Subservience: an AI Scorned

This futuristic family is sort of like the Brady Bunch. They also have a housekeeper named Alice, but as a lifelike AI-driven android, she has vastly different packaging and programming. Their Alice looks older than M3gan, but she has the same bad habits in S.K. Dale’s Subservience, which releases tomorrow on EST in the UK and on VOD in America.

Sadly, Nick’s hospitalized wife Maggie desperately needs a transplant, because she is fading fast. He could also use a hand with their elementary school aged daughter Isla and nine- or ten-month-old son. Apparently, even a construction foreman can afford a SIM servant in the future, but rather unwisely, he buys one that looks like Megan Fox rather than Mrs. Doubtfire. Nevertheless, she seems to handle Isla well.

Soon, Alice also offers Nick her full services. He tries to resist, but her ability to mimic Maggie’s voice breaks down his resistance. Unfortunately, her programming is a little wonky, which allows Allice to take questionable initiatives. As her prime user, Alice is hard-wired to protect Nick, but she starts interpreting his best interests for him.

Obviously, Subservience follows relatively closely on the heels of M3gan, but it manages to develop some original themes. To a considerable degree, the chaos that erupts is partially Maggie’s fault, when she instructs Alice to hide Nick’s liquor, even though he will not like it, because sometimes we know better than other people what is best for them. As always, that is a very dangerous proposition. Sure enough, like so many horrific socialist regimes, Alice uses her judgment of what Nick needs to justify murder.

Speak No Evil, Remade by Blumhouse

Remember, your new vacations friends probably are not that funny. Most likely, it is really just the wine. Most people realize it would be a bad idea to reunite later, especially at their isolated country home, but the Daltons do it anyway in James Watkins’ Speak No Evil, a Blumhouse-produced remake of Christian Tafdrup’s Danish film of the same name, which releases tomorrow nationwide.

Ben Dalton brought his wife Louise and daughter Agnes to London for a job opportunity that evaporated at the last minute. They are still there, but it is awkward, for additional reasons that will be revealed during their stressful upcoming country getaway. To lift their spirits, they have a miserable time vacationing in Tuscany, until they start hanging with the super-fun Paddy and Ciara, who rescue them from the other boring tourists. However, their mute son Ant is not such a good time. Maybe they should pay more attention to him.

When things get bad again back home, they decide to take up Paddy’s offer to visit their farmhouse. However, as soon as they arrive, they regret it, because their hosts are much weirder than they remember. The Daltons also realize poor Ant endures constant emotional (and perhaps physical) abuse. Yet, they stay, to avoid offending Paddy and Ciara. Ant tries to warn them, but only Agnes picks up on his desperate attempts to communicate.

Watkins’ adaptation of Tafdrup’s original film is taking flak for not being as hopelessly give-you-nothing-nihilistic as its predecessor, but that’s not such a bad thing. Frankly, we already have plenty of horror films in which cruelty is rewarded. Arguably, it starts out as a remake of Speak No Evil but turns into a much better remake of Straw Dogs than Rod Lurie managed to cobble together. It even takes place back in rural England again.

There is a good deal of sexual politics reflected in the Daltons’ cratering relationship. As a further source of shame, she turns out to be a better, fiercer protector, but mostly due to reasons of coordination rather than Force Majeure-esque cowardice on his part. Instead, Ben Dalton endures tremendous pain for family, in a climax that would make a Spanish Inquisitor wince. Yet, boy, does that tension build.

Mackenzie Davis is terrific as Louise Dalton, both on a physical and viscerally emotional level. Scoot McNairy is more restrained, but he elevates Ben Dalton above and beyond his “wounded masculinity.” However, young Dan Hough so devastatingly expresses such extreme inner turmoil as poor Ant, it should make some viewers questions the ethics of children appearing in a film like this.

Lies We Tell, Rewriting J. Sheridan Le Fanu

In gothic fiction, never count on family members to have your best interests at heart, especially the scandalous once or twice removed kind. This will be especially true of Maud Ruthyn’s Uncle Silas—as in that Uncle Silas. With “modern” audiences in mind, screenwriter Elisabeth Gooch revised and re-worked Le Fanu’s classic to “unproblematized” the annoyingly “virtuous” heroine, rather unnecessarily, considering the original novel clearly indicts the legal and social constraints placed on 19^th Century women. However, fans of the novel should be amused by the musical chairs putting familiar characters in somewhat different positions throughout Lisa Mulcahy’s Lies We Tell, which releases this Friday on VOD.

Poor Ruthyn’s father passed away, leaving her in the care of his brother Silas. Frankly, a pall still lingers of her Uncle, even though he has been cleared of the suspicious locked-room death of the man whom he owed considerable gambling debts. Her father’s trustees wish to challenge the codicil, but she unwisely trusts in family.

Initially, uncle and niece play nice, but there is immediate friction with his caddish son, Edward. Instead of siding with her, crusty old Silas encourages her to acquiesce to his son’s often inappropriate (or worse) advances, clearly with the intention of maintaining control over her fortune, even after she reaches her majority.

Uncle Silas never really manages to gaslight his niece, but he buys the loyalty of the servants and Dr. Byerly, one of her father’s two trustees. Consequently, Ruthyn finds herself cut off from the outside world, including Captain Ilbury, the second trustee. Thanks to the mercenary Byerly she also faces the very real threat of institutionalization, which was especially grim in the mid-1800’s.

Lies We Tell will appeal to viewers who know and love Le Fanu’s Uncle Silas in much the same way Dark Shadows fans were intrigued to see longtime cast-members fulfilling different roles in the early-70’s films. It adds a novelty element that greatly helps when the second act bogs down in the hopelessness mandated buy the film’s sexual politics.

The pace picks up again down the stretch, when Ruthyn reasserts herself. It is worth noting this section adheres most faithfully to Le Fanu’s source novel. Indeed, for long stretches, Gooch ‘s screenplay commits the very same sins it was intended to redeem.

Doppelganger: The Double, on Max

It was identity theft with a Communist twist. Helga Steiner lived miserably in Poland during World War II, because as an Alsatian, she was technically considered German, but identified as French, and consequently suffered as a victim of both sides. When she returned home after the war, she hoped to eventually reunite with the orphaned baby she left behind. In 1977, she believes that baby grew up to be Hans Steiner, who is actually Polish Security Service Agent Jozef Wieczorek, whereas her true son is Gdansk shipyard worker Hans Bitner. The deception takes on almost Biblically archetypal dimensions in the four-episode TV-cut of director Jan Holoubek’s Doppelganger: The Double, which premieres today on Max.

At his Polish university, everyone knows “Hans Steiner” to be a conscientious Solidarity supporter, but it is all a façade. In reality, Wieczorek was groomed by his spymaster father, to assume Steiner’s identity, in order to worm his way into her family. His prime target is her brother, Helmut Steiner, an Alsatian politician and member of the European Parliament. He successfully charms MEP Steiner, but he maybe succeeds a little too much with respects to his “Uncle’s” pretty coed daughter, Nina. Unfortunately, Steiner/ Wieczorek knows their romance could endanger his not-really cousin, because his handler will do anything necessary to keep him on-mission.

Meanwhile, the real “Hans Steiner,” Hans Bitner has discovered his long-hidden adoption papers. As he pursues inquiries into the fate of his birth-mother, he inadvertently draws unwanted attention to himself. Unfortunately, as an employee of the French immigration service, Wieczorek is perfectly placed to stymie inquiries from the International Red Cross. However, the more state bureaucrats stonewall Bitner, the more his obsession deepens.

Doppelganger: The Double, the series so nice they named it twice, offers several intriguing twists on the espionage thriller. While there is plenty of cloak and dagger stuff, it is more concerned with the psychology of deception and betrayal. It also tells its story from the viewpoints of two non-traditional protagonists, a villainous undercover Communist agent and a schlubby, not particularly political family man trying to stay on the wagon.

Indeed, there is something perversely compelling about Jakob Gierszal’s performance as Steiner/Wieczorek. He constantly appears tantalizingly poised on the brink of redemption, only to zag rather than zig. Yet, it is fascinating to watch his slowly dawning realization of the failure of the Party’s harsh tactics and the hypocrisy of its ideology.

Wineville: Vino Horror that is Way Too Acidic

You might expect any wine-themed horror film could not help referring to Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado.” However, resisting that impulse might be the smartest thing this retro slasher does. It would just prompt deeply unflattering comparisons. Instead, the exploitative grunge simply compounds and festers in Brande Roderick’s Wineville, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

It might be news to you, but apparently there is an area just past Barstow in the Mojave Desert known as “Wineville,” because of all the family vineyards. Grapes love that desert soil, right? Tess Lott’s family used to operate one of them, but it has fallen on hard times—not that she cares. She left her abusive home and never intended to return. However, when her despised perv-father died without a will, she ironically inherited.

Naturally, that really frosts her nasty Aunt Margaret, who lives on the Lott lot in a white trash bungalow. It also worries, Joe “Lott,” a “foundling” her father unofficially adopted. He has big plans to return the vineyard to its former glory. He also picks up women on the highway, luring them to their violent, painful death. However, her sort-of brother acts sufficiently normal for Lott to trust him to look after her son, Walter while she deals with the estate.

It is hard to say which will make viewers feel more unclean. The vicious murders or the horrific flashbacks to the sexual abuse Tess survived. Together, they make Wineville a spectacularly miserable viewing experience. It is billed as a retro slasher, but it has none of the sub-genre’s guilty thrills. Instead, it just rubs our noses in its grossness.

Weirdly, Roderick is not bad as the grown-up Tess Lott. She might make a pretty good final girl-mom in a better horror movie. Her on-screen performance is the best thing she has going for her as the director.

The Primevals, on BluRay

Thanks to writers with three names, like Edgar Rice Burroughs, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Edward Bulwer-Lytton, we want to believe there could be a lost world nestled in a hidden valley or under the Earth’s surface. That is exactly what a scientific expedition finds in late stop-motion animator and special effects artist David Allen’s long-lost labor of love. Instead of dinosaurs, they find yeti and aliens, but the vibes are definitely in the tradition of The Lost World and The Land Time Forgot. Decades in the making, Allen’s fantastical feature was constantly interrupted by financing woes and ultimately his untimely death. However, he captured the footage he needed with his cast and left behind sufficient creature-models for his colleagues and producers to finally finish The Primevals, which releases this Tuesday on BluRay.

Matt Connor’s doctoral thesis crashed and burned, because he argued for the existence of the yeti. He is therefore quite interested when his advisor, Dr. Claire Collier unveils a genuine yeti body, smuggled out of a very angry Nepal, for the museum’s collection. Of course, to really understand the yeti, they a live specimen, so off they go to India, where crusty hunter-adventurer Rondo Montana (surely a hat-tip to Rondo Hatton) will guide them across the border.

On the trail of the yeti, they fall into an underground cavern that opens up into a “land before time.” There are neanderthal people, but they are terrified by a race of lizard-people aliens. It is reptile creatures who stirred up the yeti, using them in gladiatorial games with the poor hairy hominids. It was one of those electrically stimulated yeti that killed their sherpa’s brother in the moody prologue.

The Primevals is a ton of fun, for two reasons. Allen’s stop-motion animation, creature design, make-up effects, otherworldly sets, and other assorted creations are extremely cool looking. Just as importantly, Allen and his posthumous collaborators always play it straight as an arrow. The camp (which is admittedly there in some of the dialogue) is unintentional.

This is not a spoof. It is a remarkably successful attempt to channel the magic of Willis O’Brien and Ray Harryhausen classics like King Kong and Jason and the Argonauts. Frankly, the film Primevals most feels like, in terms of the movement and texture of the monster design and animation, might be Clash of the Titans, Harryhausen’s last great achievement in visual magic.

Valley of the Dinosaurs: Forbidden Fruit

Zeitgeisty media often come in twos. Usually, it is similarly themed films that release around the same time, like Armageddon and Deep Impact or Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down. We’ve had dueling Coco Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent movies. It happens in TV too. Literally fifty years ago today, two animated children’s series about modern-day families transported back to prehistory debuted. One was the hybrid-stop-motion Land of the Lost. The other was a traditional cell-animated adventure from Hanna-Barbera. Although it was not a huge hit, there was probably enough early-1980s syndication and licensing for Valley of the Dinosaurs to make an impression with some Gen X’ers, even though we probably missed the initial episode, “Forbidden Fruit” when it premiered on this day in 1974.

Logically, professor John Butler and his wife Kim took their entire family on his Amazonia research trip, including their dog Digger. Frankly, we can accept Digger, because he causes far less trouble than his bratty son Greg, who is the one they should have left behind. He will be quite a burden for his older teen sister Katie, who is often the one who must corral him. Nevertheless, they were all together in the raft that was swept up into a vortex and sucked into a “world that time forgot.”

Fortunately, Gorok’s neanderthal family befriends the Butlers, teaching them how to survive in their extreme new environment. They match up pretty well, since Gorok and Gara have a teen son, Lok and a younger daughter Tana. They even have a baby stegosaurus, Glump, who becomes Digger’s playmate.

In fact, Digger and Glump are all kinds of likably cute. Dogs and dinosaurs are definitely sure-fire, evergreen animation subjects, which were in Hanna-Barbera’s wheel house. Nineteen years before Jurassic Park, animation was still the best way to present humans and dinosaurs in the same frame. However, Valley probably did not earn many paleontologists’ endorsements, especially when “Forbidden Fruit” portrays a rampaging brontosaurus.

However, it evokes all kinds of archetypes when he Butlers mistakenly harvest the “forbidden fruit” reserved for Maligue, the giant (vegetarian) brontosaurus. Of course, most of the Butlers heed Gorok’s warning, but not Greg, who was a proto-Gen Z’er, refusing to listen to his Boomer parents, way back in 1974. Of course, Maligue smells his fruit, so he comes looking for Greg’s stash.

Shrewdly, Hanna-Barbera did not waste time with a long, drawn-out origin story. They give viewers the essentials every week in the opening credit sequence. Instead, they jump right into the adventures. Obviously, this series follows a formula, in which the Butlers’ ignorance (most often Greg’s) land them in trouble, but the scientific knowledge of Prof. John (who resembles a white-haired George Peppard) helps save the day. Perhaps when they are rescued, he will bring back some dinosaur DNA, just for the sake of science.

The Wonderland Massacre & the Secret History of Hollywood, on MGM+

The 1981 Laurel Canyon quadruple homicides were not quite as personal to Michael Connelly as the Black Dahlia murder was to James Ellroy, but the crimes stuck in his head ever since he covered it as a crime beat reporter. It was just one of those cases that took on a life of its own, because of its scandalous connections to Liberace and adult film “actor” John Holmes. Connelly takes yet another deep dive into the cold case, adapting his podcast for television as the host-narrator and executive producer of The Wonderland Massacre & the Secret History of Hollywood, which premieres Sunday on MGM+.

A few days before the 4^th of July, four people were found brutally bludgeoned to death in a Laurel Canyon home, with a fifth left for dead. Somehow, she survived, but she could never identify her attackers. Given the volume of blood and the number of victims, the police deduced there was more than one killer.

The question of who struck the blows would be contentiously argued in court, but every investigation pointed towards the drug lord, whom some of the residents living at the Wonderland Avenue home had just robbed in a violent home invasion. Eddie Nash (Adel Nasrallah) was a Palestinian immigrant who came to Hollywood to be an actor but only landed a small part on a Cisco Kid episode. Instead, he became arguably the biggest coke dealer in LA, who also owned a series of nightclubs, to facilitate his illicit trade.

In a twist of fate, Liberace wanted to invest in nightclubs, so somehow, he became Nash’s silent partner. His “boy toy” Scott Thorson (played by Matt Damon in the HBO movie) was their go-between. Thorson was also an addict, so he quickly became a customer as well. So was Holmes, but the man considered the inspiration for Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights also bought from the Wonderland Avenue gang.

The multiple investigations and criminal trials that followed were epic in scope, but tragically ultimate justice was almost completely denied. Connelly and the various investigating officers all agree Thorson and Holmes were both probably compulsive liars, but the recently deceased (as of only last month) Thorson clearly emerges as the more credible witness and the better person. At least he expresses remorse for involvement in the illegal drug trade and he clearly wanted Nash to pay for the Wonderland murders.

Throughout all four episodes, Connelly shows his ease talking and relating to the cops and assistant district attorneys who worked the Wonderland case. It is clear how he developed law enforcement sources while working as a reporter and probably continued to benefit from their expert opinions once he started writing full-time.

The Eggers Brothers’ The Front Room

Evidently, old people scare Millennials and Gen Z, probably because they expect everyone to act responsibly and refuse to accept excuses. Terrifying, right? That must explain the boom of elder horror, in which young healthy twentynothings are stalked and slashed to pieces by psycho octogenarians, like in Ti West’s X. In keeping with the questionable trend, Solange Irwin barely hobbles about on two canes, but she still terrifies her daughter-in-law in Max & Sam Eggers’ The Front Room, based on a Susan Hill (The Woman in Black) short story, which opens tomorrow nationwide.

Right from the start, it is clear The Front Room is set in an alternate universe, where DEI policies hold no sway on college campuses. As she is marginalized within her department, untenured anthropology prof Belinda Irwin decides to go ahead and quit in disgust. However, that leaves her and her public defender husband Norman short on income, with a baby on the way. As a result, she is maybe more receptive than she should be when the step-mother-in-law she never knew she had offers them a (Faustian) deal.

Old Solange will sign over the entire estate of Norman’s recently deceased father, if she can move in with them. Initially, Norman adamantly opposes the idea, insisting Solange is cruelly manipulative and virulently racist, but she convinces him to give her another chance. However, she soon regrets her hastiness.

Of course, Solange immediately takes over the house, causing no end of headaches. Yet, she has a knack for positioning herself as the victim. When the baby comes, Solange’s presence complicates Irwin’s maternal bonding process—or at least that is how she sees it.

Regardless, she has the added stress of cleaning up after her new born infant, as well as Solange. Be forewarned, there are an awful lot of scenes of human excrement in The Front Room. In fact, despite the fact Solange is the film’s evil antagonist, the humiliating ways it depicts her (and actress Kathryn Hunter) are deeply troubling, in the wrong-non-horror-movie, real-life ethical kind of way.

It is maybe fortuitous The Front Room releases the same day as Shudder’s The Demon Disorder, because the Eggers Brothers’ film shares thematic similarities, but compares poorly. Both seem to use the vocabulary of horror cinema to make allegorical statements about the challenges of elder care. The physical and mental decline of family members can feel like a horror show that often flares up at the most inconvenient times. However, the brothers caring for their “possessed” father express anguish that is clearly rooted in love for the old man. In contrast, the film demonizes Solange so unforgivingly, it exhibits the sort of mean-spiritedness it wants to attribute to her.

Nevertheless, Hunter’s performance is certainly brave—to an exhausting fault. She is most certainly gothic. Yet, the way the film makes her wrinkled, twisted body an object of horror pushes the boundary of exploitation.

Don’t Turn Out the Lights: More RV Horror

It is one of the less publicized "rules" of horror movies: if you travel by RV, you are going to die. Such is the case in well-known films like Race with the Devil and 31, as well grubbier little nasties, such as The Toy Box. Consequently, seven sort-of friends driving to a music fest probably do not stand a chance in director-screenwriter Andy Fickman’s Don’t Turn Out the Lights, which releases tomorrow ion VOD.

To celebrate her birthday, “Queen Bee” Olivia arranged tickets to the Blue Lights music festival for her and her friends. Technically, they do not really know her boyfriend’s roommate, Jason, but as a relatively serious-minded Afghanistan veteran, he is the only really distinctive character. He is also the only one of them who probably does not deserve what is coming.

At a rest-stop, Jason rescues the girls from a couple of menacing truckers, but they subsequently chase the RV into a cellular/GPS dead zone. They are pretty sure they can navigate their way by map, or at least Jason can, until the RV breaks down. Suddenly, they are having disturbing visions and hearing threatening noises outside. Those who leave the RV suffer gruesome fates, only leaving behind strewn body parts. To make matters worse, they cannot trust their eyes inside, either.

Does illumination protect them from whatever might be preying on the RV-mates? Not that viewers can tell, which means the title is rather confusing. Regardless, Don’t Turn Out is surprisingly conventional, considering it comes from Fickman, who directed the stage musical spoofs Reefer Madness and Heathers: The Musical. There is little humor in the film and the musical connections (to the Blues Lights Festival) are purely tangential. Frankly, more creative thought went into the fake website for the fictional music fest than the film itself.

The Demon Disorder, on Shudder

It turns out demonic possession is contagious. Apparently, it is also carried by an invasive parasite. Whatever it is, the Australian Reilly brothers just cannot shake it in Steven Boyle’s The Demon Disorder, which premieres this Friday on Shudder.

It is safe to say their father’s final years were difficult, considering they had to keep old George chained up in his bedroom. The old man’s violent, abusive behavior showed all the signs of demonic possession. After his death, the oldest brother, Graham left home and never looked back. Unfortunately, the middle brother, Jake comes looking for him, because the youngest, Philip is showing similar symptoms as their father.

Viewers soon learn a nasty, slimy slithering thing, looking like a cross between the Tingler and Xenomorph face-hugger, has been preying on the family. Once a host dies, it tries borrowing into another. Philip would be the logical candidate, for at least one reason. It is a really bloody body-horror situation that Graham wants to keep Cole Nicholls, his tomboy mechanic employee, safely shielded from, but of course, she will be in the garage when they bring their family chaos into the shop, after hours.

Were it not for the vicious physical and vocal attacks of the afflicted, the “Disorder” would not seem very demonic. As it is, viewers coming in after the first act would probably presume this is a mutant bug movie. However, the combination of subgenres gives the film a relatively fresh vibe (although it is maybe somewhat thematically akin to the 1995 Omen pilot).

In the Shadow of Stalin, the Gareth Jones Graphic Novel

In comics and graphic novels, reporters are supposed to work on behalf of truth and justice (and maybe even the American way). So, what would Superman do if he discovered his fellow Daily Planet reporters were covering up crimes against humanity, including genocide, for their own ideological and pecuniary reasons? That was Gareth Jones dilemma when he visited Ukraine during Stalin’s deliberate famine. Tragically, Jones was not a Superman, but his commitment to the truth was heroic. After telling his story as the screenwriter of Agnieszka Holland’s film Mr. Jones, Andrea Chalupa now chronicles his pursuit of the truth in the graphic novel, In the Shadow of Stalin: The Story of Mr. Jones, which releases today.

Mr. Jones was not an idiot. After interviewing Hitler, he was convinced the new Chancellor was a long-term threat to peace and democracy. Consequently, he was determined to secure an interview with Stalin, to convince the Soviet dictator to serve as a second front against Hitler. In the long-run, he was quite prescient, but in the short-term, he completely misunderstood the nature of the Soviet regime that would sign the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact with Germany in 1939.

Yet, as soon as Mr. Jones arrives in Moscow, he senses something amiss. Similarly, he cannot ignore the obvious hedonistic corruption of Walter Duranty, the New York Times’ Pulitzer-Prize-winning Moscow correspondent, who controls other journalists’ access to the regime. His symbiotic relationship with the Soviets is a clear conflict, but most reporters just go along, including Duranty’s exploited colleague Ada Brooks.

As a real journalist, Jones decides to follow the money. Everyone tells him Stalin pays for his huge industrial spending with grain sales from Ukraine. Jones also wants to visit the farm where his mother once lived years ago. Essentially, she was like an independent Peace Corps worker, long before such things were done on either a private or governmental level. Of course, he finds her old community has been devastated by mass-starvation and the horrors hunger invariably produces.

Chalupa’s graphic novel closely follows the structure of her screenplay, which is probably to be expected. Notably, she thanks Holland and executive producer Leah Temerty Lord in the dedication, so presumably the film team sees the graphic novel as a further means of spreading awareness of Jones and Stalin’s Ukrainian genocide, often referred to as the Holodomor. The narrative and characters are very similar, but the nature of the “novel” part of “graphic novel” allows Chalupa to better explain the domestic politics in England and America that made the situation worse. Lloyd George might even get tougher treatment this time around.

The Story of Hong Gil-Dong, on OVID.tv

He is known as Korea’s Robin Hood, but for years, he was hiding in Japan. He appeared in the nation’s first animated feature, which was sufficiently popular to earn a sequel. Yet this 1967 film was long considered lost, until a print was recently discovered in a Japanese archive. Fully restored with the original Korean audio track and reconstructed Korean credits, Shin Dong-heon’s The Story of Hong Gil-Dong, premieres Thursday on OVID.tv.

Like most heroes Hong had greatest thrust upon him when his father, a wealthy official, heaved him out of his house. Unfortunately, Hong was not, strictly speaking, legitimate, since his mother was a maid. Despite his father’s affection, the lady of the house conspired against him. Then she ordered his murder, but her would-be assassin is no match for his strength and skills.

Next, Hong successfully frees an innocent man for a corrupt Magistrate’s army. However, by convincing the local peasantry to reclaim their unjustly appropriated property, he makes their lives even worse after he moves on. Of course, the villain immediately reverts to his evil ways. Alas, our hero is still a bit naïve and rather distracted when returning the tortured peasant to his pretty daughter, Gopdan.

Hong also picks up a sidekick, Chadol Bawi, a Dickensian orphan whose father was executed by the Magistrate. Despite his tragic circumstances, the young boy serves as the film’s comic relief. Nevertheless, they both seek the secrets of Master Baekwun, a reclusive mystical swordsman, anticipating their final showdown with the Magistrate.

In terms of themes and style, Hong Gil-Dong is not so very different from Isao Takahata’s Horus, Prince of the Sun, which rather makes sense, since they were produced in the same year. Visually, the Korean film is not quite as vividly rendered, but it is also very definitely a young hero’s journey. The Korean film might even be richer archetypally, incorporating a witch-fox spirit, a band of merry outlaws, and a tiger who repays a debt to Hong, after he rescues her cub. Eventually, Hong even rides into battle on a cloud, like Aladdin on his carpet.

Between Two Sounds, the Arvo Part Graphic Novel

Artists like to pretend they are dissenters, but they usually move in lock-step with their social environment. However, if being out-of-step signifies greatness, Arvo Part might be the greatest composer of all time. A solid case can also be made on pure musical grounds. He composed Fur Alina, after all. Unfortunately, Part faced resistance and sometimes outright censorship from the Soviet regime, but the Estonian composer still achieved greatness. Writer-artist Joonas Sildre chronicles Part’s life, while explaining the development of his music in Between Two Sounds: Arvo Part’s Journey to his Musical Language, translated by Adam Cullen, which goes on-sale this Tuesday

Even as a young boy, Part exhibited prodigious musical talent. Of course, growing up during the war was difficult. Things were just as bad under the new Communist regime. Fortunately, his mother and step-father’s modest means kept them living under the regime’s radar. However, the more Part’s musical career advanced, the more the Party bureaucracy constrained him.

Nevertheless, Part was blessed with teacher’s who encouraged his experimental studies. Yet, in his early professional years, many of his most important works only premiered because they slipped through the system. In one instance, the musical union authorities were literally outside Estonia for a Soviet conference. After discovering Gregorian chants, Part began melding forms of ancient liturgical music with his avant-garde minimalist conceptions, which from the perspective of Soviet propaganda, was the worst of two worlds.

Despite their antagonism, Part became arguably the greatest living composer of our time. You might not think you know his work, but if you saw Avengers: Age of Ultron, There Will Be Blood, The Thin Red Line, or Michael Mann’s The Insider than you have heard licensed Part compositions. Regardless, Sildre does a fantastic job explaining the technical aspects of Part’s music, such as his doubling of voices.

Between Two Sounds also fully explores Part’s conversion to Orthodox Christianity. In fact, it was their faith that made Part and his wife Nora (who converted first) almost immune to the state’s repression. Ironically, the Communist Party essentially forced them to apply for permission to immigrate to Israel (presumably because of Nora’s Jewish heritage) to be rid of them, in the only legal face-saving way then technically allowed by the Soviet Union.

Freedom Hair, in The Epoch Times

Based on a true story, FREEDOM HAIR chronicles a hair-braider's underdog struggle against arbitrary and unfair state regulations. It is a scrappy and sensitive faith-friendly film. EPOCH TIMES review up here.

Reagan, in Cinema Daily US

The Gipper would be happy to know his latest movie treatment definitely entertains. Kevin McNamara's REAGAN also presents a great deal of accurate Cold War history and a touching depiction of the First Cople's lifelong romance. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.

Fly, BASE Jumping in IMAX

BASE jumping (off buildings, antennas, spans, and earth) is a sport that makes lawn darts look safe—almost. Everyone in this documentary remembers a fellow jumper who did not make it. Unfortunately, at least one of the featured athletes also dies during a jump. The stakes are high, but that is how the BASE jumpers say they like it in Christina Clusiau & Shaul Schwarz’s Fly, a National Geographic documentary, which has special IMAX screenings this Monday and Tuesday.

Apparently, couples that jump together stay together. Jimmy Pouchert and Marta Empinotti are sort of the First Couple of BASE jumping, who have taught scores of student jumpers, many of whom regularly return for their events, including an annual Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Norwegian Espen Fadnes and British Amber Fortes found each other through the sport and started competing as a couple, sort of like figure skaters in the year, as they explain. Scotty Bob Morgan started jumping when he believed he had nothing to lose. Eventually, he meets and marries Julia Botelho. When she gets pregnant, Morgan realizes he suddenly has a great deal to lose.

Two of these jumpers will have gravely serious mishaps, but not the pregnant Botelho Morgan. Things get heavy, but not that horribly heavy. However, there is real tragedy, which the jumpers address before-the-fact, thanks to some pertinent questioning from Clusiau and Schwarz.

Clearly, this is a dangerous sport, but the stunning footage—shot via drones, helicopters, and go-pros—shows viewers why they keep doing it. The more conservate BASE jumpers simply jump into the void, using larger chutes than skydivers. However, the younger, more daring jumpers prefer to glide close to the ground, wearing their Batman-like wingsuits, before releasing their chute. Wingsuit jumping is considerably riskier, but the videos sure can pull in the likes on YouTube.

Merchant Ivory: The Documentary

They made the classy commercial, until they got a little too commercial. Nevertheless, their names remain synonymous with upscale literary costume dramas, produced by their eponymous production company. Yet, behind the scenes, there was a lot of flying by the seat of their pants, as filmmaker James Ivory vividly remembers in Stephen Soucy’s documentary, Merchant Ivory, which opens today in New York.

It was their mutual love of Indian cinema and culture that first brought James Ivory and Ismail Merchant together. After their initial encounters in New York, they met up again in India, where they began their first of many collaborations. Their early works, like Shakespeare Wallah were literary, but also cross cultural. Of course, they gained international fame and acclaim with their adaptations of E.M. Forster and Henry James.

Classic Merchant Ivory films were directed by Ivory, produced by Merchant, written (or rather adapted) by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, and scored by Richard Robbins, all of whom lived together, in an almost communal relationship. It was widely known, even at the time, Ivory and Merchant were partners creatively, commercially, and personally. Yet, there was also something going on between Merchant and Robbins in later years, but it did not particularly bother Ivory—or so he says. Regardless, their closest friends and co-workers admit they are still not sure what the heck was going on there.

Sadly, only Ivory remains of the four, but he happily reminisces for Soucy’s behalf. The film also features commentary from many prominent thesps who appeared in their films, including Emma Thompson (Howard’s End, Remains of the Day), Hugh Grant (Maurice), Helena Carter Bonham (Room with a View), Greta Scacchi (Heat and Dust), and Felicity Kendal (Shakespeare Wallah). Unfortunately, Sir Anthony Hopkins never appears, perhaps because he sued for his unpaid salary due from The City of Your Final Destination.

Frankly, some of the best stories in Merchant Ivory describe how Merchant managed to wheel and deal and somehow finagle funding at the very last minute, for productions well underway. Merchant Ivory films were classy and literate, but as a producer, Merchant evidently shared a kinship with Cannon’s Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus. Apparently, his knack for scrounging money was sorely missed on Final Destination, the only Merchant Ivory film produced after his Merchant’s death.

Terminator Zero, in Cinema Daily US

In the franchise's anime debut, TERMINATOR ZERO shrewdly taps into the growing anxiety surrounding AI, as well as nostalgia for the original 1980s films (which largely sowed the seeds of our collective unease, in the first place), for some smart and action-packed science fiction. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.

Abel & Gordon’s The Falling Star

Lima Syndrome is the opposite of Stockholm Syndrome, but can the phenomenon really happen if the abductee does not know he has been kidnapped? That question will be debated in this French caper, but can it really be considered a thriller when it features so many visual gags and dancing numbers? Dominique Abel & Fiona Gordon apply their singular Jacques Tati-inspired style to film noir genre in The Falling Star, which opens this Friday in New York.

Years ago, Boris called in a bomb-threat on behalf of one of his leftwing causes, but the ensuing mayhem turned ugly. Since then, he has laid low, working as the bartender at the neighborhood dive, the Falling Star, while reliving the carnage every night in his dreams. Then one day, the one-armed Georges walks into the bar seeking revenge, but he is forced to retreat when his first shot dislodges his prosthetic.

Fearing Georges (or someone more competent) will soon return, Boris’s wife Kayoko and their loyal bouncer Tim hatch a scheme to find a double for the domestic terrorist, who will die in his place. Initially, it seems like Dom perfectly fits the bill. However, they do not realize the morose loner has a wife, Fiona the private detective, who soon starts looking for her missing husband. To really complicate matters, Kayoko falls in love with her husband’s sacrificial doppelganger. Of course, Georges is still out there, having survived several of Kayoko’s attempts to induce massive heart failure. Naturally, it all culminates in an extended dance number.

Abel & Gordon, the duo that produced the wonderfully gentle Lost in Paris and The Fairy, are incredibly bold filmmakers. Nobody else would dare make a slapstick musical comedy featuring domestic terrorists and a couple grieving their tragically deceased child as the main characters. Potentially, it is a tonal minefield, but they charge right in, trusting their aesthetic instincts. The results are poignantly bittersweet and deeply humanistic. Yet, the crazy part is, all the mysterious intrigue still works on a genre level.