Absolution, Starring Liam Neeson

Why do young thugs keep underestimating and disrespecting old bad*sses? Don’t they know the old guys have more experience and greater likelihood of saying “to heck with it,” or something like that? Haven’t they seen any Clint Eastwood or Liam Neeson movies? This one is a Liam Neeson film. He plays a man simply called “Thug” in the credits who is losing his faculties, but he steely as ever in Hans Petter Moland’s Absolution, which opens today in theaters.

This might not be the first time Leeson played a tough guy losing his memory. I can’t remember, can you? Regardless, he is in familiar territory playing the “Thug,” who has many regrets, starting with the realization he is his violent father’s son. Lately, his undiagnosed CTE has progressed to the point he must resort to jotting down key details of his life, including the name of his gangster boss, Charlie Conner.

Awkwardly, Conner assigned the Thug to his idiot son, Kyle, who wants to take over the family business. Of course, Junior lacks both the brains and the guts, but the Thug often covers for him, which makes the entitled junior gangster resent him even more.

By the time the former boxer gets himself checked out, the prognosis is grim. He waited way too late, but there really isn’t any treatment anyway. He still might have time to patch things up with his daughter Daisy, but it will take repeated efforts to wear down her calcified resentments. However, Dre, the grandson he never knew he had, shows some curious interest in the steely old man. Weirdly, the “Woman” he picked up in a bar also shows some interest. Yet, ironically, when the Thug can hardly remember the most important aspects of his personal life, he cannot forget the desperate woman he unknowingly helped traffic, as part of a sketchy deal the younger Conner negotiated [poorly].

Frankly, critics do not give Neeson’s recent action films enough credit for maturing with their star. The better ones, like In the Land of Saints and Sinners and The Marksman are character studies of men facing their mortality and meditations on the psychological and social costs of violence. Frankly, all three are pretty strong movies. Arguably, the less distribution Neeson’s films get, the more apt they are to be good (that could very well apply to plenty of other thesps, as well).

Regardless, Neeson is rock-solid as the Thug, including the legit dramatic parts, when the enforcer is forced to face the implications of his diagnosis. Actors have won nominations for worse performances involving similar material, but critics will automatically dismiss Neeson because he also kicks a lot of butt.

Succubus, Co-Starring Ron Perlman

Critics like to ding 1980s slashers for their alleged puritanical punishment of promiscuity. Yet, modern horror movies are little different whenever sexting or booty-call apps are involved. The randy and unfaithful typical face swift and violent chastisement. In most cases, the age-old principle—if it seems too good to be true—also usually applies. That is certainly the case for Chris, who knows his app match is way out of his league, but he keeps video-chatting her anyway in R.J. Daniel Hanna’s Succubus, which releases today on VOD.

Newly separated, Chris feels like a loser, but this is one of nights the depressed father has custody of his little baby. That probably ought to be the focus of his concentration, but he lets his overbearing dude-bro buddy Eddie talk him into opening a hook-up account and starting “swiping” women. Awkwardly, he accidentally swipes one of his (technically still) wife’s friends. He also swipes on Adra, who keeps her features shrouded, but her body makes Eddie drool like a dog.

Weirdly, Adra seems very interesting in Chris and eager to meet in person. However, he must come to her. Implying some vague peril, Adra insists she cannot take off her dark glasses, due to some unexplained injury. Somehow, disgraced academic Dr. Orion Zephyr urgently sends him warnings not to trust her, having somehow detected their contact. However, Chris is in no mood to talk to an older guy who looks like Ron Perlman.

It is no secret, except to Chris and Eddie, that Adra is something very demonically different from what she presents herself to be (its titled Succubus, after all). Despite their thick-headedness, the film is a surprisingly suspenseful supernatural variation on Unfriended-style online horror.

There is a lot of “ScreenLife”-ish scenes, but there is enough real time action to alleviate the potential staginess. Perlman’s entrance as the questionable Zephyr, who is not exactly the cavalry, is also a highly effective de-stabilizing development.

Apple & Doug Liman’s The Instigators

Boston's two leading industries must be organized crime and political corruption. Frankly, the latter produces so much dirty money, a shady crime lord organizes a heist targeting the mayor’s dirty cash. However, the long-suffering voters complicate the caper in Doug Liman’s The Instigators, which opens today in theaters, ahead of its August 9^th premiere on Apple TV+.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, the ruthless Mr. Besegai has a shortage of henchmen, so his impulse control-challenged lieutenant Scalvo must recruit from the bottom of the barrel. He finds Cobby, and ex-con who is decidedly rusty and Rory, a veteran with money trouble who will be committing his first illegal job ever.

According to the plan, the three will sneak into Mayor Miccelli’s primary election victory party and steal all the bribe money he collected in suspicious plain brown envelopes stashed in the safe, long after the revelers have gone home. Of course, everything goes wrong.

For starters, Miccelli and most of his cronies are still there, because this election is much closer than anticipated. In fact, it is pretty clear he lost. On the other hand, there is almost no cash, because a special armored car was requested for all his ill-gotten loot. Instead, Scalvo starts holding up party guests, including the Mayor, taking a very important bracelet with a critically important set of numbers inscribed on the back. Miccelli needs it back, especially since he apparently must soon vacate his office, so he calls Frank Toomey, his enforcer with a badge (and an armored assault vehicle for a car), to recover it.

Like his brother Ben, co-screenwriter and co-star Casey Affleck clearly has an affinity for Boston crooks. However, he and co-writer Chuck Maclean recognize the worst criminals are those plundering the public trust. In fact, their treatment of Beantown pols is unexpectedly shrewd including their depiction of the supposed progressive reformer.

Ron Perlman is perfectly cast, slyly chewing the scenery as the grotesquely corrupt Mayor Miccelli. Affleck and Matt Damon have amusing chemistry as the bickering blokes. Neither comes across as a complete idiot. Instead, Damon plays Rory a stubbornly naïve Joe Sixpack, who always has to do things the hard way, while Affleck leans into Cobby’s roguishly degenerate lunkheadedness.

Mr. & Mrs. Smith, on Prime Video

The most dangerous weapons these two agents wield are not guns or explosives. No, their whiny, neurotic personalities are far more lethal. Weaker people will yearn for the sweet release of death after a mere five minutes listening to them bicker and kvetch. Supposedly, this series is based on the 2005 Doug Liman film about super-spy assassins, who did not realize they were in the same business, but it is hard to tell from all the changes that were made. This time, the couple knowingly agrees to work undercover together and they might also leave the clandestine service together, feet first, in creators Donald Glover & Francesca Sloane’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith, which premieres today on Prime Video.

Perhaps you would hope two rookie agents would talk to a live person before killing people for their new agency, but not “John and Jane Smith.” Admittedly, Jane has sociopathic tendencies, so there’s that. Judging from the computer-automated interviews that dominate the first half of the initial episode, “First Date,” the Smiths were matched up because they both like pasta.

Obviously, those are not their real names. It is also clear there are other Smiths out there, like the ones in the prologue, whose fate suggests Smiths have a rather short shelf-life. Regardless, the new couple meshes reasonably okay. Initially, she thinks they should keep it strictly professional, but that caution will not last long.

The Smiths get three mission failures before its curtains for them. Unfortunately, they pick up a quick fail in episode two, “Second Date,” when they are ordered to abduct Eric Shane, a shady Epstein-like real estate tycoon, played by Johnn Turturro. In fact, several of the notable guest stars are the best thing about the Glover & Sloane take on Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Turturo is both creepy and dryly mordant as Shane. Similarly, Ron Perlman terrific in both funny and sad ways, subverting his larger-than-life image. as Toby Hellinger, a broken-down former wheeler-dealer, whom the Smiths are supposed to “save.”

Probably, Wagner Moura and Parker Posey should have been the stars of the series, because they really liven things up in their two appearances as the “Other Smiths,” who offer the new Smiths some career advice after a chance encounter. The Other Smiths do not waste our time with navel-gazing or pseudo-hip jargon-laden banter, because life is too short, particularly for their targets.

If you thought the Pitt-Jolie movie needed more talky examination of gender-based relationship expectations and less action, than maybe this Mr. & Mrs. Smith is for you. Everyone else will probably put their hands over their ears and start yelling “Shut up! Shut up!” They say the sign of good relationship is an ability to be silent together. Regrettably, the new Smiths never get there.

Fittingly, Perlman’s episode, “Do You Want Kids,” features the best action sequences of the series, wherein the Smiths drag the degenerate Hellinger huffing and wheezing his way through the picturesque towns surrounding Lake Como. Over the course of the series, there are a further three or four well-executed fight scenes interspersed amid the overwritten dialogue, but the talking never stops for long.

Heroes of the Golden Mask

These superheroes are inspired by the Bronze Masks of Sanxingdui unearthed by archaeologists in Sichuan back in the late 80’s, but they have been upgraded to gold. Apparently, gold is more blingy and it presumably costs the same to animate. Charlie would also prefer gold, because of its higher re-sale value. Few people consider him a hero, least of all Charlie, but a hero-less mask chooses him anyway in Sean Patrick O’Reilly’s Heroes of the Golden Mask, which releases this Friday in VOD.

Li’s father was the leader of the Golden Mask quintet of heroes, until he died in battle against the evil super-villain Kunyi, who is determined to steal Sanxingdui’s mystical Jade Blade. The archer and her team-mates, including a Chinese Zodiac-shape-shifter, a hammer-wielding fish-person from Atlantis, and a telekinetic juggler, know Kunyi will be back, so Li must let her dad’s mask divine its next host. Bizarrely, it picks crime-infested contemporary Chicago as the place to find a new hero.

Charlie is an orphaned pick-pocket, who lives by his fingers and wits. He is a thief, but he is hardly the nastiest criminal in Chicago. Unfortunately, he owes money to the far worse Rizzo, whose voice was supplied by the late Christopher Plummer. When things get too hot for Charlie, Li provides a convenient escape, but he is reluctant to embrace his new heroic role.

Golden Mask holds the distinction of being Plummer’s final screen credit. Frankly, his familiar Transatlantic accent would seem like an odd choice for the Capone-like Rizzo, but his growling whisper does not sound completely out of place. Without a doubt, Ron Perlman’s voice is best cast as the sinister Kunyi, whereas Patton Oswalt is the most annoying as Aesop, the whining Atlantean.

The Great War: The Buffalo Soldiers Behind Enemy Lines

One of the great heroes of ragtime-early jazz music was bandleader James Reese Europe, who as a commissioned Lieutenant in the New York National Guard led his military band in performances and the 369^th Infantry, known as the “Harlem Hellfighters” in combat. Educating the public on Europe’s life, music, and legacy is one of our pet projects. Despite their music and service, the Fighting 369^th is not as well-remembered as the 10^th Cavalry Regiment, better known as the “Buffalo Soldiers,” who deserve all their recognition. They served in combat during the American-Indian, the Johnson County, the Spanish-American, and Philippine-American Wars, and very definitely World War I. A somewhat prejudiced white officer will learn to appreciate his Buffalo Soldiers comrades in screenwriter-director Steven Luke’s The Great War, which opens this Friday in New York.

Armistice is imminent, but for geopolitical reasons, the troops in the trenches are supposed to fight to gain every last inch of ground before it goes into effect. Gen. “Black Jack” Pershing is not happy about it, but he has his orders, just like the soldiers under him. However, when he learns the 10^th Cavalry’s heroic push has left them stranded behind enemy lines, he sends orders down the chain-of-command to dispatch a platoon to escort them to safety.

Captain William Rivers is less than thrilled about his assignment. Even though his best friend was the Buffalo Soldiers’ progressive late Captain, he still harbors rather unenlightened racial notions. Some of his men are even worse. However, orders are orders. Grudgingly, he starts to respect Private John Cain, the messenger from the 10^th temporarily attached to his platoon. He also feels mixed feelings of guilt and respect for the mystery Buffalo Soldier who gave him the slapping he needed when temporarily paralyzed by “shellshock.”

Great War could be cynically dubbed “Saving the Buffalo Soldiers,” or “Glory Fifty Years Later,” but it is important to note the African American soldiers will have ample opportunity to fight like Hell during the third act. In fact, Luke does a pretty credible job giving the soldiers of the 10^th independent agency and largely avoiding the pitfalls of “white savior narratives,” to use the nauseatingly woke term. His real talent seems to be staging scenes of warfighting on a limited budget, especially the rousing climatic battle.

Ron Perlman is Asher

Sure, the pay is great, but hitmen do not have any benefits. You have to build your nest egg without any matching contributions and your medical is 100% co-pay. These things start to matter when you get to be Asher’s age. He doesn’t think he is going anywhere, but his body is not so sure in Michael Caton-Jones’s Asher (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Frankly, Asher would not have lasted this long if he were not so lethally effective at his job. However, his latest assignment got a little complicated. A hot day combined with an out-of-order elevator leads to a fainting spell he recovers from in Sophie’s apartment. Of course, she has no idea he is there to kill her neighbor, but his gruff, socially awkward behavior will make her think twice when he returns to ask her out. Nevertheless, she is curious enough to eventually accept, at which point they start to click.

Arguably, this is the perfect time for Asher to get serious about a relationship and ease out of the business. His former protégé has been getting all the really choice contracts lately. However, it hard for a cat like Asher to change his ways. Unfortunately, that also means Sophie could be at risk when a dodgy assignment he was talked into taking turns into a full-blown vendetta.

Asher is a relatively small, unassuming film, with a little bit Tarantino style action, but it works on its own level. In some ways, it could be considered Ron Perlman’s Gran Torino or Harry Brown, in which he contemplates his own mortality within the sort of off-center genre film that he is certainly no stranger to. He was probably born to be Asher, but he plays the part with surprising restraint—and even a little bit of soul.

Famke Janssen is also terrific as Sophie, portraying her as smart, seductive, and vulnerable, as well as a little naïve. She and Perlman develop some pleasantly easy-going chemistry together. On the other hand, it is depressing to see Jacqueline Bissett cast as yet another dementia-troubled mother. In fact, the side-plot involving Sophie’s mom Dora threatens to drag the film down the same unrewarding narrative path as Grace Quigley (Katharine Hepburn’s final big-screen star vehicle), but Caton-Jones pulls it out of that nose-dive.

In fact, Caton-Jones has the right touch for this material, maintaining a vibe that is dark and serious, yet somehow also light. Despite all of Asher’s brooding and seething, the film moves along at a spritely tempo. This is not a monumental cinematic statement, but it is an entertaining (yet surprisingly honest) film that Perlman’s fans will particularly enjoy. Essentially, it is grittier than The Hitman’s Bodyguard, but more humanistic than Schneider vs. Bax. Recommended fans of Perlman and hitman comedies, Asher opens today (12/7) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

The Escape of Prisoner 614

Shandaken, NY was originally partly carved out of the town of Woodstock (as in the big muddy music fest), but its sheriff seems to think it is nestled somewhere in the deep south. The troglodytic lawman is about to fire his two witless deputies—probably his only defensible action in the entire film. To regain their badges, they will attempt to recapture a fugitive convict, but the plan gets rather complicated when they start to suspect he is innocent. Justice gets clumsy and oafish in Zach Golden’s The Escape of Prisoner 614 (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Thurman Hayford is the more confident deputy, whereas Jim Doyle is the nebbish dweeb, but between the two of them, they have not recorded an arrest in years. They argue that means they have been completely effective keeping Shandaken crime-free (they got that line from Marla at the diner), but the Sheriff is not buying it. However, when they take a call from the warden warning Prisoner 614 is loose in their jurisdiction, they head out to capture him.

Somehow, they manage to do exactly that, but the more they hear from their prisoner, the more they doubt the fairness of his trial and appeal. Of course, the Sheriff will not want to hear any of that when he catches up with them.

Tonally, this film is an absolute disaster area. Issues of race and injustice are heavy themes that demand serious treatment, but here they are basically window dressing for a slapstick buddy comedy. 614 plays like an ill-conceived cross between To Kill a Mockingbird and The Apple Dumpling Gang, with Don Knotts and Tim Conway.

Even the ordinarily reliable Ron Perlman cannot salvage 614. In fact, all the glowering he does as the Sheriff starts to come off as lazy shtick. He is still more watchable than either Martin Starr or Jake McDorman as the underwhelming deputies. As the titular escapee, George Sample III looks like he can hardly believe he is in this uncomfortable situation, which we can’t blame him for.

Whatever Golden was going for didn’t happen. It all looks modern day, but it feels like he is going for a period vibe. Presumably, he wants to make a statement, but the broad, sloppy humor drown it out. Not recommended, The Escape of Prisoner 614 opens this Friday (4/27) in New York, at the Village East.

Tribeca ’17: Chuck

His story might sound familiar, but it is important to understand he is the original article. New Jersey’s own Chuck Wepner was the inspiration for Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky and by extension, dozens of underdog boxer-wrestler-mixed martial artist films. Wepner was uncharitably known as the “Bayonne Bleeder” due to his unfortunate propensity to suffer cuts in the ring, but nobody ever questioned his toughest. Take a trip back to the 1970s to revisit the grunge and the glory of boxing at the peak of its popularity in Philippe Falardeau’s Chuck (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York following its U.S. premiere at the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival.

Wepner’s skills were never that spectacular, but his cement head and dogged determination won him enough fights to eventually rank him in the top ten. He just so happened to be the top-ranked white guy just when Muhammad Ali and Don King were looking for a low-stress title defense they could racially hype. However, Wepner turned out to be one of the few “Great White Hopes” in the history of boxing who exceeded expectations. Of course, he never came close to winning, but he hung in there, making it one of Ali’s ugliest victories ever.

He was already a local celebrity in Jersey, but Wepner’s gutty performance made him a minor media celebrity for fifteen minutes. Inevitably, it goes to his head, costing him his marriage to the long-suffering Phyl. Yet, just like the movie boxers he inspired, Wepner would have a chance at redemption, but he would have to look outside the ring.

Chuck (a.k.a. The Bleeder) is a terrific sports biopic that hits all the right notes. Falardeau and his design team capture all the grit and sleaze of the 1970s, cruelly inflicting a relentlessly era-appropriate wardrobe on the big-name cast. The Monsieur Lazhar helmer sure-footedly balances the outrageousness of Wepner’s frequently over-the-top persona (the film opens in media res with an aging Wepner’s barfight with a trained bear) and the grimy realism of the Jersey milieu.

Liev Schreiber (the bane of auto-spelling corrections) is also pitch-perfect as Wepner. He lays out all of the fighter’s myriad character flaws for all to see, but he also connects with Wepner’s insecurities. Schrieber develops potent but utterly believable chemistry with both Elizabeth Moss (who is utterly devastating when tearing into the cheating Wepner in a pivotal fall-from-grace scene) and a nearly unrecognizable Naomi Watts, playing the woman who stood by Wepner at his lowest moments. Plus, for even further hardnosed attitude, the great Ron Perlman does his thing as Wepner’s grizzled trainer-manager, Al Braverman.

Chuck the film is too honest and bittersweet to indulge in phony triumphalism, but it is still a great deal of fun. If you have ever enjoyed any of the Rocky, Penitentiary, Best of the Best, or Karate Kid franchises, you really ought to check out Chuck, because it is the real deal. Thoroughly entertaining, Chuck opens this Friday (5/5) in New York, at the AMC Loews Lincoln Square uptown and the Regal Union Square downtown, following its American premiere at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Moonwalkers: Idiots Will Believe It

Conspiracy theory nutters have widely cited the French film Dark Side of the Moon for supposedly exposing the “Moon Landing Hoax.” The problem is William Karel’s ostensive expose is actually a mockumentary poking fun at the very same tone deaf loons taking it for Gospel. Therefore, it would not be surprising if the same anti-social paranoids conclude this silly, somewhat slapstick farce is also a defiant act of Trufe-telling. Break out your tinfoil hat, because Antoine Bardou-Jacquet’s Moonwalkers (trailer here) opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

As the wackos heard throughout Room 237 make abundantly clear, there are people out there who really think Stanley Kubrick dummied-up the Moon Landing footage for the CIA, which makes no sense if you know anything about his iconoclastic aversion to ideology and bureaucracy. Nevertheless, CIA agent Tom Kidman has been ordered to recruit Kubrick to produce said video, just in case. In point of fact, it is indeed true some projections gave the Apollo 11 astronauts only a 30% chance of survival.

Of course, through what is meant to be a comedic chain of events, Kidman is forced to really on Jonny, a nebbish would-be rock band manager and the band of hippy dippy experimental filmmakers he sometimes does drugs with. Jonny also happens to be deeply in debt to a London loan shark, who tried to collect from Kidman’s briefcase full of cash. Of course Kidman had different ideas, resulting in several dead thugs and a whole lot of bruised underworld egos. Further complicating matters, a platoon of Langley Boy Scouts arrive just as the PTSD-suffering Kidman starts to go native.

There is way more blood in Moonwalkers than you would expect in a silly mash-up, which might be the best thing to say about it. As usual, Ron Perlman is seriously bad and drily funny as Kidman, even with all the tie-dyed bedlam going on around him. Maybe you have to have nostalgia for the Harry Potter franchise to get Rupert Grint. Otherwise, his Jonny just comes across as an annoyingly pathetic drip. Robert Sheehan and Tom Audenaert deliver shtick and more shtick as Jonny’s hippy filmmaker pals. At least Erika Sainte generates some heat with Perlman as the counter-culture vamp, Ella.

Buzz Aldrin would probably like to give screenwriter Dean Craig a knuckle sandwich and who could blame him? It takes one of the most triumphant moments in American (and human) history and reduces it to sex and drug jokes. They could have at least been funnier. Yet perhaps most problematically, Craig and Bardou-Jacquet openly invite the audience to cheer with bloodlust for the third act deaths of all the CIA agents not named Kidman. Frankly, both the astronauts and CIA agents who have sacrificed their lives for this country deserve more respect. Not recommended, Moonwalkers opens this Friday (1/15) at the Laemmle theaters in Los Angeles.

Scary Movies 9: The Last Winter

When you think about it, fossil fuels are sort of macabre, because they are the remains of formerly living things. Hold that thought, because Larry Fessenden will get back to it. The Earth is apparently angry, it will take out its frustrations on a remote Alaskan oil exploration station in Fessenden’s The Last Winter (trailer here), which screens as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Scary Movies 9, in celebration of the 30^th anniversary of Fessenden’s Glass Eye Pix.

In an alternate universe, a small way-the-heck-and-gone corner of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge has been opened to drilling—more or less. The North Corporation still has a lot of hoops to jump through before it can start pumping crude. Their environmental impact must be minimal, so they have brought on board several former activists to certify everything is on the up-and-up. Presumably, it will be worth it. A local Inuit tribe commissioned the exploratory KIK well in the 1970s—the results of which have been a closely guarded source of much speculation ever since.

Unfortunately for project manager Ed Pollock, the weather has not cooperated. It simply has not been cold enough to construct their low-impact ice roads, so bleeding heart James Hoffman refuses to sign off on any further development. To add insult to injury, Hoffman has taken up with Pollock’s deputy and former main squeeze Abby Sellers. Of course, everyone will have more pressing things to worry about when Maxwell McKinder goes start raving mad. He is the first, but he won’t be the last. Something is obviously very wrong, but the gritty petroleum workers are rather dismissive of Hoffman’s warnings of a vengeful Mother Nature.

Yes, there are similarities between Winter and M. Night Shyamalan’s notorious The Happening, but Fessenden’s indie horror film predated the ill-conceived studio release by two years. It is also much more skillfully executed—and it has Ron Perlman.

Still, there is no denying Fessenden’s messaging gets a tad heavy-handed, especially down the stretch. On the plus side, he brings some real visual flash and dazzle, including several terrific tracking shots and a number of appropriately unsettling, psychologically expressive montages that could possibly induce seizures in some viewers. Fessenden also earns style points for his unexpected use of the classic Nina Simone recording of “My Baby Just Cares for Me.”

As usual, Perlman does his thing as Pollock. Really, what more needs to be said? Yet, as Hoffman, James LeGros stands his ground with Perlman quite well. In fact, both actors and Fessenden deserve credit for portraying their rivalry relatively subtly, rather resorting to the tritest red state-blue state clichés.

Fessenden totally nails the kind of frozen, claustrophobic moodiness that made John Carpenter’s The Thing a classic. However, the film suffers from the lack of a proper monster. Winter also commits a minor Chekhov’s Gun infraction, fixating a lot of early attention on the KIK well (it’s right there on the one-sheet) that never appreciably pays off. Last Winter is a mixed bag, but it certainly proves there are auterist level filmmakers working in the contemporary horror genre. Recommended for Fessenden fans who want to see his expansive tundra vistas on the big screen, The Last Winter screens as part of Scary Movies 9 this Tuesday (11/3) at Walter Reade, with Fessenden, Perlman, and LeGros expected for Q&A afterward.

Skin Trade: the Dolph Lundgren-Tony Jaa Team-Up

If testosterone were enough to solve a problem like human trafficking, Det. Nick Cassidy could pretty much lick it single-handedly. Even with the whole world allied against him, Cassidy will still basically take that one-angry-cop approach. Fortunately, he will eventually team-up with Bangkok copper proficient in Muay Thai. At that point, all bets are off in Ekachai Uekrongtham’s Skin Trade (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Serbian gangster Viktor Dragovic stands atop a global trafficking empire, but the most important hub is in Thailand. Much to his regret, one of his more talented sons is killed by Cassidy during the course of an operation on the Jersey docks. In retaliation, Dragovic gets Biblical, killing Cassidy’s wife and daughter and leaving him for dead. The thing is, you can never leave a cat like Cassidy dead enough. Despite about fifty bullets wounds, Cassidy drags himself out of the hospital and hops on a plane to Thailand for some stone cold vengeance.

Sure, so far, so good. However, things get a little dicey when corrupt FBI Agent Eddie Jones frames Cassidy for the murder of Bangkok cop Tony Vitayakul’s partner, about five minutes after landing. While Cassidy works his way through Dragovic’s organization, Vitayakul pursues the rogue cop. He also frets over his girlfriend, Min, a victim of trafficking now serving as an undercover informant.

Just get a load of this cast: Tony Jaa, Dolph Lundgren, Ron Perlman, Michael Jai White, Peter Weller (as Costello, Cassidy’s crusty captain), and Celina Jade. You’re probably thinking: “what, no Michael Ironside?” He must have had a conflict. Needless to say, if you have Jaa and Lungren fight each other and then square-off against Perlman and White, you are on pretty solid ground.

Indeed, Jaa’s moves do not disappoint. The indestructibleness of Lungren’s Cassidy becomes almost a running gag, but let’s face, the man looks like a tank. White clearly enjoys getting his villainy on as Jones, and he hasn’t lost a step since the criminally under-appreciated Falcon Rising either, while Perlman chews the scenery like an old genre pro. Jade shows off a few moves here and there, but the Legendary Assassin star is definitely the one who gets short-changed in the action department.

Skin Trade follows in the long, noble tradition of taking a serious issue (often with tragic implications) and turning it into an exploitation movie. To his credit, co-writer-producer Lungren started developing the idea when he read about a particularly egregious trafficking case, so consider your consciousness duly raised. He and his co-writers display a style similar to his character’s, relentlessly plowing straight ahead. At least it’s serviceable and the action sequences deliver plenty of red meat. Come for the martial arts and stay for the payback when Skin Trade opens this Friday (5/8) in Los Angeles, at the Sundance Sunset Cinemas (and New Yorkers can catch it on June 12^th at MoMI or get it now VOD via iTunes).

Poker Night: Know When to Walk Away, Know When to Run

In this case, poker is not a metaphor for thermonuclear war or anything else. It is a social convention. As a rookie detective in Warsaw, Indiana, the newbie is expected to lose money and listen to the stories of the crafty veterans to gain from their hard-earned experiences. Unfortunately, he will only have one night of lessons to apply before he is abducted by a serial killer in Greg Francis’s Poker Night (trailer here), which releases on VOD and in select theaters this Friday.

Jeter made a name for himself breaking a big case, but at least one of the grizzled detectives is not convinced the whippersnapper deserves his seat at the table. However, the legendary Det. Calabrese (played by Ron Perlman) is in his corner, so end of discussion. Each of the four greybeards relates an anecdote with practical applications that Jeter will realize over time, as he languishes chained up in the hooded maniac’s customized basement.

Much to Jeter’s distress, his captor is also holding Amy Maxwell, the daughter of his least welcoming colleague, with whom he has been carrying on a dangerously flirtatious but not yet criminal relationship. He quickly draws his first conclusion: his predicament is not random. It is personal.

Poker Night is about as uneven as a film can get. When it features great character actors like Perlman, Giancarlo Esposito, and Titus Welliver trash talking and telling sea stories, it is a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the vanilla Beau Mirchoff is no match for any of them, yet he carries the film’s dramatic load. He even takes their places on camera as he starts to envision their stories through his eyes.

Still, there is a distinctive streak of pitch black humor running through the film. Francis also turns a few good twists, but he does not know when to stop. The ultimate ending (following several false stops) makes absolutely no sense within the film’s narrative context. Sensitive viewers should be further warned, Poker Night can get a little rough. Strictly speaking, it is more of a thriller than a horror film, but you can definitely see the Saw franchise from here.

Arguably, Poker Night’s concept would work better as an ongoing television show than a one-shot feature. Each week, a different reminiscence could illuminate dumb plodding Jeter’s latest case. It would also force the showrunner to keep things more focused and grounded, which would be all to the good. Nevertheless, it is hard to get really down on any film that lets Perlman and Esposito do their thing. Strictly for the cult stars’ fans, Poker Night launches on VOD and opens simultaneously in limited release tomorrow (12/5).

13 Sins: The Game of Death Moves to New Orleans

It is sort of like Fincher’s The Game, with the economic sensibilities of Glengarry Glen Ross. Supposedly, its origins trace back to ancient Rome, but savvy Asian film fans will recognize its first cinematic manifestation came in Chukiat Sakveerakul’s 13: Game of Death. Daniel Stamm re-conceives the macabre Thai thriller in New Orleans, where the desperate will still be tempted to commit the most heinous crimes throughout 13 Sins (trailer here), which launches on DVD today.

Elliot Brindle would agree with Alec Baldwin, sales is a “tough racket.” Recently fired from his firm for not being sufficiently predatory, Brindle is already drowning in debt. In addition to his pending wedding to his pregnant girlfriend, Brindle suddenly must also cover his developmentally disabled brother’s outpatient treatment and care for his ailing racist father.

Things are looking pretty depressed for Brindle, but from out of the blue, a mystery caller offers him one thousand baht (sorry, make that dollars) to kill the fly buzzing around his car. Yes, their apparent surveillance is a little disconcerting, but he does it anyway and the money is immediately deposited in his account. The voice of character actor George Coe then offers him more money to eat the fly, which is does, knowing it is just protein. Those were the first two challenges out of thirteen. Of course, they escalate in severity, but Brindle is already hooked. Failure will result in the forfeiture of his winnings, but all the felonies he is about to commit will be wiped clean with ultimate victory.

Stamm and co-adapter David Birke cleverly devise challenges that are graphic and game-worthy, but not so repellent they irreparably sabotage our rooting interest in Brindle. There are some okay twists to the tale, but the big one stretches credibility. For the most part, Stamm keeps the film humming along slick and tight, without belaboring the class warfare undercurrent.

13 Sins also benefits from ever-watchable genre vets Ron Perlman and Pruitt Taylor Vince as the tight-lipped Det. Chilcoat and the twitchy conspiracy theorist Vogler, respectively. Stamm has them standing around more than he should, but they each deliver one of the film’s two best lines in perfect deadpan style.

In contrast, Mark Webber is a rather weak lead, but he is still convincingly earnest and put-upon as poor Brindle. Frankly, Tom Bower frequently up-stages him as his snarling old man. On the down side, Devon Graye’s performance as brother Michael is just problematic on multiple levels.

By thriller standards, 13 Sins is serviceable enough, but it never fully captures the flavor of its NOLA setting. Frankly, that was a lost opportunity to give the film a more distinctive identity. A professional return to familiar territory, 13 Sins is a passable but not essential viewing for fans of dark thrillers with a dash of horror seasoning. It is now available on DVD and BluRay from Anchor Bay and Radius TWC.

Kid Cannabis: The Canadian Connection

It was a case that just might change how you think about Idaho. Potatoes are still the state’s cash crop, but there was (and presumably still is) plenty of “B.C. Bud,” as in British Columbia, just across the border. For an awkward high school drop-out, it represented an opportunity that turned out to be golden—at least for a while. Based on the true stoner story of Nate Norman, John Stockwell’s Kid Cannabis (trailer here) opens this Friday in New York.

Norman started at the bottom of the social pyramid in his sleepy Idaho town. Delivering pizzas to support his troubled single mother and younger brother, he and his mate Topher Clark have only one pleasure in life—weed. Unfortunately, the local dealer, privileged adoptee Brendan Butler, only sells crummy stems and seeds at inflated prices. However, it is a different world up in Nelson, Canada. After a bit of reconnoitering, the lads blunder into a dream supplier: organic farmer and connoisseur John Grefard.

Hiring his misfit high school cronies as runners, Norman establishes a high volume trafficking operation, with the financial backing of Barry Lerner, a vaguely Russian sounding gangster and cell phone store magnate. When the money starts flooding in, Norman and Clark predictably lose their heads binging on drugs, parties, and women. Unfortunately, rather than finding competitive inspiration from Norman’s lower prices and higher quality product, Butler opts to go gangster.

Right, this is a total stoner movie. Even if only a handful of people see Kid in theaters this Friday, nearly every frat boy in America will know it by heart in a few years. True to genre form, it gives the outward appearance of a cautionary morality tale, but really implies the good times were totally worth it.

As if the hedonistic excesses were not enough, Kid also has Ron Perlman and John C. McGinley for cult film fans. Perlman could probably play Lerner is his sleep, but he is still cool as Fonzy whenever he is on-screen. While McGinley only appears in an early sequence, he memorably supplies the film’s (thoroughly high) voice of reason. Happily, Jonathan Daniel Brown exceeds expectations as Norman, largely avoiding lazy shtick and cheap sentiment. In contrast, the rest of his criminal associates are a dull, colorless lot, except for Aaron Yoo chewing the scenery like a hash brownie as the increasingly erratic Butler. In fact, Norman’s best bud Clark is so lifeless, one might assume he is a refuge from a zombie flick.

Evidently Stockwell is quite the working director, with Kid opening a mere two weeks after the release of In the Blood. Nobody will accuse him of being an auteur or a pretentious stylist (even if he was part of Andy Warhol’s inner circle), but he has a knack for keeping things snappy. It all flows along nicely, keeping viewers hooked, despite telegraphing exactly where it is all headed.

Remember kids, drugs are bad and trafficking is really, really dangerous. While not exactly a good movie per se, Kid Cannabis is something of a guilty pleasure that certainly accomplishes everything it sets out to do. Recommended for those who will relate, Kid Cannabis opens this Friday (4/18) in New York at the Village East.

Crave: A Violent Imagination

This freelance crime photographer certainly lacks the endearing personality and slightly ribald history of the great Weegee (a.k.a. Arthur Fellig). He is also a bit challenged in the mental health department as well. His violent fantasies threaten to erupt into his real life during Charles de Lauzirika’s Crave (trailer here), which opens in select theaters later in the week.

Aiden is constantly thinking of what he might do to stand up the rampant crime around him, if he only had the guts.  Typically, his fantasies involve some bloody form of payback, followed by an expression of appreciation from an attractive bystander.  Photographing crime scenes has probably warped his perspective on humanity.  At least he still has one friend: Pete, a cop and fellow AA member.

Against all odds, Aiden commences a halting romantic relationship with Virginia, the neighbor he has long carried a torch for.  However, his extreme social awkwardness and simmering anger predictably pushes her away, just about the time he pockets a discarded hand gun from a crime scene.  These developments will not have a positive effect on his general stability.

Few genre-ish films are as uncompromisingly gritty and pessimistic as the ill-titled Crave.  Set in a pointedly crime-infested Detroit, things start out thoroughly crummy and head swiftly downhill from there.  The Walter Mitty sequences are a bit cartoonish, but Lauzirika never stints on the gore.  Yet, it is the mental implications for Aiden that are truly disturbing.

As problematic as Aiden undeniably is, Josh Lawson still manages to connect with audiences on a human level.  Light years beyond nebbish, his self-defeating and delusional behavior is absolutely excruciating to behold.  This is a hard film to watch, precisely because of acute embarrassment we frequently experience on his behalf.  Still, Crave certainly makes you feel more than a month of quirky indies.

Fortunately, the extreme pathos and lurking creepiness of Lawson’s work is occasionally leavened by Ron Perlman doing his thing as Pete.  Holding his shtick in check, he wisecracks within reason, while giving the film a down-to-earth anchor.  Emma Lung’s Virginia comes across as a rather bland, lightweight object for obsession (and her intuition is obviously substandard), but perhaps that is sort of the point.

Known for producing deluxe DVD boxed sets, Lauzirika won the AMD Next Wave Best Director Award at last year’s Fantastic Fest and one can see why.  His approach is stylish, but he keeps the visual madness tightly under control.  Despite Aiden’s tenuous connection to the world around him, ostensive reality is always easy to determine throughout the film.

Lauzirika maintains the courage of his convictions throughout Crave, which is impressive, but frankly it is easy to wish he had punked out a little bit.  Not really a horror film or a vigilante thriller, but mindful of both cinematic traditions, Crave is a distinctive downer, recommended for those who looking for something bold.  It screens this Thursday night (12/5) at the NoHo Laemmle in Los Angeles and opens in limited release on Friday (12/6),  also launching on VOD via itunes the same day.

Dark Sin City of the Future: Bunraku

In the future, gangsters will respect the global gun ban, despite their willingness to murder, maim, white slave, and cheat at cards. This might seem to contradict the experience of thousands of years of human history, but it is really just an excuse to combine swords and cars in Guy Moshe’s Bunraku (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Our Easternized cyberpunky story takes place in a post-apocalypse not-Japan, where Eastern Europeans rule the underworld, and everything else by extension. Nicola the Woodcutter is the shadowy #1, who only leaves his hideout for his weekly poker game and the occasional meal at his favorite sushi restaurant. A nameless drifter wants in on that game. He seems to have a score to settle with the kingpin, but he lacks the funds to buy in.

Another mysterious stranger also wandered into town with a purpose. A master of a Zen-focused martial arts discipline, Yoshi has been charged with recovering his family’s heirloom medallion from Nicola. He happens to be traveling with a considerable roll. Yoshi and the Drifter ought to join forces, but perhaps they should first beat the snot out of each other for the sake of appearances.

Bunraku is one of the most frustrating action films of the year. Technically, it is consistently inventive, incorporating some hyper stylized animation inspired by the titular traditional form of Japanese puppetry. It also boasts some wickedly sardonic narration (by Mike Patton) and a funky score penned by jazz musician and film composer Terence Blanchard, who also added a brief but tasty trumpet solo to the opening sequence. It mashes up the imagery of retro-action and cyber-punk films quite effectively and features some very funny fight sequences clearly modeled after video games.

As an action protagonist though, Josh Hartnett simply does not have it. His Drifter is lethargic rather than quietly intense and that mustache just looks ridiculous on him. Japanese pop-star Gackt is not bad as Yoshi, but it is rather insulting to watch his character struggle to scratch out a draw against the Drifter. You probably already guessed Ron Perlman plays Nicola. It is his usual shtick, but it still works within the context of a self-aware B-movie. Arguably Woody Harrelson best acquits himself as The Bartender with no name, who guides Yoshi and the Drifter into an alliance, while seeming to be above it all in an amused kind of way.

Fifteen years ago or so, it would be hard to believe Harrelson and his Indecent Proposal co-star Demi Moore could reunite in a film with relatively little fanfare, but here it is. Echoes of that previous film can even be read into their characters’ relationship here. Moore is not bad either, but playing Nicola’s kept woman (to put it euphemistically) cannot be the most rewarding of gigs.

Yet, probably most distracting is Bunraku’s highly problematic use of Communist iconography and terminology. Eventually, the boys align themselves with the “Freedom” army of the “Proletariat,” who train under vaguely Cyrillic red letters decked out in Mao caps. Tragically though, the Red Cadres whom they evoke had nothing to do with freedom whatsoever, prosecuting the reign of terror known as the Cultural Revolution with wanton disregard for human life and dignity. Such sloppy symbolism in Bunraku is frankly rather shameful.

It is hard to think of a film so inspired in many respects that also got so much so far wrong. Credit cannot go to one man alone, it was a team effort. Though often cool looking, those hoping for a martial arts fix should wait for a future release from China Lion or Well-Go/Variance Film. Not recommended, Bunraku opens this Friday (9/30) in New York at the AMC Empire

Have Faith: Mutant Chronicles

Mutant Chronicles
Directed by Simon Hunter
Magnolia Pictures
Where can you find a positive portrayal of religious faith in the movies today? Evidently, one has to look to the year 2707, on an Earth about to be over-run by mutant hordes. Based on a role-playing game, Simon Hunter’s Mutant Chronicles (trailer here), has the virtue of treating themes of faith and sacrifice with respect, which makes for surprisingly interesting viewing now that it is available on DVD.

Make no mistake, Mutant is about one thing: killing mutants. Set in an oddly steam-punkish future, four superpowers are locked in a constant state of battle, transporting armies via rocket ship so they can engage in trench warfare reminiscent of World War I. Unbeknownst to the combatants, centuries ago an ancient monastic order sealed an alien mutant factory beneath their mystic manhole cover. When the warring parties accidently break the seal all bets are off for the Earth. However, Brother Samuel has faith.

With a ragtag team of volunteers led by Major Mitch Hunter, the monk journeys into the bowels of the mutant lair to fulfill an ancient prophecy. It might be the apocalypse, but Brother Samuel is still able to recruit a scrupulously diverse team. Much shooting and a fair amount of hacking-and-slashing ensues.

Mutant essentially follows in the tradition of shoot-em-up creature films, featuring some fairly well staged action scenes. In fact, the gritty opening sequence is particularly effective capturing the confusion when the rampaging mutants surprise two warring factions. Sure, sometimes the film makes no sense at all, like when the intrepid band jumps off a bridge to attack some mutants, thereby giving up their advantage of the high ground, but that just seems to go with the mutant-zombie killing territory.

Still, what distinguishes Mutant is indeed the role faith plays in the story, providing the initial impetus for Brother Samuel’s mission and sustaining it during the darkest hours. Although not explicitly identified as such, his order bears a certain resemblance to Christianity, or at least a variant which presumably evolved over the troubled centuries.

As the good brother, Ron Perlman brings instant genre credibility to Mutant, despite playing a heroic character for a change. Sean Pertwee (the son of John Pertwee, the third Doctor Who) is appealingly hardnosed as Hunter’s ill-fated commander Nathan Rooker. Devon Aoki is also appropriately attractive as the gun-toting Duval and John Malkovich chews the scenery with relish in a brief cameo as Constantine, the leader of the Capital Corporation. Unfortunately, Thomas Jane is a bit too stiff and sullen as the square-jawed Hunter.

Bolstered by several enjoyable supporting performances, Mutant is a reasonably diverting sci-fi action excursion. Probably its greatest drawback is the lack of a strong villain to counterbalance Brother Samuel and company. As a midnight movie though, it moves along at a nice clip and has a refreshingly unusual religious subtext. Altogether, genre fans should find it worth checking out on DVD.

Cult Movie: I Sell the Dead

Grave robbing was a cottage industry in early Nineteenth Century England before the 1832 Anatomy Act made it easier for legitimate medical researchers to obtain cadavers. Still, the real money came from snatching undead bodies for two happy-go-lucky Burke & Hares in Glenn McQuad’s I Sell the Dead (trailer here), opening this Friday in New York.

After years of stealing corpses, Arthur Blake is about to become one. Sentenced to the guillotine for a murder he did not commit, Blake has five whiskey-fueled hours to tell the inquisitive Father Duffy his story of the final snatch that went bad. In flashbacks, the audience sees several very odd jobs, which brought Blake and his mentor Willie Grimes into conflict with the House of Murphy, a grave-robbing cartel allegedly in league with the Devil himself, inevitably leading to his date with the chopping block.

Following in the long tradition of monster movie team-ups, Sell boats a cast of cult film idols, including indie horror auteur (and co-producer) Larry Fessenden as Grimes. Dominic Monaghan, best-known from the television series Lost, takes the lead as Blake. Also notable among the colorful supporting cast are Angus Scrimm (a.k.a. “The Tall Man” in the Phantasm films) as the sinister Dr. Quint and Ron Perlman (the big guy in Hell Boy and dozens of other genre pictures) as Father Duffy. All four actors chew the scenery with a relish appropriate to the film’s spirit.

While Sell might be relatively short, McQuad throws in everything including the kitchen sick, stocking the graves with all manner of creatures, even borrowing from other genres for comedic effect. Yet, it is surprisingly restrained in the gore department, with most of Sell’s special effects displaying an idiosyncratic b-movie charm, rather than going for gross-out shocks.

In many ways, Sell pays homage to the horror films which came before it. Stylistically, it is clearly patterned after the Anglo-gothic Hammer horror films, but includes the occasional nod to the classic Universal monster movies as well. Though produced in the indie trenches, McQuad and art director Beck Underwood recreate a quite credible facsimile of its Nineteenth Century low life environs. Sell also has a distinctly comic-oriented visual aesthetic, starting with the perfect mood-setting opening title sequence. Indeed, McQuad worked with artist Brahm Revel on the forthcoming graphic novel adaptation of his screenplay before the he started shooting the film.

Sell is a horror spoof that never smirks too much, because the filmmakers clearly have real affection for the movies that inspired it. It is a well paced film, nicely spacing the laughs in between the ghoulish business of plundering rotting undead corpses. A great deal of fun, Sell should be a big hit with midnight movie audiences and at horror conventions. It opens this Friday (8/7) at the Quad Cinema.