Black Ops: Take the Stairs

You have to improvise during a dodgy commando mission. Inflexible adherence to the letter rather than the spirit of the objective is definitely bad leadership. Unfortunately, a Queeg-like team-leader insists on following their orders to the letter, even if it results in a war crime. The entire squad will pay dearly—perhaps for all eternity in Tom Paton’s Black Ops (a.k.a. Stairs, a.k.a. The Ascent), which releases tomorrow on VOD.

The orders were simple: collect intel and kill everyone in the guerilla camp. Nobody knew they were holding a civilian prisoner, but Stanton forced (at gunpoint) the reluctant Kia Clarke to shoot her too. Turns out she had a bit of the shine or whatever, because her dying curse turns out to be quite potent.

When the team arrives for their de-brief, a malfunctioning elevator forces them to climb the stairs and climb and climb. Eventually, they figure out there are in some kind of supernatural Hell or Purgatory. If they do not keep climbing sufficient floors within an allotted time, they will die a grisly Scanners-ish death. When they exit the stairwell, they mysteriously find themselves back at the paramilitary camp, right before their earlier selves launched the fateful strike. Clarke quickly decides they must somehow stop themselves from killing the weird prisoner to break the Sisyphean punishment, but the knuckle-dragging Stanton refuses to cooperate, despite the karma trap he led them into.

The infinite staircase is a rather surreal, but the film really shines when the unit starts trying to change history. The way Paton layers each time loop over the ones that came before is surprisingly clever. Paton quite nimbly directs the time traffic and blends each successive foray into the recent past, earning comparison to Nacho Vigalondo’s TimeCrimes and Hugh Sullivan’s Infinite Man (which is high praise).

Exit Plan: The Hotel of Your Final Departure

People check into the assisted suicide hotel, but they don’t check out. That is the whole idea, yet one guest is surprised to discover the place might be run by killers. Nonetheless, you have to admire the guts of any distributor willing to pick up a thriller that could diminish viewer enthusiasm for euthanasia. The staff of the Hotel Aurora is indeed determined to carry about business with Scandinavian efficiency in Jonas Alexander Arnby’s Exit Plan, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

Max Isaksen is so boring, he isn’t even leading a life a quiet desperation, until he is diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor. After the insurance adjustor investigates the claim of a woman whose husband apparently availed himself of the Hotel Aurora’s services, Isaksen books a room for himself. However, he never really shares a proper moment of closure with his wife Lærke, which weighs heavily on him. Isaksen even starts having second thoughts, even though the Aurora staff discourages such thinking.

In some ways, Exit Plan is like The Suicide Club, with a pinch of David Lynch and décor courtesy of the Danish Design Store. This is one frosty, Nordic film that never caters to conventional thriller audiences. Yet, it is its vibe of soul-deadening alienation and profound existential implications are exactly what make it so unsettling. No matter how you feel about euthanasia, you never want to visit the Aurora.

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau drabs himself down admirably as the reserved Isaksen, who could almost pass for a Dickensian scrivener. It is not just a physical thing, even though the 1970’s era glasses and moustache render the Game of Thrones star nearly unrecognizable. He also projects a sense of deep sadness.

Peter Sellers’ Mr. Topaze

It is hard to envision a part Peter Sellers and John Barrymore could both convincingly assume, but the very different thesps portrayed the title role of Marcel Pagnol’s Topaze, nearly thirty years apart. Barrymore received strong notices, but not Sellers—at least when it was first released. The Goon Show legend subsequently did his best to make the film disappear from public view. He was particularly stung since it was his first and only credited foray as a director. Nearly sixty years later, it sure looks a lot better than the contemporary reviews suggested. Impressively restored from the few surviving prints, Sellers’ Mr. Topaze releases virtually this Friday.

Albert Topaze is a poor but honorable school teacher, who has a genuine passion for education. Prodded by his equally humble colleague, Tamise, he has finally started making overtures towards the bullying headmaster’s daughter Ernestine, after long-carrying a torch for her. Unfortunately, he refuses to change an underachieving student’s grade to satisfy the school’s wealthy patron, so he is summarily dismissed. He still has his good name, but he naively allows Castel-Benac, a corrupt Parisian wheeler-dealer to trade-off his reputation, inevitably soiling it, as a result. However, Topaze learns much in the process.

Poor Topaze was probably the most reserved character Sellers played until Being There, which is probably why it so confused critics and fans at the time. However, it really is quite good work. There is an emptiness to his Topaze that is deeply compelling. Along with The Optimists, it proves he really could be a crying-on-the-inside kind of clown.

Ironically, most of the pratfalls and more outrageous humor is left to Sellers’ future Pink Panther foil, Herbert Lom, who manages to ham it up, while still maintaining a sinister and sophisticated façade, as the nefarious Castel-Benac. Leo “Rumpole” McKern matches Lom’s bluster, but plays Headmaster Muche with ruddier earthiness. Nadia Gray takes a diva-turn worthy of Sophia Loren as Castel-Blanc’s torch-singer mistress (she also sings the number “I Love Money,” for which the film was retitled when it initially opened in America).

Born in Evin: Starting Life as a Political Prisoner

Maryam Zaree survived a nightmare of early childhood development and still turned out okay. It helped to have two loving parents—once they were released from Iran’s notoriously harsh Evin Prison. That is where Zaree spent the first two years of her life as an infant political prisoner, but she remembers nothing of the experience. Bothered by her gap in memory, Zaree tries to get her mother to finally discuss those nightmarish days in her deeply personal documentary, Born in Evin, which releases today on VOD.

Like many progressive Iranians, Zaree’s parents initially supported to revolution against the Shah, only to find themselves prisoners of conscience under the new, even less tolerant Islamist regime. Unlike many of their cell-mates, her mother Nargess and father Kasra were eventually released after years of brutal imprisonment, much to their own surprise. First, Zaree was turned over to her grandparents and then her mother was released. They immigrated to Frankfurt, where her father eventually joined them.

Her parents are no longer together, which sadly often happens when couples endure years of forced separation. Regardless, her father definitely remained part of her life. Yet, despite his greater openness to questions, he could tell her little, because he was held captive in the men’s wing of the prison.

At times, Born is almost too personal. We see a lot of Zaree’s agonizing over her mother’s reluctance to participate. However, as she widens her focus to include any other survivors who like her, either were born or spent formative years in the notorious prison, she makes valid points about memory and testimony. Indeed, the current regime would much prefer it if the survivors of Evin’s torture chambers refused to discuss the horrors they endured.

You Don’t Nomi: Defending Showgirls

Only a certain kind of film can sustain a documentary of its own. Usually, they are good films that either support strange interpretations (as with Room 237 on The Shining) or were the result of notoriously dramatic production shoot (like The Exorcist). Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls stands in a classless class by itself. Initially reviled, it has developed a weird cult following, with Midnight screenings in the tradition of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Several of its most vocal champions explain why the 1995 bomb was better (or at least more interesting) than people thought in Jeffrey McHale’s You Don’t Nomi, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

There is probably more nudity and sex in Nomi than maybe any other documentary ever reviewed here, but that makes perfect sense if you know anything about Showgirls. It was conceived as the deliberately NC-17 follow-up from director Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Esterhas, who scored a big hit with the risqué thriller Basic Instinct. It was Hollywood going full frontal and then some. The problem is the dialogue and characterization were even more outrageous, but in the wrong kind of way that invites use of the “c” word: “camp.”

Although none of the cast or crew appear in sit-down interviews to justify themselves, McHale’s experts clearly sympathize with lead actress Elizabeth Berkley. They clearly establish it was Verhoeven who pushed and prodded her to go bigger, broader, and crazier in her portrayal of Nomi Malone—and then basically left her exposed to the withering critical reception. They even make compelling connections between her striving teen character on Saved by the Bell and her often inappropriately manic performance as Malone—which April Kidwell explicitly alludes to (and satirizes) as the star of the Off-Broadway musical adaptation.

White Crane Chronicles: David Carradine Back in China

He walked the earth “like Caine from Kung Fu,” but he eventually returned to his Wudang monastery to find peace in his later years. Unfortunately, the violence of the outside world will give him no respite. His name is Crane, not Caine and this time the late David Carradine was not pretending to be anything but caucasian, but there was definitely a lot of winking and nodding going on towards his 1970s television show. Regardless, the fight direction and production values were definitely a cut above average in The White Crane Chronicles (a.k.a. Kung Fu Killer parts I & II, a two-part miniseries (also considered two be a back-door pilot that did not get a full series pick-up), which releases this Tuesday on BluRay, from Mill Creek Entertainment.

After Crane’s missionary parents were murdered, Myling, the grand abbess of the monastery, took in the young white waif. Of course, he thrived under her instruction, but felt compelled to leave, for reasons that will be partially explained in the second installment. Regardless, his tranquil golden years hiatus will be short lived when the soldiers and thugs hired by the Warlord Khan gun down most of the Wudang monks and students, including Myling. Only White Crane and his student Lang Han survive.

Despite Myling’s dying words, Crane ventures back to 1920s Republican Shanghai in search of vengeance, leaving Lang Han to look after the villagers who had been protected by the Wudang monks. Once there, he quickly befriends Jane Marshall, an American torch singer performing in the night club managed by her sort-of-lover, Bingo Quo. Khan is her biggest fan and would be patron, but he also happens to be holding her opium-addicted brother Peter Marshall (just try not to think of the Hollywood Squares whenever you hear his name) captive, forcing him to mix a particularly lethal concoction of poison gas to fuel his ambitions of Chinese conquest and unification.

Things will be mostly resolved at the end of part one, but Bai, a briefly seen bitter rival from Crane’s past reappears in the concluding segment. In fact, part two feature some of the best fight sequences, thanks to the skills and action cred of Anya Wu, who is terrific as the villainous Bai’s chief lieutenant. The bald and scarred Bai, as played by Lim Yu-Beng is also a worthy opponent for White Crane.

Indeed, there are a number of terrific fight sequences choreographed by Cai Li (whose work includes Hero and House of Flying Daggers). He wisely tailors the moves for Carradine, who was then in his early seventies, but still looked relatively credible (words cannot express the superiority of White Crane over Son of the Dragon, another Carradine miniseries filmed in China two years earlier).

BFF ’20: The Journey of Murder

It is amazing how the CCP regime was able to prosecute its “One Child” policy with brutal effectiveness, but they claim to be powerless to stop dubious traditional practices, such a so-called “ghost marriages.” These questionable ceremonies happen post-mortem, supposedly to allow the unmarried bride and groom a better chance to find wedded bliss in their next lives. Troublingly, ghost marriages usually start with only one corpse, but always end up with two (not so coincidentally, the implications of the CCP’s radically different enforcement standards both have terrible implications for girls). Sha Tao, a developmentally disabled young woman from provincial Zhejiang, has been recruited for a ghost marriage, causing tremendous guilt for the indebted gambler responsible for her safe delivery in Wang Jun’s The Journey of Murder, which screens (virtually) as part of the (online) 2020 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Ma Saike gambled away the money for his terminally ill mother’s treatment and continued piling up debt. Much to his relief, his loan-shark offers a way to clear his I.O.U.’s and take care of his familial responsibilities. All he has to do is escort Sha Tao, pretending to be her physically disabled fiancé (the way his limp comes and goes really is distracting). However, she is such a handful, his task turns out to be much more difficult than he anticipated. Nevertheless, their long journey (and his periodic renegotiations) gives him time to figure out and regret her intended fate.

For the most part, Journey is an austere film in the tradition of socially-conscious independent Chinese cinema that suddenly veers into Tarantino territory in the last ten minutes. It is a wild shift of gears that almost no filmmaker would have the guts to try, so give Wang credit for gumption. He also manages to pull it off.

On the other hand, the portrayal of Sha Tao will trouble some people. Frankly, the tone of the film is not very different from that of Rain Man, but that probably will not be much reassurance to critics and commentators who specialize in outrage.

Be that as it may, the discipline of Yu Feifei’s performance is impressive. Neither she or Wang ever indulgence in cheap cuteness or sentimentality. They never share a contrived moment, yet she still expresses such innocence, we can understand his burgeoning guilt.

Judy & Punch: Puppeteers Act Like Puppets

They were the puppets who put the slap in slapstick (and the stick). Punch & Judy shows are now rather infamous for their mirthful treatment of domestic abuse, but traditional shows always ended badly for the reprehensible Punch. He would be lucky to merely wind up at the gallows, because more often than not, the devil himself came to claim Punch’s loutish soul. Arguably, this feminist morality play lets its meta Punch puppeteer off easy because it lacks the fire and brimstone of its way-back-when inspiration, but what unfolds is still not exactly subtle. This time, Judy will have her revenge in screenwriter-director Mirrah Foulkes’ Judy & Punch, which releases today on-demand.

“Professor” Punch and his wife Judy have returned to the 16^th Century town of Seaside (far from the sea, according to the film’s running joke), after his mean drunk temper forced them to abandon more profitable engagements. The truth is, Judy is the better puppeteer, but she lets Punch take the bows for their Punch & Judy shows. Unfortunately, Punch cannot help reverting to his old drunken ways, but this time his negligent behavior causes the death of their infant son (although this is a staple of old school Punch & Judy shows, it is rather shocking to see it in a live action film).

When confronted, the guilty Punch lashes out and kills her too, or so he assumes. It turns out Punch doesn’t quite finish the job. However, after disposing of her almost but not entirely lifeless body, he capitalizes on Seaside’s superstition and intolerance, framing the elderly servants who were hosting he and Judy for his own crimes.

Foulkes struggles to find the right tone throughout J&P, which might be why the attempts at black humor only land sporadically. On the other hand, she incorporates the narrative elements of traditional Punch & Judy shows in clever ways. She also ties in all together into a satisfying third act that serves as a contemporary riff on Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, while deliberately echoing the rude absurdity of Terry Gilliam and Monty Python’s Medieval mayhem.

El Presidente: The Inside Shenanigans of FIFA-Gate

FIFA is headquartered in Zurich, the home of secret Swiss bank accounts. It is not a coincidence. The international football federation has been remarkably rapacious and it can now be said without an “alleged” qualifier, deeply corrupt. In a case of spectacularly bad timing, FIFA’s self-funded vanity film United Passions released just when the FBI and Swiss police arrested many high-level FIFA officials and associates, who subsequently cut plea deals. It is doubtful FIFA provided much support for this wickedly funny limited series chronicling the corruption investigation. Sergio Jadue, the President of the Chilean Football association and reluctant FBI informant becomes unlikely power-broker, who witnesses the implosion first-hand in Armando Bo’s El Presidente, which premieres today on Prime Video.

Jadue’s rise is truly precipitous. His provincial club only just clawed its way back to the A level. Nobody really knew who the ambitious club executive was when he showed up at the ANFP (Chilean FIFA affiliate) meeting, but they elected him president assuming he would be a compliant bench-warmer for their preferred but unavailable choice. Obviously, they had not met his wife, Nene.

Thanks to her prodding and his plodding, Jadue assumes his rightful place in the inner circle of Conmebol, the South American governing body for international football. He is also encouraged by Rosario, the mysterious bartender in the hotel where they meet in Luque, Paraguay, solely because the government grants them diplomatic immunity. The longtime Argentine President and FIFA international VP Julio Grondona rather appreciates Jadue’s moxy—so much so, he provides the series’ ironic narration from beyond the grave.

Despite Grondona’s sage advice and his relative inexperience, Jadue chases greater power and influence within FIFA. His ambition and greed are also vulnerabilities FBI Agent Lisa Harris will exploit. Jadue knows her under her assumed identity of Rosario, but she is really the South American field coordinator for the FBI’s FIFA-gate operation.

In terms of tone, El Presidente is somewhere between the Brazilian political corruption drama The Mechanism and Steven Soderbergh’s satirical The Laundromat. There are a number of truly ridiculous moments in Bo’s series, all of which are true (well, maybe sometimes exaggerated just a tad). Honestly, Jadue’s exploits and misadventures are so outrageous, they have to be presented with knowing laughter.

Andres Parra has already played Pablo Escobar (twice) and Hugo Chavez, so Jadue makes a fitting hat trick of infamy (that’s a hockey reference, it’s like football with more ice and fighting). It is a brilliant comedic performance that only starts with his dead-ringer likeness to Jadue. He fully and relentlessly portrays the Conmebor exec’s shameless corruption, yet he still projects a weird naivety. He is nakedly venal, but his indomitable plugger spirit almost wins over viewer sympathies.

Shirley: Decker & Moss Portray Shirley Jackson

Even though “The Lottery” has always been one of the most anthologized American short stories, Shirley Jackson’s literary reputation has appreciated greatly in recent years. She had her first Library of America edition in 2010 and a second will pub in a few months. There was a happier side to her persona that wrote cheerful motherhood memoirs, but what fun is that? Instead, it is the dark side of Jackson—the one that suffered from depression and was fascinated with the macabre—that is the focus of Josephine Decker’s Shirley, which opens virtually/on VOD this Friday.

Jackson’s husband, literature professor and jazz critic Stanley Hyman truly believes in her talent, but in most other respects, he is a deeply problematic husband. Granted, she is rather difficult to live with herself at this time, because her writer’s block is apparently manifesting itself as depression and perhaps even agoraphobia.

Supposedly for Jackson’s sake, Hyman invites Fred and Rose, a grad student and his quite pregnant wife to stay in their North Bennington home. The way he pitches it, Rose will help with the cooking and house chores, while he will help Fred with his thesis. Of course, he has no intention of holding up his end of the bargain. Yet, despite her initial hostility, Jackson reacts well to Rose’s company. In fact, she even helps research Jackson’s next novel, Hangsaman, whose inspiration, Paula Jean Welden, a Bennington coed who mysteriously disappeared, deeply resonates with the younger woman.

Based on Susan Scarf Merrill’s novel, Shirley is not exactly a thriller and it certainly is not horror, but it has conspicuously dark psychological elements that will still interest genre fans, along with the portrayal of Jackson herself. Elisabeth Moss plays her to the hilt and them some, veering from the shrewdly observant game-player (with possible supernatural powers) to the Bronte-esque mad-woman-in-the-attic. She is gleefully over the top, which is great fun to watch. Likewise, Michael Stuhlbarg is absolutely insufferable, in a loud, boisterous, partially self-aware kind of way, as Hyman (in this film, he really gives jazz and blues critics a bad name).

Admittedly, Odessa Young and Logan Lerman are supposed to be young, bland, and dumb playing Rose and Fred, but gee whiz, are they ever. It is like watching an all-star team constantly scoring against a rag-tag group of bench-warmers. After a while, it’s just not fair.

A Clear Shot: The 1991 Sacramento Hostage Crisis

The Good Guys chain of electronic stores no longer exists, nor does the CompUSA chain that was subsequently absorbed by an online retailer, after buying them out. It probably did not help the Good Guys brand much when one of its stores became the location of the 1991 Sacramento Hostage Crisis. The police response—still considered the largest hostage rescue in American history—is thinly fictionalized in director-screenwriter Nick Leisure’s A Clear Shot, which releases today on DVD and VOD.

Lt. Gomez is the hostage negotiator in charge, but the Sheriff is itching to take control and unleash the SWAT team. Gomez is getting pressure from all sides, but the first on the scene Sgt. “Kappy” has respect for his mentor. He also quickly recruits Officer Advencula to his field kitchen cabinet. Unfortunately, the four hostage-takers are twitchy and dangerously prone to internal strife. Of course, there are also children and pregnant hostages to further raise the stakes.

Clear Shot is a sturdily constructed but not especially remarkable police drama. As Gomez, Mario Van Peebles goes all-in with world-weary understatement and it mostly works. Hao Do and Kevin Bach help humanize the reluctant half of the four gunmen, which heightens the sense of inevitable tragedy. However, the real standout is Marshal Hilton, who develops believable buddy-cop chemistry with Van Peebles and shines in what is probably the film’s most memorable scene (you’ll know it when you see it).

BFF ’20: Kingdom of Archers

There has long been tension between Bhutan and China, due to territorial disputes and the oppression of Buddhists in neighboring occupied Tibet. The two nations still do not maintain formal diplomatic ties, so it would behoove Americans to foster greater understanding and relations with the Himalayan nation. Archery could be one way of doing so. It has long been the national sport of Bhutan, but the adoption of modern equipment and international rules has been a relatively recent development. Robert Hixon Hanson examines the Bhutanese passion for the sport in the documentary Kingdom of Archers, which screens (virtually) as part of the (online) 2020 Brooklyn Film Festival.

For years, Bhutan was nearly as isolated as Shangri-La in Lost Horizon. However, in recent years, the King has approved a wide-ranging modernization program, while trying to maintain Bhutan’s traditional culture and values. Hanson uses a similar framework to explore the current state of Bhutanese archery, but without belaboring the point.

These days, most archers prefer to use western “composite” bows rather than traditional wooden ones. Tournaments also increasingly adhere to international rules, so Bhutanese archers will not be at a disadvantage when competing in international qualifying competitions. In the past, Bhutan has received Olympic invitations in archery, based on the sport’s national significance, but the Bhutanese national team hopes to qualify for upcoming games (if they ever happen again), through merit-based performance.

BFF ’20: Macabre

They are still in the state of Rio, but villagers residing on the other side of those iconic mountains live in a whole different world from the cosmopolitan city of Rio de Janeiro. Yet, many of their hardscrabble problems are maybe not so different from that of Rio’s famous (and feared) favelas. Regardless, it is always bad news when the BOPE (the cops from the Elite Squad movies) show up. In this case, villagers hope they will finally capture the notorious “Necrophil Brothers” who are terrorizing the countryside, but the assignment will get complicated and horribly personal for Sgt. Teo in Marcos Prado’s Macabre, which screens (virtually) as part of the (online) 2020 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Teo needs to redeem himself, because he is responsible for the death of an innocent civilian during a favela operation. His captain promises to sweep the incident under the rug, if he captures Inacio and Matias, who murdered a dozen women and subsequently desecrated their bodies. Teo should have an advantage because he was raised in this mountainous community, but he left on bad terms with his family (and nearly everyone else).

As Teo launches his investigation, it becomes immediately apparent one of the brothers is just as guilty and sadistic as he has been made out to be. The culpability of the other is a little murkier, but locals do not want to waste time with such fine distinctions. Unfortunately, their next crimes will strike closer to home for Teo, re-igniting long-simmering tensions and resentments.

Macabre is a gritty serial killer thriller in the James Patterson tradition that also incorporates the social commentary of the Elite Squad films and their brethren. Both the favela incident and the hunt for the Necrophil Brothers are based on real life BOPE cases, but in real life, the former event happened much later and involved different officers. However, screenwriters Lucas Paraizo and Rita Gloria Curvo fuse them together quite seamlessly. Of course, that means they really put the screws to woeful Sgt. Teo as a result.

BFF ’20: Snaeland

Small Icelandic towns are a good place to keep secrets, because people do not talk much there. At least, they are pretty taciturn in this coastal village, as well as the one in the recently released A White, White Day. Disgraced German reporter has come to cover a long-rumored bacchanal, but that story is fake news. However, he might have a line on an explosive tabloid story (that would ironically rehabilitate his reputation) in Lise Raven’s Snaeland, which screens (virtually) as part of the (online) 2020 Brooklyn Film Festival.

After indelicately asking multiple residents, Haas accepts the town really doesn’t hold an annual midnight sun festival of drunken debauchery for his readers to gawk at. He stumbles across something more potentially scandalous. A notorious French au pair, who was convicted of murdering her Wall Street employer-lover’s baby, is alive and well, living in town, after apparently faking her suicide. She is now known as Melanie Clement, a bee-keeper married to the local cab-driver.

Rather conveniently, Oskar Hrafnsson thinks his wife’s bee-keeping would make a good story, so Haas opportunistically plays along. Of course, Clement is suspicious of him, but she still tries to humor her husband. There is definitely a test of wits going on, but descriptions of Snaeland as a thriller or noir are overblown. Even “psychological drama” overstates matters. It is really a dark morality play and a scathing critique of media voyeurism.

In fact, Raven and co-screenwriter Deborah Goodwin sort of over-play that hand by equating with Haas with the village peeping tom, whom he catches red-handed, so to speak. The distastefulness of his behavior rather distracts from and undermines the analogy. Still, you certainly cannot accuse them of pulling their punches, which is also true of Clement’s infanticide crime (although she is said to have claimed it was an accident).

BFF ’20: Snatchers

If soulless alien body-snatchers invaded ultra-hip Williamsburg, how could you tell? The brain-controlled drones would probably be less conformist than they are now. Todecky is the exception. He fondly remembers the Brooklyn nabe when it was edgy and gritty, but he will still fight to save the trendy enclave from extraterrestrial parasites in John Kingman’s Snatchers, which screens (virtually) as part of the (online) 2020 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Todecky is a Fed, but not for the FBI. He currently serves as an investigator for the FDA, but his heart and wardrobe are old school Bureau, all the way. Obviously, he does not fit in with the scenesters, including Brie, a supposedly aspiring documentarian, who once interviewed him for an aborted GMO doc. Now she claims to be working “undercover” as janitorial staff at a start-up, as part of a project about immigrants that will never happen. She had no contact with Todecky since ghosting him, but the two will be thrown together when mutant alien corn infects the local food truck circuit.

The corn in question came from fields cultivated by Mennonite farmers like Jeb. He could tell there was something wrong about those ears, harvested after a meteorite crashed nearby, so he returned to big sinful city to track them down. Todecky doesn’t want to hear his alien talk, but they still join forces, along with Brie and the two proprietors of a food truck that exclusively caters to fellow food truck employees.

Snatchers is a very funny send-up of Brooklyn hipster pretensions and body-snatcher genre conventions. Screenwriter Guy Patton must know the scene well to land so many direct hits, but he still has enough emotional distance to show no mercy. This is about as close as a freshly produced film is likely to come to politically incorrect spirit of vintage Mel Brooks. There is also a little bit of gross-out humor, but eye-popping practical effects were clearly not a priority.

Robot Overlords: Due for a Fresh Revisit

It is surprising this recent alien invasion has not already gained a fresh, new reputation for relevancy. The world has suffered a catastrophic event and now all of humanity is forbidden to leave their homes. Are you following me so far? The alien robots have taken over, but they still find home collaborators willing to enforce their dictates, in order to exercise a bit of power for themselves. Fortunately, there are still rebellious people out there willing to fight the invaders in Jon Wright’s Robot Overlords, which is currently available on Amazon Prime.

Since the alien take-over, Sean Flynn lives with his mother Kate and three foster siblings she took in out of mercy. She is sort of protected, because Robin Smythe, the district’s head collaborator is sweet on her, but he and Flynn make no secret of their mutual dislike. The suspicious teen still holds out vain home that his father Danny Flynn will eventually come home, but the RAF pilot has not been seen since his capture.

One day, Flynn and knuckleheaded Nathan try to run an old video-game console off a car battery, when an electric shock sends the latter flying. It also shorts out the controlling mechanism implanted in his neck—temporarily. Soon, Flynn, Nathan, Alex the surrogate sister he is sort of carrying a torch for, and young, bratty Conor are running through the empty streets undetected by the robot sentries. However, it turns out the short circuit only lasts thirteen hours—a fact they learn at an inopportune time.

It is easy to see the robot occupation as an equivalent analog to the CCP pandemic. Some might also compare the implants to face masks, but that really wouldn’t be fair, because facial coverings allow us to safely go outside, whereas the implants keep Flynn and friends captive inside. However, if you want to compare the power-tripping Smythe to heavy-handed politicians like Michigan’s Whitmer, that’s your right and your business.

As a film, Overlords definitely over-achieves, realizing some impressive visual effects on a relatively modest budget. As science fiction, it is just okay. Frankly, it is a little too convenient when Flynn turns to be like Neo from the Matrix trilogy, suddenly developing an almost mystical power to hack himself into the robots’ network. However, it is enormously refreshing to see a film that argues freedom is more important than security.

Shudder: Confessional

For confession to be “good for the soul,” it must come with contrition. Viewers will not get much of that from the entitled Millennials embroiled in the untimely deaths of two classmates. However, they will be forced to cop to the roles they played in the campus scandals, as part of a muckraking performance art installation. The narrators are unreliable, but they still can’t help revealing themselves in Brad T. Gottfred’s Confessional, which premieres today on Shudder.

For the sake of full disclosure, the student behind the Confessional project takes full credit for the film itself, essentially accusing the producers of pirating her work, as part of the conceit. Of course, it would be telling to identify just who that party might be.

Credit is also due to Amelia, a recently deceased film student, who had made of practice of filming her classmates’ confessions over the years, including her own. Clearly, the person controlling the Confessional booth had access to her archive—and used clips of the more sensitive footage to convince her subjects to participate. One by one, they enter the sound-proof chamber, reluctantly answering her questions and prompts.

It turns out Zach, a star swimmer, also died under mysterious circumstances. Zach’s ex, June and his former best-friend Garrett could have illuminating information. So might Raquel the campus drug dealer, Major the misogynistic preppy, and Sai the geek. Plus, Amelia’s former girlfriends, Noelle and Carrie should also have plenty to say.

Screenwriter Jennifer Bosworth rather cleverly unfolds the mystery through each evasive confession, but most of the characters are more like college caricatures. Frankly, it is quite impressive Paris Berelc, Annalisa Cochrane, and Mia Xitlati could make June, Raquel, and Amelia as human and interesting as they did.

The Debt Collectors: Scott Adkins is Back in Business

Whenever an anti-hero gets talked into doing “one last job,” it is always a mistake. In this case, it is really three last jobs, making it three times worse. Frankly, French knows it is a bad idea to get back in the collections business, but he has been really scuffling since the last film, so he lets his old partner Sue talk him into an ill-advised trifecta in Jesse V. Johnson’s The Debt Collectors, which releases this Friday on VOD.

Things were looking dicey for French at the end of The Debt Collector [singular] and even worse for Sue, but somehow, they both pulled through. Their old boss Big Tommy told them to lie low after their fatal shootout with Barbosa, the gangster, so it is ironic he now wants them to collect Barbosa’s old debts—too ironic. In fact, they are being set up by Barbosa’s vengeful brother, but it will take the knuckleheads a while to figure it out.

Of course, the three collections are particularly hard cases. One of them is played by Vernon Wells (a fan favorite from The Road Warrior and Commando), so you know he must be tough. Basically, Johnson and co-screenwriter Stu Small follow the successful formula they established in the first film: French and Sue (but mostly French) bash away at the vigs’ henchmen, taking a good pounding themselves, until the debtors finally pay up. However, there is probably a greater sense of danger this time around.

Arguably, the first outing had a lighter tone, which is why we would even compare it to a lot of Elmore Leonard films, including Get Shorty. The new (plural) installment is a bit heavier, but Scott Adkins and Louis Mandylor still have terrific bickering-bantering-brawling buddy chemistry, as French and Sue, respectively. Obviously, Adkins has all kinds of moves and muscle, while Mandylor looks like grizzled gristle personified.

City Hunter: Shinjuku Private Eyes

Shinjuku could be considered the Times Square of Tokyo. It is now a clean, neon-lit commercial mega-district, but it was once seedier and more dangerous. Ryo Saeba used to work cases as a “street-sweeping” private investigator for hire in old school Shinjuku, but he can still get into plenty of trouble in the fancy, high-rent neighborhood of today. The old manga and anime franchise that inspired Jackie Chan’s City Hunter returns with a new, sort of updated anime feature film, Kenji Kodama’s City Hunter: Shinjuku Privates Eyes, which releases today on BluRay.

Even though the world has changed, Saeba is the same Saeba. That means his impatient partner Kaori Makimura must continue to bonk him on the noggin with her comically large hammer whenever his outrageous horniness gets the better of him. That will definitely be an issue during this case, since they have been hired by fashion model Ai Shindou to protect her from the villains who killed her estranged father, a scientist conducting cutting-edge brain research.

Currently, Shindou is working on a shoot for one of the companies owned by industrialist Shinji Mikuni. As fate would have it, he is an old childhood friend of Makimura, who used to protect him from bullies. Sadly, he learned the wrong lesson from those experiences, because he is also obviously the criminal mastermind pulling the strings behind the scenes. It turns out his real business is arms dealing and the new weapons system Shindou’s father reluctantly developed for him is quite a doozy. To take him down, Saeba might need some help from cross-over characters from the Cat’s Eye franchise, set it the same universe.

City Hunter is such an established institution, it is easy to see why the studio would look to reboot it. The franchise even spawned a recent French live-action film, Nicky Larson and Cupid’s Perfume (as the dubbed character is known in France), with apparently little hand-wringing over the “white-washed” casting. However, for those unfamiliar with the characters, Saeba’s shticky horn-dog behavior clashes with the slick Miami Vice-inspired vibe and amped-up chases and shoot-outs.

I Will Make You Mine: Lynn Chen Makes It a Trilogy

How many films can you make playing a meta-slacker version of yourself before it gets sad? Evidently, the answer two. After appearing in two pleasant indie comedies playing a likably schlubby version of himself, Goh Nakamura and his co-stars get more serious this time around. The first two largely well-received films (Surrogate Valentine and Daylight Savings) were directed and co-written by Dave Boyle, but co-star Lynn Chen assumed those duties as the driving force helming I Will Make You Mine, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

After the birth of his daughter Sachiko, Nakamura gave up on his performing career, accepting a stable but dreary customer service job instead. Yet, there is still tension between him and Sachiko’s mother, Erika. He will be joining her in Los Angeles to offer his dubious support while she arranges her father’s funeral. However, that will also offer him an opportunity to re-connect with Rachel, his one-time prom date, who has carried a torch for him ever since (even though she should be way out of his league).

Fortunately for the cash-strapped Nakamura, his old musical colleague Yea-ming invites him to crash at her pad. She also hopes to avail herself of his natural songwriting talents. Aside from his daughter, life has been disappointing for Nakamura, but all the women in Chen’s film still seem to be pre-occupied with him, which is kind of Woody Allen-ish (it’s filmed in black-and-white too).

Still, there is something refreshingly realistic about characters coming to terms with the repercussions of their decisions, as well as setbacks that were largely beyond their control. Nakamura remains a likable screen presence playing a meta-version of himself. Ayako Fujitani (who was so incredible in Boyle’s Man from Reno) portrays Erika with brutal honesty, yet surprises us in the third act with grace notes of understanding and compassion. Bay-area singer-songwriter Yea-Ming Chen is quite a charismatic performer on-screen, both musically and dramatically, but Joy Osmanski probably gets the biggest laughs in her brief appearance as Rachel’s hipster video-director friend, Amy.