I’m pretty sure The Visitor has been lodged in my subconscious ever since I glimpsed its VHS cover on the video store racks back in grade school. This bizarre Italian film about an alien warrior tracking down a psychic-powered eight-year-old girl who might be the spawn of Satan isn’t exactly coherent. Still, I was never not fascinated by its weird juxtaposition of the ominous and mundane through a trippy score, some also-trippy visual effects, and an uncanny ability to create an otherworldly atmosphere in spite of the melodramatic acting and ham-fisted dialog. Part of me would love to see a modern remake — the film certainly has plenty of intriguing elements (e.g., otherworldly warriors, psychic children, Satanic secret societies) — but you’d lose something without the genuine ’70s aesthetic, most notably the architecture of Atlanta’s now-demolished Omni Coliseum.
My Cultural Diet
I wanted to like this one, I really did. On the surface, it seems like a really goofy, nostalgic ode to classic video games. Plus, it stars action superstar Scott Adkins as the titular Max Cloud, an ultra-vain interstellar hero. So you’d think this one would be right up my alley. And sure, I chuckled once or twice and enjoyed some of the retro imagery. But Max Cloud is so ineptly made with nostalgic references so on-the-nose — e.g., Karate Kid posters, light-up phones — that any possible charm gets drowned out. Which is a shame because there’s a cool concept in there somewhere, waiting for a better film to realize it. To be fair, though, I didn’t actively hate this like I did Max Reload and the Nether Blasters.
We decided to celebrate Valentine’s Day by introducing the kids to this classic. Of course, the danger of watching any classic is that it might not withstand the test of a time. There were certainly some parts that haven’t aged well, namely Phil Connors’ various attempts to seduce women. But overall, Groundhog Day has aged pretty well. The jokes and comedy still land — “Bing!” as Ned Ryerson would say — and it has a charm that feels both timeless and very much of the ’90s. (My wife and I, for instance, got a real nostalgic kick out of the clothing and decor.)
I don’t envy Ryan Coogler et al. the task of producing a new Black Panther movie following Chadwick Boseman’s death. To their credit, Wakanda Forever contains some legitimately beautiful and moving moments. However, the actual superhero part — which sees Wakanda facing off against the undersea kingdom of Talokan and their leader, Namor — feels muddled, overproduced, and over-long, almost like it’s from a different movie entirely. Similar to the original Black Panther’s Killmonger, Namor’s “villainy” is driven by a righteous anger at his people’s oppression, but perhaps it’s a little too similar. It’ll be interesting to see if/how Namor and the rest of Wakanda Forever fit into the MCU’s impending fifth and sixth phases.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Knockabout was initially overlooked given that it was released in the wake of Jackie Chan’s Drunken Master and Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow. But Knockabout stars two of Chan’s Peking Opera peers — Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao — who are no slouches themselves. The film is total silliness, with Biao and Leung Kar-yan hamming it up as a couple of ne’er-do-wells who fall in with a sketchy master. The hijinks get a little old, but Knockabout’s worth watching if only to see Biao’s impressive acrobatics and athleticism, whether he’s doing “monkey” style or battling foes with his jump rope skills.
Yuen Woo-ping’s Iron Monkey is one of my favorite kung fu films of all time, and in some ways, Wing Chun feels like its spiritual successor. It’s a good deal sillier, though, what with the gender-bending, mistaken identities, and sophomoric sexual comedy. That, and the fight choreography is more frenetic and wire-filled. The film’s sexual politics might be a bit uncouth by today’s standards, but Michelle Yeoh is an absolute queen even when she’s mistaken for a man by her childhood sweetheart (Donnie Yen, in a welcome comedic turn). And I do enjoy watching Norman Chu eat up the scenery like nobody’s business as the big bad.
This riveting documentary tells the inspiring story of a former monk who seeks to bring Shaolin kung fu into the modern era. To do so, he teams up with a disgraced soccer superstar and reunites with his former Shaolin brothers to blend kung fu and soccer. But will their skills be enough to defeat the Evil Team and the corrupt soccer officials? It’s probably been 15 years since my last viewing of Shaolin Soccer, but its story of underdogs, martial arts, mystical Shaolin powers, and soccer remains as entertaining and inspirational as ever.
Although I’ve seen plenty of clips over the years, I’m ashamed to admit that it wasn’t until 2023 that I finally watched the original Godzilla in its entirety. What struck me was how serious, melancholy, and even tragic the film is, with none of the (beloved) camp that has characterized the franchise. Yes, Godzilla is destroying Tokyo and terrifying the world, but only because of mankind’s actions. There are no villains in the film (except for maybe political bureaucracy, natch). Those who want to destroy Godzilla and those who want to study him both make compelling points, and as a result, the film’s inevitable ending is tinged with regret. The Godzilla franchise really did begin on a very strong note.
One of the great Hollywood classics. Audrey Hepburn (in her first major role) is absolutely luminous as Princess Ann and Gregory Peck is effortlessly charming as Joe Bradley. However, Eddie Albert almost steals the show as Joe’s photographer buddy. As for the Rome backdrop, it gives the film both authenticity and stunning scenery. I was struck by the film’s bittersweetness during this most recent viewing, as the young princess and opportunistic reporter alike come to realize the weight of duty and obligation. Hepburn and Peck were approached in the 1970s with doing a sequel, which probably would’ve been terrible. Roman Holiday works so well precisely because it ends on such a bittersweet and melancholy note.
Iria: Zeiram the Animation is one of my favorite anime OVAs of all time, so I was excited to finally see the live-action film that inspired it. Unfortunately, Zeiram didn’t meet expectations. It has all the makings of a cool sci-fi monster movie, from the creature and gadget designs to some icky body horror. The visual effects were cleverly done and there was even some martial arts action thrown in for good measure. But for whatever reason, a significant portion of the movie is spent following the bumbling exploits of two side characters. I assume they were intended as comedic relief, but they’re just annoying and end up overshadowing Yūko Moriyama’s capable heroine.
Mechanical Violator Hakaider gets a star for its title alone. And I’ll give it another star for its post-apocalyptic meets campy, glam rock aesthetic. On the one hand, you’ve got an implacable cyborg fighting his way through a seemingly perfect (read: dystopic) society. On the other hand, the main villain wears a bird’s skeleton draped over his shoulder and pontificates on the beauty of flowers. Also, so many feathers. But to be honest, I wish the movie had leaned harder into one aspect or the other: either embrace the grimness and nihilism, or embrace the camp. Some interesting visuals, to be sure, be it the mechanical designs or the massive religious ruins dotting the landscape, and Hakaider always looks cool on his motorcycle. As for the many fight scenes, if you’ve ever watched a Power Rangers episode, you know what to expect.
Remember 2013’s 47 Ronin, starring Keanu Reeves? No? Well apparently, somebody thought it deserved a sequel, so here we are. Now, I think we can all agree that Mark Dacascos as a 21st century samurai warlord leading his clan against evil ninjas in, of all places, Budapest, is a fantastic premise for a film. Blade of the 47 Ronin, unfortunately, does not deliver on said premise. Dacascos is great, as expected, and I love that, in the film’s world, nobody bats an eye at the sight of fully-armed samurai walking around in modern-day Hungary. But the tone, herky-jerky storytelling, cheap effects, CGI blood, and uneven acting make this feel like a direct-to-Syfy title or worse, a rejected CW pilot. Which is a shame, because it had elements that could’ve made for a cool cult classic. A third 47 Ronin film is currently in development, which seems unnecessary. But maybe the third time will be the charm.
I have only a passing familiarity with Ultraman, so I don’t know how well Shin Ultraman works as a reboot of the classic tokusatsu series. The storyline was as ridiculous as you’d expect, filled with technobabble and over-the-top monsters, as was the filming, which constantly employed crazy edits and “Dutch angles” to make the proceedings feel ultra-dramatic (npi). Like its predecessor, 2016’s Shin Godzilla, Shin Ultraman often felt like a parody of the genre, albeit one made by people who obviously love the genre. I enjoyed film’s visuals — e.g., Ultraman’s “Spacium Beam” attack and his flying poses — all of which had a delightfully retro feel to them. But its episodic nature was a downside. It felt less like a coherent film and more like a miniseries that’d been chopped up and re-edited together, and thus missing key scenes that would’ve helped smooth things out.
I didn’t enjoy this as much as the first Lost Bullet, due mainly to some weird tonal shifts. The film couldn’t quite decide if it was a hard-boiled police thriller, a car stunt showcase, or an action comedy. It tries to do all three to varying degrees, and suffers a bit as a result. Still, a decent enough Friday night popcorn film with some truly ridiculous (read: enjoyable) stunts and action scenes. The end clearly sets up a third film, which I’ll definitely be watching when it (presumably) arrives on Netflix.
Some thoughts after watching Yuen Woo-Ping’s 1993 kung fu classic for the umpteenth time. First, why isn’t Yu Rongguang more well-known? He’s so good as the titular bandit, even outshining Donnie Yen. Second, it’s safe to say that The Matrix, as we know it, wouldn’t exist without Iron Monkey if only because Yuen lifted some of this movie’s choreography for Neo et al. Third, few things are as consistently entertaining as early-to-mid ’90s Hong Kong movies. It’s a testament to that era’s filmmaking that Iron Monkey is so frenetic, visually speaking, but also so legible and easy to follow.
Lean, mean French action movie about a former crook-turned-police mechanic who goes on the run after corrupt cops kill his mentor. The stunts and fight scenes are pretty great, but what’s really impressive is the movie’s storytelling efficiency. There’s almost no filler here and very little exposition, and yet the characters and their relationships still feel fleshed out.
A film about Santa Claus relying on his violent past to save a young girl from kidnappers? Seems like a total home run. Violent Night has some clever Santa-themed kills (though the violence is blunted by CGI blood). But the movie’s best aspects (e.g., Santa’s violent Viking past, David Harbour’s performance) get diluted by references and similarities to other classic Christmas-themed movies (e.g., Home Alone, Die Hard, The Ref). Which is a shame, because this has “cult hit” written all over it.
The first Knives Out was an instant classic here at Opus HQ. Glass Onion hits some of the same high points — Blanc solving the original murder mystery in seconds is a delight — but it just doesn’t have the same joie de vivre as its predecessor. Maybe it’s because a film featuring an infantile billionaire hits a little too close in light of Elon Musk’s Twitter activity, or the irony of an “eat the rich” film costing Netflix $469 million is a little to, um, rich for my blood, or because the destruction of priceless art feels different in light of Just Stop Oil’s protests. These things obviously aren’t the fault of Rian Johnson or his talented cast, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them while watching the film.
There’s much to like about Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of the classic tale: the stop motion animation, the depiction of fascist Italy, the Blue Fairy’s angelic design, Gregory Mann’s performance as the titular character. So I’m still trying to figure out why I didn’t like it more than I did.
I decided to watch this after learning about director Albert Pyun’s death. Put simply, it’s grade “A” early ’90s direct-to-video cheese. It shamelessly rips off better movies like Blade Runner and Terminator but has more spirit and energy than many Hollywood blockbusters. Come for the ’90s cyberpunk fashion (e.g., silk double-breasted suits, wraparound sunglasses, “futuristic” guns that never need reloading), stay for the non-stop scene-chewing, surprisingly elaborate stunts, and really cool practical effects.