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Film: Don't Look Now
Year of production: 1973
UK Release date: 4th July 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 15
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Nicolas Roeg
Starring: Julie Christie, Donald Sutherland, Hilary Mason, Clelia Matania, Massimo Serato
Genre: Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: UK/Italy
Language: English/Italian
Review by: Mark Player
Nicolas Roeg's classic supernatural mystery Don't Look Now is getting the special edition Blu-ray treatment courtesy of Optimum Home Releasing, but is it worth the upgrade?
On a damp Sunday afternoon, a young girl sporting a red rain coat plays with her brother in the English countryside that surrounds her home. Her parents, John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura (Julie Christie) Baxter, are inside. Whilst observing some architectural slides for a restoration project, John senses that something is wrong and leaves the house. His instincts prove to be correct. His daughter, Christie, has fallen into a nearby pond and is drowning. John rushes into the water to haul her out, but he is too late. Christie has died.
Sometime later, John and Laura are staying in Venice, where John has been contracted by Bishop Barbarrigo (Massimo Serato) to perform restoration work on a dilapidated church in the city. Whilst dining in a restaurant, Laura encounters two strange and elderly sisters (Hilary Mason and Clelia Matania) in the bathroom. One of the sisters, Heather, is blind and claims to have psychic abilities. She goes on to give very specific details about John and Laura's deceased daughter. This overwhelms yet intrigues Laura who, after collapsing and being sent to hospital, is strangely energised and positive about the whole thing.
Laura seeks the sisters again to see if it’s possible to make contact with Christie from beyond, much to the alarm of John who fears that Christie is beginning to lose her mind. However, John's grief also seems to be getting the better of him as he begins to see glimpses of a small, childlike figure lurking amongst the cloisters and alleyways of the city, wearing a red raincoat...
Based on Daphine du Maurier's short story of the same name, and dubbed as a 'psychic thriller' at the time of its original theatrical release, Don't Look Now was very much ahead of its time in several ways. Annoyingly, the film has since become such a key work in British cinema that there's very little that can be said about it that's actually new. It's subtle depiction of the occult, unlike the overt Satan-worship of Rosemary's Baby (1968) or the special effects showboating of The Exorcist (1973); Graeme Clifford's fractured flash-back and flash-forward editing; the film's associative colours (particularly red) and its famous love scene between Sutherland and Christie have been dissected by many a scholar, critic and student of film.
However, it bears repeating in saying just how well the film has aged and how influential it has remained after nearly forty years. Few films capture the emotional gulf created by grief as well as director Nicolas Roeg does here, further defined by strong performances from both Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland. It’s one of the more credible on-screen marriages in cinema, perhaps best and most obviously personified by their infamous love scene, a scene added by Roeg to help displace the scenes where the couple are in disagreement. Although it was very explicit at the time – to the extent that rumours of Sutherland and Christie's performance being unsimulated continue to circulate – Roeg counterbalances the frankness of that moment by inter-cutting it with shots of post-coital dressing and preparation for a meal out; partly to appease the far more stringent censorship regulations of the time and partly to perpetuate the film's ongoing motif of portending events.
Past, present and future occupy the same time and space on a frequent basis. John is continually haunted by the imagery of his drowning daughter whilst wearing her iconic red coat. This imagery starts to transcend recollection and enters reality as John starts to see an elusive red coat-wearing figure during the night. Things start to get even more interesting when he also starts to unwittingly see future events, confusing them with the present.
The use of Venice as the film's setting is positively inspired. The labyrinthine alleyways of the floating city not only feel claustrophobic and nightmarish, but facilitate a visual representation for the characters’ mental states. John and Laura often lose their bearings and become separated. The multiple waterways of the city act as a continual reminder of the tragedy both characters are burdened with; one scene sees John fish a discarded child's doll out from the canal, echoing the moment when he tried to save his daughter at the film's start. Death is therefore irrevocably linked to water, made all the more prominent by a seemingly superficial serial killer subplot whose victims are routinely found dead in the canals.
Roeg's camera and editing style is not quite as groundbreaking as some make out to be, considering his earlier features, Performance (1970) and Walkabout (1971), employ similar techniques; with the former utilising a ‘cut-ups’ method of editing, inspired by the literary technique pioneered by William Burroughs. However, Don't Look Now was perhaps the first of Roeg's films to use these techniques as an intrinsic and inseparable narrative framework, as opposed to merely embellishing ideas, suggesting a concept of advanced cinematic grammar that has now become stock and trade. Whilst a little mechanical in places, the technical execution of the film also lends an uncertain menace to the proceedings, further augmented by the location's twisted geography.
With regards to the Blu-ray, Optimum have done a commendable job. The picture quality, if a little inconsistent, is very good overall for a film of this vintage. Some shots are marred by a grainy softness due to limitations of the original source, as opposed to fault with the disc itself. There seem to be no major issues with artifacting and other compression symptoms. Audio won't take full advantage of one's home cinema system, due to the age and nature of the production, but is suitably clear and crisp. Overall, while Don't Look Now isn't exactly an essential must-see title for Blu-ray, it still looks very good.
Don't Look Now is horror at its most subtle and thoughtful; standing as one of director Nicolas Roeg's best films. Although its cerebral style nurtures occasional stretches of what feels like not much going on, it still remains riveting and interesting viewing, regardless of its subsequent legions of flashier disciples. Don't Look Now comes recommended. MP
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Film: Ten
Year of production: 2002
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: 15
Running time: 91 mins
Director: Abbas Kiarostami
Starring: Mania Akbari, Amin Maher, Kamran Adl, Roya Arabshahi, Amene Moradi
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France/Iran/USA
Language: Persian
Review by: Mark Player
Originally available through Optimum Home Releasing since 2003, Abbas Kiarostami's Ten is being re-released as part of Artificial Eye's new Abbas Kiarostami Collection. The DVD set also includes Ten's behind-the-scenes companion piece 10 On Ten, as well as Taste Of Cherry, The Wind Will Carry Us, ABC Africa and Certified Copy.
Not to be confused with Blake Edwards' film of the same name, where Dudley Moore becomes romantically obsessed with a swimsuit-clad Bo Derek, Kiarostami's Ten is regarded as somewhat of a landmark in contemporary Iranian cinema. Taking a much loved narrative technique used by the director in many of his past works (conversations taking placed inside a car) to its logical limit, the film is set entirely in a single vehicle. Not only does it result in an intriguing character study of the car's owner, but offers an interesting evaluation of Iranian society from a usually repressed female perspective.
The character in question is a nameless female driver of the car (Mania Akbari), formerly divorced, but now remarried to another man. The film is divided into ten sections (hence the title), each one dedicated to a different conversation involving the driver and a passenger – her young son, Amin; her sister; an elderly religious woman; a prostitute hitching a lift; and a friend with a complicated love-life – as they travel through the crowded streets of Iran.
The passengers confide their frustrations with the driver, discussing their role and identity (or lack of) in a society where women are best neither seen nor heard. Gradually, we also start to learn things about the driver; chiefly: how her divorce and subsequent second marriage has affected the relationship with her 8-year-old son...
Using non-actors, set in a single location (albeit a moving one) and taking full advantage of the flexibility offered by digital camera equipment, Ten is about as low-key as an internationally released film can get. The entire production consists of two cameras fixed onto the dashboard, one pointing at each front seat. Indeed, the film feels somewhat paradoxical in nature: a work from one of Iran's most revered auteurs that in actuality, considering the nature of the production, had very little input from him. Much of the dialogue was improvised and the characters were partly based on the people that played them; for instance, the driver and her son in the film are also mother and son in real life and much of their ensuing tension stems from real traumas.
The performances, then, if they can be called such, are very good; evoking a candid, fly-on-the-wall naturalism that was undoubtedly the film's intention. The real meat lies in the verbal confrontations between the driver and her son, with the precocious Amin (Amin Maher) making for a formidable sparring partner; challenging his mother's desires for an independent lifestyle in the face of marital and parental commitments as well as society's wish for quiet conformity. Some of his chauvinistic tirades last up to fifteen minutes; the majority of which captured in a single shot, but not necessarily in a single take, however. The splicing together of multiple takes from the same angle is very slight, yet noticeable upon closer inspection, but the performances remain impressive nonetheless.
Another interesting facet to the performances is the amount of time that they're visible on screen. Kiarostami has chosen a very careful and unhurried editing pace, meaning that the film will play out for several minutes before cutting to the other person in the conversation, except for the segments involving the old woman on her way to the Mausoleum for prayer and the prostitute, where Kiarostami decides to never show them. Only a glimpse is afforded to the latter, as she stands on a street corner with her back turned to camera in the only shot of the film that's not inside the car.
Whilst there isn't a plot in the traditional sense, that's not to say that the Ten is about nothing. It’s a look at a small, predominantly female group, who feel they lack the ability to control their own lives and fulfil their own desires. Segments are introduced via numbered title cards that count from ten down to one - designed to emulate an old-fashioned film leader, but this has the appearance of a cheap video effect. On the bright side, those who find the following conversations to be tediously everyday – which, admittedly, they are – will easily be able to work out how many segments are left.
Naturally, Ten's defiance of standard cinematic conventions won't be for everyone. Also, one can't help but think that it would've made for a better video installation in an art gallery than a full length feature. The concept, albeit very pure and easily defined, feels as if it’s being stretched to fit the gap, as opposed to being pushed to its limits. However, while it could be argued that other recent national works, such as Marjane Satrapi's animated biography, Persepolis, look at the role of women in Iranian society in a more structured and entertaining way, it doesn't come close to the verity honesty that's evident here.
Ten is a fascinating exercise in filmmaking economy; however, such minimalism requires plenty of patience in order to fully appreciation the film. Some will be put off by the cheap, no-frills production; others will be captivated by its rawness. Either way, Ten remains a daring and challenging work in more ways than one. MP
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Film: Salon Kitty
Year of production: 1976
UK Release date: 30th May 2011
Distributor: Argent
Certificate: 18
Running time: 132 mins
Director: Tinto Brass
Starring: Helmut Berger, Ingrid Thulin, Teresa Ann Savoy, John Steiner, Sara Sperati
Genre: Drama
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: Italy/West Germany/France
Language: Italian/English
Review by: Mark Player
Italian filmmaker Tinto Brass has always been a controversial figure within European cinema due to his shameless and unorthodox depictions of the flesh. However, it is perhaps his first erotica film, the Nazi flavoured Salon Kitty (1976), that remains the most transgressive. Heavily censored when first released thirty-five years ago, Argent Films has reinstated and digitally restored Brass' original director's cut for a new Blu-ray release.
When war is declared between the Allies and the Axis powers, Kitty Kellermann's (Ingrid Thulin) high class brothel, Salon Kitty – a popular spot for soldiers, officers and dignitaries of the Reich – is appropriated by the Nazi government for military use. However, in exchange, a high ranking SS official by the name of Wallenberg (Helmut Berger) offers Kitty new premises, as well as a new staff of girls from Aryan stock; rigorously selected based not only on their appearance and sexual liberation, but their political beliefs. Kitty reluctantly accepts Wallenberg's gesture and, soon enough, business is back to normal.
However, unbeknownst to Kitty, Wallenberg has had the new building secretly wiretapped, documenting the pillow talk of party officials who feel that they can let their guard down and say what they really think about the war effort. Wallenburg's girls are also asked to dutifully record their encounters in written reports.
Complications arise when one of the girls, Margherita (Teresa Ann Savoy) – the subject of much perverse fascination for Wallenberg – begins to realise the extent and consequences of her duties when a disgruntled client (Bekim Fehmiu), whom she starts to fall in love with, is eliminated because of his anti-nationalist views...
After initially making shorts and avant-garde features, Salon Kitty was originally offered to Brass as a quick director-for-hire job. Brass accepted, but heavily rewrote the meagre initial concept to incorporate a more politically conscious angle. Strangely, this extra effort to make Salon Kitty more than just another skin-flick feels completely absent. Loosely based on real-life events (the Salon Kitty actually did exist during the late-30s, early-40s and was used for espionage purposes by the SS on their own men), Salon Kitty could've been an intriguing history lesson about the paranoid and volatile nature of the Nazi party's inner-sanctum with some erotica thrown in for good measure. However, this is not the case; the end result being a very long and tedious exercise in overt and senseless naughtiness.
The narrative is robbed of its potential by being not as prominent as a narrative should be. It's not so much placed on the back seat, but in the boot of a completely different car that's heading in the opposite direction. Only the barest glimmer of plot remains, acting as little more than a flimsy pretext for a revolving line-up of SS orgies, nude Nazi-saluting nubiles and other bizarre sexual practices, including a fat middle-age man fellating a phallus made out of bread placed between a girl's legs, to name just one. On that note: Wallenburg's selection process for the would-be whore candidates – some of which was originally cut but now reinserted – is also unorthodox and provocative; pairing the girls off with undesirable sexual partners – a hunchback midget, a Jewish POW, an amputee without legs – to prove their loyalty to the party.
The camera pervily leers and fixates on the skin and (often aroused) genitals of both genders in a seemingly never-ending series of wonky pans and zooms; clumsily spliced together by Brass, who insists on editing all of his films. There is a complete lack of rhythm, and sometimes purpose, from one cut to the next. Some shots last for half a second before being replaced by a fast moving zoom, creating an often frenetic and disorientating effect, designed to be impressionistic but instead feeling inappropriate and amateurish.
Due to excessive and dodgy dubbing into English, performances are difficult to gauge fairly and are laughably bad in places. Ingrid Thulin's involvement in a production like this seems very strange considering her many successful past collaborations with Ingmar Bergman – Wild Strawberries (1957), Winter Light (1961), The Silence (1963) and Cries And Whispers (1972) to name just some – and is given little to do, save for a handful of song and dance numbers, which feel like blatant padding and are somewhat unspectacular. Berger's Nazi official borders on the caricature, spewing terrible lines, whilst Savoy and Fehmiu make for a truly boring screen couple, which wouldn't be as much of a problem if so much time wasn't spent watching their reflections lounge about in bed post-coitus, speaking nothing of value.
The only intriguing prospect in all this pointless titillation is the reinsertion of previously removed footage. These new scenes haven't been dubbed into English, retaining their original language, making it pretty easy to identify what was omitted when the film was first released. On the downside, all this extra footage makes the film even longer – over two hours – which is perhaps Salon Kitty's biggest problem. A streamlined edit of eighty or ninety minutes would've been more bearable, although this wouldn't stop Salon Kitty from being what it is; a shameless exploitation piece that's not particularly interesting, or well made for that matter. Another deal-breaker for many will be a random abattoir scene towards the start in which live pigs are killed and decapitated for absolutely no reason in relation to the plot, but much to the delight of the people on screen.
As for the Blu-ray presentation: don't expect any spectacular visual overhaul or demo worthy presentation. The restorers have done their best with a clearly knackered source and, undoubtedly, despite the film looking every day of its thirty-five year vintage, this is the best Salon Kitty has ever looked on home video. Detail is adequate but not stunning. Colours fluctuate on occasion - one outdoor scene in particular has very noticeable shifts - many within the same shots. There are no overly visible compression artefacts to worry about, resulting in a decent presentation overall.
Salon Kitty is one of Brass' oldest and longest efforts, and one of cinema's true curiosities. A better film is potentially lurking in here somewhere but the mildly interesting set-up is cast aside in favour of copious and laughably gratuitous shenanigans. Fans of Brass' oeuvre will probably find more value here, but, for everyone else, it’s possibly only good for an ironic chuckle over how preposterous it all is. MP
Film: Isadora
Year of production: 1968
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Odeon
Certificate: 12
Running time: 134 mins
Director: Karel Reisz
Starring: A Vanessa Redgrave, James Fox, Jason Robards
Genre: Biography/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: UK/France
Language: English
Review by: Mark Player
Long considered by many as the innovator of what is now regarded as modern dance, Isadora Duncan led an unconventional and sometimes controversial life until her untimely death in 1927. Ironically, she was famously killed by one of the things that she loved the most: flowing fabrics; specifically her scarf, which, whilst sat in a travelling open-top sports car, got caught in the exposed spokes of one of the rear wheels, strangling her to death. Available for the first time in the UK as a digitally re-mastered, two-disc collector's edition, Karel Reisz's biopic Isadora (1968) arrives on DVD through Odeon Entertainment.
The film starts a week or so before her death, with an ageing Duncan (Redgrave) working on her memoirs with friend/writer Roger (John Fraser), as well as other members of her dwindling entourage based in the French Riviera. As Duncan dictates, she reminisces the early years: working as a street performer with her father-less family; her first love with stage-designer Gordon Craig (James Fox); her subsequent first child, Deirdre, and her taking to the burgeoning bohemian lifestyle of Paris; establishing her own dance school in a Parisian Chateau with the financial assistance of wealthy new flame Paris Singer (Jason Robards) and her emigrating to post-revolution Russia where she falls for the poet Sergei Yesenin (Ivan Tchenko).
Meanwhile, back on the Riviera, Isadora is forced to sell off some of her possessions due to debts run up from staying at various hotels. She also develops a romantic obsession for a mysterious man – whom she nicknames “Bugatti” – who is seen driving around in a red, open-top sports car...
Adapted by respected British author and broadcaster Melvyn Bragg in part from Sewell Stokes biography 'Isadora Duncan: An Intimate Portrait' as well as Duncan's own book, 'My Life', Isadora offers a look at an unconventional artist that doesn't contain the usual thematic clichés of drug abuse and alcoholism that one finds in many famous life stories. What we get instead is a classic rise-and-fall arc that sees Duncan during her humble beginnings, her fame and fortune period, through to her decline and subsequent obscurity.
Interestingly, Bragg's screenplay chooses not to explore Isadora's early life. Apart from a prologue that depicts a young Isadora setting fire to her parents' divorce certificate and vowing to live a life of service to the arts, Duncan's childhood is completely overlooked. This heavily downplays on the fact that whilst it was in Europe that she made her name, Duncan was born in America and lived there for the first 22 years of her life. Instead, her flashbacks start after she and her family had moved to London and then Paris. This isn't a detriment as such. If anything, the film's structure is somewhat refreshing initially; juxtaposing between Duncan's life in the present (1927) and how it was in the past. However, the novelty begins to wear off.
Part of the problem is that the flashback approach starts to make the film feel disparate and episodic; segregating the narrative into chunks organised by Isadora's particular lover at that time in her life. When one section ends, we never hear from that love-interest again; being outright replaced by the next one instead. What happened to Craig and Singer? Both fathered Isadora a child each, but are given somewhat of a back seat. But then again, seeing as their scenes are recollections from Isadora's past, maybe they never meant that much to her anyway. On the bright side, all the supporting players do well with what they are given - Robards in particular.
This leads neatly to Redgrave's performance as the film's eponymous subject. Although she lost out to both Katharine Hepburn and Barbara Streisand at the Oscars that year, Redgrave gives a strong turn with enough versatility to handle the character's evolution over the years: from young and slightly ditzy to ageing drama queen. Biopics usually succeed or fail due to the quality of its lead, but, with Isadora, this feels difficult to discern. On the one hand, Redgrave does give a good performance, even if she does lack the poise and the physical discipline of a 'proper' dancer; however, Duncan's whole ethos was to break away from standardised styles (ballet for example) to create something spontaneous and with feeling. On the other hand, the character's bohemian outlook and rodomontade behaviour can be incredibly annoying; as if they are the centre of a universe created just for them.
It’s difficult to amass empathy for somebody that was as pretentious and as delusional as Duncan was a lot of the time, but, then again, she was as artist; if you consider somebody prancing about on a stage whilst waving a billowy scarf to be art. As for the dance sequences themselves, which there are several, they are decently staged and photographed, but whether or not they capture the 'essence' of Duncan's work is totally subjective. Some will see beauty; others will snigger at their making-it-up-as-it-goes-along appearance.
This is the main deal-breaker for Isadora: if you can stand the character and admire/appreciate the work that she did then this film will likely appeal to those wanting to learn a little more, or simply to enjoy the story. However, those who consider Duncan's work to be little more than someone writhing around to music, or find her character to be overly flamboyant and self-important, will probably find little value here. There are occasional moments where Redgrave's performance evinces a certain vulnerability that can be easily identifiable, but these moments aren't as frequent or a fulfilling as they could and should be.
Isadora is a more than competent biopic. Under Karel Reisz's direction, Redgrave gives a strong portrayal of a highly influential artistic figure who’s not easy to like. The film also suffers from a narrative structure that quickly starts to stagnate, holding little emotional punch. However, Isadora will still be worth a look for those that are curious. MP
Film: Russia 88
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 9th May 2011
Distributor: Safecracker
Certificate: 18
Running time: 104 mins
Director: Pavel Bardin
Starring: Pyotr Fyodorov, Mikhail Polyakov, Archibald Archibaldovic, Aleksandr Makarov, Vera Strokova
Genre: Crime/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Russia
Language: Russian
Review by: Mark Player
After causing quite a bit of a stir in its Russian homeland, to the point where it is was banned from being publicly exhibited; Pavel Bardin's stark mockumentary Russia 88 has been unleashed on DVD in the UK through independent distributor Safecracker Pictures.
A young fascist, nicknamed Abraham (Mikhail Polyakov), is documenting the exploits of a local sect of white power skinheads with his video camera. The gang are content with being filmed, using Abraham's camera to produce a variety of right-wing propaganda videos with the intention of uploading them to the internet.
The gang and their leader, Sasha aka 'Blade' (Pyotr Fyodorov), operate under the guiding hand of the chapter master Kliment (Archibald Archibaldovic), who owns a rundown gymnasium in which the group meet, hand out and organise their various hate crimes.
Abraham's camera starts to favour Blade's story within the group, prying into his home-life and exposing the tense relationship he has with his “liberal” father (Aleksandr Makarov) and the loving/protective bond he shares with his sister, Julia (Vera Strokova). It comes as no surprise then that when Blade discovers that his sister is dating a south Caucasian man, violence ensues...
A curious blend of This Is England (2007), Romper Stomper (1992) and Man Bites Dog (1992), Russia 88 strives to be an authentic slice of cinéma vérité that illuminates a growing social-political issue that is becoming increasingly unstable, and, for the most part, is successful in this regard. Writer/director Pavel Bardin has based his script on various real-life incidences, as well as taking inspiration from the litany of white power propaganda videos that can be found on websites such as YouTube.
The film, taking on a documentary approach from the outset, is designed to appear like we are watching the raw, unedited footage from the camera's tape, which is interestingly realised. Scenes start late or end prematurely. Old footage from the tape appears between recordings, mostly of Blade and his sister playing with their dog – then a puppy, now adult. Flash-frames of abstract imagery, as well as spur of the moment, incidental asides shot by Abraham whilst using the same tape: a plane flying overhead, himself in the mirror practising his Nazi salute, etc.
Production values are surprisingly decent for a film of this style. The quality of the image is pretty good; you feel as though you are watching a film with some cinematic merit as opposed to some cheap and badly put together DV nonsense. Usually, the mockumentary format is used as an excuse by filmmakers for bad framing, editing and questionable acting. That isn't the case here, with most shots having a sense of purpose and reason. The film doesn't feel staged; Bardin has found a workable balance between his film looking like a convincing slice of amateur videography, whilst being shot in a way that best serves the narrative. Russia 88 has a knack for disguising a lot of information in scenes that feel irrelevant.
Another surprising factor is that the film's controversy doesn't stem from overly violent or sexual content – a recent example of this being A Serbian Film – but by extreme political views. Sometimes this plays out in darkly comedic fashion: the ineptitude of some of the propaganda videos they shoot for instance, or the amateur vox-pops they conduct with people in the street. Whenever somebody offers an opinion contrary to their own, the camera shuts off, cutting to another interviewee who does share their “Russia is for Russians” manifesto. It is the xenophobic ideals that gives Russia 88 its shock value. The handful of violent incidences are tastefully realised, eschewing copious and fake looking blood theatrics and, instead, suggesting it through the edit, making it feel more realistic.
Performances are solid, if unspectacular, but are good enough to carry the film. Fyodorov makes for a decent lead, evoking a convincing naturalism and appearing comfortable with the continual breaking of the fourth wall that's required; addressing many of his thoughts directly to the camera, i.e. the audience. However, the real lead in all this is surely the cameraman, Abraham, who is able to talk the talk, but whether he can walk the walk is another matter that sometimes comes into question. Other cast members – with perhaps the exception of Strokova's sister and Archibaldovic's master – on the other hand, feel fairly superfluous and aren't as well developed.
On the downside, the overall narrative feels weak, acting like a social-realist slice of this group's everyday goings on rather than a full fledged plot, and doesn't really start to take effect until the final act. That's not to say that Russia 88 is a waste of time or a missed opportunity, but the end result is perhaps not as emotionally impactful or arresting as it could be. There is a certain bravery to be had when making a film of this ilk, as it can easily rub certain social groups up the wrong way - most likely the reason for its severely limited public screenings - and that on its own makes the film worthwhile. If a nation's cinema acts as a mirror for that society, then Russia has a very ugly and disturbing reflection indeed.
Russia 88 might not be considered 'entertaining' in the traditional sense of the word; however, its conviction and sheer willingness to explore the darker recesses of Russia's social climate demands your appreciation. It probably won't convert anybody, nor will it likely bring significant levels of exposure and attention to the problem for it to get solved anytime soon, but that doesn't stop the fact that the film remains mildly interesting. Russia 88, while definitely not for everyone, is worth a look. MP
Film: I Saw The Devil
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 9th May 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 18
Running time: 140 mins
Director: Kim Jee-woon
Starring: Lee Byung-hun, Choi Min-sik, Jeon Gook-hwan, Jeon Ho-jin, Oh San-ha
Genre: Crime/Drama/Horror/Thriller
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country of Production: South Korea
Language: Korean
Review by: Mark Player
With an increasing string of high-profile and well regarded releases under his belt – A Tale Of Two Sisters, A Bittersweet Life, The Good The Bad The Weird, etc. – Korean director Kim Jee-woon is quickly becoming one of the country's best known filmmakers; rivalling the likes of Bong Joon-ho (who helmed The Host and Mother) and Park Chan-wook (the 'Vengeance' trilogy and most recently Thirst). Kim's latest opus – I Saw The Devil – sees him pitting his regular leading man Lee Byung-hun up against the irrepressible Choi Min-sik, star of Park's infamous Oldboy.
Lee Byung-hun plays Kim Soo-hyeon, a detective who plans to marry the retired police chief's daughter Joo-yeon (Oh San-ha). One night, Joo-yeon is stranded out in the snowy countryside, whilst Soo-hyeon is busy working. Whilst waiting for a tow-truck to rescue her vehicle, Joo-yeon encounters Kyung-chul (Choi Min-sik), a school bus driver and total psychopath. He smashes his way into the car, dragging Joo-yeon through the snow and taking her to his secret workshop where he proceeds to mutilate and kill her. Remains of her body are soon discovered in a nearby river.
Soo-hyeon is devastated and is given leave from the force. However, Soo-hyeon wastes no time in finding the man responsible, quickly working his way through the police's list of suspects. Eventually, he finds Kyung-chul, arriving just in time to prevent another death; one of the school girls who regularly rides Kyung-chul's bus. Soo-hyeon overpowers Kyung-chul; however, he lets him not only live, but escape.
Kyung-chul feels he's had a lucky break, but as soon as he feels safe to resume his old tricks, Soo-hyeon appears to administer further violence. With the hunter now becoming the prey, Kyung-chul is continually at the mercy of Soo-hyeon and his plans for the perfect revenge...
It’s strange to think that I Saw The Devil is the product of the same directorial hand as the energetic, colourful and all-round fun that was The Good The Bad The Weird. This effort feels like a very different breed; it also feels like it has arrived about six or seven years too late. Had I Saw The Devil been released around the mid-2000s, its content and subject matter would've likely felt far more innovative, but, as it stands, its sadistic torturings and vicious exploits feel rote and somewhat obsolete.
The main problem is that fellow director Park Chan-wook – after his Vengeance trilogy – pretty much has the monopoly on Korean revenge melodrama and, as a result, other ruminations feel like tired retreads and appropriations of the conventions, character dynamics and narrative arcs explored in Park's Sympathy For Mr. Vengeance (2002) and Oldboy (2003). Like the latter, Soo-hyeon turns his quest for revenge into a sick game of wits. It also doesn't help that Oldboy's protagonist and I Saw The Devil's mass-murderer-turned-victim are played by the same actor, creating further stylistic parallels.
On that note, Choi Min-sik does turn in a good performance as the film's psychopath, resisting the temptation to chew scenery and, instead, offering a rounded and humane portrayal of a man that, at the same time, isn't too serious. He clearly enjoys the role; going absolutely nuts in a taxicab with a screwdriver, repeatedly stabbing the driver and a fellow passenger who, amusingly, later turn out to be murdering car-jackers themselves. Lee Byung-hun is also impressive as the detective who gets so caught up in orchestrating the perfect revenge that he is blind to the damage it causes around him, leading to further loss of life.
Director Kim Je-woon allows enough screen time for his two leads to blossom; the downside being that the film feels a little too long, with some sequences feeling loose when they should feel tight. Another disorientating factor is the overall structure and pace of the narrative. Soo-hyeon finds his man well within the first hour, preventing further murders, as well as exacting some personal and physical justice by beating Kyung-chul to a pulp. But by the point where other films would normally end, I Saw The Devil carries on for another ninety minutes. Soo-hyeon gives Kyung-chul a wad of cash and allows him to escape only to track him down and beat him again and again, prolonging the thrill of the hunt. It’s an interesting idea, but one that starts to grow weary; culminating to the point where you'd think Soo-hyeon would just kill the guy, or at the very least place him in some sort of confinement where the torture could continue without chaos spilling out onto the streets. This would then remove the need to have Kyung-chul unknowingly ingest a rather dubious GPS tracker/microphone device in order for Soo-hyeon to keep tabs on him as he roams freely within the city.
The violence, even though Kim Jee-woon is wise enough to cut away or not show the most barbaric of moments, is still not for the squeamish. Fans of fellow Asian shock-masters such as Takashi Miike will revel in the frequent and over-the-top, Ichi The Killer-esque bodily mutilation steadily dispersed throughout, but some – even those accustomed to extreme Asian cinema – may still find the tone to be overly sadistic or even unnecessary, and may dismiss the ensuing carnage as little more than button pushing (I Saw The Devil has received various cuts by many international censorship boards, but is allegedly uncut for this UK release).
But, as suggested by his past features, Kim Jee-woon is not afraid to experiment with genre conventions and limitations, creating an entertainingly savage ride (for those who can stomach it) in the process. Korean cinema's knack for having humour hidden in the most strange and the darkest of places is also present: one of Kyung-chul's friends (who is also a mass-murderer) finds himself pinned to a table via a screwdriver through the centre of his hand. He tries to yank it out of the wood, only for the plastic handle to detach and fly off, leaving the rest of the screwdriver still through his hand and the table.
Ultimately, while I Saw the Devil disappointingly fails to live up to past Korean dalliances with similarly grim, revenge-centric subject matter, it still makes for a fun yet grisly experience. Lee Byung-hun and Choi Min-sik's performances are strong enough to glaze over some of the film's weaker elements, whilst the copious violence flows freely and will undoubtedly keep gore-hounds enthused. I Saw The Devil is certainly worth a look. MP
Film: Woochi – The Demon Slayer
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Cine Asia
Certificate: 15
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Choi Dong-hun
Starring: Gang Dong-won, Kim Yun-seok, Lim Su-jeong, Yum Jung-ah, Yu Hae-jin
Genre: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Fantasy
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country of Production: South Korea
Language: Korean
South Korean fantasy comedy Woochi – The Demon Slayer was a box office sensation when it was first released in its home country at the end of 2009 - attracting the highest opening-day attendance for any film that year. Now Woochi fights its way onto UK home video courtesy of Cine Asia, but will the film hold the same appeal?
Loosely derived from a Korean folk tale, the film centres on undisciplined wizard-in-training Jeon Woochi (Gang Dong-won) and his exploits. Along with his trusty man-dog sidekick Chorangyi (Yu Hae-jin), the pair cause mischief during the 16th century Chosun Dynasty, much to the annoyance of Woochi's master (Baek Yun-shik), who is mindful of the evil that exists - chiefly, the goblins accidentally unleashed by three foolish Taoist Gods.
Adopting human form, said Taoist Gods now associate themselves with corrupt king Hwadam (Kim Yun-seok) who is searching for two halves of a magical pipe that will grant him ultimate power. Hwadam murders Woochi's master in the name of searching for the second half, although it is Woochi who is the one who’s punished, imprisoned in a scroll for 500 years.
Half a millennium passes and the three Taoists are forced to release Woochi and his helper, Chorangyi, from their scroll prison in order to combat the goblins that are now running amok in 21st century Korea. But when it is discovered that Woochi has the second half of the mysterious pipe, Hwadam inevitably shows up...
It has to be said that, while there is plenty of fun to be had, there is something preventing Woochi from being a sure-fire international hit. Much of the narrative's fantasy logic is based on culturally specific mythology, which will likely pass by foreign audiences with little resonance. Things are made worse by the fact that there are moments of Woochi that, to put it bluntly, are confusing as hell, regardless of cultural barriers – and they really shouldn’t be.
Bad guy wants a magical object that will make him powerful. Good guy has said object and prevents the bad guy from having it. What's not to get? The problem is that writer/director Choi Dong-hun spends very little time establishing the rules and limitations of his fantastical universe. If magic and wizards are common place, why is Woochi – an apprentice – so important in the great scheme of things? Does Chorangyi have the ability to assume human form on his own to disguise the fact that he is really a dog, or is that a courtesy granted by Woochi's powers? One scene sees Chorangyi turn into a horse for Woochi to ride - did Woochi do that? How important are Woochi's talismans (pre-made magic spells written on small pieces of paper) if he is still able to use magic without them, provided that his soul is sufficiently “empty”? Said talismans are stolen at one point - is that a big deal? Where has Hwadam been for the intervening 500 years? Is he immortal? How much power do the three Taoist Gods have, considering that they need the help of an apprentice wizard to defeat the goblins? Why are the goblins there anyway and how powerful are they? What does this have to do with the pipe? Is this story about Woochi defeating the goblins, or about Woochi stopping Hwadam from getting the pipe?
Things are complicated further with the inclusion of subplots whose impact on the overall story is difficult to discern. A link is made between a 16th century widow and a 21st century make-up artist for reasons beyond simply giving Woochi a love interest, but its overall bearing on the story is barely explained - are they ancestors? A kiss from Hwadam gives make-up artist Seo In-kyung (Lim Su-Jeong) temporary superhuman power. Why? It’s alluded to that she may be a godlike entity, but it never really gets explored. Another unrealised subplot involves Woochi looking for a special magical knife, under the pretence that it will make him more powerful, and has the ability to turn Chorangyi into a real human. Such an artefact seems to become very important by the film's end, but for reasons that aren't wholly explained. One gets the feeling that all the answers are there in Woochi, but are hidden away with the assistance of some confusing storytelling. What is initially interpreted as dream is in fact reality and vice versa, and some scenes act as the prelude to scenes that have already played out (particularly during the first half), leading to further bewilderment.
However, regardless of how confusing the storytelling is, it serves as a valid pretext for a variety of far-fetched action set-pieces, which, for the most part, work wonderfully. For a production with an estimated and relatively meagre budget of around $12 million, Woochi offers plenty of bang for your buck. Fight sequences have ample opportunity for gravity defying mayhem and deliver in abundance. Due to the magical nature of the characters involved, anything goes, and writer/director Choi Dong-hun revels in the possibilities of having his protagonist multiply into dozens of Woochis for a particularly memorable brawl in a city backstreet. The sparingly used CGI is well integrated with the live-action stuff, although the goblins – when seen in their true form – can look a little ropey. Also, the execution of certain action sequences lack geography, rendering the results a flurry of noise and movement with little presence and, ultimately, meaning.
Performances on the whole are rather good for a film of this style; sufficiently fun and laid-back, but not too hammy or overcooked. The comedic interchanges between Woochi and the bumbling Taoists are quite pleasing, as is the insecurity of Chorangyi, who feels frequently put-upon due to his master's inadequacies. Kim Yun-seok makes for a decent and strangely likeable villain whilst Lim Su-jeong, if a little underused, is a solid love interest.
Woochi's ability to make what should be a straightforward, fantasy-soaked romp into a baffling and illogical cinematic excursion is somewhat of a detriment to the overall experience. However, it also proves to be one of the wilder rides you'll likely encounter on DVD this year. Incoherence aside, Woochi is still a good – though not quite great – way to spend an afternoon. Worth a look. MP
Film: Boudu Saved from Drowning
Release date: 4th April 2011
Certificate: PG
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Jean Renoir
Starring: Michel Simon, Charles Granval, Marcelle Hainia, Severine Lerczinska, Jean Daste
Genre: Comedy
Studio: Park Circus
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: France
With its 80th anniversary fast approaching, Jean Renoir's classic social comedy Boudu Saved From Drowning (1932) gets the restoration and re-release treatment on Blu-ray, courtesy of Park Circus.
Feeling despondent after losing his dog, Boudu (Michel Simon), an unkempt and curmudgeonly vagrant, decides to curtail his miserable existence by throwing himself into the Seine. A large crowd is drawn to his attempted suicide, but none choose to intervene save for local bookseller Édouard Lestingois (Charles Granval), who sees the whole thing from his apartment window. He dives into the river and fishes Boudu out, much to the relief of the onlookers – championing Lestingois as a brave hero – and much to the annoyance of Boudu.
Lestingois decides to become the tramp's benefactor; offering him food, new clothes and a warm bed. Boudu shows his gratitude by frequently challenging the manners and civility of the middle-class household in which he is a guest with arrogant and tactless behaviour. The bookseller's wife Emma (Marcelle Hainia) and housemaid/secret mistress Chloe (Sévérine Lerczinska) dislike Boudu's disruptive cantankerousness, however, Édouard is still determined to tame him, but even he has his limits...
Although it was remade by Hollywood as the commercially Successful Down And Out In Beverly Hills in the mid-80s, it’s nice to see that Renoir's original screen adaption of René Fauchois' play Boudu Sauvé des Eaux still holds an incredible and charming freshness after eight decades and, as a result, has aged rather well. Michel Simon is one of cinema's all-time great loveable oafs, playing tactless without resorting to playing dumb or stupid. It’s a skill that he went on to perfect in Jean Vigo's final film L'Atalante (1934).
The rest of the cast do well to not be overshadowed by Simon's attention grabbing hijinks. Granval excels as the good Samaritan with a shady secret, unable to perform his night time visitations to the maid's quarters because of a restless Boudu trying to adjust to sleeping indoors. The two principle female players also hold up well to Simon's buffoonery, eventually being seduced by his forthright charm and spontaneity; creating an interesting dynamic shift in time for the third act. The characters overall, feel pretty convincing and rounded - the middle-class household don't come across as being overly stuck up and stilted, nor is Boudu perceived as a caricature pauper.
Renoir takes great pleasure in exploring the double standards generated by the class divide. An early scene where a woman encourages her young daughter to help those less fortunate by offering a little money, only to be met with surly ungratefulness, foreshadows his relationship with the bookseller's household. On the flip side, Boudu is met with similar hostility when he asks a policeman if he can help find his lost dog. The policeman tells the tramp to be on his way only to then bend over backwards for a wealthy woman with a similar plight. Renoir's restrained use of music is also interesting, opting to use a minimal arrangement consisting of a lone flute (played by one of the characters); eschewing the then common practice of having ubiquitous overture and incidental music playing throughout almost every scene.
Also, it’s always nice to see that a comedy from a bygone era is still able to put a smile on one's face eighty years later. The sense of humour on display, whilst interestingly quirky, may not appeal to those who enjoy a more modern, subversive edginess to their comedy, but some humour is timeless. In fact, Boudu Saved From Drowning plays out like a sit-com in places – decades before such a thing existed – laying the groundwork for so many fish-out-of-water and mismatched partnership based comedies that would subsequently arise. On the other hand, new nostalgia based humour has been inadvertently created due to the generational gap. For example, Boudu is scolded by Lestingois' wife because he is about to leave the building without shining his shoes – would this be the case today? So, if anything, Boudu Saved From Drowning acts a bizarre time capsule, reminding future generations just how much standards have slipped over the course of the last century.
As for the Blu-ray presentation, Park Circus have done a commendable job. This is quite easily the best that Boudu Saved From Drowning has ever looked, home video or otherwise. Detail is pretty good for a film of this vintage, although it frequently shows up some of the soft photography scattered throughout, but not detrimentally so. Also, the occasional interstitial exterior shot appears underexposed, but again, this is due to the shortcomings of the original source and not necessarily the disc. On the upside, the print that Park Circus has chosen to use is very clean and free of any noteworthy damage. The audio is also pretty crisp, making Boudu Saved From Drowning worth the upgrade for those so inclined.
Boudu Saved From Drowning is a great example of vintage, pre-Hollywood Renoir. Although it has been surpassed and overshadowed many times since it was first released, even now in the 21st century, its charm and humour still resonates. It makes for an interesting look back, reminding you of why people fell in love with cinema in the first place. MP
Film: The Virgin Spring
Release date: 28th October 2002
Certificate: 15
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Max von Sydow, Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindblom, Birgitta Pettersson, Axel Düberg
Genre: Crime/Drama
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Winner of the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1961, Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring is part of Tartan Video's extensive 'Bergman Collection' on DVD, along with the director's many other masterworks.
Set in the barren yet beautiful landscape of medieval Sweden, the film centres on religious land owners Töre (Max von Sydow) and Märeta (Birgitta Valberg) and their virgin daughter Karin (Birgitta Pettersson).
Karin is appointed to deliver candles to the church, requiring a day's travel on horseback. She sets off in the morning with her adopted and heavily pregnant 'sister' Ingeri (Gunnel Lindblom), a secret Norse worshiper. Jealous of the undeserving levels of affection given to the spoilt Karen, Ingeri prays to Odin for misfortune.
An altercation during the journey causes the pair to part ways. Karin continues alone and soon encounters a trio of mischievous herdsmen – two adults and a boy. Taken in by their charm, Karin invites them to join her for a picnic luncheon that ends with tragedy. Karin is raped and murdered by the two older men and robbed of her best outer clothing. She is left half buried in the clearing.
As the cold winter night draws in, the herdsmen unwittingly ask for shelter at Töre and Märeta's farm. Worried about her daughter not returning home for supper, Märeta's worst fears are confirmed when one of the herders attempts to sell her Karin's clothes. Töre decides to take revenge...
If The Virgin Spring's basic narrative is familiar to you, that's because it was used as the basis for Wes Craven's seminal, iconoclastic exploitation debut The Last House On The Left (1972) and its own subsequent remake of the same name released in 2009. However, despite this familiarity and its aforementioned Oscar success, The Virgin Spring is a frequently overlooked item in the Bergman catalogue. There are two possible reasons for this. The first is the film's position within the director's somewhat impressive oeuvre; coming a few years after the one-two-punch success of The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries (1957) – two of Bergman's most famous works – and just before his much lauded 'Faith Trilogy' – consisting of Through A Glass Darkly (1961), Winter Light (1963) and The Silence (1963).
The second reason stems from Bergman's own apparent ambivalence towards the final product, disregarding it as being “dreadfully triste” as the film introduces “a totally unanalysed idea of God.” However, it is perhaps for the same reasons why The Virgin Spring is one of Bergman's most endearing and powerful films.
While the film may not offer an analysed idea on God, it does offer an analysed idea on something far more tangible: the family unit. Töre is a firm but fair patriarch, but is forever lenient when it comes to his daughter's wishes; much to the chagrin of his far more devout and straight-laced wife Märeta, who believes in a well disciplined household. As a result, The Virgin Spring plays out like a grim fable about the naivety of youth, which is true to the roots of Ulla Isaksson's script, itself adapted from a 13th century Swedish ballad entitled ‘Töres dotter i Wänge’. It’s also a befitting match with Bergman's penchant for bleak, introspective subject matter, which is out in full force here.
As far as the acting goes, Max von Sydow gives Bergman yet another excellent performance (they worked together on thirteen films in total) that doesn't overshadow the rest of the cast. After all, a fair amount of the film's screen time is also dedicated to Birgitta Pettersson's Karin and her fateful journey. Having worked with her previously on The Magician (1958), Bergman coaxes a strong performance from the young Pettersson as well as Gunnel Lindblom as rival adopted sister Ingeri; creating chemistry fraught with barely contained disdain. The film's final act, however, definitely belongs to Sydow. The preparations for his act of vengeance are simply sublime; wrestling a lone tree to the ground to stock the farm's bathhouse with nothing but the sheer determination to do it is a deceptively powerful moment. His insistence on cleansing his body before shedding blood not only makes for a very good build up to the act itself, but is very telling with regards to his character's moral and religious values. Murder is unjustifiable, even if it is for a good cause, and it’s interesting to see the film take a decidedly grey stance on the matter. Töre's vengeance is not the cathartic dispensing of poetic justice that it’s intended to be. It is a grisly and barbaric affair that burns through his very being and Sydow plays it beautifully.
Sven Nykvist's camerawork is strong and quietly impressive throughout, capturing the inherent beauty and bleakness of the Swedish countryside whilst simultaneously hinting at the grim unpleasantness to come. And while said unpleasantness may be somewhat tame by today's standards, it still packs an emotional wallop to say the least; more so than Craven's more famous re-imaging. Mainly because of Isaksson's economic scripting as well as Bergman's insistence on giving the characters enough time to bond with the audience, without resorting to clichéd schmaltz, only to sweep the carpet from under their feet. The results are subtle, but have a profound impact on the overall experience, with Bergman deftly able to switch between sombre and tense atmospheres merely through conducting his cast to perform a certain look or facial expression. A scene where the murderous herdsmen dine with Karin's parents and their farmhands is especially well realised and brilliantly taut, with the youngest of the trio – an unfair accessory to the other men's crime – ready to crack and confess at any second.
While it lacks the portentous grandeur of The Seventh Seal or the experimental flair of Persona (1966), The Virgin Spring is still Bergman at his best, even though he would be inclined to disagree. The final scene – Bergman's biggest bugbear; maintaining that it was a last minute addition – does display a certain amount of religious whimsy but it befits the dark, fable-like style exhibited throughout the rest of the film, as well as offering a strange sense of overcoming. If God does exist, he certainly moves in mysterious ways.
The Virgin Spring is a compact yet masterful piece of filmmaking from one of the great exponents of world cinema. Its measured pacing, exquisite camerawork and brilliant performances render it a haunting and searing masterpiece. Also, the simplicity and familiar nature of the story makes it a perfect entry point for those who are new to Bergman's work. Highly recommended. MP
Considered the “Ed Wood of Hong Kong Cinema” by many a Z-movie aficionado, Godfrey Ho is a highly prolific director and screenwriter of improbable cult standing; best known for his ultra low-budget, ‘cut-and-paste’ style ninja movies of the 1980s.
Despite having over one-hundred films to his credit, Ho barely registers on the radar of most film lovers. But take a trip to the martial arts section of a second-hand DVD store and you'll come across a litany of titles with his name on, or one of his many aliases: Godfrey Hall, Charles Lee, Tony Cheung, Bruce Lambert, Wallace Chan, Larry Hutton, Philip Fraser and Chi-mou Ho are but a few of the forty plus pseudonyms Ho has used over the years, making it impossible to know for certain as to the number of films he has actually directed. However, two factors that are almost always the same is the involvement of Ho's production partner Joseph Lai – who at one point was rumoured to be yet another alias for Ho – and that the film will have the word 'ninja' in its title.
When Godfrey met Joseph
Ho was born in Hong Kong in 1948 and got his start in filmmaking at the Shaw Brothers Studio, Hong Kong's foremost production company at the time. Along with a fellow budding young filmmaker by the name of John Woo, Ho worked as an assistant director for Chang Cheh during the early 1970s. His involvement during this early period included many seminal Cheh features: Young People (1972), The Water Margin (1972), Hellfighters Of The East (1973) and Blood Brothers (1973), among others.
Shortly after, Ho was allowed to helm his own projects, starting with low key actioners such as The Blazing Ninja (1973) – where he first met the aforementioned Lai, who was working as an associate producer – and Paris Killers (1974), a co-directing effort with Ting Hung Kuo, who would go on to work with a then up-and-coming Jackie Chan over the next few years.
Korean knock-offs
After the commercial failure of Paris Killers, Ho left Shaw Brothers to pursue a new partnership with Lai and his company ASSO Asia in a bid to take advantage of the current popularity boom of Hong Kong action cinema. For the remainder of the decade, Ho directed a string of cheaply produced kung-fu movies in Korea, using a Korean cast and crew to save on costs. These Hong Kong knock-offs weren't sold to Hong Kong itself, instead, they were designed solely for international distribution. This was made possible by the arrival of newly developed home video formats such as VHS, as well as some shrewd business decisions on the part of Lai and fellow producing partner Thomas Tang, who would set up his own competing production company Filmark. Ho would continue to have dealings with both Lai and Tang after this parting of ways.
As for the films themselves; they were period kung-fu pictures made to look Chinese in order to appeal to the ongoing international craving for all things Bruce Lee-esque. Competently put together yet artistically desultory works, such as Dynamite Shaolin Heroes (1977), Enter The Invincible Hero (1977), The Deadly Silver Ninja (1978), Dragon's Snakefist (1979), Dragon's Showdown (1980) Snake Strikes Back (1981) and Leopard Fist Ninja (1982), were churned out at an incredible rate (up to four a year) with almost a complete disregard for historical or cultural accuracy.
Cut-and-paste ninjas
By the early to mid 1980s, Ho and Lai were in need of a change of strategy if they were to keep up with genre and industry developments. It was now common – not to mention financially viable – for films to have Caucasian cast members to increase American interest. Ho and Lai decided to follow suit and, under the banner of Lai's new company IFD Films and Arts Limited (formed after his partnership ended with Tang), started to make more contemporary action films involving ninjas.
The work that Ho produced in the 1980s is easily his most infamous, endearing and inept. Casting American B-movie actor (and former associate from the Shaw Brothers years) Richard Harrison – who famously turned down an offer from Sergio Leone to star in A Fistful Of Dollars (1964), recommending Clint Eastwood instead – in the lead role, Ho directed numerous micro-budget sequences of fighting ninjas as well as expositional scenes with Harrison and other cast members. This would become the basis for Ho's cut-and-paste period. Ho or Lai (neither chooses to take credit) re-edited and spliced their ninja footage with material from completely unrelated sources; usually from incomplete, obscure or unreleased films from other Asian countries such as the Philippines and Thailand. These films of varying genre – gangster films, comedies, romances, etc – were dubbed into English, as was the ninja footage, to create the end product. The results were hardly coherent but made financial sense; Ho and Lai had found a way to not only make several low-budget films for the price of one, but to keep American video rental stores well stocked with their produce.
Harrison was not happy with this approach. He had initially agreed to appear in a few of Ho's films but now found himself to be the unwitting star of over twenty; all of which re-edited and badly spliced together with other films to extend the running time. For instance, films such as Ninja Terminator (1985), Ninja Champion (1986), Ninja Thunderbolt (1986), Ninja Dragon (1986), Ninja the Protector (1986) and The Ninja Squad (1986) would feature re-dubbed shots of Harrison speaking on the phone to another character originally from a completely different film in a half baked attempt to stitch the two differing plot-lines together. Disgusted and embarrassed by his involvement with Ho, Harrison subsequently retired from acting in the 1990s.
A lot of the music used in these ninja films was also ripped off from elsewhere. Early Pink Floyd, Wendy Carlos' score for A Clockwork Orange (1971) and John Williams' score for the Star Wars films were popular victims - the musical sting for Lai's IFD logo at the start of each film was shamelessly pinched from 'The Imperial March', for example. The exact number of films made during this period cannot be determined due to nature of their construction, as well as the multiple title changes made for international markets. To make matters more confusing, Lai subsequently re-re-edited the ninja footage from many of Ho's films again into a 32 episode television series entitled Ninja Myth.
From ninjas to kickboxers
Ho capped off his cut-and-paste period with a short-lived but nonetheless prolific string of films involving kickboxers instead of ninjas; probably to capitalise on the success of newly emerging martial arts talent such as Jean-Claude Van Damme. Ho and Lai used their same old movie splicing tricks for titles such as Kickboxer The Champion (1991), Little Kickboxer (1992), Robo-Kickboxer (1992), Kickboxer From Hell (1992) and Kickboxer Against The Odds (1992), but their financial success in this arena was starting to dwindle.
As a result, Ho returned to directing legitimate, full-length features for the remainder of the ‘90s. Moving away from IFD briefly, Ho made Lethal Panther (1990), a Nikita (1990) inspired action flick about female assassins; it was followed by a sequel in 1993. Ho diversified further by making Laboratory Of The Devil (1992), an unofficial sequel/remake to Mou Tun Fei's positively horrific Men Behind The Sun (1988); a film based on the atrocities carried out by Japan's Unit 731 during the Second World War. Met with minor critical success, Ho was commissioned to do a sequel: Maruta 3: Destroy All Evidence (1994). Ho made a few more legitimate features, including Undefeatable (1993) and Mr. X (1995), before retiring from filmmaking after the completion of what would be his final film, Manhattan Chase (2000). After a prolific and unconventional career in filmmaking, he now teaches his craft to others at the Hong Kong Film Academy.
In recent years, Godfrey Ho has become somewhat of a cult icon despite being a shamelessly commercial filmmaker, or at least trying to be. Due to the nonsensical, bricolage nature of his work, Ho's cinema is pure bathos; unintentionally hilarious and hopeless in its attempts to appeal to western culture, something which in turn appeals to connoisseurs of the weird, wonderful and downright bizarre nooks and crannies of the celluloid world. As a result, Ho has unwittingly created some of the best worst films ever made, and will continue to find a loyal audience; but not quite the audience he originally had in mind. MP
Partial Filmography:
2000 Manhattan Chase
1995 Mr X.
1994 Maruta 3: Destroy All Evidence
1993 Undefeatable | Lethal Extortion
1992 Laboratory Of The Devil | Kickboxer From Hell | Robo-Kickboxer: Power Of Justice
1991 Kickboxer The Champion
1990 Lethal Panther | Ninja Empire
1989 Full Metal Ninja | Zombie Vs. Ninja
1988 Rage Of Ninja | Diamond Ninja Force | Robo-Vampire
1987 Ninja Death Squad | Ninja In Action
1986 The Ninja Squad | Ninja The Protector | Ninja Dragon | Golden Ninja Warrior
1985 Ninja Terminator | Ninja Champion
1984 Ninja Thunderbolt | Revenge Of The Drunken Master
1982 Fist Of Golden Monkey | Leopard Fist Ninja
1981 Rage Of The Dragon | Snake Strikes Back
1980 Dragon's Showdown | Shaolin Fist Fighter
1979 Dragon's Snakefist | Golden Dragon, Silver Snake
1978 The Deadly Silver Ninja
1977 Enter The Invincible Hero | Dynamite Shaolin Heroes
1974 Paris Killers
1973 The Blazing Ninja
