The Exorcism (Not The Exorcist, or is it?)

Anthony Miller is not an exorcist, but he will play one in the movies—hopefully. Unfortunately, the role is really taking a lot out of him. The director is demanding, but a real-deal demon is even scarier. Cheekily, the film-within-the-film is code-named The Georgetown Project. Horror fans know what that refers to, but the demon wants to rewrite the ending in Joshua John Miller’s The Exorcism, which opens Friday.

Miller is known for his mistakes off-screen, but he is trying resurrect his career. The Georgetown Project would be a high-profile comeback vehicle, since the original actor cast in the Father Merrin-like role was killed during the prologue. As a bonus, Miller also secures a production assistant gig for his daughter Lee. They are not exactly estranged, but their relationship is certainly a bit frayed around the edges. He thought spending time together would bring them closer, but instead, he is humiliated when she sees Peter the director wielding all his past failures to prod him, in a method kind of way.

Meanwhile, the demon also starts playing games with Miller’s perception of reality. The combined pressure takes a toll on his physical, mental, and spiritual health. Unfortunately, the film’s technical adviser, Father Conor, does not suspect demonic interference until its claws are deeply embedded in Miller’s psyche.

The Exorcism is not just broadly inspired by The Exorcist in the way of nearly every subsequent demonic horror movie. In this case, the echoes and parallels are deliberately intended. Miller’s father was actor-playwright Jason Miller (born John Anthony Miller), who starred as Father Karras in Exorcist I and III. Peter shares a name with Exorcist novelist and screenwriter, William Peter Blatty, but some of his confrontational tactics are reminiscent of techniques attributed to director William Friedkin. Also, Russell Crowe has had a few off-screen incidents, not unlike [his] Miller.

Regardless, the Anthony Miller of The Exorcism is another example of the troubled souls he now seems to be specializing in, often in otherwise formulaic B-movies, like Sleeping Dogs. In the case of The Exorcism, his performance is just as good, but it comes in a better film.

Sleeping Dogs, Starring Russell Crowe

Criminologists consider eye-witness testimony the most unreliable form of evidence. Roy Freeman understands that better than most, because he is an ex-cop and an early Alzheimer’s sufferer. Even though he was fortunate to be selected for a revolutionary treatment, he still cannot remember the troublesome case that comes back to haunt him in Adam Cooper’s Sleeping Dogs, which opens tomorrow in theaters.

At first, Freeman cannot even remember his parents, but thanks to his doctor’s experimental process, some of his memory starts to return. However, his Philly PD career is still a black hole. Nevertheless, he agrees to meet Isaac Samuel a death-row inmate days away from meeting his maker, for the murder of Joseph Wieder, a psychology professor, who once testified against him. Freeman learns that he and his partner Jimmy Remis worked Samuel’s case. Of course, Samuel protests his innocence and challenges Freeman to redeem himself. Maybe the old Freeman would have dismissed Samuel, but since his doctor told him to keep his mind engaged, Freeman starts re-investigating the case, starting from absolute scratch.

Not surprisingly, Remis is less than thrilled to have Freeman poking around, especially since his former partner now sees him as a stranger. Despite his still questionable mental state, Freeman soon stumbles across a primo clue: an unpublished novel apparently inspired by the murder, written by Richard Finn, who rather suddenly died from a dubious overdose. It turns out Finn’s college girlfriend, Laura Baines, was Wieder’s research assistant—and maybe she had other duties as well.

Based on E.O. Chirovici’s novel The Book of Mirrors (also the title of Finn’s unpublished MS.), Sleeping Dogs builds towards pleasantly sinister twist, but it would be better suited to an Alfred Hitchcock Presents-style anthology, because 90-plus minutes gives thriller fans too much time to figure it all out.

Nevertheless, Russell Crowe is terrific as Freeman. In some ways, you could consider Sleeping Dogs the disreputable cousin of A Beautiful Mind, because Crowe does a tremendous job expressing the ex-cop’s instability and confusion. The truth is a lot of Crowe’s recent performances have not gotten the notice they deserve, because they came in less “prestigious” films, like Land of Bad.

Land of Bad: Two Hemsworths Fighting Abu Sayyaf

Air Force Captain Eddie Grimm, call sign “Reaper,” does all his flying from a drone terminal, but he still gets credit for combat hours. Grimm is about to rack up a lot of them, because he has no intention of going home until the Special Operators he is watching over safely catch their e-vac. Unfortunately, his drone only carries a very finite payload of missiles in William Eubank’s Land of Bad, which releases today on VOD.

The mission is too realistic for comfort. Four operators must rescue a CIA asset from Alexander Petrov, a Russian arms dealer operating in a remote region of the Philippines controlled by the Wahhabi terrorist group, Abu Sayyaf. Honestly, this premise could be happening today or tomorrow. It will only be Sgt. J.J. “Playboy” Kinney’s second boots-on-the-ground operation, but the rest of the team, led by hardnosed Master Sgt. John “Sugar” Sweet is as tough as they come. Since Kinney is the Tactical Air Control Party officer, coordinating with Reaper, he should never have to fire off his gun during the mission. Of course, he will have to anyway, when Abu Sayyaf starts killing women and children.

Things get really messy, really quickly, turning the small patch of rain forest into the “land of bad” Kinney was warned about. As the presumed sole survivor, Reaper will try to guide Kinney to the rendezvous site, like Danny Glover and Gene Hackman in Bat 21. However, Reaper can rain down fire on Abu Sayyaf positions, which is a handy extra advantage, but he must strategically pick his shots.

Land of Bad is probably the best action/war movie featuring the U.S. military since Warhorse One, with which it shares several thematic similarities. Perhaps most notably, both films have the guts to make real-life terrorist organizations the bad guys. In the case of Johnny Strong’s film, it is the Taliban. For Land of Bad, it is the Islamist terrorists, Abu Sayyaf (and to a lesser extent, Russia).

Arguably, the dialogue, co-written by Eubank and David Frigerio, rings with even greater authenticity. Throughout their ordeal, the special operators can segway from casual flippancy to deadly seriousness and then shift back, with complete naturalness—and it sounds totally legit.

The action scenes are also both realistic and cinematic looking. It certainly does not hurt that Eubank has two Hemsworths to put through their paces. Liam helps flesh out Sgt. Kinney a bit more than you might expect, giving him some human neuroses, as well as a commando physique. Plus, Brother Luke is hard as nails playing the steely Sgt. Abell. Yet, neither can out bad-cat Milo Ventimiglia as the Master Sgt.

True History of the Kelly Gang: Brooding with Ned

In 1906, Ned Kelly was the subject of what is considered the very first feature length film (Charles Tait’s The Story of the Kelly Gang). He has been subsequently portrayed by the likes of Mick Jagger and Heath Ledger, so nobody can say his story is untold. However, some films are more accurate than others. Director Justin Kurzel and screenwriter Shaun Grant strive for historical and psychological authenticity with their historically-informed adaptation of Peter Carey’s biographical novel, True History of the Kelly Gang, which releases today on VOD and opens old school at the Ocala and Mission Tiki 4 Drive-Ins.

Ned Kelly’s childhood was awful, as viewers will see and see and see again. His father was emotionally distant and largely incapable of providing for the family, whereas his mother was an Australian Lady Macbeth. Eventually, she “apprenticed” Kelly to the infamous Harry Power and then told him to man-up when he came running back, appalled by the bushranger’s violence. At last he learned a trade.

Frankly, the first act of True History is a grubby endurance test for viewers, but things pick up when Kelly comes of age and into his own. Initially, the prodigal Kelly resists the outlaw ways of his family, but his is forced into crime by circumstances and the villainy of Constable Fitzpatrick, with whom Kelly was formerly on (warily) friendly terms. The rest is violent history.

Although Kurzel and Grant generally side with those who see Kelly as a Robin Hood rebel instead of those (largely English) who disparage him as a cutthroat, they still drain the heroism out of his story. Instead, we get a naturalistic, proletarian Kelly. This a gritty, dank, and dirty looking movie, to a fault, but it still covers the major bases of Kelly’s life. Kurzel also displays a bit of a punk rock aesthetic that gives the film a slightly more contemporary vibe.

George MacKay (from 1917 and particularly impressive in For Those in Peril) is perfectly cast as Kelly. He is not huge of stature, but his wiry physicality and burning intensity create a palpable sense of dangerous instability on-screen. Surprisingly, Essie Davis is even fiercer as Mother Ellen Kelly.

The Mummy (sort of)

As the latest Universal monster reboot commences, the audience sees the logo for the “Dark Universe” shared world, followed by the ident for the Perfect World Pictures production company. Fittingly contradictory, it gives us an immediate clue this movie has no idea what it is supposed be. This certainly isn’t a horror film, nor can you really call it a monster movie. It is more of an action flick or a CGI show reel. There isn’t even a proper mummy in Alex Kurtzman’s The Mummy (trailer here), which opens today nationwide.

Princess Ahmanet was darn near the feminist icon of antiquity, but her lecherous old man had a son with his new trophy wife, thereby removing her from the line of succession. Not one to take sleights lying down, Ahmanet made a pact with the god of the underworld, but she was killed by the palace guards before she could complete her infernal sacrifice. Fearing her bad mojo, Ahmanet was buried in an unmarked tomb way the heck and gone in Mesopotamia. Fatefully, our “hero,” Nick Morton, a relic-smuggling GI rather loosely attached to an infantry unit, stumbles across it. (Frankly, it is rather dubious a fifty-four-year-old enlisted man would have such leeway to craft his own recon missions, but that is the least of the problems here.)

Busted by Jenny Halsey, the pretty archaeologist he seduced for her secret tomb map, Morton and his sidekick Chris Vail are forced to help her schlep the sarcophagus to London. While en route, the reawakened Ahmanet attacks their flight with hordes of crows. Morton saves Halsey, but both he and Vail are goners. However, Ahmanet has apparently decided Morton is the one to complete her blood sacrifice, so she will not only him to die until she can kill him herself. Likewise, Vail starts to haunt Morton like Griffin Dunne in American Werewolf in London.

Obviously, none of the six credited screenwriters had any clue why the original Universal monster movies or the next generation Hammer films were popular. Instead, they slavishly try to follow the Marvel Avengers shared world template, appointing Dr. Henry Jekyll the Nick Fury-like leader of the Prodigum, essentially a S.H.I.E.L.D. for monster hunters. In this case, the lack of originality is almost insulting.

Even though they are dated in terms of effects, the original Universal franchises still work because of their gothic intimacy. Frankenstein was the ultimate father-son rivalry. The Wolf-Man was the prodigal son wracked with guilt. The Invisible Man was out to settle scores with everyone who did him dirty. Dracula made women swoon. In contrast, Kurtzman and company just serve up bombast. There isn’t even any moonlight or shadows. Nearly every scene takes during daylight hours.

If that were not sufficiently problematic, The Mummy could very well mark the point when Cruise’s cocky kid shtick completely ran dry. Spending time with the utterly charmless Morton is like listening to fingernails on a blackboard, while undergoing root canal treatment. Russell Crowe labors to make Jekyll flamboyantly fun, but he is struggling in a losing cause. Arguably, Annabelle Wallis fares the best as the smart and forceful Halsey, but it is impossible to believe she would put up with the obnoxious Morton. As a further bafflement, The Mummy apparently completely wastes two reliable genre role-players: Neil Maskell and Chasty Ballesteros, both of whom are listed in imdb, but we completely missed them on-screen.

Frankly, Tom Cruise the real-life cult-member is much scarier than anything in this movie. Even the Stephen Sommers-Brendan Fraser trilogy had the good sense to deliver generous helpings of torch-carrying tomb-raiding. Chances are if you have ever enjoyed any film about a mummy, you will vehemently dislike this film. Not recommended, The Mummy opens today (6/9) in theaters throughout the City, including the AMC Empire.

The Water Diviner: The Ghosts of Gallipoli

Joshua Connor has the Australian version of The Shine. The grizzled farmer senses certain things, like where to drill for water. If he can only get to the blood-soaked beaches of Gallipoli, he is sure he can find the remains of his three sons who died in combat there. That is something the British authorities are not so eager to facilitate in Russell Crowe’s The Water Diviner (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

All of three of Connor’s sons enlisted in the ANZACs and all three presumably perished at Gallipoli. When the bitter news drives their mother to her grave, the salt-of-the-earth Connor promises his late wife he will find their sons and bring them home to her. However, Gallipoli is not exactly a tourist attraction in 1919. The British military consul flatly refuses him access to the prohibited beaches. Of course, he is not about to be dissuaded after such a long and arduous journey.

Bribing a fisherman, Connor makes his to the fateful beaches, where a combined team of British and Turkish military personnel are working to identify and properly bury as many fallen combatants as possible. Although Lt. Col. Cyril Hughes is a little put off by Connor’s sudden appearance, his Turkish counterpart, Maj. Hasan convinces him to assist Connor’s search. Sure enough, the farmer quickly finds his sons, but only two of them. Through a little bureaucratic digging, Hasan discovers the eldest Connor brother might have been taken captive as a POW.

Suddenly, Connor has a glimmer of hope and a knotty mystery to entangle. The British are even more determined to send him packing, but Connor finds unlikely allies in Hasan and his veteran aide-de-camp, Sgt. Jemal. As Turkish nationalists loyal to Ataturk, they are more concerned with the Greek occupation of Smyrna. The fact that Hasan commanded Turkish troops at Gallipoli also makes their relationship somewhat awkward, but the slowly develop a degree of mutual respect. Much to his surprise, Connor also finds himself acting as a surrogate father for Orhan the urchin-like son of Ayshe, the widowed proprietor of the hotel he is staying at.

In Australia, Gallipoli is still the source of strong national emotion, so this was a somewhat bold choice for Crowe’s feature directorial debut. Presumably, his countrymen are okay with it, since Diviner tied with The Babadook for best picture Australian Academy Awards. Frankly, Crowe’s film should have had the award all to itself or shared it with the Spierig Brothers’ Predestination. Crowe uses an epic story to tell an acutely personal story—and quite effectively so.

Screenwriters Andrew Anastasios and Andrew Knight accurately reference all the macro forces roiling the Ottoman Empire’s final days, but they keep a lot of details hazy, such as Ataturk’s commitment to secularism. These days, Turkey could use a reminder on that score. Nevertheless, it is reasonable for the film to reflect Connor’s naïve confusion with Turkish mores and politics.

As his own lead, Crowe is perfectly on-key as Connor, the quietly grieving father. It is the sort of understated performance that pays far greater dividends than overindulgence, over-the-top Meryl Streepian wailing and garment-rending. The French-Ukrainian Olga Kurylenko also puts the “hot” in hotelier as Ayshe, developing some better-than-you-expect chemistry with Crowe. However, it is Yilmaz Erdoğan who really puts a stamp on the film, oozing integrity while avoiding cliché as the hard but compassionate Maj. Hasan.

There are a lot of potential potholes in Diviner, including Connor’s prophetic dreams and his chaste non-courtship of Ayshe. However, Crowe consistently brings a light touch to bear in scenes other directors would drive into the ground. More often than not, his filmmaking instincts are correct. Recommended for those who enjoy sweeping historicals, The Water Diviner opens today (4/24) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

Tribeca ’13: Red Obsession

Evidently, “red” now has happier connotations in today’s go-go China.  As home to the most billionaires in the world, it is hardly surprising China has become an important market for the elite wines of the Bordeaux region. However, the voraciousness of Chinese demand is drastically reshaping the international market.  The business of the world’s most expensive wines is analyzed with a special emphasis on the Chinese market in Warwick Ross & David Roach’s highly entertaining documentary, Red Obsession (trailer here), which screens during the 2013 Tribeca Film Festival.

The “First Growth” vineyards of Bordeaux have a formal status dating back to the era of the Second French Empire.  Roughly once in a lifetime, natural conditions produce a perfect harvest, resulting in an exceptional vintage, even by the First Growths’ lofty standards.  As Obsession opens, it appears lightning might just strike twice in back-to-back years.  Yet, some wine critics have mixed feelings about this good fortune.  They worry the anticipated premium prices might further destabilize the market, essentially excluding many traditional customers.  Of course, there will be those willing to buy.

After giving viewers a lucid thumbnail sketch of the Bordeaux micro-economy and soaking up the ambiance of the picturesque region, Obsession makes a dramatic pivot.  The scene changes to Shanghai, where viewers meet the nouveau riche entrepreneurs buying up Bordeaux at an unprecedented pace.  For many, it is a mark of status.  For them, nothing beats Latour.

Although its ostensive topic is wine, Obsession offers more insight into the contemporary Chinese capitalist class than any recent documentary.  As several commentators explain, many of China’s boldest venture capitalists were once on the business end of the Cultural Revolution.  They are now absolutely fearless in their business dealings because the prospect of financial ruin means nothing to them compared to what they have already endured.

Ross & Warwick introduce viewers to many of the billionaires (with a “b”) who have priced America and Britain out of the market, giving them a human face.  We meet collectors like Peter Tseng, who made his fortune manufacturing items we cannot discuss on a family website. Some of them, like cosmetic mogul and TV presenter Yue Sai Kan are quite charismatic. What emerges is a portrait of conspicuous consumption and a near complete lack of risk aversion that provides tremendous context on China’s economic surge.

Of course, Obsession is still all about adult beverages.  The co-directors display good ears for soundbites, including several slyly amusing comments from their interview subjects on the pleasures of partaking.  They even scored an on-camera with vintner Francis Ford Coppola. 

It all looks great thanks to cinematographers Lee Pulbrook and Steven Arnold, who fully capitalize on the sweeping splendor of the Bordeaux vineyards and Shanghai’s brightly lit skyline. Russell Crowe is also in fine voice providing the film’s narration (I don’t care what people say, he wasn’t that bad in Les Mis).  Smart, stylish, and sometimes rather witty, Red Obsession is a completely engaging documentary.  Highly recommended, it screens tomorrow (4/20), Monday (4/22), Thursday (4/25), and next Saturday (4/27) as part of the World Documentary Competition at this year’s Tribeca.

Les Mis: Storm the Barricades

Even viewers who have not read Victor Hugo’s novel or seen Cameron Mackintosh’s stage musical know Jean Valjean spent nineteen years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread.  Such a fate is undeniably unjust, but it is important to keep in mind it was a very nice sourdough.  For years it defied cinematic adaptation, but now Tom Hooper brings the musical Les Misérables (trailer here) to the big screen, with all its bombast.  It opens today nationwide, so Merry Christmas everyone.

Distilled from Hugo’s cinderblock sized novel, Les Mis follows Valjean after he is released from prison.  He has been freed from the unyielding Javert’s lash, but the terms of his parole make him a desperate outcast.  He finds temporary refuge with the truly pious Monsignor, but he abuses the kindly cleric’s trust.  Yet much to his shock, his betrayal is met with forgiveness.

Thanks to the Monsignor, Valjean reinvents himself under an assumed identity.  He becomes a factory owner and the mayor of his hardscrabble community.  Then Javert is transferred to his jurisdiction.  For a while they circle each other warily, until Valjean confirms the copper’s suspicions to save an innocent man arrested in his place.  Thus begins his life on the run (albeit a relatively well-heeled one), with Cosette, the daughter of a tragic former employee, in tow.

Yes, this is Les Mis, a rather odd combination of Christian fellowship and proletarian solidarity.  Barricades will definitely be stormed, but at least the church is not part of the apparatus of oppression.  As the publicity campaign is quick to point out, Hooper returned to old school movie musical production techniques, recording the actors in performance live on the set, rather than have them lip-sync to pre-recorded tracks.  This allows them more in-the-moment interpretive freedom.  However, as your TV talent show judges might say: “it gets a little pitchy, dog.”  Frankly, it is hard to understand why they did not clean some of that up with Pro-Tools or a similar program.

Critical reaction to Hooper’s Les Mis is also something of spectacle, ranging from adulation to castigation.  Word that Russell Crowe was making a movie musical may have led some to fear the worst.  When Les Mis did not completely bite, many evidently concluded it must therefore be awesome.  In truth, it falls somewhere in the middle.

To be fair to Crowe, he has been unduly hammered as Javert (a small irony there), but in the story’s abbreviated stage form, his character’s actions during the third act are jarringly problematic.  Likely Oscar contender Anne Hathaway knocks “I Dreamed a Dream” out of the park, completely reclaiming the signature tune from Susan Boyle, and then promptly exits the narrative.  Hugh Jackman has the perfect presence for Valjean and his performances of “Who Am I” and “One Day More” are fairly stirring, but the show definitely peaks in the first act.  Frankly, all the third act barricade songs and revolutionary anthems just blend into a faux Internationale blur.

While Jackman, Crowe, and Hathaway meet or exceed expectations, the rest of the supporting cast is a dramatically mixed bag.  Eddie Redmayne sorely lacks romantic lead credibility as Marius, but his voice is not bad.  The real standout though is British fan favorite Samantha Barks. She is the real deal as lovesick Éponine, probably boasting the finest voice of the ensemble. 

In contrast, Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen quickly become tiresome as the felonious innkeeper Thénardier and wife, the show’s ostensive comic relief.  A little of them goes a long, long, long way.  You know the Nile River?  That long.  They must have assumed they were in a Tim Burton movie when they saw the period sets and started hamming it up accordingly.  In fact, the Nineteen Century Paris recreated by the design team often looks like it was the work of the same Neo-gothic architect responsible for The Dark Knight’s Gotham, particularly when Javert compulsively paces about on high ledges.

Nonetheless, Les Mis its moments, like “I Dreamed a Dream” and “One Day More,” which might be Hooper’s best staging, utilizing the cross-cutting toolkit of music videos more than traditional movie musical production numbers.  Elements of the show, like the touching relationship between Valjean and Cosette, prove to be absolutely bullet-proof. 

Hooper and screen-adapter William Nicholson also deserve a lot of credit for not watering down the themes of faith and redemption.  Indeed, it is refreshing to see a senior man of the cloth depicted in an unambiguously virtuous manner. Oddly though, when everyone hits the barricades, it becomes something of a bore.  Recommended primarily for Les Mis devotees and diehard movie musical fans, Les Misérables opens today (12/25) across the country, including the AMC Empire in New York.  Merry Christmas and to all a good night.

The Man with the Iron Fists: Kung Fu Hip Hop from RZA

Thaddeus the Blacksmith is a builder not a fighter.  Nonetheless, the Lion Clan is messing with the wrong tradesman when they chop off his arms.  Yes, it is time to rumble in Nineteenth Century China.  Kung fu, Hip Hop, spaghetti westerns, and blaxploitation will be mashed-up in the RZA’s The Man with the Iron Fists (trailer here), which really did open this week in New York—honest it did.

The Lions were not always so bad.  That was before the Emperor sought their services to help secure his shipment of gold.  Succumbing to greed, Silver Lion and Bronze Lion betray their respected clan leader Gold Lion, with the intention of hijacking the imperial gold.  Of course, they will have to take care of one loose end: Gold Lion’s son, Zen Yi, who has left his mountain retreat and lovely wife for some old school revenge.  Unfortunately, he is no match for Brass Body, the Kung Fu equivalent of the X-Men’s Colossus.

Stripped of his armor, Zen Yi is rescued from certain death by the Blacksmith and his lover, Lady Silk, one of the “employees” of Madame Blossom’s house of pleasure.  Troubled by the death and destruction wrought by his handiwork, the Blacksmith throws his lot in with Zen Yi.  Needless to say, this leads to a rather nasty encounter with Silver Lion, Brass Body, and a very sharp blade.  Yet, as the title indicates, he still knows his way around a forge.  He also has an unlikely ally in Jack Knife, the opium addicted British ex-pat serving as the Emperor’s secret emissary.

If you’re looking for Oscar bait, Iron Fists probably isn’t your cup of tea.  Not exactly subtle or refined filmmaking, the RZA basically just lets the chaos fly.  He “borrows” liberally from scores of previous martial arts films, even including Enter the Dragon’s oft imitated finale.  Still, its energy is admirable.  Corey Yuen’s fight choreography is consistently inventive and there is plenty of eye candy.  In fact, the large supporting cast brings all kinds of genre credibility, starting with the Cung Le, sporting the Yahoo Serious coif as Bronze Lion.  On-the-brink-of-stardom Grace Huang (so cool in the short film Bloodtraffick) also kicks butt convincingly as part of the duo known as the Gemini Killers.

Probably the biggest surprise of Iron Fists is Russell Crowe’s rip-roaring scenery-chewing portrayal of Jack Knife.  He obviously understood what sort of film he was making and was willing to just go with it.  As Madame Blossom, Lucy Liu essentially reprises her turn from Kill Bill, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.  Frankly, the RZA isn’t terrible as the Blacksmith, brooding well enough.  The villains are more of a mixed bag though.  Former wrestler David Bautista certainly looks the part of Brass Body, but Byron Mann’s Silver Lion is more flamboyant than menacing.

Look, what do you want from a Kung Fu smackdown directed by a rapper, even if it is “executive produced” by Quentin Tarantino?  It might be chocked full of genre clichés and clumsy flashbacks, but if the prospect of watching RZA beat the Lion Clan silly while Crowe cavorts with a bevy of Asian prostitutes strikes you as entertaining than Iron Fists totally delivers the goods.  Let’s call it a guilty pleasure and leave it at that.  It really is currently playing in New York, above 34^th Street, at the Regal E-Walk.