by Ben Gazzara whose villainy is so over-the-top that it’s almost laughable. (Y’know, the sort of villain that only exists in ’80s films.) But kudos to Swayze et al. for thoroughly committing themselves to the bit. Road House is at its best when it embraces its “B” movie nature (e.g., when Swayze waxes philosophical while cleaning people’s clocks). As such, it feels wrong when the film’s blues-y soundtrack (via The Jeff Healey Band) is suddenly replaced by a surprisingly conventional-sounding score by Michael Kamen, and during the iconic “I’m gonna kill you the old-fashioned way” scene to boot.
First, some quibbles. Even with its nearly 3-hour runtime, Paul Atreides’ evolution into both Muad’Dib as well as the prophesied Lisan al Gaib felt surprisingly rushed, even disjointed, as did Lady Jessica’s transformation into the conniving Reverend Mother. Heritage and Bene Gesserit training notwithstanding, I had a hard time buying Timothée Chalamet’s Paul as a messianic leader, though to his credit, Chalamet throws himself, heart and soul, into the role. Also, I’m still waiting to see a Guild Navigator. That said, we haven’t experienced epic filmmaking of this caliber since the Lord of the Rings trilogy, though this tale of galactic politics, prophecy, fanaticism, and holy war is far darker and more tragic, lingering with me long after leaving the theater. As for the film’s visuals, effects, production design, costumes, etc., I knew they’d be of the highest quality. Even so, I was still blown away by what I saw on the screen (e.g., the Harkonnen homeworld in stark black and white, Paul learning to ride a massive sandworm, the Fremen’s final assault) and of course, Hans Zimmer’s evocative score is one for the ages.
My kids and I watched the first Dune movie to prep ourselves for Part Two, making this my fifth or sixth viewing of Denis Villeneuve’s adaptation. And yeah, it’s still a sci-fi masterpiece. What struck me this time around was just how beautiful the movie is, be it the production design (someday, I think I’d like to retire to the Atreides estate on Caladan) or the magnificent desert vistas of Arrakis itself. Even when the story gets a bit turgid, like Paul having his visions of a holy war sweeping across the universe, Dune: Part One still holds your interest. Indeed, it’s nigh-impossible to turn away, it’s so arresting. Also, I think that Oscar Isaac might be the film’s unsung hero. As Duke Leto Atreides, he’s honorable to a fault. His scene with Paul amongst the graves of their ancestors is one of my favorites scenes in the movie, and makes Paul’s sorrow later in the movie deeply felt and believable.
Quite a few years have passed since my last viewing of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, so when my daughter suggested it for our movie date night, I naturally agreed. It’s still a classic in every way, thanks to the delightful songs, Charlie Bucket’s wide-eyed sense of wonder, and of course, Gene Wilder’s perfect performance as the titular Wonka. This time around, though, I was struck by the movie’s inherently tragic nature as it depicts a child’s final moments of innocence before he becomes the ward of the world’s greatest candy maker, yes, but also a madman. (In my headcanon, the tunnel boat ride is actually a journey through the dark side of Wonka’s mind, a manifestation of all of the repressed darkness that makes his confectionary genius possible.) The film’s most chilling line comes at the very end when Wonka reveals that he picked a child to take over his candy empire because “a grown up would want to do everything his own way, not mine.” So now, poor sweet, innocent Charlie is doomed to hear all of Wonka’s “most precious candy making secrets,” thus ensuring that the cycle of madness will continue. So yeah, a classic film in every way.
Although Jackie Chan pops up throughout the film as a bumbling cop whose zeal for justice (and roller skating) always results in hilarious havoc, Winners & Sinners is primarily a showcase for Sammo Hung (who also directed), Richard Ng, John Shum, and the rest of the Lucky Stars crew. The fellas play a group of former criminals trying to stay on the straight and narrow by starting a cleaning company, only to get mixed up in a gangster’s counterfeiting operation. The film’s broad, juvenile comedy and episodic nature wears a bit thin at times (e.g., the scene where Richard Ng’s character believes he’s invisible, with predictable results), but it’s so good-natured that you can’t really hold a grudge against it. Several scenes elicited hearty chuckles and though it’s primarily a comedy, Winners & Sinners also boasts some pretty impressive — and amusing — action and stunts. Watching a big dude like Sammo Hung throw hands (or his belly, as the case may be) is never not entertaining.
Given that it stars a veritable “Who’s Who” of modern action stars — e.g., Tony Jaa, Tiger Chen, Iko Uwais, Scott Adkins, Michael Jai White — it should go without saying that Jesse V. Johnson’s Triple Threat boasts some pretty impressive fights. I pressed “Rewind” on several occasions so that I could watch certain bad-ass moves again, particularly from Chen and Adkins, and I winced more than once at scenes of particularly brutal carnage. As an added bonus, Triple Threat possesses a certain gritty, DIY feel that adds to its intensity. I just wish the storyline had been a wee bit stronger. It’s promising at points, with a pair of mercenaries on the run from some other mercenaries while protecting a Chinese heiress, but got muddled whenever it tried to inject some humor or backstory into the proceedings.
To its credit, The Marvels felt like director Nia DaCosta was trying to do something different with the MCU formula. Much of that’s due to the inclusion of young Kamala Khan, aka, Ms. Marvel, who was a delight in her own series back in 2022. Khan brought some much-needed levity to the movie, which had me laughing out loud on several occasions. But at the end of the day, The Marvels is still an MCU title, which means that it’s still plagued by the franchise’s apparent lack of direction. As with most recent MCU titles, I can’t shake the feeling that the movie’s events don’t actually mean anything or are leading up to anything meaningful. And the obligatory mid-credits scene only adds to the sense that at this point, Kevin Feige et al. are just throwing random ideas at the wall to see what, if anything, sticks.
John Carpenter’s Big Trouble in Little China never fails to put a huge smile on my face, starting with Kurt Russell’s iconic performance as trucker Jack Burton, who finds himself in over his head while battling sorcerers, monsters, and kung fu masters straight out of Chinese myth and legend. I love how the movie is an obvious homage to kung fu and wuxia movies, and even stars a couple of martial arts movie legends like Carter Wong and Jeff Imada. I love how it plays with an Americanized (i.e., overly exoticized) version of Chinese culture even as it subverts that by making Russell’s swaggering, tough-talking, John Wayne-esque hero perpetually confused and out of his depth. (As Carpenter put it in his DVD commentary, Burton is a sidekick who thinks he’s the main character.) I love James Hong and Victor Wong’s performances as Lo Pan and Egg Shen, respectively. Basically, I love everything about this movie, from its beginning to its surprisingly bittersweet ending. May the wings of liberty never lose a feather, indeed.