My Revenge Will Seek You Out: Black Sunday (1960)

Also known as The Mask of Satan, Black Sunday is essentially how the world became aware of Mario Bava, horror provocateur and cult cinema mad man.  Now I am fully aware that he made movies well before this work, as well as even more output following, but with its recent bluray release and the access it has to horror fans via Netflix Watch Instantly, it has gain a new level of adoration.  Admittedly, I was far from completely enamored with this film, but it does have me curious about undertaking more work by the Italian director, primarily as a means to see how much German Expressionism might seep into this other work.  Also, I am deeply intrigued by some of the special effects that unfold during this film, proving equally baffling to Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity which I also saw yesterday, although the spectacle is certainly favored in the latter, the execution is no less dynamite.  I guess my hesitation in fully embracing a work like Black Sunday resides in having a considerable trouble getting behind works of gothic vampire horror, because in my mind their dreary setting, ambient soundtracks and general appeal is often squandered in some half realized narrative of sex and lust, which is overemphasized and always undermines anything worth a damn in the film.  While Black Sunday certainly has moments where this threatens to be the demise of the film, for the most part, the narrative manages to side step any egregious errors and remain watchable and poignant.  I am also completely aware of the film having a now fifty year history behind it, making its pristine look that much more captivating considering the life and rediscovery of horror films to be a less than prevalent act since it is a genre that seems content to begin its history within the late seventies.  While Black Sunday will never be on the level of something like Carnival of Souls it does manages to contain several moments of pure cerebral and surreal intensity, and at this point the dubbing in such a film is more endearing than grating, say nothing of the absolutely ethereal performance delivered by Barbara Steele who may or may not have had the aid of a prosthetic mask.

Black Sunday begins with a historical event focusing on a series of executions in a non-descript Moldovan town, where villagers and clergy men use various tools and religious iconography to destroy a series of demons in their village, one an older man and the other a younger woman, suggesting their ties to satan.  Using masks that are lined with spikes, the villagers slay the creatures dubbed vampires and bury them within coffins in an underground labyrinth.  The narrative then flashes forward two hundred years to focus on Dr. Thomas Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi) and Dr. Andre Gorobec (John Richardson) who are traveling through Moldova in hopes of making up time in route to a medical conference.  A minor vehicle accidents leads to their having to hole up in a local castle, where they immediately discover the tomb of Asa (Barabara Steele) the woman murdered for being a vampire some two centuries earlier.  This bizarre discovery is only made doubly so when they return to their carriage to find Katia (Barbara Steele) who takes on an uncanny resemblance to Asa.  An accident earlier, involving Kruvajan, results in his blood reawakening the vampire of Asa, who begins wreaking havoc on the two doctors as well as Katia, eventually even bringing back to life Javuto (Arturo Dominici) her partner and half of a Hall and Oates vampire cover band.  Between the two of them, they attempt to offer the doctors a chance at eternal life in exchange for their blood, while the fascination implemented by both Asa and Javuto is strong the two doctors are able to deny the advances, instead turning to Katia for suggestions on how to slay the assumedly immortal beasts.  After a series of scenes with Asa attempting to pass as Katia, only to fail to turn her when she finds a crucifix around Katia's neck, the return of Gorobec affords him the ability to slay the real vampire in Asa, turning her in the moment to an shriveled up corpse, while Kruvajan knocks Javuto into a fire, burning his body permanently. Katia now free from the spell of the vampires, awakens as young and jovial as ever.

I have not seen nearly enough gothic horror films and only marginally more vampire flicks, so I would be hard pressed to claim myself an authority on either.  Furthermore, I am hesitant to appropriate things such as tropes to such a specific genre of films.  Nonetheless,  I have the space and certainly cannot help but consider the particular way in which the "intellectual" figure emerges within the space of these films.  Of course, since they are classic works in gothic horror the figure of the intellectual is always male, driven by his unbridled desire for truth and scientific fact, he often finds himself in curious situations only to become involved out of a quest to explain that which is inexplicable.  In many of these films, particularly the Dracula films "proper," this intellectual is represented through the figure of Van Helsing, but even in these instances there is an acceptance of the paranormal as a fact in the world, one that is confronted with goodness to overcome the evil.  In Black Sunday one can certainly pull many elements of the traditional good versus evil narrative, but it is clear, particularly in their dual presence, that the intellectual is intended to be seen as the ultimate savior in a world of violence one exacted by and upon all involved, whether it be the blood thirsty vampires or the villagers who kill these creatures without even the slightest attempt to understand their actions.  Indeed, that is not to say that the intellectual within the space of a gothic horror film is void of character flaws.  The major cause for concern with such figures, despite their deep understanding of science, human nature or archaic folklore still seems to revolve around some degree of sexual repression, whether by choice or social situation.  The relationship between Gorobec becomes particularly fascinating as one watches him fall for Katia, and assumedly Asa in the process, it is precisely this infatuation that nearly leads to his point of intellectual privilege becoming undermined and leading to his own turning into a vampire, void of any sense of rational thought when, in such a scenario, his need to devour would overcome his desire to learn and understand.  Interestingly, this film also reconsiders the intellectual to a degree by affording Katia a considerable opinion in how to slay the creatures, one that proves both well-reasoned and useful.

Key Scene:  The simultaneous aging and return to youth of Asa and Katia is cinematic magic even by contemporary standards.

This is on Netflix, take a chance to watch it as it is an undisputed classic and certainly a higher end work in vampire film.

This Stupid Machine Needs A Kick In The Balls: Rats (1984)

Some viewing experiences are made quite better by the inclusion of other people sharing in the insanity or intensity of the cinematic moment.  Other moviegoing is made better by an alteration of perception induced by a few drinks, or for the particularly dangerous mind altering drugs. Then there are some experiences that are made better by both of these elements inclusion, but still manage to exist in a world entirely detached from all logical reason.  Rats, subtitled Night of Terror, is one such bit of madness that was viewed for this marathon at a retro screening taking place at my local indie theater.  Part of the glorious, and seemingly never ending sequence of Italian knock off films from the eighties, Rats is less clear than say, Starcrash, in what it is ripping off, in that it is one part zombie film, one part Mad Max parody and an even more wicked dose of nonsensical exploitation flick that seems almost inconceivable when layered with the classic Italian method of dubbing films, wherein synchronicity is deemed useless.  Even going into this film quite aware of how terrible the product would be, in wildly endearing ways, I was taken aback by how much I found myself consuming its implausibility, both in terms of how indifferent the filmmaker, the infamous Bruno Mattei, seemed in concerns of creating a remotely feasible plot, in so much as it begins with a narration about nuclear fallout that factors so very minimally into most of the film that it almost seems like the intro was an afterthought.  Yet, underneath all the insanity that is Rats lies a film with some moments of genuine excitement, surprisingly not all of which are undercut by some sweet Italian synth music, making for a movie with an incredible amount of laughs, but also a noted last sequence that I cannot shake out of my brain, one that is haunting and absurd simultaneously, as well yet another inspiration for a possible future costume.  Also, a lot of people scream for lengthy amounts of time in this film.

Rats, as noted, exists in a post-apocalyptic landscape, that is allegedly supposed to be Manhattan, where only two things still roam the earth, rats and biker gangs.  One such biker gang, consisting of absurdly named individuals such as Video (Gianno Franco) and black woman Chocolate (Geretta Geretta) find themselves stopping off in the ruins of Manhattan, in an apparent search for food.  Their decision to stop proves quite fruitful when a bar they enter is stockpiled with food, including the highly nutritious items of sugar and flour. Realizing that there was a previous group of people inhabiting the space, the biker gang thinks little of occupying the space for their own, enjoying the provisions made freely theirs, both in terms of sleeping quarters and a botanical garden full of fascinating, but assumedly useless plants.  Indeed, two members of the biker gang feel so very much at home that they begin having sex in a sleeping bag, in the line of sight of the entirety of the rest of their gang.  Yet, despite all their decadent delight, it becomes clear that they are not at all alone, but indeed sharing this space with an inordinate amount of rats, ones that happen to have a penchant for consuming human flesh, or, at the very least, flinging themselves in large droves at human bodies, until the individuals they attack become so scratched and disgusted as to be driven to madness.  Needless to say, the group takes it upon themselves to exact revenge upon the rodents, using everything from antiquated maces to malfunctioning flamethrowers to lay waste to both the rats and all the members of their group suffering from the scratches of the vile creatures.  Yet the rats in their incessant attacks and quickly mounting numbers, begin knocking off members of the biker gang, until only a few of the members remain.  In a narrative jump, a group of hazmat suit wearing humans begin spraying gas into the town, assumedly trying to kill the rats, but when the remaining members of the gang emerge from buildings to confront these exterminators, it becomes clear in a rather intense reveal that perhaps they were also on the docket to be suffocated like rodents.

There are a lot of simplistic film titles in the world, ones that only speak to a layer of the film and in other times there are film titles like Sharknado that give viewers everything they could possibly need to know about the film.  Somehow, completely unbeknownst to me, the title of Rats seems to masterfully cover the film I viewed last night, while also being a terribly misguided suggestion about what the film manages to undertake.  I do not mean to suggest that Rats is a good movie, for it is not, nothing about the film works from a structuralist standpoint, whether it be a complete lack of regard for continuity or a concern for explaining how and where the rats, of their multiple varieties, emerge.  Instead it is simply a post-apocalyptic tale concerning a group of travelers who are quite terrible at understanding, or perhaps accepting, that certain spaces are inhospitable.  Not to lean to heavily on the classic horror film critique of "they should have just left" as it defeats the nature of horror films and their fantastical elements, however, I feel it quite worth noting in the context of this film, because honestly there is no real context as to why the bikers stop, or as to why there was a bunker filled with weird video games, as one member suggests.  Rats almost manages to be a set of film ideas cut together, never really managing to be a single solid work, but again, not to detract from my earnest joy while watching this film, because damn if it was not enjoyable in its lack of continuity.  Even as I sit here and critique these elements of the film, I am also aware of some of its truly captivating moments, whether it is those which occur when a mise-en-scene is formed that manages to incorporate rats into the windows of the background, or the synth actually hits its cue in a great way.  Rats, I guess, is an enigma more than anything else, which has helped it to gain its notoriety, particularly since its begin is in such stark contrast to its captivating ending.  Of course, there is also a real possibility that it is just a bad movie that should only be loved as such, Rats is yet another work from the golden age of Italian blockbuster knock-offs that proves to be a bit more than its intention and for that it should continually be sought out and viewed.

Key Scene: Rat humans.

There are murmurings of a Bluray release emerging soon.  I cannot suggest this release enough, in which case waiting to view it is permissible.

There Was A Man Down There!: Zombie (1979)

Certain blog posts about films beg questions as to the larger meaning of life, or the nature of good versus evil as shown in societies most basic engagements.  At times films flail to answer these questions and in other situations they deliver such an assertive voice on an issue as to become a significant moment in cinema, as well as a work of art that proves important well beyond its inception, as is the case with something like 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Zombie, the gore-fest horror film by Italian director Lucio Fulci, ask questions as well, or more appropriately causes those who view it in all its shlock-filled glory to inquire about the various oddities and curiosities which unfold throughout the film.  For example, who in their right mind only goes swimming in a thong, but feels it absolutely necessary to wear a gaudy swim cap in the process.  Or, how one could find themselves in such a situation as to allow a slow zombie the chance to catch up with them, push only their hand through the room and then drag their eye into an exposed piece of wood.  Hell, it even posits a possible world where people feel so incapable of stifling their sexual desires that they consider having sex in the middle of a zombie infested forest, only to be genuinely surprised by their being attacked.  In all these ways, perhaps Zombie really does transcend its restraints of traditional gore cinema and become a focused look at human nature on par with the great works of the auteurs, who knows, because between the terrible, and I have seen enough to know this is particularly bad, voice dubbing and video transferred blurriness. Yet, Zombie, as a work that does, for all intents and purposes, exist in its own cinematic space manages to move through cult cinema circuits, word-of-mouth and devoted cinephiles with the same adoration given to the works of Kubrick or Welles.

Zombie, is of course about zombies, but that does not mean that Fulci does not approach the narrative without earnestness.  Indeed, the film begins pseudo-in media res, with a beginning shot of a shadowy figure shooting a body moving about that is bound and blanketed in a white sheet, before nothing it is now feasible to leave the island.  The film then opens with an abandoned yacht floating into the harbor of New York, wherein two unsuspecting cops are attacked by a zombie creature, only to shoot it into the depths of the city's harbor.  The cops confused by the events question Anna Bowles (Tisa Farrow) who is the owner of the yacht, only to discover that she was engaged in an elicit affair, leading to the secrecy behind the yacht's appearance.  Anna explains that the attacks are likely attached to the work her father does on a tropical island, leading to her and reporter Peter West (Ian McCulloch) being sent to ascertain exactly what is occurring and what exactly is happening to the diseased attacking bodies.  Given their trouble traveling the duo gain the help of boating experts and semi-professional nudists Bryan Curt (Al Cliver) and Susan Barrett (Aurretta Gay).  Upon arrival at an uncharted island known as Matool, the group meets up with Dr. David Menard (Richard Johnson) who explains that the island is particularly subject to a disease that causes all those who die in its spaces to rise from the dead with an uncontrollable desire for human flesh and despite the dangers clear with such a disease, he insists on staying to continue research.  This continual occupation in the space of the island leads to the various members of the group being attacked, whether it be Dr. Menard's wife being attacked post-shower by a decidedly voyeuristic zombie, or the previously mentioned attacks on the couple having sex.  Eventually, the only survivors of the vicious onslaught are Peter and Anne, who bring along the zombie corpse of Bryan as evidence, yet when they get close to New York they discover via radio transmission that the city, and presumably much of The United States is under the spell of the disease.

Zombie is not made to be taken too seriously, although it is clear that Fulci has some semblance of a social critique at play, one no less on the nose than any other zombie film of the time, particularly the work of George A. Romero, from which, this film heavily and unapologetically borrows.  Indeed, its proper Italian title is Zombi 2, as Zombi represents the Italian name for Romero's wildly successful Dawn of the Dead, a personal favorite of mine in the genre.   I say all this to suggest that the metaphors in this film, much like their predecessor are intended to be on the nose, precisely because a zombie film affords an othering, wherein all characters are aware of the evilness they are versing, thus making any sense of previous social divide moot.  Take for example the race and gender elements of Romero's original film Night of the Living Dead and how they are briefly acknowledged and immediately transcended in favor of focusing on the push for survival and the irrelevance of all previously constructed notions of society.  Indeed, Fulci is aware of this commentary and by setting his film on a remote island only furthers the detachment of the film's narrative from such institutionalized structures, therefore affording a degree of subversion to bodily depictions in the film.  However, Fulci also seems to be bending the genre, albeit, unintentionally by heavily relying on elements of the exploitative for his film, the wild use of gore, at time really jarring and at other moments so artificial as to be humorous manages to work on an almost, dare I say, Brechtian level, both drawing the viewers into the films intensity while also chastising and alienating them for taking any joy, even if purely visceral, in such excess and faux social critique.  Zombie wants its viewers to be unsettled by not only the infestations and body horror of the film, but by the fact that it is indeed being paralleled to a society that is equally disconcerting when placed under a microscope, showing that the same worms that spills out of the eyes of the various zombies, manifest themselves metaphorically through capitalist and scientific endeavors in the Western world.  Furthermore, should you think this all implausible, Fulci's closing scenes drive this home with great zeal.

Key Scene:  Shark versus Zombe.

This DVD is surprisingly cheap for its cult like status, but I am aware it might not work for everyone, therefore, renting might be an ideal course of action.

I Feel Like James Bond, But Minus The Girls: Jackie Chan's First Strike (1996)

It is rather clear that there will be a considerable battle between Jet Li and Jackie Chan for who will make the most appearances during this kung fu marathon and as it stands I believe they are both tied at a respectable three, with Jet Li's films taking a decidedly serious and historical turn, whereas, with the exception of Drunken Master, Chan's films are clearly intended to exist within the realm of the action/cop thriller comedy genre, making a considerable amount of sense, since his adoration of Harold Lloyd and the other silent comedy masters has previously received acknowledgement.  First Strike, is, technically part of the Police Story films, but considering that it is rather obvious that the version I obtained was reworked to make it entirely in English and more palatable to western audiences, I will consider it as such.  First Strike is incredibly clear in its being an homage to the James Bond films, although in decided Jackie Chan fashion, his character has to be a lovable loser, favoring his self-respect to those he encounters over demanding any sort of objectification of the women and others around him, aside of course from the villains who are already attacking him.  I would, in fact, argue that First Strike, while far from a perfect or even good movie, does manage to have some moments where Chan's love for the silent film slapstick over-the-top routine comes crashing together beautifully with some of the most iconic moments of the Bond filmic franchise.  Despite everything and everyone in the film being dubbed, First Strike also manages to be a considerably enjoyable study in the nature of international crime, moving between spaces that often do not receive heavy mention in the cinematic action language, specifically Ukraine and Australia.  I am assuming that First Strike is considered minor Chan, excluding that string of American films he made later in his career (The Tuxedo and The Medallion), it makes me interested to catch up with more of his work, because even in the films that are not exactly narratively engaging, I was surprised to find myself laughing at the excellent comedic execution of Chan even with as simple of a joke as screaming underwater.  I noted in a previous post about reconsidering Li as one of the great actors working today, I am thinking I might make the same extension towards Chan as a comedic actor.

First Strike begins with Jackie (Jackie Chan) finishing a job for the CIA that involves him tracking down a woman who is believed to be tied to a nuclear arms smuggling case.  The woman Natasha (Nonna Grishaeva), it is discovered, is heading to Ukraine, where Jackie is sent undercover to learn more about the issues of the trade.  Along with Natasha is a Chinese nuclear scientist named Tsui (Jackson Liu) who it is revealed has been working to obtain the secrets of the trade for the CIA, which are contained in a briefcase that is lost in a wild snowboard and snowmobile chase.  After a recovery in Russia, Jackie learns that the arms are being shipped to Australia via a Russian submarine, leading to his traveling to Brisbane, much to the disbelief of his superiors in China.  While in Brisbane, Jackie discovers that the nuclear smuggling extends to include a group of Chinese Triad bosses that have centered themselves in Australia, one whose son just happens to be the late Tsui.  During a meeting with Tsui's father, Jackie meets his sister Annie (Annie Wu) who is initially dismissive of Jackie, believing him to be her brothers killer, a disdain that grows when she discovers that Jackie has lied to her about his identity on multiple levels.  However, after more investigation on the part of Jackie, it is discovered that Tsui had tenuous ties to the KGB and was being forced to engage in illicit activities at their discretion, a fact, that once revealed to Jackie and others allows for Annie to break down her hesitations and help Jackie.  During the later father Tsui's death, an elaborate funeral is staged, which becomes the point of a wild brawl with guns and martial arts abound, eventually leading to a local aquarium where the fight takes an underwater turn, made expressly dangerous by the introduction of a maniacal shark that moves about the water and, at times, above it surface to attack people.  Fighting off lackeys and saving unsuspecting tourists, Jackie eventually tracks down the KGB official who possesses the warhead and has kidnapped Annie, stopping his endeavor and escaping with Annie in tow.  After the criminals have been apprehended, Jackie accepts warm thanks and returns to his job with a new degree of earned respect.

The movie really does have an international flare that I cannot help but embrace, particularly considering its nuclear warfare narrative.  The involvement of both Chinese and Russian forces in such a plot could be deemed the worst of Western nightmares coming to the full front, but considering that the China in this film is dedicated to a degree of disarmament it is far from problematic, indeed, almost ideal when discussing a world that still sees threats of nuclear warfare both on a large global scale, as well as at the hands of terrorist subsets who are bent on knocking down global powers with a singular crippling blow.  Of course, to set the film solely in China or Russia would be a bit overzealous not to mention a bit too obvious, particularly, since it is not in these countries that much of the heavy trafficking tends to occur.  The choice to pull the often overlooked Ukraine into the narrative was a brilliant writing decision, because this space, much like other Eastern European countries is a space of illegal trafficking of everything from drugs and nuclear weapons to human bodies.  Furthermore, since it is a film that deals with the western and eastern fears of nuclear warfare and a subsequent fallout staging, it is a space like Eastern Europe proves genius, because in its regional name alone it exists an oxymoronic divide between the two sides of the world.  Indeed, when the narrative then moves to the often overlooked Australia things take a decidedly wild turn, suggesting that Brisbane is a place where the Chinese triad has extended its global power.  I am not a person familiar with the demographics or even basic political world of Australia, but considering that it is the "land down under" and is often notably othered as a space in the world, it would seem like the idea location to plan and traffic nuclear weapons, because in a non-theoretical or critically grounded frame of reference, I would admit to saying that Australia would be the last place on Earth I would assume heavy trafficking in anything to occur.  However, writing that very statement would make me inclined to reconsider it as a space that is equal to, if not greater, in trafficking to Eastern Europe.

Key Scene:  The underwater fighting scene is really one of the greatest action sequences I have ever seen in cinema.  While it was made famous by Thunderball, it is perfected here in this film.

First Strike is not a great movie, but it is not unwatchable by any means.  A more "rentable" movie might not exist.

Virtue Is Often Found Among The Lowly: Once Upon A Time In China (1991)

It seems that at this point in the cinematic narrative there is a Once Upon A Time film for pretty much every important country in the world, as well as a handful of less well established global spaces.  However, even considering this I have managed to not catch up with some of the icons of this particularly titled choice.  Indeed, prior to viewing Once Upon A Time in China, I had only seen the smooze-fest that was Once Upon a Time in Tibet and the pensive, yet haunting film from later year, Once Upon a Time in Anatolia.  The West, America and, until last night, China had failed to make the cut.  Considering that the film situates itself in the years of the Qing dynasty and stars Jet Li, who continues to amaze me as a performer, it seemed like a more than appropriate film to include in my month of martial arts films.  Indeed, there are few films with more of a sense of grandeur and depth than the Chinese period piece, particularly in an age of digital and CGI cinema, which affords a film an ability to take on an ethereal and otherworldly quality.  What is amazing when considering Once Upon A Time in China is that there are moments in this film that are just as thrilling and captivating as the best moments of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.  Hell, the opening dragon dance sequence and the thirty or so odd minute fight sequence that bookend this film are some of the best of the marathon thus far.  These are all wonderful things about the film and would be more than enough to carry them along as a fun historical film that borrows from the genre trappings, but Once Upon A Time in China goes farther than being a simple matter of spectacle and indeed offers a film that comes to the forefront in a consideration and critique of the imperialist activities of the United States and Britain and how this particular invasion of Western Culture upon the varied regions of China extended to create inner-national animosity, while pushing a country into modernity in an uncomfortable and disjointed manner. Yet, considering that it is, at its heart, a film about the heroism of China and its people, this imperialism is acknowledge and deconstructed in a manner that could only work in a post-colonial mindset.

As noted earlier, the film focuses on the experiences of people living under the troubling imperialist shadow of Britain and America during the Qing dynasty.  However, the film looks specifically at the actions and experiences of Wong Fei-Hung (Jet Li), a noted folk hero of China and master of martial arts.  Wong is attempting to keep his disciples and his town in general during the contentious occupation of the various colonial bodies, hoping that by doing so they will eventually remove themselves from occupation of the area, and afford China a means to grow further independently.  However, Wong becomes aware of the major effects Westernization seem to be having on his country when he sees a romantic interest from his youth Siu-kawn (Rosamund Kwan), whom he refers to formally as "13th Aunt."  Siu-kwan has not only begun to speak English frequently, she has also appropriated the hairstyles and dress of Western culture, even seeming to possess the features of "traditional" western beauty as well.  Overarching Wong's struggles to prove himself to Siu-kwan are the very real issues of violent colonial bodies attempting to enact their will upon the Chinese people.  In many ways the imperial bodies, particularly the British men show little concern for their misuse of the people in the space, attacking and beating them as they see fit, all the while invading their spaces to replace structures with icons of Western decadence, the incorporation of a French restaurant being one wild example.  Indeed, one can even see the less abrasive figures of priests in the narrative as being problems, because although they do care for the people, one even sacrificing his body to save Wong, it is done so with the understanding that he is an authority figure.  As such, the narrative begins to look at how Wong, as an individual fighting against the emergence of imperial power in China relates to his fellow Chinese men, wherein his friends and students like Bucktooth So (Jacky Cheung) and Porky Wing (Kent Cheng) share his ideals, but have appropriated a certain degree of Western influence, Bucktooth even speaking relatively fluent English or suits instead of Chinese formalwear.  Yet, when it is discovered that a group of imperialist figures, as well as Chinese men are involved in high scale human trafficking, Wong and his school change their opinion on their indirect involvement in the imperialist discussion, becoming attuned to the real oppression occurring realizing that fighting is a necessity when the "influence" of an outside force oversteps its presence.

It is precisely this overstepping of boundaries that makes Once Upon A Time in China a brilliant text in a post-colonial discourse.  While there are many wonderful media outputs in the realm of colonial critiques, many spend time completely reviling its existence while somehow suggesting that it is a memory that can be removed from a nation space.  As many post-colonial theorist note, however, bodies in these spaces are irreversibly affected by the oppression and can not exist in a state of mind that is "before" the colonial presence.  Indeed, once the imperialist body has acted itself upon a space, it is near impossible for a person of even generations later to not be affected by its aftermath.  A film like Once Upon A Time in China manages to realize this idea.  The characters, seem to accept that since colonial occupation has occurred to believe that a case in which it will disappear could follow is absolutely foolish.  Instead, the characters, particularly Bucktooth and Siu-kwan choose to learn the elements of the imperialist force that will only benefit them, particularly the extension of a new language.  The style and other elements which occur are more cultural hybridity than oppression, although a case could be made that given their covering of the colonized body it takes on a degree of oppression.  The narrative, however, rejects this by showing characters who are indeed intent on only exploiting the Chinese bodies, or completely ignoring their presence in a situation, as is the case when the British and American soldiers begin a shootout completely dismissive of the Chinese royalty in the midst of the battle.  Considering this reading, Wong becomes a figure of unadulterated nativeness, his opening dance inside the Dragon kite affirm his nearly mythic attachment to his nation's traditions, yet, as much as he struggles to keep the affects of imperialism from invading upon his world, he accepts the inevitability when those around him slowly appropriate English words and clothing into their daily engagements.  One is led to believe that in the closing moments of the film when he is wearing a suit that he is doing so by choice, because in the process he still possesses the skills of ancient martial arts and an unwavering concern for what is best for his people and his nation as a whole.

Key Scene:  The dancing dragon scene is truly something of cinematic wonder, that sets up a work of lofty ambition, which, for the most part, delivers.

A great film to seek out for rental and yet another Jet Li film to possess marvelous cinematography.

It's A Sin To Hold A Grudge: Shaolin Temple (1982)

There was a particular type of kung fu film I was expecting to watch when I undertook this marathon and while most of the films I have seen thus far have been considerably enjoyable, they were not within this frame of reference I had inexplicably created.  For example, I expected there to by a heavy degree of acrobatics and gravity defiance in the films, only to be offered something like The Man From Nowhere that is very much attached to the reality of physical violence.  Similarly, I expected highly idealistic and lofty narratives about justice and understanding what is right, yet Riki-Oh completely rejected all notions of the place violence plays in martial arts.  Indeed, had I not finally got a chance to see Shaolin Temple, I would have completely rejected the possibility of any such type of martial arts film existing, anywhere but in my mind.  Being Jet Li's first film, Shaolin Temple has managed to attain a cult status to varying degrees, which is understandable because on a surface level it is not quite the pure adrenaline pounding experience one expects from a martial arts induced film and occasionally suffers from some serious continuity errors.  Needless to say, it is still a rather audacious work, particularly in terms of some of the choreography, with battles and feats of athleticism stretching over rivers and waterfalls and across the walls of town fortresses.  No amount of time was spared in making these scenes look believable, despite their rejection of physics and it is really in this element that the movie shines, taking the notion of the transcendence the monks possess and giving it a visual element with which the viewers might draw metaphorical inspiration.  Indeed, I found myself learning a whole new set of teachings about the ways and world of Buddhism from this fight heavy movie and while to say one learned from a movie about fighting Buddhist monks might seem a bit oxymoronic, it really captures and considers some of the tougher issues in the philosophical framework.  Furthermore, when in the late 90's and early 2000's the wave of neo-martial arts films were released featured entire fights that occurred off of the ground, I assumed that they were entirely of their own creation, but it is clear that a work like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon pays its respects to Shaolin Temple, knowing that its ethereal quality is only a result of another directors daring choices decades earlier.

Set up as a historical docudrama, Shaolin Temple focuses on a transitional period in Chinese government, when the dueling Sui and Tang dynasties uses the spaces of China to advance their forces and ideologies, often not sparing the persons who occupied these spaces in the process.  One such person being a young man named Jue Yuan (Jet Li) who after the death of his father attempts to fight off the military forces ends up being wounded a fleeing to a town with a Shaolin monastery.  Wounded a group of the Buddhist monks agree to take him in and heal him, while trading this service for his devotion as a worker in the temple, all of this of much concern to the Abbot who finds Jue to be a person of potential evil and unfit to be present in the temple.  Nonetheless, Jue stays and becomes a part of the temples family, engaging in their chores, while also longing to learn the skills of Shaolin kung fu which he sees while walking the grounds one day.  Despite continually begging to be part of the training, he is denied, being told that it is a practice that takes a lifetime of training and a sense of unbridled discipline.  During his time in the temple, Jue also begins a pseudo-romantic relationship with a young woman named Bai Wu Xia (Ding Lan) who happens to be the daughter of another prominent martial artist.  It is indeed Bai's father Shi Fu (Hai Yu) who agrees to train Jue, although it is in a variant of Shaoln kung-fu, because as a non-monk he is not trained and indeed forbidden to teach the particular style of the monastery.  Nonetheless, Jue takes to his training with much zeal, always having his revenge lingering in the back of his mind, one that has now expanded to a hope of killing the emperor with his own hands.  It is this revenge that result in his inability to restrain himself even during simple sparring matches and Jue comes close to killing one of his fellow monks, resulting in his being banned from practicing kung fu.  In fact, it is not until the arrival of yet another kung fu master whose own relationship with the emperor is quite negative that Jue is able to find a compatriot in a quest for revenge.  The two take to traveling incognito in a quest to kill the emperor, one that is eventually completed, bringing peace back to China.  These acts afford Jue a chance to be a monk finally, although the lifestyle does not come without considerable sacrifices.

The description I just gave is rather all over the place and loaded with a ton of seemingly non-linear events.  I tried my best to grab the highlights, but for a movie that is only about an hour and a half long there is a lot going on, if you do not believe me I suggest looking at the Wikipedia plot description for this film, it could foreseeably take as long to read as it would to watch the film.  Nonetheless, I think this narratively intense film speaks to the nature of a historical epic as it relates to a place like China whose vast lands and diverse populations mean that identity and singular stories are not only frowned upon but almost entirely negated.  Sure the film focuses primarily on Jue's own quest for revenge, but director Chang Hsin Yen makes it rather clear that his choices as a character, effect the larger narrative, even the historical outcome of events.  This is seen perhaps most clearly in his relationship with Bai, which begins as innocent, but takes a decidedly dark turn, when in an unfortunate accident, Jue kills Bai's dog.  Enraged Bai refuses to talk to Jue, but this refusal leads to the two being present when Bai is attacked, wherein Jue saves her and affords her life, a trade for the death of her dog Bai gladly makes.  Problematic without a doubt, this nonetheless speaks to a notion that singular events to not affect a person in any degree of singularity, in fact, each choice Jue makes pushes him away or towards the possibility of a life with Bai, one that is ultimately denied, because when he decides to pursue the life of a monk, he must dismiss all earthly pleasures, including the possibility of taking a wife.  Of course, sacrifice is reconsidered in the film, as due to a decree by the new emperor, Jue is still allowed to enjoy wine for some inexplicable reason.  This is only a minor example for the larger narrative, because one could certainly argue that were it not for Jue's initial arrival at the monastery that none of the Buddhist monks of the Shaolin temple would ever have been faced with the emperor's wrath, nor would they have been given the task of caring for a large amount of refugees from war torn spaces.  Much like the Buddhist notion that all is interconnected, this film moves in and out of story lines with such a pace and precision that it would be impossible to extract any singular identity, because at all times everything is of one.

Key Scene:  Jue's first encounter with the Shaolin monks training is a spectacle of kung fu and clearly iconic in regards to what would define the look of a martial arts film.

This is a rather easy film to come across considering that it is essentially in the public domain as it relates to Chinese cinema.  However, renting it might be a safe bet, before purchase.

I'm An Australian, And I'm Looking For A Friend: Stoner (1974)

Sometimes movies emerge into the world without any rational explanation or justification, and their very existence defines what the collective of moviegoers know to be absurdism.  The thing with this is these movies often tend to present themselves as such, focusing on the non-normative in cinema or completely rejecting constructs to allow for their desired message to emerge.  In other cases, the films simply manifest themselves because it is clear that nobody told the people involved not to do so and the result is one part baffling and another part profoundly transcendent.  At least I keep telling myself that is what is going on with the wild film that is Stoner, also known as the The Shrine of Ultimate Bliss.  I want to say that it is a film that is so terrible that it exists as being good, but it would be misguided to call it such, as it is rather clear that everyone knows what is going on and no sense of over-enthusiasm emerges.  Indeed, if any such zealousness were to come forth on the set of this film it is quite likely that it was devoured by the gross mustache that George Lazenby rocks for most of the film.  Stoner, bearing one of the worst conceived titles in the history of cinema, exists almost as two separate films that have a feeling of being paired together rather hap hazardously and even when the two protagonists meet up in the closing twenty minutes of the film it is rather hard to concede to it being anything but forced.  Indeed, where other blaxploitation and kung-fu films of the era would work because of their navigation and reconsideration of race relations in the venue of film, Stoner fails simply because it suggests that a fish-out-of-water film can work with a character who is a white Australian male.  It is no small bit of irony that it is George Lazenby who is cast in the role of Stoner, as he was himself James Bond, albeit for only one film, a white figure who moves through spaces he is deemed non-normative with the assumption that he is indeed still in a possession of power.  Stoner extends this commentary by making it work within the context of a kung fu flick, where in a hulking white guy beats down a ton of Asian bodies in the name of a vague narcotics bust.  It could have worked, were the film a little bit more self-aware about its absurdity, but Stoner fails by taking itself way to seriously, existing not as a accidental statement on a cultural issue turned into cinematic magic, as is the case with Reefer Madness, but one of a condemnation of a particular social pandemic that is so on-the-nose and poorly executed as to fall flatter than the obnoxiously awful Birdemic.

The bizarre world of Stoner focuses on the title character played by George Lazenby, an Australian narcotics officer who has been sent to China to explore the production and disbursement of a controversial drug known as "the happy pill."  The name suggestive of an antidepressant, actually appears to have more in common with modern day Viagra and other performance enhancement drugs, although this particular version works for both men and women and seems more indicative of an aphrodisiac.  Assumedly doing this task because the drug is highly addictive Stoner, moves about the streets of what is assumedly Hong Kong fighting of henchmen and mobsters who seem him as a threat, while moving through the various brothels and bars that have become the hotspots for the drug trafficking.  Meanwhile the film also focuses on Li Shou-Hua (Angela Mao) a Taiwanese detective who has also been tasked with breaking up the drug cartel, although she, as opposed to Stoner, finds herself with more access to the inner circles of the trafficking, particularly sources directly tied to Chin (Joji Takagi) the drug kingpin and maniacal leader who is credited with creating the happy pill.  The two separately navigate China, Stoner using brute force and a wicked mustache to get what he needs in various situations, while Li must be more crafty, relying on disguises as a salesgirl to infiltrate the inner circles of the mob.  Eventually, both Stoner and Li get to Chin's headquarters, simultaneously, and instantly befriending one another when they realize they have both arrived to take down Chin.  When they meet, however, Li is dressed in masculine clothing, therefore, Stoner assumes her to be a young man.  Eventually, the two are capture and it is revealed that Li is indeed a girl, at which point Stoner takes a clear sexual interest in Li, an act that is further problematic when considering that Chin injects Stoner with the happy pill juice to drive him to be sexually rampant.  Locking the two in a cell together, Li finds herself in a constant state of evasion from Stoner's unconscious, bumbling sexual advances.  When he awakes the next day to discover that not only has Li blocked of his attacks, she has also freed them both from their restraints, the two take it upon themselves to duke it out with Chin and his men, ending his production of the drug, while also coming into a ton of money, an amount that is immediately decided should go towards fighting narcotics traffic in Hong Kong.  Nothing is said about the future of either Stoner or Li, aside from showing a plane flying into the air, assumedly carrying Stoner back to Australia, whether Li joins him remains decidedly uncertain.

Transnationalism?  The dangers of addiction?  Passing as a different gender?  These could be possible things to talk about with a film like Stoner, but I just cannot get over the idea that it is a film in which George Lazenby, who played James Bond in On Her Majesty's Secret Service, moves about Hong Kong as a huge white guy beating up guys and sleeping with women, much like his British cinematic counterpart.  It is as good a time as any to mention that I am on the way to having an article published in a book regarding this very theme in James Bond films.  I cannot give details at the moment, but it is nice to be able to make the connection to a non-Bond film that happens still to include a James Bond actor, particularly since I do not include On Her Majesty's Secret Service in my paper.  Much as he does in On Her Majesty's Secret Service, Lazenby, as Stoner, arrives in Hong Kong and assumedly takes control of the situation demanding what he needs and desires with little concern for others around him.  Indeed, nobody seems to have asked the Australian to come, but it holds a sort of colonizing expectation that he can simply emerge and take what is his, doubly problematic given the relationship between Britain and China historically.  What makes Stoner starkly different from its Bondian siblings though is that the character of Li is not the submissive Bond girl, but instead a bad ass woman all her own, one that can pass as a man or woman as she sees fit, while also avoiding the very intense advances of Stoner.  In the Bond films he always gets the woman, even if she professes to be a lesbian, Bond finds a way to woo, often by force.  Angela Mao, does not allow a character such as hers to be taken by force, her prowess and skill evading and denying the oppression that comes from the lurking colonial figure.  True his wild chases are spurred by a heavy dose of drugs, but that does not mean they are any less problematic, particularly since the drugs were injected in him by another male figure.  Interestingly, Li is the only character who does not consume the drug and rejects it, adding a layer of sexual politics that suggest the "happy pill" to be a fabrication intended to justify male sexual prowess and dominance.  I know this is speaking in a lot of generalities, but I do not want to draw on anything that might show up in my publication.  When it becomes available publicly I will certainly refer back to this post with a more drawn out discussion.

Key Scene:  No scene, just Lazenby's mustache that inexplicably disappears by the film's third act.

I would avoid this film, there are much better Golden Harvest kung fu films to watch and in terms of George Lazenby, I would just check out his criminally underrated turn as Bond in On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

You Lose Carl Miller!: Game Of Death (1978)

Usually it takes a lot for me to excuse a film for not being good, either it has to have an endearing quality about it so much so that I can look past its general awful nature and see the heart of a director and cast attempting with all earnest to pull something off, but failing in the end.  I am also willing to let a film slide a bit if it is the first of its kind to undertake a narrative, or in other cases revive a genre through a considerable revision, a prime example of this being the far from perfect The Blair Witch Project, that, nonetheless, garners unquestioned praise on my part for its reinvigoration of a then flailing horror industry.  The third situation where I am able to provide some leeway to a film is when tragedy results in a severe change to the production, but a product still manages to emerge.  A prime example of this being The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, which met tragedy when its star Heath Ledger died mid-shoot, fortunately, a set of well-respected actors stepped in an made it a viable and decidedly watchable work.  It is this third scenario where a film like The Game of Death fits, because its star, the master of martial arts, Bruce Lee died from a traumatic head injury and was never able to complete the film, as such what exists is a series of fight  sequences including the late star and a film centering around revenge by a martial arts movie star for attempts at his death.  I mention that I find myself quite forgiving of this film, because so much of the first hour and fifteen minutes clearly reflects a sporadic and wild attempt at salvaging something worth delivering to audiences, but in its frantic execution it often comes off as dull or completely fabricated, never delivering the instant accessibility like Enter the Dragon.  It does not help that the replacement actors are clearly not Bruce Lee, nor does the awful dubbing lend to engaging cinema, often dropping lines completely or becoming so mumbled as to be inaudible.  However, those are the parts that do not contain the late Lee.  His portion of the film, the last twenty minutes are probably some of the best in all the genre, whether it be his fighting Kareem-Abdul Jabbar or chasing an old man on the rooftops of Hong Kong, it is indicative of action cinema at its finest, indeed, if Game of Death were just this as a short film, I would not be surprised if it were not considered to be one of the highlights of the genre, while also contending fairly well as one of the great short films of all time.  Unfortunately, what exists as Game of Death is a tacked on story that drags on, ultimately leaving viewers a bit unenthusiastic by the time real action does emerge on the screen.

The Game of Death clearly evokes the Bond espionage style right from the opening credits which include music by John Barry and credits design that could easily have been the product of Maurice Binder.  Nonetheless, the film begins by focusing on Billy Lou (Bruce Lee, Kim Tai-Jong, Yuen Biao) a martial arts star who has come under threat by a group of racketeers who think his success is a means to attack his wealth.  Refusing to pay the money demanded by the mobsters, Billy is shot on set by one of the lackeys in the syndicate, leading to what is assumedly his death.  However, it is revealed that while the bullet did do a considerable amount of damage to Billy, he has survived and can go on surviving if he agrees to getting plastic surgery, as it will help to hide him from the still working syndicate.  Reluctantly agreeing to do so, Billy gets the plastic surgery and while the scars are beginning to heal he plans his revenge upon the syndicate, while attempting to hide from his former girlfriend who has also taken it upon herself to exact revenge against the mobsters.  Realizing that he will have to move through the ranks in order to find out who ordered the hit on him, he begins by tailing various leaders through the docks of China, discovering that many of the henchmen are fighting within the Chinese martial arts circuit, specifically Carl Miller (Robert Wall) a rambunctious fighter who Billy confronts in his locker room after a fight, quickly destroying him with skill and power, much to the suprise of Miller's fans and the media present.  This fight does afford Billy with the information necessary to track down the syndicate boss Dr. Land (Dean Jaeger) whose slippery ways have placed him on the top floor of a pagoda, in which each level is protected by a kung fu expert.  Billy knowing that the only way to get his revenge is to move through the various encounters, some of which require him to wield weapons, while others require him to grapple more than strike.  Billy proves adept in each fight, often making quick work of his opponent, only ever seeming challenged by Hakim (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), which is almost entirely a result of height differences.  Billy eventually makes it to Dr. Land's floor but the crime boss flees to the roof and while attempting to escape via a latter slips and falls to his death.  Billy has exacted his revenge in a theoretical sense, but as the closing shots suggest, frustration emerges in the knowledge that the death was not technically of his own doing.

The plot probably seems very straightforward and rather bare bones and that really is not the case, because there is assumedly a lot going on between the opening movie sparring between Billy and another martial artist, played by Chuck Norris, and what happens in the closing moments.  However, it is not worth considering, because in my book, and from what it seems others as well, Game of Death only matters for what Bruce Lee brings to the table, which in the case of Game of Death are martial arts skills so varied and realized as to be completely baffling.  As such, it is necessary only to consider what elements relate specifically to Bruce Lee's presence on screen, while he rocks his iconic yellow jump suit.  I will note that while the jump suit is bad ass, I am more a fan of the rad Adidas he wears., but I digress.  Were I to be a mad man in charge of film programming, I would do a double feature of Game of Death and Harold Lloyd's silent comedy Safety Last, which may not seem like an obvious connection since one is a hackneyed kung fu flick and the other is an early icon of slapstick comedy, but one could contest that in the cases of both films, it is entirely what happens in the last act that make the film memorable.  Furthermore, another obvious connection arises when one considers that both these closing acts concern trouble figures ascending from points of nothingness, for Lloyd's character it is from economic impoverishment, whereas, for Billy it is more of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, or as the film clearly suggest him to be, a christ figure.  The two are also expected to engage in this climbing by proving themselves worthy of extraordinary feats of strength and poise, while being challenged with a variety of absurd or insurmountable obstacles and often times it is a combination of both.  The films also manage to leave the result of the ascension rather ambiguous, particularly in the case of Game of Death where, given available archival footage, there were not many scenes to pull from for Lee, meaning that his staring off into the camera has nothing to move on to, which adds an eerie layer of regret to an otherwise action pact moment.  I know it is a stretch to pair the two, but the struggle for upward mobility metaphor is rampant in cinema, yet, these two films deal with the issue in a way so literal, as though to be mocking, yet both suggest that the endeavor is both valid and worthwhile, even if it seems daunting at the onset.

Key Scene:  As noted the last twenty minutes are glorious cinema.

This is available on Hulu, but the quality is horrendous.  To be honest, I would just suggest finding the last section online, it is much more worth watching than sitting through all the nonsense prior.

He Tied His Own Tendons!: Riki-Oh: The Story Of Ricky (1991)

Knowing that I would go through the entire month of kung-fu films missing some gems if I did not take suggestions from friends as to what I should watch, I decided to call out for suggestions via Facebook and the results were quite notable, many people offering a list of film while others gave a single affirmation as to what one work should be viewed.  I have a friend, who is very into comic books and all things comic related that also happens to have an excellent taste in film, although we find ourselves disagreeing about a lot of films, he, nonetheless, is a person who I find to be worthy of acknowledging when given a suggestion.  I am glad I adhered to his recommendation of Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, because it is a wild, wild film that exists in a cinematic world entirely of its own accord.  In fact, I have often wondered what a kung-fu film directed by David Cronenberg might look like and I now have my answer with this film, which takes body gore and horror to a place way beyond even The Fly.  The gore in this movie is excessive to be certain, but in its sort of over-the-top grandeur it becomes a statement on the nature of violence in action cinema, particularly when considering death and physical attacks upon the body.  Whether this is purposeful on the part of director Ngai Choi Lam is up for debate, but the product does exist and it can be dissected as such, indeed a viewer is offered plenty of flesh, intestine and blood with which to do so.  While this is only the second film is a thirty one film marathon I am wondering the the trope of body as vessel with which morality works through will come to be a larger theme within the genre, because it was certainly passively discussed in Enter the Dragon, and is pretty much the main focal point in this film.  Again, like Enter the Dragon, Riki-Oh also considers the various bodies that can occupy a challenging physicality, whether it be physically disabled persons or an individual whose gender is ambiguous.  The crazier thing about Riki-Oh is that this is only one of many social commentaries or narrative through-lines in the film, all of which seem so well-executed and realized as to be separate films working in some wonderful synchronicity.  It is a film to which I was quite surprised and am grateful to have been suggested.

Riki-Oh begins somewhat in media res with the introduction of a prison that has with the turn of the 21st century become privatized, meaning that large capitalist figures can use the institution as they see fit, exploit workers or affording favors to whomever they please.  The prison in this film is one such place and when recent murder convict Ricky (Siu-Wong Fan) enters the world, he is quickly deemed a threat with his ability to destroy the bodies of other with his intense martial arts.  This destruction is so honed in fact that Ricky can punch through bodies, while also using his own physical form as a human shield, literally deflecting the attacks of other whether they be by fist or gun.  Nonetheless, given that Ricky's jailing is a result of having killed a mob boss, he becomes a threat to the various crime lords working within the prison, many of which are martial arts experts in their own rights.  Ricky is a force that is unstoppable however, beginning immediately he becomes a protector to the persons in the prison, treating them as human beings, while looking at the warden and his group of lackeys as terrible entities bent on destruction.  Ricky begins a series of attacks that first deal with the lowest of the wardens bosses Oscar fending of an attempted strangling by the disemboweled mobster.  Yet, while Ricky is nearly invincible the impossibility of fighting three experts in various forms of martial arts leads to his being tied up by the warden and buried alive for a week, the warden promising that should he survive he will be given his freedom without question.  Yet when Ricky does exactly this, despite all expectations, the warden refuses him the right leading to a complete breakdown of the authority system by not only the other prisoners but Ricky who takes it upon himself to destroy all in his path, whether it be the use of cement to beat the aptly named Tarzan or a chop so intense as to sever a man's head in half, leading finally to his battle with the warden, who it is revealed fights with the same technique as Ricky, one that feeds off of strength.  As such, the warden evolves into a monstrous version of himself that initially gives Ricky challenge, but Ricky proves capable of the challenge and ends up shoving the monstrous warden into a meat grinder, thus destroying him completely.  Ricky immediately returns to the prison yard and punches through the concrete wall, exclaiming that everyone is free as he walks off into what one can assume to be the sunset.

The description I just gave probably makes the movie sound crazy, and I fully understand that, because it is indeed an insane film, one full of gore laden fight scenes and a complete rejection of all physical and biological possibilities, but just because Riki-Oh exists in a state of filmic absurdism does not mean it is not still full of critical possibilities.  There is a very well-executed Christ metaphor in this film, although it does get really on the nose in once scene, just as there are issues concerning body politics and morality.  Yet, what has to be the absolute most fascinating element of this film is the way it deals with the notion of a prisoner.  In fact, I earnestly wondered while watching this film if Angela Davis was aware of its existence, because despite its hyper violence and insane gimmick, it does ask viewers to reconsider their thoughts on the average prisoner.  I say average, because it creates a very tangible and stark difference between the career criminals depicted as vicious and lacking in ethical thoughts, whether it be the money hungry warden and his various lackeys who seem to have no qualms murdering and maiming to assure their advancement and those people who have been placed in jail for a minor or misappropriated offense.  The film introduces viewer to a man who was part of a traffic accident, in which he was allegedly not at fault, yet as others note he killed a police officer, therefore, resulting in his heavy sentence.  This jailing leads to him being physically beaten by the higher-ups for no reason than it is part of the world.  Similarly, Ricky is arrested for killing a local pimp, one that allegedly attempted to rape his girlfriend who dives to her death in order to avoid the defiling.  While killing is always a murky ground the narrative does seem to posit that it was a level of criminality that was being completely ignored by the warden and others who were presumably friends with the crime boss.  I give these descriptions, because the film seems to posit the criminality is often associated to people who are far from deserved of such negative monikers.  Angela Davis has written extensively on this topic and is particularly critical of a legal system that over-punishes for minor crimes and looks away at serious offenses with large scale social impacts.  The race and class elements are not necessarily dealt with in this film, but it is certainly a point of reference that could be drawn with the right lens.  Ultimately, Riki-Oh seems keen on noting the grey areas of criminality, while also warning of the serious dangers and human rights infractions that could emerge from privatizing institutions.

Key Scene:  With many wildly gory scenes to choose from, I guess I will have to go with the jaw-busting upper cut.  I think I actually let out a gasp paired with the screaming of WHAT when it happened.

The DVD for this is not super expensive and while I really really enjoyed this movie, I would suggest a streaming option first, unless you love either kung-fu films or David Cronenberg, in which case buy this immediately.

Never Take Your Eyes Of Your Opponent...Even When Bowing: Enter The Dragon (1973)

So as August roles around I find myself dreading the prospect of school, not because I hate being a graduate student, on the contrary I enjoy it very much.  Instead, it is more of a hesitation, because for the first time in quite awhile I am genuinely busy and finding productivity rather rewarding, notably with one certain publication and at least two highly probable ones in the works, school and study is starting to finally shape into something meaningful. I dread school, because I know my desire to achieve will lead to a series of existential crises rooted in a misguided assumption that everything I do will be short of perfection.  Nonetheless, I hope that this forward momentum I have gained in the past months moves with me through August and onward.  As such, I knew that a welcome way to afford some comfort and ease with the upcoming stresses of school would be to do yet another film marathon, deciding to fill in a cinematic blind spot, this time kung fu/martial arts films.  Hell, I even made a hashtag to chronicle the entire event on Twitter, which is afforded the absurd name of #kungfubacktoschool.  I decided upon this particular film, first because next to Bollywood it is easily my most unseen category and fixing this has long been a plan.  Secondly, I have some bizarre belief that if I watch enough of these zen heavy films, along with some of the more post-modern comedic takes on the genre I will come to possess a world view that will allow me to deal with the stresses of wild self-expectations in the upcoming school year.  I know it is wild, but there is a surprising amount of earnestness in this particular endeavor, not that I do not like my other marathons, this one just seems too perfect to pass up.  I will, however, be engaging in a few previously planned blog-a-thons throughout so when a review of Spellbound or The Blob sneaks in do not be off put.  I might even read a book or two on the genre just to make myself well-rounded on the topic.  At the very least I will come to better understand the world of bad dubbing and Wu-Tang Clan samples, and I figured there was no better place to start this marathon than with the granddaddy of all kung fu flicks, Enter the Dragon.

Enter the Dragon, is a set of stories within one larger narrative, although it is clear that the narratives focal point is placed on Lee (Bruce Lee) an experienced and zen-infused Shaolin fighter whose skills lead to his being hired by what appears to be the British government to enter a fighting tournament in an unspecified Pacific island, where he is to take down the infamous Mr. Han (Kien Shih) a mob boss and martial arts expert who is assumedly engaged in some large scale sex trafficking.  Yet, the tournament attracts far more than Lee, indeed drawing the attentions of urban kung fu expert Williams (Jim Kelly) who appears to be entering the tournament to remove himself from the racially heated climate of America, where he as a black man could be attacked purely on those grounds alone.  Along for the voyage to the island is Roper (John Saxon) a compulsive gambler who sees victory in this tournament as a way to pay of his ever growing debts.  Needless to say, their arrival is met with less than ideal results as it becomes clear that the tournament created by Mr. Han is far from orthodox, instead featuring a series of his henchmen, including the bulky and impenetrable Bolo (Bolo Yeung) and the maniacal O'Hara (Robert Wall).  Lee, Roper and Williams, however, all prove quite adept as fighters displaying considerably different styles, while quickly destroying their opponents in their various bouts, all the while Lee endeavors to find out what Mr. Han is doing on the island, while also avenging the loss of his sister Su Lin (Angela Mao) in the process.  This espionage leads to paranoia on the part of Mr. Han who initially suspects Williams to be the operative, thus having him killed, using his dead corpse as an attempt to convince Roper to join his army.  Roper refuses and instead begins aiding Lee in the process of taking down Mr. Han's army, which includes Bolo and thousands of trained fighters.  Eventually, Lee chases Mr. Han into the underworld of his island, where the two duel it out, Han changing his weapons throughout due to missing a hand, which he replaces with various claws.   Ending in a wild fight in a hall of mirrors, Lee remembers a piece of sage advice from his sensei that affords him a technique to kill Mr. Han, thus returning to help Roper quell the last of the lackeys.  Both completely their desired requests, Lee's vengeance affirmed and Roper's escaping of debt almost certain.

Enter the Dragon, in most of its structure is a far from subtle film, particularly when it wants to consider issues of oppression and power in the way of economic privilege.  Indeed, Mr. Han is a person of insane wealth, having far more in common with a Bond villain than with his fellow martial artists.  This decadence is noted by Williams when he suggest the absurdity of an island dojo, when he can see people in the harbors of China barely scraping by, again obvious but certainly an enjoyable theoretical framework for such genre film.  However, it is in Mr. Han's being similar to a Bond villain that I cannot help but think of this movie as being heavily invested in issues of body politics, primarily how and who occupies the space of the film.  Sure one cannot help but acknowledge the physique of everyone involved, from Bruce Lee's insanely taut slenderness, to Williams' wild abdomen it is a film that rejoices perfection, at least in the physical sense, because it is clear that only a portion of this relates to moral validity.  Considering that figures like Bolo are bursting out of their bodies so jacked that it appears inconceivable, reflects not just their villainess nature, but their mental fragility as well.  The narrative seems inclined to suggest that Bolo is physically threatening, but far from mentally competent.  Similarly, the female bodies that occupy the film are dealt with intriguingly, not void of problems, but far more aware of the politics surrounding the feminine than many texts from the same era.  It is worth considering why Su Lin commits harakiri at the end of her scene, considering that she has fought valiantly and is not to be ashamed.  The reason it appears for her death is to avoid the shame of sexual being sexually defiled, by Ohara.  This takes on issues of intersectionality to varying degrees, but fails to attack them in regards to the larger narrative.  Finally, one must consider the figure of Mr. Han whose amputated hand serves as a metaphor for his otherness and is suggested as a reason for his insanity, but it is this missing body part that seems to drive him to his wildest actions, never really explaining why he is a villain who consumes, other than very vague suggestions that such actions fill a void in his lacking.  Sure this takes on phallic symbolism and sure it helps to make him have a cool weapon for the final fight scene, but it also allows viewers to create a villain by noting his deformity, one that he seems perfectly willing to exact upon others. If one then adds the final mirror sequence to the analysis, it becomes a full on moment of body, self-identity and the manner in which fracturing that can help transcend a moment, or avoid, to extend the metaphor, a depression or loss of self-worth. Again, it is not dealt with deeply, but Enter the Dragon does look at various forms of disability, each earning their own space, although they all bow to the perfect bodied figure in the end.  Problematic sure, but it is far more engaging a text than most and daring in its depictions for the era.

Key Scene:  The mirror room fight is a classic moment and has to be one of the greatest shot and choreographed fights in all of cinema.

This bluray is a must own, although there appear to be multiple versions.  I would say go for the cheapest option, but that is often a bad method of approach.  Also, somebody buy me this movie's soundtrack.

This Isn't Sorcery, This Is Torture: Kill Baby, Kill (1966)

There may be nothing worse in regards to film viewing then committing to a movie that is almost good, but in the end falls short and proves to be absolutely average.  While it may be a reactionary element on my part to the particular stylings of filmmakers like Dario Argento, Jean Rollin and in the case of Kill Baby, Kill director Mario Bava I feel as though the film in question is almost on tap to something excellent but manages to be to preoccupied with narrative closure and normalcy to commit to its zany direction.  I am also aware that I am watching this film with dubbing, which can prove grating in the case of a film that is not necessarily aided by absurdly terrible translations and delivery.  Kill Baby, Kill is a solid film and it has many shining moments, particularly a handful of experimental shots that would suggest a brilliant idea under the surface of vain concerns for attractive people with paranormal problems.  I will admit openly that I am quite unaware of Bava's process as a filmmaker, but the film seriously wreaks of being tampered with, in so much as it has some rather jarring and enjoyable breaks form linear narrative, only to continually resituate itself within the traditional filmic structure, most times with no explanation as to why.  It is one thing for me to engage with a film that purposefully avoids providing characters with names, but it is entirely another matter when I am rather certain that I am being told characters names repeatedly, but have little memory of what they might be scenes later.  Hell, I recently went on a tequila fueled night of Spanish films and undertook watching a Santo film only to be disappointed to discover that it had no subtitles, nor did it possess dubbing.  That being said, I continued to watch the film and managed to glean a plot to some degree, although to be fair it could have just been some elaborate fever dream brought on by the aforementioned tequila.  I offer this aside only to say this about Kill Baby, Kill, I thoroughly enjoyed it as a film and understand that many of its faults are indicative of its era and technological restraints, but there is absolutely nothing more frustrating than seeing moments of genius sandwiched in the middle of a subpar filmmaking.  I would equate it to placing delicious savory brie in the middle of dollar store slices of bread, if that is your course of action it is better just to eat the cheese on its own, much like this would have been a far better film it were just a set of experimental flairs detached from an attempt at cohesive narrative.


I will attempt to hash out some degree of plot from a film that is surprisingly assured that it has a direct plot.  Viewers are introduced to some dark decaying Victorian world in which a woman appears to be nonsensically running about a mansion, only to catch sight of an incredibly sharp spike on a gate.  Upon seeing this she jumps to her death, impaling herself.  This action leads to the county coroner arriving, one Dr. Eswai (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart), only to discover that the town is incredibly unreceptive to his presence, existing instead in an outdated frame of mind that values sorcery and witchcraft over any degree of scientific truth.  This situation makes it insanely difficult for Eswai to get information or make a case for what he assumes to be murders.  As his movement through the area increases he becomes aware of many inexplicable deaths, mostly women, who lose large amounts of blood in the process.  The supernatural activities of the town, Eswai discovers are enacted to counter the demonic spells of Baroness Graps (Giovanna Galletti).  At this point, Eswai becomes incredibly confused as to what the truth of the matter is as it relates to the village, finding no aid when navigating between talismans and scientific truth, yet as more of his friends and trusted colleagues die, Eswai realizes that time is very much lacking and confronts Graps, only to discover that she has enacted such spells as a form of retribution against the town whose drunken oversights resulted in the death of her daughter, who was trampled by horses and slowly bled to death.  Graps believes that her daughters painful death is now the onus of the entire village, create a cycle of death as a means to assure revenge. Yet, Graps is also baffled when she realizes that her daughters spirit also navigates the spaces of the town exacting her own revenge, masked in eerie playfulness.  Fortunately, Eswai realizes the complexities of the situation at the last possible moment and saves his love interest while also assuring the destruction of Graps, although at the hands of another woman whose story is also seemingly important.

Cyclicality in film is not a terrible thing, in fact, it is a necessity in time travel films, and work quite nicely in the recent Men in Black III, however, it can be a bit frustrating when a film wants to offer this great non-linear focus on a cycle of issues, only to go about it in a terribly straightforward manner.  This, again, is my problem with Kill Baby, Kill, it is a narrative of a straight line, whose moments of experimentation seem like hiccups on a seismology reading.  The reminder that a good being is navigating the filmic space results in a narrative where sparks of zeal and camerawork that move through the environment as though they were their own character are ultimately lost, because they, aside from looking stellar, seem to have little affect on the narrative.  Earlier today, I listened to some of a podcasts from the excellent show Filmspotting, and they were making a less harsh criticism of Rami's initial Evil Dead film, suggesting that his use of bizarre camera work occasionally draws in viewers about their relationship with a horror occurring, particularly question within what sort of temporal and spatial world a paranormal narrative can exist.  Again think of the ways the Paranormal Activity franchise managed to challenge how viewers understand a linear horror film narrative, I know I am amongst a minor group of defenders for the films, but they really did revitalize how horror exists, and have for the worst created a set of offsprings that seem to betray the original, much in the ways that Kill Baby, Kill does with non-linear narrative.  Bava's work seems so intent on being surrealistic that when it does have the moments of such a degree of insanity they seem to be secondary to a lackluster plot.  I know that this film predates the original The Wicker Man by quite a few years, but it is clear that the sort of paranormal space created within that latter, is realized from the opening moments of the film, as opposed to be something that comes and goes at the whim of narrative normalcy.

Key Scene:  P.O.V swingset shot.

This is not a terrible film, but it is really damn frustrating.  I want it to be something it is not and I realize much of this is my own problem. With that in mind watch it instantly on Netflix and feel free to tell me that I am completely misreading the film, it is quite possibly the truth.

For Your Awareness: Kickboxer's Tears (1992)

I recall some time ago having a rather heated debate as to the value and necessity of dubbing movies, particularly those centering on Asian martial arts, a category that seems particularly subjected to problematic and often terrible dubbings. The friend I was discussing this with suggested that in a few instances dubbing managed to save a film from being altogether unwatchable, or manages to make dry plots and terrible dialogue seem humorous.  While many of his reference included some of the more obscure Godzilla spin-offs, I have come to understand his argument after my recent viewing of Kickboxer's Ters, tilted Xin long zhong hu dou, if you were to see the film in its original Chinese context.  A film that is preoccupied with the world of underground martial arts, in this case kickboxing, the movie is not of particular note and aside from some rather impressive cinematography and unusual gender commentaries manages to be lackluster and tragically dated.  Fortunately the particular version of the film I watched suffered from what may well be the worst case of dubbing I have ever encountered in a film.  I am not sure if the actors were Americans, English speaking Chinese guys trying to sound black or a set of Australians, because at not point is one characters voice consistently dubbed by the same person, nor is it delivered with a committed concept within the same scene.  I am sure some of the death scenes and moments of subtle intimacy were quite nice upon their initial release, but the reprehensible manner in which the various actors deliver the lines manages to take any sort of beauty out of scenes and any sort of seriousness out of even the most intimidating characters.  By about ten minutes into this work, I had convinced myself that it consisted entirely of b-roll footage from the television version of Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, a notion that I have still not completely dismissed.

I am realizing that my "For Your Awareness" posts either take on the completely absurd or the completely artistic in their endeavor, only being connected by the obscurity factor.  Like my posts about Greed or Starcrash, I think a film like Kickboxer's Tears needs to be saved from obscurity, in this case not because it is a particularly profound piece of filmmaking, instead; because it is a thing to be viewed and pondered, much more in the vein of Troll 2 or Plan 9 From Outer Space.  Excluding the cinematic masterpiece that is obscure due to its lack of completion in Greed, each of the previous mentioned films have an aura of earnestness about their creation, it is clear that somewhere somebody was passionate about making Kickboxer's Tears, particularly the fight scenes which, while well choreographed take up a ridiculous amount of the filmic narrative.  Their are touches of Raging Bull within the film as well as some more than blatant references to Bloodsport, yet Kickboxer's Tears manages to exist as something less fantastic, certainly not aided by the previously mentioned dubbing.  I chose to mention the film though because it is so fun to watch and caused me to be surprised on multiple occasions, certainly by some of the POV camera work and some well-executed fight scenes.  Instead of offering this as a film of great cinematic value, Kickboxer's Tears is a midnight movie through and through, one that is quite deserved of its own drinking game and absurd cult following.

I would say buy a copy of this DVD, but my initial viewing of my copy was a result of discovering how valuable the disc was worth.  I went into watching it thinking I would hate it and sell it for the large profit immediately.  However, it is just too awesomely terrible to disown.  In which case I wish you luck finding a copy, mine came from a free bin at a used media store, which makes be consider the presence of a spiritual being even as I complete this sentence.  Also take note of how uneventful every persons death is within the film, it is laughably bleak.