My Cultural Diet

Thanks to Peter Jackson’s Tolkien adaptations, fantasy movies have become synonymous with really long runtimes. Not so with Terry Marcel’s Hawk the Slayer, which tells its epic tale of good and evil in under 100 minutes. Unfortunately, Hawk the Slayer feels like it’s three hours long because it’s just soooo boring. (Sorry, Tim and Bilbo.) All of the elements are there (e.g., a prophesied hero with a magic sword, a diverse group of companions, an evil warlord) and I respect the smaller scope (our heroes are just trying to rescue a nun from the aforementioned warlord, who is played to scene-chewing perfection by Jack Palance) and dig the ’80s visual effects, but Hawk the Slayer’s no Krull or Beastmaster.

Movies like Samurai Cop highlight a fundamental flaw with star ratings. Objectively speaking, it’s a terrible movie filled with inept filmmaking, nonsensical editing, corny dialog, ham-fisted acting, uneven cinematography, and a chintzy “press ‘Demo’ key on the Casio keyboard” soundtrack. By all rights, it deserves — at most — a single star. And yet, I was never not entertained by all of the above as I continued my quest to watch movies whose VHS covers fascinated me as a kid. (See also Beastmaster and Ninja III: The Domination.) I’m a sucker for this sort of Z-grade cinema from the ’80s and ’90s, if only because it contains absolutely zero pretension, which is quite refreshing at times. And though I enjoyed it well enough by myself, Samurai Cop really should be watched at a late night screening with scores of fellow genre fans.

Based on its trailers, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Baby Assassins was wall-to-wall action as its young anti-heroines take on the Yakuza with guns and fists aplenty. The film does feature some impressive action sequences, especially one towards the end featuring Saori Izawa that holds up against anything in the John Wick movies. However, those sequences are few and far between. Baby Assassins is primarily a very dark and very offbeat comedy about a pair of young sociopaths trying to fit into society with mixed (and bloody) results, and thus, your mileage will definitely vary. You’re obviously meant to cheer them on, especially Izawa’s Mahiro, but their characterizations are so thin that they’re annoying more often than not. The film’s efforts to portray them as autistic might’ve been another effort to humanize them, but in the end, I was just left puzzled and asking more questions about what writer/director Yugo Sakamoto really intended to achieve here.

A film crew is doing their darndest to make a low-budget zombie movie somewhere in the Japanese countryside, but their efforts are hindered by the director’s ego. Their situation goes from bad to much, much worse, though, when an actual zombie apocalypse breaks out and the director insists on using it as the backdrop for his movie. But don’t get the wrong idea; there’s a lot more going on in Shin’ichirô Ueda’s One Cut of the Dead than just the undead. To say any more, though, would ruin the pleasure of finding out the truth for yourself. It’s impossible to say too much about this film without revealing some pretty major spoilers. Just know that One Cut of the Dead has more than a few surprises up its blood and gore-soaked sleeve. The film’s middle act does drag a little, but even then I was kept guessing. I kept expecting the film to go one way when instead, it opted for a far more delightful direction that had me laughing, cheering, and even tearing up a little when the final credits started rolling.

The original Inside Out is one of my favorite Pixar movies, a pitch-perfect blend of entertaining visuals, topflight animation, and heartfelt storytelling that adroitly balances tears and laughter. (RIP Bing Bong.) Thus, I was naturally skeptical about Kelsey Mann’s sequel, given the time that had passed since the original film as well as Pixar’s recent issues with middling quality. It was, therefore, a delightful surprise when Inside Out 2 proved to be, well, a delight. The first two-thirds or so are amusing, if a little on-the-nose. Still, as someone with kids who are either on the cusp of or fully entered into puberty, the film’s images and portrayals all tracked for me. But Inside Out 2’s final act is heart-wrenching in the best and truest Pixar fashion, evoking tears and laughter by tackling heavy subjects (e.g., anxiety, the pains of growing up) with grace even as it insisted on the bedrock necessity of finding and experiencing joy in the midst of the chaos and confusion.

Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight has long been held up as not just the best Batman movie of all time, but the best superhero movie of all time, as well. Watching it recently for the first time in over ten years, its strengths are still apparent (e.g., Heath Ledger’s performance as the Joker, the semi truck stunt) as are its weaknesses. Specifically, Nolan is so intent on making his movie a Serious Philosophical Exploration of nihilism and society’s thin veneer between order and chaos that it robs the movie of most of its fun. At least Batman Begins, by contrast, had a bit of campiness with all of the League of Shadows stuff. And just to clarify, there’s nothing campy about Ledger’s Joker (which, at the risk of contradicting myself, is actually plus) and no, Christian Bale’s Batman voice doesn’t count.

You can watch Chris Smith’s Wham! documentary as a film about the band’s meteoric rise up the charts or as nothing more than a fun, frivolous snapshot of ’80s gloss and excess. (With regards to the latter, it serves as an interesting companion piece to Steven Blush’s American Hair Metal, which I reviewed earlier this month.) But with its mix of archival footage, interviews, and even the scrapbooks kept by Andrew Ridgeley’s mom, Wham! is ultimately a film about two best friends who achieved something spectacular while always being there for each other. Wham! does get introspective in places, particularly when George Michael — who died on Christmas Day 2016 — reflects on his closeted homosexuality or his growing need for artistic validation and pop stardom, but the documentary is a celebration more than anything else. Given that so many pop groups have turned on each other due to fame and ego, it’s actually something of a joy to see one of the world’s biggest pop groups of all time go out on a high note, and more importantly, as good friends.

I stumbled across this on Amazon Prime Video, and given it’s relatively short runtime (78 minutes), figured it’d be something nice to fit in before bedtime. I was pleasantly surprised by the film’s rather slow, even contemplative pace, which made for a nice contrast to the action. And the film also has several stark, even stunning images that verge on abstract, so kudos to cinematographers Chi Jia, Wanyi Liu, Xiaofeng Zhao. (Some, however, might find the film’s look a bit too glossy.) Finally, as a fan of ’90s Jet Li films, it was a pleasant surprise to see Miao Xie in the lead role; he previously starred as Li’s son in 1994’s The New Legend of Shaolin and 1995’s My Father is a Hero. Unfortunately, the short runtime does no favors for the film’s clichéd and familiar storyline, which obviously riffs on the Zatoichi films. That, and the fight scenes are often of the hectic, hyper-edited variety, replete with dodgy CGI flames and blood splatters.

I remember when this film was first announced, and the first promo photos began circulating. It looked utterly ridiculous, the very definition of a sequel that nobody asked for. As it turns out, though, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is far better than it has any right to be. The Rock’s charisma — and smoldering intensity — are in full effect, but he also shows off his humorous side, aided by co-stars Jack Black and Kevin Hart. Plus, Doctor Who’s Karen Gillan gets a chance to struct her action bonafides as Ruby “Killer of Men” Roundhouse. As far as legacy sequels go, this could’ve been so much worse, so kudos to director Jake Kasdan and the cast, who look like they’re clearly have a lot of fun playing up ridiculous video game tropes.

For a long time, this was my favorite Jackie Chan film, as evidenced by my exuberant review from 2003. That’s no longer the case, but it’s still a fun film where Jackie plays a special operative who loses his memory after his unit is betrayed, and must confront CIA conspiracies and arms dealers to get it back. As a result, Who Am I? feels like Jackie’s attempt at writing and directing a serious globe-trotting international thriller, and is therefore less comedic than, say, Mr. Nice Guy or Shanghai Noon. Some parts of Who Am I? are a bit cringe-inducing now (e.g., Jackie’s time recuperating with an African tribe), but it does feature some of his best action scenes and stunts, be it the wooden shoe fight or the climactic brawl atop Rotterdam’s Willemswerf building and Jackie’s subsequent slide down its side.

This action classic turned 30 earlier this month, and at least 15 years have passed since I last watched it in its entirety, so now seemed like a good time for a revisit. And, following K. B. Hoyle’s lead, introduce my kids to it. So let me tell you, dear reader, that Speed totally holds up. It’s obviously a product of the ’90s (the extremely wide latitude given to the LAPD feels particularly incongruous these days) and the final act is a bit tacked on, but it’s never not a blast to watch (pun intended). Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock are delightful with all of their meaningful looks, Dennis Hopper is appropriately kooky, and the stunts and practical effects are refreshing in this day and age of CGI. Indeed, I was struck by just how good the film still looks after three decades. Director Jan de Bont obviously learned a thing or two working as John McTiernan’s cinematographer on Die Hard and The Hunt for Red October. Speed’s action is never edited to the point of incoherence and scenes are given room to breathe, while the film’s visual storytelling is crisp and efficient. As a result, nothing feels rushed or wasted. Put simply, this is ’90s action filmmaking of the highest quality.

I felt bad for my wife as we watched Hit Man; it features some of her most hated movie tropes (e.g., normal people making increasingly bad decisions with no hope of redemption). I ended up liking the movie more than she did, but honestly, not by much. With its story about a psychology professor who moonlights as a fake hit man for the New Orleans police department, Hit Man seems to want to be a screwy Coen Brothers-esque comedy, especially when leading man Glen Powell begins adopting different hitman personas. (Which the trailer really focuses on.) But then it also plays at being a knotty, twisted thriller laced with pitch-black humor, moral and legal quandaries, and ridiculous sexuality — and frustratingly, ends up being neither. (For the record, we would’ve preferred the former.) To the movie’s credit, Powell delivers a great performance and we were frequently left guessing as to where the story was going. Unfortunately, said story ended up being less satisfying than any of our theories.

Take a sampling of classic Looney Tunes animation, a dash of Michel Gondry, a pinch of those crazy Japanese commercials that Arnold Schwarzenegger did in the ’80s, a healthy dose of silent filmmaking, plenty of absurdist slapstick, and a fanciful take on Wisconsin history, and that just scratches the surface of the bizarre little film that is Hundreds of Beavers. Shot for $150,000 over the course of twelve weeks, Hundreds of Beavers follows the exploits of Jean Kayak, who seeks to become the region’s greatest fur trapper and win the hand of the local merchant’s daughter — but first he must use his wits to survive the winter and figure out how to outsmart and trap all of the local animals. (Who, by the way, are played by people in animal suits.) And of course, he must do battle with the army of beavers that’s hard at work building a mysterious structure by the river. There are moments when the film’s gags wear a bit thin, but there are also moments that had me chortling with glee whilst admiring its unique low-budget aesthetic mashup. I can only imagine the blast that Hundreds of Beavers would be if you saw it in a theater with an audience of like-minded individuals.

Shô Kosugi helped kick off America’s “ninjamania” craze in the early-to-mid ’80s via such Cannon Film classics as Enter the Ninja and Ninja III: The Domination. Rage of Honor falls into the same category, with Kosugi playing a DEA agent who goes rogue to track down his partner’s killer. Which means traveling to Argentina and putting his girlfriend in danger so he can kill a bunch of goons (and weirdly, some indigenous tribe members) with the help of his ninja skills (which mostly take the form of sweet-looking front flips), exploding shuriken, the tiniest nunchaku in movie history, and some eyeliner. Thankfully, the bad guys are incapable of hitting the broadside of a barn with a machine gun, giving Kosugi ample time to flip over them and dispatch them in all kinds of ways. Rage of Honor does its darndest to be gritty and hard-boiled (e.g., Stelvio Cipriani’s score), but it’s just a goofy film blessed with continuity errors, sloppy editing, and uneven action choreography. I’m a sucker for ’80s ninja fare, though, so I still enjoyed it for what it is.

Contrary to what its title might suggest, The Dungeonmaster has nothing to do with Dungeons & Dragons. (It was originally titled Ragewar and renamed to capitalize on D&D’s success.) But it does feature Night Court’s Richard Moll chewing up the scenery as a demonic sorcerer as well as a cameo by heavy metal band W.A.S.P., so there’s that. (And, as to be expected from a mid-’80s fantasy movie, some gratuitous skin.) As for the plot, that actually does feel a bit D&D-esque. Moll’s sorcerer whisks a computer programmer and his girlfriend off to a fantasy world in order to test his technological prowess in a series of challenges. The film is essentially an anthology; all of the challenges were made by different filmmakers and span the fantasy, slasher, and post-apocalypse genres. The Dungeonmaster’s technology vs. magic conceit is promising, but the film is pretty uneven right on up to its abrupt ending. Not even the fact that I probably would’ve loved The Dungeonmaster had I actually seen it back in 1984 changes the fact that it has “low-budget direct to VHS fare” written all over it. (Random bit of trivia: This film was the source of Adam Savage’s “I reject your reality and I substitute my own!” quote.)

About a year ago, I finally got around to seeing Ron Howard’s Willow, thus filling what seemed like a significant hole in my childhood moviegoing. Unfortunately, it was rather underwhelming. By contrast, Peter Yates’ Krull — another movie that I missed out on in my childhood — was a much more enjoyable experience. Krull does suffer from some of the same tonal issues as Willow; one minute, the movie’s unremittingly grim, and the next, downright silly (e.g., David Battley’s shapeshifting magician). And given its prominence in the film’s marketing and legacy, I was expecting to see more of the hero’s Glaive weapon. But Krull is ultimately redeemed by its lavish production, be it the stunning outdoor vistas or the incredible set designs (e.g., the surreal hallways and chambers of the main villain’s teleporting space fortress). As for the film’s special effects, they still hold up rather well for the most part, and help sell the film’s unique blend of sci-fi and fantasy. I’d love to see a modern remake, because there’s still so much potential in Krull’s premise, though I’m a little worried that JJ Abrams is apparently behind it.

I watched this because Aaron Toney, a stuntman whose insights I’ve enjoyed seeing on Corridor Crew’s “Stuntmen React” videos, was promoting it on his Instagram page. That, and it stars Scott Adkins and Michael Jai White, who are always eminently watchable. Adkins certainly throws himself into the role of a Navy SEAL trying to stop a group of mercenaries from setting off a bomb during the State of the Union address. Plot-wise, One More Shot is pretty standard thriller fare, with all of the requisite twists — but nothing more than that. As for the film’s “shot in a single take” conceit, it’s more gimmicky than immersive, though it does lend itself to some interesting action design as Adkins’ SEAL maneuvers his way through the airport taking down bad guys. This one has all of the seeds for a really interesting thriller, right down to the shady military contractor, but I feel like I’ve seen this kind of movie done before, and done better.

I know this movie exists because I watched it. I know it had characters in it, and that they said and did stuff. I even know that it had some big CGI monsters who roared really loudly and pummeled each other (along with some of the world’s most famous landmarks and best beachfront property). But Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire left behind no impression whatsoever. There were moments when it summoned some of the zaniness of the zanier Toho Godzilla movies — like giving Kong an Iron Man-esque gauntlet — but overall, it all just felt… meh. It crammed in so many ideas — Godzilla getting a glow-up, Kong discovering another giant ape civilization, Godzilla and Kong’s topsy-turvy bromance, the return of Mothra — that all of them felt shortchanged, under-developed, and misguided. And for a movie about giant monsters battling each other with no thought to us puny humans, I was hoping for at least a little existential despair. In the end, however, I can’t summon the strength or desire to think too hard about such things because I. Just. Don’t. Care.

Given that 2024 marks its 30th anniversary and a (dubious-looking) remake is on the horizon, now seemed like a perfect time to rewatch The Crow for the first time in years. I was captivated by the film as a high school senior, and though some parts haven’t aged as well as others, it remains a powerful and unique experience, especially for a superhero film. Of course, it’s impossible to separate The Crow from the tragic death of Brandon Lee, who was fatally shot by a prop gun during filming. His death haunts the film, imbuing its story (a rock star is resurrected from the dead to get vengeance on those who killed him and his fiancée) with an almost mythic power that’s further elevated by the gothic style, gloomy setting, hallucinatory visuals, and stellar soundtrack. (“Burn” is one of my favorite Cure songs.) You can tell how much the role meant to Lee; he delivers a stirring performance as Eric Draven, the avenging angel beset by doubt and sorrow. Watching it this time, though, I was struck by Ernie Hudson as the streetwise cop who becomes Draven’s confidant. I love the scene in his apartment with Draven, a moment of calm in a storm of vengeance.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare’s heavily fictionalized account of Operation Postmaster is an total lark of a movie. On the one hand, it’s clear that everyone involved had a lot of fun making it; in particular, Henry Cavill is rakishly demented as Gus March-Phillipps (one of the real-life inspirations for James Bond) and the film’s biggest laughs come from Alan Ritchson (Reacher) affecting a Danish accent. Plus, it’s always fun to see Nazis dispatched on the screen in all manner of ridiculous ways. But the film is so much of a lark that when our (anti-)heroes get in a tight spot — when their plans goes awry and the Nazis turn out to be smarter than expected — it’s hard to care about them. Obviously, not every WW2 film needs to a solemn affair, and I appreciate director Guy Ritchie’s attempts to inject his WW2 film with an anarchic spirit, but it’s ultimately shallow and disposable.