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Thursday, November 20, 2008Shiva Ka Insaaf Release Year: 1985Country: India Starring: Jackie Shroff, Shakti Kapoor, Poonam Dhillon, Vinod Mehra, Mazhar Khan, Parikshat Sahni, Gulshan Grover, Birbal, Satish Kaul, Nandita Thakur Writers: Ravi Kapoor, Mohan Kaul, Kader Khan Director: Raj N. Sippy Cinematographer: Ashok Mehta Music: R.D Burman Producer: Romu N. Sippy Until the mid eighties, the costumed superhero as we know him in the West was a figure largely absent from Indian cinema. The primary exceptions were those intermittent attempts to appropriate the Superman character that seem to dot the history of modern South Asian film, such as the competing attempts by directors Mohammed Hussain and Manmohan Sabir, Superman and Return of Mr. Superman, which were both released in 1960 and , curiously, starred the same actor, Jairaj, in the title role. Yet in the neon decade the industry seemed to see something of a mini renaissance in the appearance of such characters. Superstar Amitabh Bachchan's attempts to revive his career after his less-than-stellar turn in Indian politics, perhaps by way of overcompensation, included not one, but two portrayals of uber-abled caped crusaders, first in the relatively well received Shahenshah and then in the dreadful Toofan. In addition, 1987 saw yet another pass at the Man of Steel in the form of the infamous Superman, aka Indian Superman. And, most famously, there was that same year's mega-hit, Mr. India, in which Anil Kapoor portrayed a humble citizen who, granted the ability to become invisible at will, used his powers to defeat the enemies of his country. But before all of these there came another film based around the exploits of a costumed hero of superhuman abilities, 1985's Shiva Ka Insaaf.     The absence of traditional superheroes in Bollywood up to this point might well be explained by the fact that, despite that absence, the nation's screens saw no shortage of colorful figures fighting for the cause of justice and virtue with the aid of superhuman powers. These figures appeared in those films known as "Mythologicals", a staple of Indian cinema since its very inception, based on the religious epics the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Indeed, even Hollywood might have seen religious-based films become more of a staple genre had the tracts of Western religion been populated by such fanciful deities as the monkey god Hanuman, a fearless and cheekily charismatic hero who in modern times has even proven himself worthy of fighting alongside Ultraman. In fact, when, in the 1960s, India began to produce its own indigenous comic books, it was the heroes of the Ramayana and Mahabharata that featured in their pages. This is not to say that comics had not been produced in the country prior to that, but up to that time they had only been comprised of reprints of popular Western comics, such as Mandrake the Magician, Lee Falk's The Phantom, and, of course, Superman. It was only in the 1970s that bona fide and uniquely Indian superheroes began to see print, and it is perhaps due to those characters gradually making their way into the larger public consciousness that we saw films such as those mentioned above being released in the following decade. Still, the connection between India's superheroes and its cherished religious figures remained strong, as many of these films clearly evidence. In Toofan for instance, Amitabh's character is granted his powers by Hanuman, and in Shiva Ka Insaaf, our hero, Shiva, derives his powers from... well, the name pretty much says it all. (This practice can be seen even in more recent Bollywood superhero films, such as 2006's Krrish, in which the hero derives his name from that of Krishna.)     It was not the presence of a masked superhero alone upon which the movie Shiva Ka Insaaf depended for its novelty, however. The film is, in fact, sometimes mistakenly identified as being India's first film made in 3D, though that honor actually goes to 1984's My Dear Kuttichaathan, an enormously popular children's fantasy shot in the Malayalam language. Still, Shiva Ka Insaaf followed hot on the heels on My Dear Kuttichaathan, and can -- and did -- rightfully make the claim to being the first Hindi film shot in 3D. In India, the 3D process ran pretty much the same course that it does periodically throughout the rest of the world, making a big initial splash. which, in turn, inspired a short run of increasingly less successful films trumpeting its use (which included, in addition to Shiva Ka Insaaf, Indian cheapy horror maestros the Ramsay Brothers' 3D Saamri, aka Purana Mandir 2) before the industry abandoned it due to its financial returns not justifying the added expense of labor and capital that it required. In keeping with that familiar trend, Shiva Ka Insaaf contains within it all of those gimmicks that you'd expect from a movie riding a brief wave of 3D-mania, loaded with "gotcha" moments in which all manner of things are thrust at the camera in the hope of inspiring startled gasps on the part of the audience. Shiva Ka Insaaf features as its titular hero the actor Jackie Shroff, at the time a freshly-minted superstar thanks to his lead role in the blockbuster hit Hero the previous year. I have to admit that, prior to seeing Shiva Ka Insaaf, I had only seen Shroff in films of more recent vintage, and, while he has obviously aged into a beefy and appropriately craggy-faced picture of Bollywood machismo in the interim, it was shocking to see him here so fresh-faced and comparatively scrawny. Even his mustache looked undernourished to me. And, when suited up as Shiva, his heroic demeanor is undermined by a comportment that I can only describe as being a bit on the slouchy side. Of course, as many movie stars throughout the world have had the sad opportunity to learn, superhero movies, with their frequently ridiculous-looking costumes and over-hyped expectations, are an invitation for unflattering comparisons. We can't all be John Phillip Law in Diabolik, after all. In fact, none of us can, save John Phillip Law -- and God help the poor, pear-shaped everyman who tries to pour himself into a painted-on leather catsuit to prove otherwise. So simply add Shroff to the long line of thespians whose run-in with a form-fitting, head-to-toe leather superhero uniform left them looking more deflated than ennobled.     Anyone who has watched a lot of Bollywood action films knows that in them the parents of young boys are something of an endangered species, and that, if a pair of them are introduced during the first five minutes, odds are pretty high that they will soon be gunned down by a cackling villain while little Junior watches from some hiding place he's squirreled himself away in. Now, I've seen enough Spaghetti Westerns to know that this particular trope is not the exclusive property of Indian cinema, but it is only in Bollywood that it sees such steady repetition as to seem like the observance of some kind of ritual. In any case, Shiva Ka Insaaf makes admirably short work of this set-up, seeing that little Bhola's lawyer father and doting mother are dispatched by the ruthless bandit Jagan (Shakti Kapoor) within mere minutes of the opening credits. Of course, from his hiding place, Bhola can only see the telltale scar on Jagan's hand as these vicious acts play out, and thus are the seeds of vengeance and its lifelong pursuit sown. With his dying breath, Bhola's father tells the boy to seek out one of three men -- the names and photographs of whom are provided in a diary he keeps -- to take him in and give him a proper upbringing. Fortunately for Bhola, it turns out that all three men -- whose relation to Bhola's dad is never made clear -- live under one roof, Full House style. These men are Ram, Robert and Rahim (Vinod Mehra, Parikshat Sahni and Mazhar Khan), whose names echo the idealized vision of harmony between Hindu, Catholic and Muslim seen in numerous masala films -- especially those directed by Manmohan Desai, such as, most famously, Amar Akbar Anthony. Perhaps what unites Uncles Ram, Robert and Rahim, despite their different faiths, is the fact that they are all hirsute macho men and that each, in his own way, is a raging badass. To illustrate this, we are shown a series of vignettes, the first of which shows Ram wielding his fists and a pair of bamboo sticks that he uses like nunchucks with fearsome effectiveness, sending a bad guy flying through a wall and leaving a perfect man-shaped hole in his wake. Next we see Robert practicing a unique skill in which he launches little metal balls -- directly at the camera, naturally -- from little cups located on the tips of his shoes, hitting his targets with startling accuracy. Finally Rahim demonstrates that he is very good with a whip. All three, it seems, are ideal candidates to prime Bhola for the task of avenging his parents' deaths, and so follows a training montage taken directly from a Liu Chia-Liang movie (seriously, Bhola even has to run across those floating logs like in 36 Chambers of Shaolin), during which Bhola goes from being portrayed by a child actor to being portrayed by twenty-eight-year-old Jackie Shroff, despite the fact that his adopted uncles only age in that typically Bollywood, mild-graying-at-the-temples way.     Finally, Bhola's uncles take him to a temple to the god Shiva, where they bestow upon him his leather-heavy costume, a ring in the shape of Shiva's third eye (all the better to leave a distinctive mark on those he punches) and a replica of Shiva's weapon, the trishul -- or trident -- which he is to use to announce his arrival, striking terror into the hearts of those evildoers who are about to be on the receiving end of his wrath. At this, an eerie wind sweeps through the shrine, and his uncles tell him that the power he will be wielding will not be his own, but rather that of Shiva working through him. Now, whether this means that Bhola is now blessed with superpowers is unclear, as most of the crimefighting abilities he will display from this point on are in the form of the type of exaggerated punching and leaping around that we normally see from Indian action heroes -- only in their case without them being burdened with masks, capes and constricting head-to-toe leather uniforms -- though there are a couple of instances in which it appears that Bhola/Shiva can fly. Whatever his abilities may be, however, there is no doubt in my mind that Bhola/Shiva's most super power of all is his poetic way with a mortal threat, aided greatly by the fact that, whenever he puts on his costume, his voice automatically becomes equipped with its own echo unit. Thus is made even more grimly authoritative such pronouncements as "I will make you writhe so much that death will shiver looking at you." Or when, on another occasion, while trying to extract information from a recalcitrant goon, he intones ominously, "Even if Shiva goes to a cemetery, the corpses there get up and tell their names and addresses." Still, while generally a man of few words, Shiva does at times prove long-winded, as you'll no doubt find after hearing his little introductory speech being delivered for the umpteenth time. This, in response to his prey's panicked queries as to his identity, goes as follows: "The breeze that will extinguish the fire of injustice... The cure to poor men's pains... I am Shiva!"     Given the typically intricate plotting of Bollywood films, you might think of my above summarization of Shiva Ka Insaaf''s first act as being somewhat glib. But Shiva Ka Insaaf is far from typical in that regard, and shows an economy in its approach to storytelling that, unless you consider the circumstances, is a little surprising. Few Indian films of its era clock in, as Shiva does, at a mere two hours, but I imagine that this truncated length represents an attempt on the part of its producers to limit, to some extent, the expenses and technical complications involved in filming a movie in 3D. The resulting need to cram all of its business into what, to its makers, must have seemed like a very brief running time leads to a narrative that is uncharacteristically lean, and free of those many subplots and parallel storylines that make up the normal masala film. Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think the film could benefit from the introduction of some of those elements, but we should perhaps be grateful for what we have. After all, director Raj N. Sippy might not have been able to integrate those disparate elements as expertly as, say, Shekhar Kapur did with Mr. India, and we might have instead ended up with something as sprawling and unfocused as Toofan, a superhero movie so overburdened with plot that its superhero ends up being crowded off-screen for most of its length. Shiva Ka Insaaf may indeed boast a story that is little more than rote superhero boilerplate, but, as a frequent viewer of Indian films, I have to confess that it's nice to on occasion be let off easy: to part ways with a film after a non seat-numbing investment of time and without having to have kept track of all of its characters and tangents by way of copious notes. Anyway, with Bhola's superheroic transformation now complete, his uncles determine that it is time for him to go to The Big City, for that is where they have determined his parents' killer has migrated, despite them having no clue as to his identity. (Hey, my praising the movie's brevity doesn't mean that it doesn't sometimes come at the expense of sense.) To this end, they provide him with an entre to a job at a big city newspaper, where he is to work in the guise of a bespectacled, mild mannered reporter. Mind you, Jackie Shroff's take on this oft-essayed role ends up being an insult to bespectacled, mild-mannered reporters everywhere, as it involves a stuttering caricature of simple-mindedness and social retardation that borders on cretinism. Still, this somehow does not prevent the newspaper's beautiful female editor, Rekha (Poonam Dhillon) from giving him a job, thus setting us up for the inevitable triangle between Bhola, who falls hard for Rekha, and Rekha, who ends up falling even harder for Shiva. Now, as to the root of Rekha's attraction, I'd love to quote Batman and say "It's the car", but Shiva doesn't even have one, as evidenced in a later chase scene where he takes after a carload of thugs on a bicycle. (One article that I read about this film, written by a South Asian writer, cited this scene as singling out Shiva as being the most Indian of superheroes.) Must be the leather, then.     Meanwhile, we find that the intervening years have seen considerable upward mobility on the part of our old friend Jagan, as his relocation to the city has been accompanied by a transformation from grubby, scarf-wearing dacoit to white-suited, highball-swilling underworld kingpin, and has in turn necessitated him being re-christened with the cryptic but suitably sophisticated-sounding appellation "The Doctor". (No, he doesn't have a Tardis. Nerd.) Once Shiva has made his presence known around town, striking the appropriate amount of fear into its criminal underbelly, Jagan and his son, Vikram (Gulshan Grover), take it as their first order of business to eliminate him. And so begins the series of free-wheeling, violent encounters between Shiva and Jagan's army of goons that are essentially the very type of business you would presumably be watching a movie like Shiva Ka Insaaf for in the first place. And, unless you have expectations of gritty realism, you shouldn't be disappointed, as these scenes come replete with loads of unnecessary acrobatics, loudly resounding punches thrown directly at the camera, and Shiva skewering his adversaries with little mini trishuls that he throws with deadly accuracy. One of these aforementioned action set pieces involves Shiva being lured by Jagan's men to a warehouse filled with packing crates, where they then try to kill him by running him over with their cars. Inserted, at certain points, into the footage of real cars crashing through stacks of real crates -- I'm guessing, in order to somehow achieve the desired 3D effect -- are poorly matched shots of what are obviously toy cars crashing through stacks of miniature crates, which then fly out toward the camera. In like fashion, during the fight that ensues, whenever one of Jagan's henchmen is hurled or falls from the rafters, it is represented by an -- again, very obvious and, by all appearances, pocket-sized -- doll being dropped onto the camera. These are both pretty typical examples of the caliber of miniature work you see in older Bollywood movies -- going back as far as such methods were employed and extending forward to as late as the mid-nineties -- and it's something that, by virtue of its naive charms, I've found myself becoming completely obsessed with. Nothing makes me happier these days than to be watching some old Indian movie and suddenly see a scene such as those that I've described above play across the screen, and the shoddier it looks, the better.     I should point out, however, that the crudeness of those effects is not due to them being primitive by necessity. It wouldn't have required that much greater of an expenditure of cash or resources, if any, to make those models slightly more detailed, or to film them from an angle that would have created an illusion of scale. Nor, in my opinion, is it a matter of Bollywood effects crews of the day simply being inept. Rather, it's the result, I think, of a particular approach to special effects that puts less of a premium on realism, preferring instead to simply suggest the thing represented, while letting the effect itself be seen by the audience for the ingenious bit of trickery that it is. It's a self referential form of movie magic that, by its very obviousness, invites the audience to be gleeful participants in their own deception. It also both exemplifies and enables that promise of escape into a totally fabricated reality that, for many of us, makes Indian commercial cinema so irresistible. As for Shiva Ka Insaaf's most important special effect -- that is, its attempted illusion of three dimensionality -- I cannot offer an evaluation. The only way the movie can be viewed these days is in the stubbornly two dimensional format of cheapo Indian DVD, and, even if it were to generate enough interest to merit a screen revival in all its intended glory, that wouldn't be likely to occur on my shores. Still, anyone attempting to watch the movie even in its current format will do best to be advised of its origins, otherwise the near constant thrusting and hurling of objects into the camera with little or no narrative justification will prove pretty perplexing.     For myself, what was most interesting about all of that was how, unlike other 3D movies that I've seen, in which the effect was generally used to provoke in the audience a feeling of physical threat (ooh, watch out for that ping pong ball!), Shiva ka Insaaf is just as likely to tease its audience with temptation. There are any number of nasty looking weapons brandished at the viewer, but he or she is just as often -- or even more often -- tantalized with the offer of a plateful of tasty looking food, a handful of candy, or even a fistful of cash. When you consider that the majority of the film's audience would have come from the lower economic strata of Indian society, you have to wonder if Shiva Ka Insaaf didn't perhaps cross some line beyond Bollywood's mandate to provide wish fulfillment and enter territory where it could have been perceived as taunting, or even cruel. Still, I have to admit that the first thing that came to mind upon seeing one of those handfuls of colorful sweets being launched toward my face was the image of a theater full of shrieking kids joyfully leaping with arms outstretched toward the screen. And I imagine any parent would feel safe letting their child accept candy from Shiva ka Insaaf, as, aside from a couple of bloody moments and a very well-placed use of the word "shit" by Gulshan Grover, it's decidedly kid friendly. The drama never gets too intense, the overall look is bathed in that inimitable bright 1980s glow, and the score happily percolates with songs by R.D. Burman at his most lightweight and catchy. In other words, The Dark Knight this is not, and if you're looking for depth, you should have seen it when it was in 3D. However, if you're in the mood for some good-natured, if unremarkable, costumed horseplay with that ineffable whiff of spice peculiar to Bollywood, you could do much worse. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Bollywood, Stars: Jackie Shroff, Year: 1985 posted by Todd at 9:56 AM | 13 Comments Wednesday, June 11, 2008James Batman Release Year: 1966Country: Philippines Starring: Dolphy, Boy Alano, Shirley Moreno, Bella Flores, Diane Balen, Elsa Boufard, Nori Dalisay, Johnny Ysmail Jr., Lyn D'Arce, Jose Morelos, Ben Medina, Joy Del Sol, Tessa Concepcion Writers: Pepito Vera-Perez, Artemio Marquez Director: Artemio Marquez Cinematographer: Amaury Agra Music: Carding Cruz Producer: Jose O. Vera I've mentioned elsewhere that I find the Philippines' Tagalog language pop cinema of the 1960s strikingly similar to Turkish pulp cinema of the same period. The products of both are comparably rough hewn and action oriented and, by necessity of their staggering volume, bear the hallmarks of being churned out at a very brisk pace. Both are also brimming with fanciful costumed heroes, many of which are lifted directly from Western pop culture sources with little or no concern for matters of copyright. Of course, the Filipino's have their own rich comic book history to draw from, and the decade would also see numerous screen adaptations of homegrown superheroes such as Captain Barbell, Lastikman, and Mars Ravelo's Wonder Woman inspired Darna, but audiences at the time were just as likely to be treated to fare along the lines of Batman Fights Dracula or Zoom, Zoom, Superman! Filipino cinema had not always been that way, however. In fact, the previous decade had been what is now considered a golden age for the country's film industry, dominated by a quartet of major studios known as "The Big Four", who turned out relatively lavish prestige productions built around their respective stables of glamorous stars. Financial troubles and the resulting defection of contracted talent started to take their toll on those studios toward the end of the fifties, and by the mid sixties Sampaguita Productions was the last of the Big Four left standing.     And the landscape that Sampaguita found itself a part of was a markedly changed one, made up of dozens of scrappy independent production companies seeking to turn a quick profit by grinding out hastily produced imitations of whatever international product Filipino audiences were paying to see at the moment. This translated primarily into countless indigenous interpretations of the James Bond and Eurospy films (resulting, among others things, in the phenomenally successful and long running Tony Falcon: Agent X-44 series), Spaghetti Westerns. and, of course, the ubiquitous Batman television series and the numerous European costumed capers inspired by it. In this sense, Sampaguita's 1966 production James Batman can be seen as one of the studio's efforts to go with the dollar-chasing flow of this new industry environment. Another tendency in Filipino cinema that is at play in James Batman -- one that, in fact, can still be seen in the industry's current cinematic output -- is a fondness for broad, Mad Magazine-style lampoons of Western pop culture products. It doesn't take a cultural anthropologist to see this as reflecting some ambivalence on the part of the Filipino people regarding the inescapable cultural influence of their former occupiers, but, whatever the case, the result was that, alongside more earnest efforts such as the Agent X-44 films, Pinoy filmmakers were producing an equal number of spoofs along the lines of James Bone, which starred the emaciated comedian Palito as a skeletal superspy.     This particular trend was a boon to one performer born Rodolfo Vera Quizon, who, under the name Dolphy, would go on to become the most beloved screen comedian in the history of Pinoy cinema (such was his popularity at the time of making James Batman that he had recently had the gig of warming up the crowd for The Beatles during the mop-topped ones' ultimately disastrous visit to the islands). After initially rising to fame in the fifties in a series of cross-dressing roles (sure-fire comedic gold in the macho culture of the Philippines), Dolphy had, by the mid-sixties, reinvented himself somewhat in a series of secret agent spoofs such as Dr. Yes, Dolpinger, Genghis Bond: Agent 1-2-3 (all 1965) and Napoleon Doble and the Sexy Six (1966). Dolphy didn't limit himself to parodying the spy genre, and also lampooned comic characters such as Tarzan and Captain Barbell during this period -- and for James Batman combined the two with a dual performance as comedic versions of both James Bond and Batman. What makes James Batman such a strange animal -- aside from the obvious -- is that, in parodying the James Bond films of the mid sixties and the Adam West Batman television series, it's spoofing two things that are already spoofs themselves. On top of that, the film, in addition to delivering lots of very broad slapstick comedy, also strives to function as a proper action film, and as such features quite a lot of fairly soberly staged fight sequences and action set pieces. In fact, by the time we reach the final act, most of the comic antics have been dispensed with, and James Batman plays out its remaining length as a fairly straightforward action melodrama. The result is that the movie gets to have it both ways by presenting Batman and James Bond, as the objects of parody, as cowardly and preening, while still having them go on to perform the daring heroic feats that the audience expected of them.     James Batman's action starts at what is apparently some kind of congress of Asian nations, at which a Fu Manchu-like emissary of the criminal organization CLAW shows up to make extortion demands and threaten nuclear annihilation upon those who would not comply. What was most striking to me about this scene was the CLAW emissary's sidekick, who was played by a very elderly man who looked both disoriented and confused throughout, leading me to speculate that someone's grandfather had been put to work during furlough from the rest home. Anyway, the combined nations decide that the threat from CLAW is so great that the services of both Batman and James Bond are required. An actually kind of funny scene follows in which the movie's distinctly childish and self-regarding versions of both Batman and Bond, who are obviously none too fond of one another, sit before the committee and argue why each of them should be given the job exclusively -- an argument that quickly devolves into each of them shouting "pick me!" at the delegates. One of the perks of the job for Batman is that it will increase his proximity to the chairman's beautiful young daughter, Shirley. Unfortunately, while Shirley is crazy about Batman (exemplified by a shot of her gazing dreamy-eyed at a magazine that confusingly features a photo of Batman and Robin as portrayed by Adam West and Burt Ward), she has no time for Batman's alter ego, Dolpho, despite the insistence of her controlling older sister Delia that Dolpho, with his many millions, is a prime catch. Meanwhile, the members of CLAW -- which include a cloaked figure called Drago, an especially tall and roided-up interpretation of The Penguin, a guy with a spiked ball for a hand, and a masked female called The Black Rose who is clearly derived from the character in Chor Yuen's Cantonese film of the same name -- have learned that Bond, Batman and "Rubin" are on the case, and determine to eliminate them before they interfere with their plans.     In addition to former Sampaguita contract player Dolphy, the cast of James Batman serves as something of a showcase for Sampaguita's house talent at the time. Boy Alano, who plays Rubin, began his acting career at the age of ten, when he co-starred in the 1951 film Roberta, a smash hit that helped rescue the studio from bankruptcy following a fire that consumed a large part of its property. Bella Flores, who plays Delia, had portrayed the female heavy in that same film, and her performance was so iconic that it pretty much doomed her to the type of bad girl roles we see her essaying here. Finally, Shirley Moreno, who plays "Shirley", was a recent discovery whom Sampaguita head Dr. Jose Perez had that year included in a promotional launch of the studio's new faces dubbed "Stars 66". Despite the Spanish surname, the fair-skinned, conspicuously Anglo-looking Moreno serves as a perfect example of the Caucasian standard of feminine beauty that dominated in the Pinoy film industry at the time -- and still does to some extent today. With its simple set-up out of the way, James Batman proceeds along a trajectory not unsimilar to that of most spy films of its era, trotting out a succession of action set pieces based around the villain's serial attempts to pick off our heroes. Only, in this case, those set pieces are punctuated by gag scenes in which, to give a few examples, Batman gets pantsed and produces condiments from his utility belt, and James Bond gets bitten on his bare ass by a rubber centipede. Alano's portrayal of Rubin as somewhat of a cretin also provides the opportunity for some Three Stooges-style rough stuff, since Dolphy/Batman is frequently driven to violence by his idiocy. Elsewhere, the level of the movie's humor can best be summed up by the phrase "boobies... hee hee".     For the most part, Dolphy's scripted dialog is painfully unfunny, but what struck me as I watched James Batman is how he comes across as being a genuinely funny guy despite that. This is conveyed mostly through what appear to be throwaway bits of physical improv -- such as when, as Batman, he follows a pre-crime-fighting snack by casually wiping his hands on Rubin's cape -- and by a genuinely quirky repertoire of mannerisms and physical gestures that make the most of his spindly frame and boney, thin-lipped countenance. I think that what really works for Dolphy is his somewhat sadsack, sour-faced demeanor, an aspect that not only serves to distance him from the goofy obviousness of the humor he's perpetrating, but also provides a contrast to the type of desperate, googly-eyed antics so often seen in cinematic comic relief characters from this period. As mentioned before, Dolphy's portrayals of Bond and Batman veer toward the comically vain and juvenile -- an exercise in broad-stroke subversion that's aided by some equally unsubtle costuming choices. These include Batman/Dolphy's baggy long johns-based costume that continually slips to his knees, and which is adorned with a chest emblem that looks like a female silhouette better suited for a semi's mud flaps. Bond/Dolphy, for his part, is decked out in a stunning plaid three-piece suit with matching Trilby, an ensemble that is really shown to best advantage during a makeout scene that takes place on an identically patterned couch. (Though, to be honest, whether this outfit was actually intended to look ridiculous, or was instead someone's actual idea of high style was unclear to me.) Interestingly, despite being the only character to receive a satirical rechristening, "Rubin" gets to wear a costume that is entirely faithful to that of his inspiration.     Predictably, James Batman looks like it was made for about a dollar, but that doesn't mean that efforts weren't made to make it look as good as possible under the circumstances. Director Artemio Marquez and cinematographer Amaury Agra imbue the film throughout with fluid camera work and imaginative, comic book-influenced compositions, and the many action sequences are generally well staged and shot. Furthermore, the black and white photography serves to some extent to mask the heavy cardboard and construction paper content of the sets, and elements such as the modified Cadillac that serves as the Batmobile actually don't look too bad as long as the camera doesn't dwell on them for too long. Spicing things up further are some interesting location choices, including the operational processing plant in which the climactic battle scene is staged, which looks like it must have presented some very real hazards for the actors involved. James Batman comes to a dramatic head when the CLAW gang, in accordance with their supervillain mandate, kidnap Shirley and abscond with her to their secret headquarters. Bond, Batman and Rubin are close behind, of course, and, with the aid of two undercover agents working within the organization, lay siege to the compound, all the while dodging the deadly cartoon rays shooting from the giant lady fingers that ornament Drago's throne room. All leads to a dramatic reveal of the real brains behind the organization and, ultimately, some stock footage explosions. It's a climax that offers the type of crossover thrills that only a flagrant disregard for international copyrights can guaranty -- and if you're the type of fanboy for whom a fight between James Bond (or, at least, a malnourished-looking, Pacific Islander version of same) and The Penguin represents sheer nirvana, it should seal the deal on whether or not you are going to begin the long grey market search for a murky dub of the film.     Personally -- and much to my surprise, given my expectations going in -- I'm going to come down reservedly on the pro side of the James Batman argument. This is due in part to the fact that, given that the majority of Filipino films from its era have been lost, it is one of the few remaining examples of films of its type. But I also have to say that, despite it being every bit as stupid as I expected it to be, it was still entertaining, and proceeded at a fast enough clip that none of its potential irritants were with me long enough to do much damage. Points are also in order, I feel, for the fact that its humor, no matter how juvenile, really does have a subversive component to it; the underdog lover in me just has to feel a little warm and fuzzy about inhabitants of a downtrodden island nation like the Philippines so gleefully thumbing their noses at institutionalized symbols of Western might like James Bond and Batman. That in doing so they manage to make the voraciously plundering pulp cinema of Turkey seem reverent by comparison is even more impressive. Plus, you know, boobies... hee hee. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Philippines, Espionage, Year: 1966 posted by Todd at 12:04 AM | 1 Comments Thursday, June 05, 2008Insee Thong Release Year: 1970Country: Thailand Starring: Mitr Chaibancha, Petchara Chaowarat, Kanchit Khuanpracha Director: Mitr Chaibancha Writer: Sek Dusit (source novel) Producer: Mitr Chaibancha When watching one of the Insee Daeng movies -- or any other existing example of popular Thai cinema from the 1960s -- it's possible to see a separate story being told in the countless pops, skips and scratches that riddle the severely weathered and damaged available prints, much as you might see a story in the lines etched in an aged human face. And that story, depending on how you look at it, can be either a sad one or a happy one. On the one hand, those wounds and blemishes speak of a unique part of world popular cinema that is on the verge of being lost to history -- the ragged condition of each surviving film testifying to the many, many more that have ceased to exist entirely. On the other, as with a child's threadbare teddy bear, that conspicuous wear and tear serves as evidence of just how much these movies have been loved and enjoyed by their intended audience, thread over and over again through projectors -- be they in urban cinemas or makeshift outdoor screenings in small villages -- until there was little left of them to thread; in short, loved by their audience to the extent that today they have been virtually devoured. The filter of age and decay that one necessarily has to watch these films through can also, from a particular vantage point (mine, for example), provide them with an additional layer of beauty and mystique on top of the already strange and distinctive visual experience they provide. After all, in an age when engineered distress and decay are a standard part of the image-maker's palette, it's conceivable that someone would actually make something that looked like this intentionally (and, in the case of Grindhouse, to some extent already has). Adding to this illusion of intentionality is the manner in which most of these films are presented today on disc; to compensate for many of them being filmed without sound -- with dialog and sound effects to be provided by live actors in the theaters where they were shown -- the VCD versions of the films include an audio track with actors reading the dialog along with the movie. The result is a sound track -- complete with anachronistic 1980s music -- that progresses smoothly over the jumping and skittering image we see on screen, accounting for every beat created by the missing frames.     Scenes from Awasan Insee Daeng (1963) As you might have gathered from the above, there is a lot that makes these older Thai films less than accessible to Western viewers. In addition to their far from pristine condition, there is the jarring experience of watching them with the provided audio tracks -- really more a form of dramatic narration than dubbing, since little attempt is made to match lip movement, or to create the kind of aural ambience that would suggest the voices were actually coming from the people on screen. Furthermore, because these are very low budget films, they often depend a lot on long scenes of verbal exposition to move their action forward, which makes negotiating their sometimes convoluted plots without the aid of subtitles near impossible. Still, there is a vibrancy and energy to these films that makes them worth sampling. If for no other reason, they should be seen for their unique look, one that is singular in world cinema: a retina-busting suffusion of burst color, which was the result of the inexpensive 16mm color reversal film stock commonly used at the time (and which, because it yielded no negative, was another reason for the lack of clean prints today). With all of the high-contrast, over-saturated hues on display, constantly shouting for attention, even scenes in which nothing is happening give the appearance of being on the verge of jumping from the screen. Considering all of these factors, I think it's best to approach these films with a goal of immersion rather than comprehension -- aided, of course, by an ample dose of your favorite intoxicant.     Scenes from Awasan Insee Daeng (1963) Since I suppose it's possible that there are people who don't enjoy partaking of inebriants and watching weird movies that they don't understand (though, if there are, I don't want to know them), it's a good thing that there exists the PAL region DVD release of Insee Thong, aka The Golden Eagle, the final film in the Insee Daeng -- or Red Eagle -- series from 1970. Not only does the DVD feature English subtitles, but there is also a subsequently-added Thai language dub track that includes Foleys and sound effects in addition to synchronized dialogue (though the mostly disco-fied music still manages to be conspicuously ahead of period). The condition of the print, however, is still pretty dire -- but, as I've indicated above, that's really part of the whole experience. The character of The Red Eagle was created by popular Thai novelist Sek Dusit in 1954. In a series of books that lasted into the sixties, the author chronicled the adventures of Rome Ritthikrai, a seeming ne'er-do-well who, under the cover of night, would don a red, eagle-shaped mask to take on the forces of organized crime and international communism. Masked vigilante heroes of this type were a common feature of the pulp crime novels that became popular in Thailand during the postwar years, but, of all of them, The Red Eagle proved to be the most enduring. That the character is still fondly remembered today may in large part be due -- as much as to the character itself -- to the fact that, when it came time for the Red Eagle to make the transition to the big screen, the man chosen to portray him was Mitr Chaibancha, inarguably the biggest star of 1960s Thai cinema.     Scenes from Awasan Insee Daeng (1963) A man of humble origins who made the transition from boxer to film actor in the late fifties, Chaibancha at his peak was in such demand that, during the years of his box office reign, he starred in nearly a third of all of the films produced in the country (though other estimates put it closer to half), making literally hundreds of films by the time of his premature death in 1970. While this prolific output made the prospect of him being cast as The Red Eagle a near statistical certainty, Chaibancha, though by necessity capable of carrying off a variety of roles, had a reputation as an action hero that made him an obvious choice. Making his debut as the masked hero in the late fifties, Chaibancha would return to the part again and again, fronting a series of films that extended through the decades' end. In the process he would forge an identification between star and role that survives among his public to this day. As portrayed on-screen by Chaibancha (and perhaps as also portrayed in the novels, though I haven't had the opportunity to read them), The Red Eagle, despite his somewhat super-heroic appearance, doesn't appear to be blessed with any exceptional powers, or even to possess much more than the average amount of strength or agility. In fact, most of his exploits seem to simply require a penchant for breaking and entering into the homes or offices of his chosen prey, tip-toeing around in the shadows, stopping to seduce whatever convenient female he comes across in the process, and then blasting his way out with his trusty sidearms once detected (which seems to happen in most cases). In this sense, he bears a family resemblance to that staple of popular narrative the world over, the masked bandit with a conscience, specifically of the sleek, cat burglar variety we see in Asian films like Chor Yuen's The Black Rose and The Lizard, and -- though in a decidedly more amoral guise -- in European pop culture in the form of characters like Diabolik and Kriminal. True to that model, The Red Eagle, though a patriotic hero, works in opposition to the law, and must often evade capture by the police in the course of his self-appointed mission to protect Thailand from nefarious interests.     Scenes from Jao Insee (1968) Though there are certainly many precedents for The Red Eagle, where Chaibancha really stakes out some unique territory in costumed hero lore is in his portrayal of The Red Eagle's alter ego, Rome. Taking the idea of the effete society boy turned masked avenger to an absurd extreme, Chaibancha plays Rome as, not just a hard drinking playboy, but a hopeless lush, a grown man who drinks like a suicidal frat boy and ends most evenings getting hurled face-first from one or other of Bangkok's most posh nightspots. As he presents himself to the public, there's nothing the least bit suave or charming about Rome. At the beginning of the 1968 film Jao Insee, for instance, we watch the pathetic spectacle of Rome careening haphazardly from table to table, hand cupped over mouth, as well-heeled nightclub patrons duck and weave to avoid the projectile spray that appears to be impending. Of course, it's all an act; and it's a good one. No one would ever suspect this sad, gin-soaked creature of being The Red Eagle, even if he told them that he was -- which is exactly the sort of thing you'd expect Rome, in a drunken stupor, to do. Always on hand at the end of Rome's latest feigned bender, standing by patiently to help pour him into her waiting car, is his faithful girlfriend, Oy, whose back-watching duties extend to Rome's activities as The Red Eagle. Oy is played by the beautiful Petchara Chaowarat, an actress who was paired with Chaibancha in well over a hundred pictures. Their track record of hit films together made them one of Thai cinema's iconic screen duos. As portrayed by Chaowarat, Oy has a substantial role in The Red Eagle's adventures, not only assisting him in strategizing his next move -- and helping him make his getaway when it goes awry -- but also on occasion fighting at his side. In Jao Insee, one of the films in the series that precedes Insee Thong, she even becomes a masked avenger in her own right to help the Eagle capture a particularly elusive villain.     Scenes from Jao Insee (1968) It's unclear the extent to which Oy is aware of the philandering that's involved in the Eagle's nightly crime fighting duties, but it's hard to believe that she's completely ignorant of it. In 1963's Awasan Insee Daeng, for instance, it's left to Oy to breach the villain's hideout and rescue a trio of captive beauties, each of whom the Eagle has romanced -- for ostensibly strategic purposes -- at one point or other in the course of the film. If she is indeed aware of it, it's difficult to say whether her apparent blasé attitude toward the fact is indicative of Thai sexual politics at the time or simply a symptom of Rome and Oy having a particularly progressive relationship. In Insee Thong, the final film in the series -- and the first to be both directed and produced by Chaibancha -- Rome and Oy find themselves in a unique situation (though not so unique to anyone familiar with Mexican lucha films). An impostor is posing as The Red Eagle to pull off a string of assassinations. Though Rome has promised Oy that he will give up his crime fighting activities and settle down, he finds this insult to his reputation too much to bear, and so decides to don the eagle mask one last time. Following a logic that is perhaps unique to Rome, he also decides that, until the Eagle's name is cleared, he will need to operate under a new guise, that of The Golden Eagle. This fools no one, of course (The Golden Eagle's costume is identical to that of The Red Eagle, only gold), least of all the police, and soon Rome finds his search for the real killers hampered by the diligent efforts of police captain Chart, a dedicated and longtime believer in the Eagle's inherent rotten-ness.     Scenes from Insee Thong (1970) The real force behind the assassinations is the Red Bamboo Gang, a shadowy organization with ties to Red China whose ultimate goal is the communist takeover of Thailand. While gang member Poowanant goes about murdering the gang's political enemies under the fake Red Eagle guise, their leader, Bakin, sets about extorting money from the country's wealthy businessmen by using an even more unconventional means. Bakin, we are told, learned hypnotism from "the same place as Rasputin", and the real key to his power is that he can not only hypnotize others, but also "himself" and "his soul". The result of this, in the first case, is him somehow being able to physically split himself in three -- which, we are further told, makes him immortal -- and, in the second case, being able to project his image via a red crystal Buddha statue that is given anonymously to all those who fail to meet his blackmail demands. The unvarying result of these poor souls seeing Bakin's fearsome visage emanating from the seemingly innocuous gift is death by heart attack. By means of his usual nocturnal incursions, strong-arm tactics, and tactical dalliances (which this time include the bedding of a gang higher-up's comely niece), The Golden Eagle eventually susses out the gang's plan. After discovering the whereabouts of Bakin's Island headquarters, he notifies the authorities, thus setting in motion a climactic set piece that -- judging from this film, Awasan Insee Daeng and Jao Insee -- appears to be something of a Red Eagle standby: a hyper-violent and chaotic Bondian assault on the villain's compound in which the Eagle, Oy and armies of armed-for-bear policemen run around firing at will at the evildoers' colorfully outfitted foot soldiers, be they retreating or advancing. As this mini D-Day rages on the beach outside, the Eagle slips into the compound to stage his final confrontation with Bakin and his seemingly unstoppable commie voodoo.     Scenes from Insee Thong (1970) Sprinkled throughout the machinations of Insee Thong's plot is a liberal amount of broad humor, as if we needed further cluing in that we shouldn't be taking all of this too seriously. This consists of the usual crowd-pandering comic relief in the form of bungling policemen and officials, as well as Rome's recurring drunken pratfalls, and also (we now know, thanks to the subtitles) lots of lowbrow jokes. It seems that Rome is not only a drunk, but also a bit of a potty mouth; In an early scene he tries to dissuade a friend from opening a possibly booby-trapped gift by telling him "It might have dog shit in it." Also in evidence is that confusing brand of casual homophobia one comes across from time to time in Asian cinema, the kind that expresses hostility toward homosexuals while at the same time seeming to acknowledge them as a common and normal part of everyday life. Still, as groan-inducing as this all may be, Insee Thong has so much on its narrative plate that it never sets its feet in one place long enough for any of these missteps to completely trip it up. Insee Thong's final scene sees The Red Eagle vindicated and suited up in all his restored glory. Triumphant over evil once more, he grabs hold of a rope ladder hanging from a waiting helicopter and is carried out across the sea and toward the horizon. The scene was shot in one long take without a stunt double. Mitr Chaibancha, unable to hold on as the helicopter started out over the ocean, lost his grasp on the ladder and fell hundreds of feet to the beach below. Originally the footage of this fatal fall was included in Insee Thong, but has since been replaced with a freeze frame accompanied by text describing the circumstances of Chaibancha's death. A permanent shrine, featuring a statue of Chaibancha and numerous photographs from his films, was erected at the site of his fall and is still visited by his fans today. His death is further commemorated in one of the strangest DVD extras I've had the opportunity to witness, a documentary short entitled "The Cremation of Mitr Chaibancha", in which attendant's are shown holding Chaibancha's corpse up to the temple windows so that the throngs of fans gathered outside can have a final look at him. As unpleasant as this may be for some to watch, it goes a lot farther than any mere words can to communicate the intensity of feeling that Chaibancha inspired in his public.     Scenes from Insee Thong (1970) When the circumstances of a film's creation are as tragic and momentous as those of Insee Thong, it's tempting to reserve for it nothing but respectful praise. Still, it must be said that Insee Thong, while highly entertaining, is no great film -- and it's not too difficult to assess the flaws in its construction that account for that. There's the aforementioned over-abundance of grating humor, for instance, as well as the fact that Chaibancha obviously isn't in as near fighting trim as he was in previous outings. But to judge the film by those shortcomings would be unfair, because the charms that would mitigate them -- all of those things that are wonderful about Insee Thong -- are less easy to fully appraise. For, even with a forgiving attitude, its difficult for the film's ragged condition not to provide some obstacles to its full appreciation -- especially in those moments when it becomes obvious that there are substantial parts of Insee Thong missing. More than once, major plot developments (such as the death of a main character) are referred to in the past tense without having occurred on screen. In addition to this, the color in the existing print is considerably washed-out, making it possible for us only to imagine just how head-spinning its array of lurid tones might have been had we been able to see them in all their glory. Regardless of all of these concerns, however, the film is an important one that should be seen by anyone with an interest in Thai cinema. And for those who are simply curious, the hint of greater thrills it provides just might be enough to inspire further exploration. In the years since Mitr Chaibancha's death, The Red Eagle has continued to stake out a place in Thailand's popular culture. The late nineties saw broadcast of a Red Eagle television series (notable to martial arts fans for featuring a young Tony Jaa as the lead's stunt double) and, most recently, director Wisit Sasanatieng announced plans to bring the character back to the big screen. This last bit of news is a happy one for all concerned. Sasanatieng's mind-blowing 2001 feature Tears of the Black Tiger (Fah Talai Jone) was widely -- and justly -- praised for its audacious visual style, but many in the West missed the fact that that style -- popping with high-contrast, saturated colors -- was a direct result of Fah Talai Jone being one long, passionate love letter to the very Thai cinema of the sixties of which Insee Daeng was a product. This deep affection, along with Sasanatieng's international stature, puts him in a unique position to update this iconic Thai hero while at the same time introducing new audiences to the joys of that strange and vibrant corner of world cinema past from which he sprang. And broader awareness of those earlier films could only be a good thing, right? After all, it could perhaps even lead to release on DVD of the other surviving films in the Red Eagle series -- which is the type of thing that I'm generally in favor of. But I have to say that, in comparing Insee Thong to those earlier films, I found that the latter film was made somewhat less enjoyable for me by being made more comprehensible. After all, without those subtitles, I wouldn't have known that it didn't really make sense, and so would have remained blissfully ignorant of the fact that it was incomplete. Better just to pop in one of those unsubtitled VCDs of the earlier films and get lost in the colorful nonsense of it all. That to me is pure cinema, after all. And pure cinema is what these movies are all about. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Thailand, Year: 1970 posted by Todd at 1:44 AM | 4 Comments Wednesday, April 23, 2008Casus Kiran Release Year: 1968Country: Turkey Starring: Irfan Atasoy, Sevda Ferda, Yidirim Gencer, Suzan Avci, Reha Yurdakul, Cahit Irgat, Erol Gunaydin, Faruk Panter, Huseyin Zan, Haydar Karaer, Mehmet B. Gungor, Zeki Sezer, Umil Kader, Mete Mert, Feridun Cakar Director: Yilmaz Atadeniz Writer: Cetin Inanc Cinematographer: Rafet Siriner Producer: Yilmaz Atadeniz It's hard to write about these old Turkish superhero movies--especially those directed by Yilmaz Atadeniz--without making reference to the Republic serials of the 1940s. The problem with doing so, however, is that many of you young people out there, with your newfangled transistor radios and souped-up hotrods, will have no idea what the hell I'm talking about. I suppose the appropriately curmudgeonly response to that would be to refuse to continue this review until you've educated yourselves on the topic, instead filling space with horrific, Andy Rooney-like ruminations on how butter doesn't taste the way it used to and why on earth is the print in Reader's Digest so small until you return with at least one complete viewing of The Perils of Nyoka or some-such under your belts. But, as much as the thought of such an exercise appeals to me, I'm afraid I can't do so in good conscience. The fact is that those serials were meant to be seen in a very specific context, a context which simply doesn't exist anymore. Now, despite what I said previously, I'm actually not old enough myself to have seen them as they were originally presented--i.e in weekly installments as part of a Saturday matinee at the local movie house presented to an audience that I imagine as being made up entirely of young boys in immaculate baseball caps and striped shirts with names like Skip, Biff and Scooter. I did, however, have a vaguely analogous experience of them in that, when I was kid--back in those lean, desperate times when the selection of TV stations barely scraped the double digits--our local "Creature Features" show started featuring old serials as part of their line-up. This meant that every Saturday night, in the middle of a double feature along the lines of Godzilla vs. The Sea Monster and Agent For H.A.R.M., the host, with much ironic fanfare, would present a chapter of King of the Rocket Men, or Flash Gordon, or one of a number of other serials they showed in their entirety over the course of time. This viewing experience provided me with knowledge that allowed me in later years, while viewing the Turkish film Yilmayan Seytan, to remark, "Why, this film is nothing more than a slavish remake of the 1940 Republic serial The Mysterious Doctor Satan!" And, as all you guys out there know, having the kind of knowledge that enables you to let fly with pithy observations like that gets you a whole lot of the you-know-what. You feeling me, ladies?     But the boon that such knowledge was to my budding social life aside, my point is that I was basically able to see these serials as they were meant to be seen: in twenty minute chunks with a week separating them, so that I had enough time to forget just how exactly similar those chunks were before taking in the next one. As such, I was less bothered by how the serials, by nature of their structure and budgetary limitations, were extremely repetitive in their action from chapter to chapter, and depended a lot on expository dialog included to keep people abreast of a story that, for their audience, unfolded over a couple of months' time. Today most serials that are available for viewing at all can only be seen by way of DVDs which contain them in their entirety. And while it's still possible to watch them one chapter at a time, having them in such a format, the natural inclination is to watch them in a sitting as you would a regular movie--and if you want to have an experience that rapidly goes from being mildly engaging to tedious beyond all imagining, that is exactly what you should do. So, in short, young people, I'm going to let you slide on this one. In fact, I'm going to go so far as to say that, if you want a taste of what the Republic serials were like, but distilled down to their essence--and with a lot more near nudity and violence--you couldn't do much better than a Turkish film like Casus Kiran, aka Turkish Spy Smasher. Now, I say "Republic Serials" not because Republic was the only studio that produced movie serials. It's just that, while other studios, such as Universal and Columbia, did produce them, they only did so as a sideline to their main business, whereas for Republic they were a primary focus. As such, Republic developed and honed the particulars of making these films to such an extent that they would serve as a model for makers of low budget action films the world over for years to come. The Republic method, first of all, was to recycle, recycle, recycle. Not just costumes and sets, but also story concepts and footage would be handed on from serial to serial, with scripts and action structured to accommodate as much hand-me-down content as possible. Secondly, the hands at Republic knew that the best way to keep things moving at a brisk pace without having to resort to too many costly stunts or special effects was to feature wild fist fights--featuring as many participants as possible--at regular intervals, a practice which became a studio trademark.     One young filmmaker who was paying attention to the lessons that Republic had to teach was Turkish director Yilmaz Atadeniz. In fact, Atadeniz would take his love of American serials and channel it into an entire subgenre within Turkish action cinema. His 1967 film Kilink Istanbul'da--which featured both a masked villain in a skeleton costume and a flying hero called Superman--was one of the earliest entries in a wave of masked hero films that would flood Turkish cinemas throughout the late sixties and into the seventies. These direly low budget features not only built upon Republic's model by including as many frenetic multi-person brawls as their running time could contain, but also took that studio's recycling ethos to new heights, borrowing freely not only from each other but from the whole of world cinema, lifting ideas and well-known characters--frequently even actual footage and musical scores--from Western films at will with no regard for copyrights. In Altadeniz's case, the homage to the American movie serials didn't stop at a simple appropriation of style, but went on to include actual remakes of them, such as his take on Columbia's The Phantom, Kizil Maske, and the film we'll be discussing here today, Casus Kiran, which was a remake of Republic's 1942 serial Spy Smasher. Now, I haven't seen the original Spy Smasher, though I am aware that it's widely considered to be one of the best of the Republic serials. Being a recovered comic book nerd, however, I am familiar with Spy Smasher himself. The character originated in the pages of Fawcett's Whiz Comics, which was also the home of the original Captain Marvel before DC Comics sued him out of existence in the fifties (proving that the "D" in their name stood for "Douchebaggery"). When Republic set about bringing the character to the screen, they cast frequent serial star Kane Richmond in the role, and placed at the helm one of their premier directors, William Witney, who had also been responsible for the much lauded Adventures of Captain Marvel the previous year, as well as serial adaptations of Dick Tracy, Zorro and The Lone Ranger. The result proved enduring enough to merit a revival in the sixties and, following the success of the Batman TV series, was edited down to feature length for American TV under the title Spy Smasher Returns.     As originally presented, Spy Smasher was a patriotic wartime American hero who did battle against the axis powers. This means that some perhaps less than slight changes would have to be made to adapt him to a 1960s Turkish milieu. One of the most obvious of these in Casus Kiran is that the villains, rather than being Nazis or Japanese saboteurs, are simply rendered as all purpose enemies of Turkey of unknown political bent or national origin. Another change is a result of a certain tendency that these Turkish comic book adaptations have of always making things just a bit more sexy than their source material. As such, Spy Smasher is provided here with a female sidekick/girlfriend in the well-rounded form of Sevda (Sevda Ferda), who accomplishes her end of the spy smashing clad in a black leather tunic and matching knee-high boots. As for Spy Smasher himself, while his comic book incarnation looked like a cross between a superhero and a WWII era fighter pilot, Casus Kiran presents him kitted out in a form-fitting black ensemble complete with cape, Batman-like mask and conspicuously padded chest. Casus Kiran was made in close proximity to Atadeniz' first series of Kilink films, and the director brings a lot of familiar faces over from those movies into the main cast here. Star Irfan Atasoy was an exhibitor and distributor who, at the time of Kilink Istanbul'da's inception, asked that he be given a starring role in the picture, as well as exclusive distribution rights in his territory, in return for providing financial backing. Atadeniz cast him as Kilink's nemesis Superman and would go on to use him as a hero in a number of subsequent films. Fortunately for all involved, Atasoy, in addition to deep pockets, also possessed the rugged good looks and robust physicality necessary for such roles, as he proves handily in his turn as Spy Smasher. Also present is Kilink himself, Yildirim Gencer, who here plays the masked villain, The Mask, as well as appearing unmasked as "Yildirim", which is simply The Mask posing as a mild mannered suitor of Sevda's in order to gain intelligence on Spy Smasher's operations. Finally we have Suzan Avci reprising her role of "Suzy", Kilink's sexy moll--only here she's "Suzy", the sexy moll of The Mask's number two man, The Black Glove (who doesn't wear a black glove, by the way).     Casus Kiran is a film that is in constant, rapid motion from beginning to end, presenting more of a continuous event than an actual story. One furious fight will lead to a furious chase, which in turn ends in yet another furious fight, and so on. As such, trying to impose the strictures of plot upon it is sort of like trying to identify the conflicts and character arcs within a hurricane or brush fire. Making that task even harder is the fact that, despite no doubt heroic efforts by Onar Films, the existing version is missing large chunks of its running time, with many scenes fading out or simply cutting off before they're resolved--suggesting in turn that there are other scenes that were probably lost entirely. Despite this, however, I will make my best effort to assign some kind of coherent structure to what I witnessed as I watched the film unfold. The film begins with a rapid series of scenes showing spies committing various types of mayhem--mostly consisting of blowing stuff up--all over Istanbul. All of these spies are dressed in black with identical hats and skinny ties, which lends sort of an absurd, surrealist air to the proceedings. Over this, a narrator, stating the obvious, notes that spies have become a bit of a problem for Turkey, and then goes on to tell us about a "plucky young man" who, along with his girlfriend, has taken it upon himself to deal with that problem. Soon after that we see Spy Smasher and Sevda in action, roaring in on their motorcycle to the accompaniment of thundering surf music to shoot and punch the black hats into retreat. When the dust clears, the heroes have gotten their hands on a precious tape recording containing the names of all of the spies in Turkey--a tape that will prove to have little consequence at all to the plot, such as it is, of Casus Kiran.     Sevda is the daughter of police Detective Cavit, and she and Spy Smasher use the fruits of their clandestine crime-fighting activities to secretly help him in his investigations. Because of this, everyone thinks that Cavit is buddies with Spy Smasher and knows his real identity, which seems to really annoy him. The fact is he doesn't know, nor does he know of Sevda's involvement in Spy Smasher's activities, yet no one wants to hear it. By the time we meet the old guy, Cavit is so exasperated with this state of affairs that, whenever someone says that he and Spy Smasher must be really tight, what with all of his helping him with his investigations and everything, Cavit just says, basically, "Look, I could tell you I'm not, but you'll just say that I am anyway, so let's just drop it". Beyond the fact that they're sort of making Sevda's dad's life miserable in the course of helping him, another notable thing about Spy Smasher and Sevda is that he calls her "Darling", while she calls him "Spy Smasher". Of course, all of those black hats aren't just running around blowing stuff up all over Turkey of their own accord. That sort of thing requires management, and what better way to meet the men--and woman--in charge than in a scene in which they slap around some chained women in lingerie. At the top of the organization, as I've mentioned before, is the appropriately named The Mask, with the more mysteriously named The Black Glove at his side. Suzy, in her role as moll, seems to mainly keep the home fires burning, but also serves a crucial function by performing some weird musical numbers in the seedy nightclub that rests atop the gang's headquarters (numbers that sound like traditional Turkish folk music despite Suzy being shown performing in front of a standard issue 1960s pop combo). The Mask and his spy ring's main activity seems to be counterfeiting, but there are also repeated references to "product" in "bags" that, in combination with the existence of a laboratory and some suggestions of tests done on human guinea pigs, seem to indicate that they are also involved in drug trafficking, though it's never entirely made clear. At the time of our meeting them, however, what they're really excited about is that they've kidnapped a British scientist whom they hope to use as bait to draw out a rival gang of spies they wish to eliminate. Spy Smasher and Sevda foil this plan, however, by barging in and rescuing the scientist as soon as The Mask's black hats have finished blowing the rival gang of black hats away. With this The Mask decides that the gang's first order of business should be getting rid of Spy Smasher. He, too, has heard that Detective Cavit is cozy with the hero, and so Spy Smasher and Sevda's efforts to "help" her dad result in him being targeted by a ruthless gang of spies who will stop at nothing to get him to divulge information that he actually doesn't have. With this begins a series of attempts by the gang to kidnap Detective Cavit, which lead to a series of furious fights, chases, and narrow escapes. Somewhere in all this The Mask starts showing up at the Cavit residence in the guise of Yildirim, Sevda's suitor. To be honest, you're not supposed to realize that Yildirim is The Mask, but I don't feel that telling you counts as a "spoiler", since trying to maintain an air of mystery around the villain's identity in a film in which Yildirim Gencer appears is a pretty futile endeavor--much as it would be in a Bollywood movie that featured Amrish Puri or Amjad Khan in the cast. Anyway, knowing that Yildirim is The Mask will make you appreciate all the more the hilarity of one particular scene in which The Mask's goons invade the Cavit home during one of Yildirim's visits. When the black hats pressure Sevda to reveal Spy Smasher's identity, she--apparently weary of Yildirim's advances--fingers him as Spy Smasher, and the black hats, apparently also unaware that Yildirim is their boss, give him a thorough working over, during which one of the goons tells him that he "looks like a duck" without his mask on. In addition to each other, Spy Smasher and Sevda also have a constantly muttering comic relief sidekick, Bidik, who performs a number of undercover assignments for them. These invariably seem to result in Bidik bringing back information that leads Spy Smasher and Sevda into a trap, necessitating that they engage in yet more furious fights followed by chases which end in fights. The inclusion of such a sidekick is just one of many similarities that Casus Kiran bears to a slightly later Turkish film, 1969's Iron Claw the Pirate. This is no real surprise, as Iron Claw was directed by Cetin Inanc, a longtime assistant to Atadeniz who was also the screenwriter of Casus Kiran. Like Casus Kiran, Iron Claw features motorcycle riding boyfriend and girlfriend masked heroes doing battle with a masked villain determined to bring ruin to Turkey--though in the case of Iron Claw that villain was none other than Fantomas. One thing that I think Casus Kiran has over Iron Claw, however, is that, as the female half of the team, Casus Kiran's Sevda gets a much better shake than Iron Claw's girl hero Mine, who tended to get sidelined a lot and didn't seem to play a part in the action equal to that of the male hero. Sevda, on the other hand, despite Spy Smasher's top billing, gets an equal amount of screen time and plays a comparable part in the action, even coming to Spy Smasher's rescue on occasion. As Casus Kiran nears its conclusion, The Mask, finding the entirety of his operation foiled by Spy Smasher, starts to plan his exit from the country. As one last, generous act of silliness, he determines that this move necessitates the casting of the gang's massive supply of gold "into the mold for armchairs". The resulting armchairs look like passenger seats from a commercial airliner, which I think may make this an instance of a plot point that is purely salvage-driven. In any case, The Mask's refusal to travel light proves to be his undoing, and the delay allows Spy Smasher and Sevda to catch up with him, leading to the final furious chase and fistfight. More than any of the other examples of Turkish pulp cinema I've watched, Casus Kiran seemed to have a sort of dreamlike quality. Even after repeated viewings, I still had difficulty maintaining a grasp on its details, as if it had somehow eluded comprehension by way of its combined surreal velocity and faded, ghost-like appearance. A state of hypnosis seemed to set in soon after I pressed "play", as if I was watching less a movie than a screen saver featuring men in black hats and skinny ties being perpetually hurled back and forth to a soundtrack of pilfered surf music. Given this, I have to marvel anew at what is one of the true wonders of world genre cinema: that an inspiration as prosaic as old American movie serials could result in an experience so strange and almost uniquely un-movie like in its effect as Casus Kiran. Though it's a movie of many--if perhaps somewhat simple--pleasures, I think that it is this hallucinatory kick that I treasure most of what I took away from it. It just serves to confirm that, as drugs of choice go, mine--meaning. batshit insane movies like Casus Kiran--is a very good choice indeed. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Eurospies, Year: 1968 posted by Todd at 10:04 AM | 4 Comments Saturday, April 19, 2008Toofan Release Year: 1989Country: India Starring: Amitabh Bachchan, Goga Kapoor, Meenakshi Sheshadri, Amitra Singh, Farooq Shaikh, Kamal Kapoor, Raza Murand, Pran, Sushma Seth, Zarina Wahab, Sudhir Dalvi, Ramesh Deo, Mahesh Anand, Jack Gaud, Bob Christo Director: Ketan Desai Writers: Salim Khan, K.K. Shukla Cinematographer: Peter Pereira Music: Anu Malik Producer: Manmohan Desai Promote It: Digg | del.icio.us Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan and ramshackle low budget superhero spectacle are both subjects that get a lot of play here at Teleport City, and when a film brings the two of them together we're pretty much fated to cover it, no matter how underwhelming that film may be. Fortunately the 1989 movie Toofan comes to us wrapped in some particularly interesting context. It's mildly depressing context, mind you, but interesting nonetheless. These days, nearly forty years into his career, it's hard to imagine Amitabh Bachchan being any more famous or respected than he is. When he's not gracing some freshly minted Bollywood blockbuster with his distinguished presence, he's appearing in public as the proud patriarch of a white hot acting dynasty comprised of his superstar son and daughter-in-law, Abhishek Bachchan and Aishwarya Rai. Hell, even Stephen Colbert has given him shout-outs. This combined with the amount of attention paid to his early successes might lead one to get the impression that his was a smooth and gradual--if you will, Al Pacino-like--transition from his breakthrough days as an iconic angry young man to the role of venerated elder statesman. That impression, however, would be quite wrong. In fact, the road that lead from Bachchan's funky and fighting late seventies heyday to his living legend status today is one marked by some considerable stretches of rough pavement, of which Toofan is one small artifact. Though the youthful Amitabh personified the hardscrabble working class hero onscreen, the reality of his circumstances was a bit different, a reality underscored by the fact that, when he first arrived in Bollywood, he did so armed with a letter of recommendation written by Indira Gandhi herself. Amitabh was a lifelong friend of Ghandi's son Rajiv Ghandi, and his family (headed by his father, the renowned poet Harivanish Rai Bachchan) enjoyed a close relationship with the Nehru-Gandhi clan. These close ties would serve to alter Bachchan's career path dramatically after the assassination of Indira Gandhi, when Rajiv, now the newly named Prime Minister of India, asked Bachchan to support him by seeking a parliamentary seat as a member of his Indian National Congress party. At the time, Amitabh was still at the peak of his phenomenal popularity. His serious injury during the filming of Coolie the previous year had lead to a national vigil that saw people lining up at temples to give prayers in his name, and the finished film was a runaway success as a result. Given that he was easily the most famous person in India at the time, popular election was a simple matter, and Bachchan ended up winning the parliamentary seat for his home town of Allahabad by the widest margin in Indian history.     Bachchan has since freely admitted that he was in way over his head in the political arena, and the rigors of his new calling ended up removing him completely from the acting sphere (though he would, thankfully, take time out from overseeing matters of state to make the wonderfully insane Mard). Things would become much worse for him with the eruption of the Bofors Scandal, ignited when evidence surfaced of Rajiv Gandhi and some associates receiving kickbacks--brokered by an Italian businessman who was a close friend of the Gandhi family--from the Swedish arms manufacturer Bofors in exchange for lucrative government contracts. The matter was one of the biggest corruption scandals in the history of Indian politics and, while Bachchan was ultimately cleared of involvement, he was tainted by association nonetheless. Thanks in no small part to the aggressive attentions of a press drunk with the smell of celebrity blood, the public perception of him shifted away from that of a populist hero toward that of a representative of an appetitive and hypocritical elite. Understandably burned by the experience, Bachchan resigned from his seat after serving three years, vowing never to return to politics again, and began the process of getting his acting career back on track. Unfortunately, Bachchan returned to a Bollywood that had largely moved on in his absence. A new batch of young stars had emerged, and new types of films--reflecting what was considered to be a more hopeful and less "angry" time--were being made. Not helping matters was the fact that Amitabh--thanks in no small part, I'm sure, to the stress of his political adventures--had not aged all that gracefully over the intervening years. He'd put on a few pounds, and his once youthful face had become somewhat puffy and haggard looking--neither of which are good things for an actor who has made his fame as an exemplar of burning youth. In short, Bachchan was a star in desperate need of reinvention. However, what successes such a reinvention might have engendered we will never know, because what the forces guiding Bachchan's career--or, indeed, Amitabh himself--chose to do instead was to desperately cling to what had worked in the past. As a result, Bachchan closed out the eighties with a string of resounding box office failures. Among the earliest volleys in this barrage of cinematic duds was Toofan. Toofan was one of a small handful of films directed by Ketan Desai. Though he would go on to become a successful producer, what was most noteworthy about Desai at the time was that he was the son of director Manmohan Desai, who had directed a number of Amitabh Bachchan's beloved hits, including Amar Akbar Anthony, Parvarish, and the aforementioned Coolie, as well as numerous successful masala entertainers for other stars, such as the delirious Dharmendra-fronted costume epic Dharam-Veer. Unfortunately, Manmohan had chosen the previous of Amitabh's late eighties flops, Gangaa Jamunaa Saraswathi, as his directorial swan song, and--perhaps due to failing health--served only as a producer on Toofan, which would be the last film he worked on. Manmohan's is just one example of a power who had fueled Bachchan's previous success having only a vestigial involvement in Toofan, the other being that of Salim Khan, just half of the screenwriting team--completed by Javed Akhtar--responsible for creating Amitabh's most career-defining roles, including Zanjeer, Sholay, Deewaar and Don. I'm not sure what happened between Khan and Akhtar, but they appear to have parted ways after 1987's Mr. India, which is admittedly a career peak that would be pretty hard to top.     You get a sense with Toofan of a creative team that's grasping at straws, trying to assemble various successful elements from past films, along with a few tentative new ones, all in a somewhat messy attempt to rekindle their star's earlier heat. Manmohan Desai was known for his "lost and found" dramas, which featured families torn apart by fate only to be reunited after much travail at the film's conclusion, and one example of those, the aforementioned Amar Akbar Anthony, had been one of Amitabh's most loved films, so that element is included. Bachchan also had great success with films in which he played dual roles, such as in Don and The Great Gambler, so that element is included as well. Finally, during the late years of his peak, Bachchan's stature was such that his characters--such as those in Coolie and Mard--had begun to take on an almost superheroic cast, so it seems it was decided to push things just that much further and make his character in Toofan an actual costumed superhero. The prologue that establishes Toofan's premise is elegant in its simplicity. Psyche! Seriously, given that this is a Manmohan Desai-produced masala film in the "lost and found" mold, you can be assured that simplicity has nothing to do with it. In fact, the plot of Toofan is so serpentine in its convolutions that it makes the labyrinthine Dharam-Veer look like No Exit by comparison. Once the film starts rolling, we still have thirty minutes to go before the opening credits, so just sit tight. Ramesh (Ramesh Deo), a magician and escape artist, and Hanuman Prasad (the mighty Pran), a noble and upright police inspector, are friends. Ramesh and his very pregnant wife leave Bombay to visit Hanuman in his hometown of Udhampur on the occasion of his also very pregnant wife giving birth. However, on arriving they find that Hanuman's wife has died in the process of birthing twin boys, and the shock of this revelation causes Ramesh's wife to faint and fall down a flight of stairs. She miscarries as a result, and in response to Ramesh's concern that his still unconscious wife will not be able to survive the news, Hanuman says, basically, "here, I have two", and gives Ramesh one of his twins to raise as his own. Time goes on, and Ramesh schools his adopted young son, Shyam, in the magician's trade, while Hanuman trains his son, Toofan, in being righteous and upright. Unfortunately, Shyam's magician training is abruptly cut short one day when Ramesh fails to execute the old "locked box submerged in a body of water" escape, a turn of events that prompts the child to vow that he will himself master the feat one day.     Young Toofan's relationship with his dad is equally short-lived. Asked by his superior, ACP Sharma (Kamal Kapoor), to escort a large shipment of gold on its way to the reserve bank, Hanuman finds himself made the patsy in a scheme between the corrupt Sharma, his lieutenant Patil, and the notorious bandit Shaitan Singh (Goga Kapoor) to steal the gold for themselves, and is fired from the force in disgrace as a result. The wild-eyed Shaitan Singh, however, has a bad habit of shooting absolutely everyone who works with or for him (a habit that makes it remarkable that he's consistently able to find new recruits for his gang), and when he does the same to Patil, the crooked cop uses his last breath to inform Hanuman of Sharma and Shaitan Singh's involvement in framing him. Rushing off to capture Shaitan Singh, who is escaping by train, Hanuman leaves a note written on a handy chalkboard for his sleeping son, detailing the particulars of Patil's confession. What follows is some classic Action Pran as Hanuman jumps the speeding train and manages to cuff Shaitan Singh before the two of them end up in a violent brawl that leaves Hanuman hanging from the train car, still cuffed to Shaitan Singh, as a train approaches in the opposite direction on a parallel track. Unfortunately for Hanuman, Shaitan Singh is just about as badass as these Bollywood bandits come, and cuts off his own fucking hand in order to send Hanuman crashing beneath the wheels of the oncoming train. At the moment of his father's death, a violent wind blows open the shutters in young Toofan's room, awakening him, and some highly selective drops of rain manage to erase both the names of Shaitan Singh and, partially, ACP Sharma from the blackboard, while leaving the rest of his father's message intact. Toofan none too wisely runs with the blackboard to ACP Sharma, who, obviously not having mastered the poker face, freaks out and chases him away (though, strangely, without taking the blackboard, an oversight which enables Toofan to improbably hold on to it and the message it contains--apparently without once thinking to transcribe it in some more portable and permanent format--for the many intervening years between its first being scrawled and the events of Toofan's denouement). From this point on, Toofan is pretty sure that Sharma had something to do with his dad's death, and vows to find proof of that fact, along with the identity of Sharma's mysterious partner in crime. But to do so he'll need some divine assistance. The young Toofan prays to the Hindu monkey god Hanuman for help, and in response to his plea a violent wind sweeps through the temple, causing a nifty six-shooter crossbow to fall from the shrine and land at his feet--and it's not an ornate, mythological-looking crossbow, either, but a rather sporty one with the brand name clearly visible on the front. A robed sage says something about a righteous cyclone ("toofan") sweeping through the land to clean it of wrongdoers, and there we have our origin story. Meanwhile, Shaitan Singh goes to see a doctor about the profusely bleeding stump that's cropped up where his hand used to be and the doctor, having seen Shaitan Singh's picture in the paper, dopes him up and calls the police, after which Shaitan Singh is carted off to jail, swearing eventual vengeance against the doctor.     Now, allow me to backtrack a bit to discuss the matter of Hanuman. I am woefully ignorant about the Hindu religion, and what I do know about Hanuman, as with many things, I know only from watching movies. But based upon that meager amount of no doubt highly dubious information, I think that Hanuman is awesome. As he's depicted in the several Bollywood "mythologicals" I've seen, he's similar in character to the Monkey King from Chinese folklore as he's portrayed in the Shaw Brothers "Journey to the West" movies. His unwavering sense of justice is tempered by an antic sense of mischief, and he's just as likely to shrink himself down to bite-size in order to tamper with an adversary's insides as he is to swell to enormous proportions to simply step on him or kick him into the next life. Plus, he's the only Hindu deity, as far as I know, who is friends with Ultraman, as evidenced by the Thai movie The 6 Ultra Brothers vs. The Monster Army--which, to my mind, is the highest endorsement that any religious figure could attain. If Ultraman is on board, then I'm just a miracle away from signing up myself. Anyway, we now advance forward twenty-seven years to the introduction of Toofan as we will know him for the rest of the movie, prompted by a gang of scruffy bandits terrorizing a wedding party. Toofan's entrance is announced by a cyclone, and accompanied by a snappy theme song that is by far the highlight of an otherwise unremarkable score by Anu Malik. When we see him, it's Amitabh wearing his best mien of righteous fury, dressed in black genie pants with a bright orange cape, sash and scarf, and charging in on horseback with his trusty crossbow ready for action. As his theme song thunders away on the soundtrack, Toofan dispatches most of the bandits by means of arrows that are shot with uncanny speed and precision, then kung fus the stragglers, all the while booming away in a voice equipped with its own reverb chamber, just to further underscore his divine origins. Now, admittedly, Amitabh does look slightly silly. But, still, Toofan the superhero sounds kind of cool, doesn't he? And, having established that, we next encounter what turns out to be the major problem with Toofan the movie. Because, once this scene has concluded, we will not see Toofan again for a solid hour, and will instead be spending hard time with Toofan's twin brother, Shyam, as irritating a comic ne'er-do-well as has ever been seen. While there is some awkwardness to the less-than-fighting-trim Bachchan's portrayal of Toofan, it's still a role that he's relatively at home with, whereas his performance as Shyam reeks of desperation. In his efforts to sell Shyam as a lovable goofball, he mugs away frantically like a coked-up borscht belt comedian, and the result is unbearably corny and cloying. Of course, we've seen Big B in comedic mode before (such as in the role of the double Vijay in Don and in much of Amar Akbar Anthony), but those performances were aided, first of all, by his confidence as an actor, which kept him short of overselling in the manner that he is here, and, secondly, by stories that kept those characters integrated within a narrative context that didn't leave them just hanging out to become little more than annoying, human-shaped roadblocks to audience involvement, which is what happens here.     I'm going to take the Shyam portion of Toofan at speed because, even though a bunch of things happen during that hour, very little of them have any impact on the larger plot of the movie. Suffice it to say that Shyam, who is making his living as a magician performing at children's parties (and whose magic consists of a combination of cheap novelty store gags and Bewitched style special effects--confusing the issue of whether he's supposed to be performing sleight-of-hand or actual magic) gets hoodwinked by a corrupt hotelier and his gang into aiding in a robbery, and ends up in trouble with the police as a result. After he is bailed out by his cab driver friend, Gopal (Farooq Shaikh), the two of them set about trying to prove his innocence, setting in motion a series of searingly unfunny slapstick episodes helped not in the least by lots of under-cranked camera work and wacky sound effects. Finally things turn serious when the gang tries to silence Shyam, and Gopal, throwing himself in front of an oncoming car to protect him, ends up losing both of his arms. After leaving the hospital, Gopal, not wanting to be a burden on his friend, goes to visit his family, who have been living at home with his father while he makes his living in Bombay. As fate and the frantic loose-end tying of screenwriter Salim Khan would have it, Gopal's father's home is in Udhampur, both the stomping ground of Toofan and the hiding place of the gold stolen by Shaitan Singh at the beginning of the movie--and Gopal's father, furthermore, is the very same doctor who turned Shaitan Singh in all those years ago. (Gopal's homecoming also provides us with a replay of that famous scene in Sholay in which the wind whips away the blanket wrapped around Sanjeev Kumar's shoulders, dramatically revealing that he has lost his arms.) Meanwhile, back in the movie that we wish the rest of Toofan was more like, Shaitan Singh has escaped from prison, a feat he has accomplished in part by means of setting himself on fire (badass). To be honest, I'm not sure that the whole setting himself on fire part was all that necessary to his escape, but the shot of him emerging from his cell in slow motion, on fire, while shooting everyone in sight was definitely necessary to me being able to make it through the remaining hour of Toofan. Once doused, Shaitan Singh makes his way to Udhampur and regroups with the members of his old gang whom he hasn't already shot, who fill him in about Toofan. Toofan's presence, they tell him, has not only kept their criminal endeavors in check, but also emboldened the local populace, a situation that must be dealt with if they are to successfully extract their treasure from its hiding place (a task which now, for reasons I won't go into, will involve excavating a temple that has been built over the burial site). Shaitan Singh manages to draw Toofan out, after which a tremendous fight ensues, ending with Toofan dangling perilously over the edge a sheer waterfall. Unfortunately, the only thing that's keeping Toofan from falling is the fact that he's handcuffed to Shaitan Singh's prosthetic hand, which comes with a convenient spring latch that, when released, sends the poorly composited Amitabh/Toofan tumbling down into the raging waters below. Now free to terrorize as they please, Shaitan and his gang go to take vengeance against Gopal's father, killing Gopal and his wife--and orphaning his young son--in the process.     Soon after, Shyam arrives in Udhampur looking for Gopal. Since Shyam is still considered a criminal and is jumping bail, the Bombay police arrive hot on his heels, but instead find the unconscious Toofan at the base of the waterfall and take him back with them under the mistaken impression that he is Shyam. Upon finding himself in Bombay, the noble Toofan ends up taking on the guise of Shyam out of compassion for Shyam's long suffering mother, who is obviously so incapable of handling bad news that anyone within a five mile radius of her would rather attempt to shift the tides than be the bearer of it. So, in case you missed it, let me point out that we were once again given a brief scene of Toofan being awesome to the accompaniment of his snappy theme song, immediately after which he was again effectively removed from the action, not to return in superheroic form for another good chunk of the movie. Instead, as might be predicted, Shyam finds himself convinced to impersonate Toofan in order to thwart the bandits and embolden the populace, and so, not only do we have an absence of Toofan, but an absence of Toofan filled by Shyam's cloyingly goofy impression of him. Shyam's stint as Toofan goes pretty much as would be expected, except for one odd aspect that I wanted to point out. In those instances where Shyam does do battle with Toofan's foes, he does so with his magic, and his magic, as I've alluded to earlier, appears to be actual magic, including the abilities to levitate himself and others at will, make objects in plain sight turn into other objects (such as when he turns an attacker's sword into a snake), vanish things into thin air, and instantly hypnotize people to do his bidding. In short, Shyam's powers are far more limitless and god-like than those of the real Toofan, who basically just hits people and shoots them with arrows, yet these scenes are played as zany comic relief bits. In fact, when Shyam really wants to get results, he uses his fists, even though, from what we've seen, it looks like he could simply wiggle his nose and make Shaitan Singh and his men disappear. Of all the weirdly sloppy plot elements that litter Toofan, I think this one may have been the weirdest and the sloppiest--but, then again, that may just be because it's the one that I'm focusing on at the moment. Back in Bombay, Toofan's impersonation of Shyam leads to a lot of other business that has no bearing whatsoever on the main plot of Toofan, but to its credit does ultimately lead to Toofan, as Toofan, returning to Udhampur to settle things once and for all with Shaitan Singh. And it is here, in like fashion, that the movie Toofan finally becomes a Toofan that we can all get behind. Shaitan Singh and his men perform a daring recovery of the stolen gold by burrowing from underneath the temple through the roof of a conveniently located train tunnel, finally dumping the treasure into a waiting freight car, after which Shaitan Singh celebrates by summarily blowing away his entire crew. Shyam tries to intervene, but ends up handcuffed to Gopal's son in a model train boxcar that plunges off an elevated bridge into the river below (meaning it's time to make good on that vow to successfully execute that failed stunt of his father's). ACP Sharma shows up to claim his share of the gold from the traitorous Shaitan Singh, leading to a bloody confrontation. Finally, Shaitan Singh commandeers a plane to make his getaway, with Toofan in hot pursuit. In what is by miles the film's most memorable scene, Toofan uses his crossbow to shoot a line into the plane--the end of which spears itself not only through the floor of the plane, but through Shaitan Singh's foot as well--and then scales up the line (which hangs slack in a straight vertical line from the underside of the airborne--and no doubt rapidly moving--plane) into the plane's cabin for a final balls-out smackdown with his nemesis.     Admittedly, the final twenty minutes of Toofan are amazing--so amazing, in fact, that if the rest of Toofan were even half that good it would probably be one of my all time favorite films in which a somewhat out-of-shape guy in an ill-fitting superhero costume runs around kicking ass. By a fair account, there are probably about forty-five minutes to an hour of really good movie hidden within Toofan and, if I was inclined to do such things, I would take that forty-five minutes to an hour of really good movie and cobble together my own version of Toofan, which would consist of the fight between Pran and Shaitan Singh on the train, every scene where Toofan is riding around shooting people with his crossbow to the accompaniment of his snappy theme music, Shaitan Singh escaping from prison on fire, and those final twenty minutes. Of course, what I would then have would be something very far from the crazy Bollywood masala movie that Toofan was obviously intended to be. That is not to say, however, that the fault with Toofan lies necessarily within the sprawl of its story or the convolutions of its plot. In fact, one of the great pleasures of watching a well made masala film of this type--like, say, Amar Akbar Anthony or Dharam-Veer--is in seeing the ingenious, albeit far-fetched, ways in which all of the many disparate strands of character and circumstance that the filmmakers have laid out ultimately end up falling into place. The problem with Toofan is that so much of what it lays out never really comes to anything, and only serves to distract from the parts of the movie that are actually entertaining. For instance, note that I am only now mentioning the film's two female leads, Meenakshi Shehadri and Amrita Singh, who are so poorly integrated into the story as to become superfluous, and who disappear from the film without remark well before the climax as a result. (It appears that no trouble was taken to even give Amrita Singh's character a name, despite the fact that it seemed like she was being set up to be Toofan's love interest.) In like fashion, the whole subplot involving the crooked hotelier who frames Shyam--which is revisited at length during the segment of the film in which Toofan is masquerading as Shyam--never ties into the larger plot in any significant way, and isn't interesting enough on its own to merit the amount of time it's given--even though it provides an opportunity for the appearance of the always welcome Bob Christo.     All of this is a shame not just for the audience, who must suffer through Toofan's vast stretches of unengaging filler, but also for Amitabh Bachchan, who so desperately needed for the movie to be a hit. Because, as I've indicated, Toofan contains all the makings of a very entertaining film; it's just that those involved in its creation were too busy throwing anything that they thought might stick at it to take stock of exactly what those makings were. And so a lot of fun, cheesy thrills--as well as a serviceably heroic performance by its star and some pretty well-staged scenes of violent action--ended up getting buried in a storm of half-baked contrivances and unnecessary shtick. As a result Toofan was a film that was pretty hard to love--and Amitabh was still left with a long climb ahead of him in his struggle back to the top. And to belabor things, perhaps the image of Amitabh wearing a somewhat unflattering and ungainly costume while trying to climb up a rope into a moving airplane provides a suitable metaphor for that struggle. He would eventually succeed, of course, but not until a lot of time had passed in the wake of Toofan's inauspicious release. As mentioned earlier, more box office disappointments would follow, and in response Amitabh decided to take another break from acting to try his luck on the corporate side of the entertainment industry. The result was Amitabh Bachchan Corp., Ltd. (ABCL), an ambitious film production, marketing and distribution company. Unfortunately, that venture failed spectacularly due to mismanagement within just a couple of years, and Amitabh returned to acting once again, only to produce yet another string of sinkers. Strangely, the thing that facilitated Amitabh's eventual return to the diamond glow of superstardom was not any kind of breakthrough film role at all, but rather his becoming host of the Indian version of the TV quiz show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? By becoming a familiar presence in their homes week after week, the Big B once again endeared himself to the Indian public, making them receptive again to his presence on the big screen. This was also helped, I imagine, by the fact that, with a string of grizzled patriarch roles, Amitabh was playing characters appropriate to his age for the first time in 20 years.     So there you have it, boys and girls: The legend of Toofan, a story of crashing falls from great heights, tears, struggle, and ultimate triumph over adversity, all far more interesting then the legend that the makers of Toofan the movie set out to tell. So next time you're watching some current Bollywood hit and you see Amitabh Bachchan making a cameo as an aging kingpin or a lovable uncle with an annoying catchphrase, keep in mind that this is a man for whom the privilege of phoning in performances in fluff roles that are largely the result of stunt casting has been especially hard won. But I jest, of course. Being huge fans and supporters of Amitabh, we here at Teleport City wouldn't have wished anything but a happy ending for him. That doesn't mean I'm not going to send him a bill for the time I spent watching Toofan, though. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Bollywood, Stars: Amitabh Bachchan, Year: 1989 posted by Todd at 6:13 PM | 6 Comments Monday, April 14, 2008Iron Claw the Pirate Release Year: 1969 Country: Turkey Starring: Demir Karahan, Yildirim Gencer, Feri Cansel, Huseyin Zan, Nebahat Cehre, Danyal Topathan, Faruk Panter, Behcet Nakar, Hakki Haktan, Muammer Gozalan, Cetin Dagpelen, Osman Karahan, Ahmet Senses Director: Cetin Inanc Writers: Erdogan Avci, Kamil Ersahin Cinematographer: Rafet Siriner Producer: Isik Toraman Original Title: Demir Pence Korsan Adam Availability: Buy it from Xploited Cinema. Promote It: Digg | del.icio.us In the course of doing my usual rigorous research in preparation for bringing you the most carefully considered review of Iron Claw the Pirate possible, I came upon some information that seemed to suggest that it was the second film in a series of Iron Claw movies. That made sense to me, because Iron Claw the Pirate is a film that seems to start in progress, without any introduction of the characters or ongoing conflicts. However, what makes sense does not always prove to be so--especially in the case of Turkish action cinema--and I later determined that I had misinterpreted that information. In fact, it was Iron Claw the Pirate that was the first film, followed immediately by its sequel, Demir Pence Casuslar Savasi. Still, the reality of the situation makes its own kind of sense, simply because that's just the way that these movies are. Any amount of exposition or character development would most likely have been seen by the makers of Iron Claw the Pirate as a waste of valuable time that could otherwise have been devoted to fist fights, shootouts, and fleshy women doing exotic dances. Iron Claw was directed by Cetin Inanc, a man who would cement his place in film history with 1982's The Man Who Saves the World, aka Turkish Star Wars, a film that married stolen special effects footage from Star Wars with footage of graying he-man Cuneyt Arkin kicking around boulders and fighting monsters with giant paper mache heads. But long before that career milestone, Inanc got his start as an assistant to director Yilmaz Atadeniz. As most fans of Turkish pulp cinema know, Atadeniz is the inspired lunatic whose obsession with comic books and American movie serials lead to the film that would kick off the 1960s wave of Turkish costumed hero movies, Kilink Instanbul'da (Kilink in Istanbul). That film set a template that would remain largely unchanged until the Turkish superhero boom finally waned in the early seventies, a combination of the serials' nonstop two-fisted action and gee-whiz heroics with a greezy dose of S&M tinged sleaze. Inanc's first directing break came courtesy of Atadeniz, who put him in charge of his production of Kizil Mask, a remake of the Columbia serial The Phantom, based on Lee Falk's comic strip hero. Though Atadeniz later said that he regretted that decision, Inanc obviously got the hang of things by the time of making Iron Claw. In fact, the movie is so similar in every way to Atadeniz's own Casus Kiran (a remake of the Republic serial Spy Smasher), made just a year earlier, that because I watched both in quick succession, I've had to keep going back while writing this to make sure that I wasn't confusing their details.     Simply put, Iron Claw is a superhero whose superpower is shooting people. It's quite practical as superpowers go, and well suited to the fact that all of Iron Claw's opponents are just as heavily armed and trigger happy as he is--a situation that would no doubt leave Aquaman, with his ability to summon whales and seahorses, flummoxed. Despite the film's title, there's nothing really pirate-y about Iron Claw--he's very cozy with the police, for one thing--and everyone just refers to him as "Iron Claw", without the occupational appellation, or simply as Demir, which is the name of his alter ego (played by Demir Karahan, in just one of the film's examples of its cast not being trusted to respond to names that are different from their own). His costume appears to be mask optional, as sometimes he wears one and sometimes he doesn't--which is understandable, because he's a damn good looking dude. The rest of it reminds me of the space suits from Bava's Planet of the Vampires: black leather with white piping, though augmented with a weird square belt buckle with a face on it that looks like one of the blockheads from Gumby as forged by some kid in his metal shop class. Rounding out the ensemble is a whip that Iron Claw waves around when he's not just shooting everybody. Shooting people alongside Iron Claw is his girlfriend, Mine, dressed in a similar though more revealing costume. I always think it's sweet when the Turks do this (Spy Smasher and Captain America were both given girlfriend sidekicks in their movies, too); it's as if they don't want their superheroes to get lonely--even though I know that it's really just an excuse to have a fleshy woman running around in a leather mini and thigh boots. For the first half of the movie I kept thinking of Mine as "unnamed female accomplice", because it took that long for someone to actually refer to her. Even when she'd barge into the crooks' den at Iron Claw's side and start shooting everybody in the face (seemingly the preferred target), all that the bad guys would shout was "Iron Claw!", as if she wasn't even there. Of course, exclaiming "Oh, look. It's Iron Claw and his unnamed female accomplice" might be a lot to ask of someone who's being shot in the face. Still, I noticed her at least; she looked great in her costume, and very cool alongside Iron Claw as the two of them sped along on their twin motorcycles. Not even Iron Claw ends up giving her much respect, though, since at one point he beds a sexy enemy agent to the accompaniment of drunken saxophone music (all part of the job, of course) and doesn't seem to think twice about lying to her about it.     As far as I can tell, the character of Iron Claw is an original, if somewhat generic, creation. But lest you should begin to think that Iron Claw the Pirate is a Turkish action film that's completely free of flagrant copyright violations, let me point out that its villain is none other than that dastardly French import Fantomas. This was not the first time that Fantomas had made an appearance in Turkish cinema--he headlined Fantomas: Appointment in Istanbul in 1967, and would go on to face off against Superman in 1969's Supermen Fantom'ya Karsi--and the choice of him as a villain was no doubt inspired by the success of the Kilink movies. Given that, its a very good one as choices go, because Fantomas is the very seed from which Kilink ultimately sprouted. Created in the early years of the last century by French pulp novelists Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain, the masked criminal genius would go on to be a durable fixture in European pop culture, featured in everything from comics to movies to television, and would ultimately be the inspiration for the comic character Diabolik, who would in turn inspire imitations in the form of Kriminal and Kilink, who again in turn would be translated by the aforementioned Yilmaz Atadeniz into the skeleton-garbed evil mastermind Kilink. (Fantomas would even, like Kilink's inspiration Killing, be the subject of his own photo comic during the early sixties.) Fantomas himself would go through many incarnations in his lifetime, but it appears to me that the version on view in Iron Claw is based on the one seen in the 1960s series of Fantomas movies directed by Andre Hunebelle. Those films cast the actor Jean Marais in a double role as both Fantomas and as his arch enemy, the reporter Fandor--and in an interesting interpretation of that, Iron Claw fits Fantomas with a reporter alter ego. Iron Claw seems also to be going for Fantomas' general look from those films, specifically the head-enveloping, skintight blue mask that obscures all of his features but his eyes. Only in Iron Claw's case that is accomplished by means of the actor wearing a black ski mask and having all of his visible features, including his ears, darkened with bootblack. Regardless of lineage, however, Iron Claw's Fantomas is clearly a villain in the Kilink mode, slapping around women (and worse) while calling them "honey" and "baby", and having no qualms about thinning his own HR pool by blowing away underperforming minions at the drop of a hat.     And speaking of Kilink, also on hand is the man himself, Yildrim Gencer--only in this rare instance he's not playing the masked villain, but rather a two-fisted secret agent (named "Yildrim", of course) who fights alongside Iron Claw in his battle against Fantomas. I had heard ugly rumors that Gencer had on occasion stepped away from his evil-doing duties and played on the side of right, and I'm happy to report that he here makes a very dashing hero--though, needless to say, a brooding one who's always dressed in black. As demonstrated by the Kilink films, Gencer wasn't one to shy from rough and tumble stunt work (not that I imagine much of a choice existed for the actors who wanted to appear in these movies), and the teaming of him with the equally game Demir Karahan makes for some especially kinetic set pieces. Also in Gencer's favor is his mustache, which is possessed of exactly the level of gravity and presence that you'd want in a mustache worn by a brooding, black clad action hero; it's just a shame that he and Maurizio Merli never met onscreen to pit those two noble beasts against one another in a steely-eyed, musk- drunken 'stache-off. As I mentioned earlier, the plot of Iron Claw the Pirate joins us in progress, with Fantomas vowing to come to Turkey to take "revenge" for something or other that we, the audience, are never made privy to. He also says something about settling things with Iron Claw personally, which is weird, because once he's in Turkey, he doesn't appear to have any idea who Iron Claw is. Next we are shown Iron Claw being handed a revolver and holster by someone off-screen, after which Iron Claw also vows to take revenge for something that isn't at all alluded to. Then Fantomas arrives in Istanbul and meets with the agents who have been doing his dirty work in his absence. These include Cancel (Feri Cansel) a sexy spy/exotic dancer, and Behcet (Behcet Nakar), a big guy with muttonchops who wears a leopard print fur hat and, inexplicably, what looks to be a steel oven mitt. Behcet, aside from being an edgy dresser, has a gift for letting fly with exactly the type of colorful oaths that we'd like to think we can count on from the Turks, like when he says of Iron Claw, "I'll make him spit out his mother's milk". Fantomas' first order of business is to consolidate all of the enemy agents in Turkey under his power, and so a meeting is called. Because Iron Claw and Mine have a comedy relief sidekick called "The Uncle" who works undercover as a janitor at the strip club where Fantomas' men meet to discuss all of their plans (a fact which, once established, relieves the movie of ever having to provide any explanation for why Iron Claw is able to show up wherever Fantomas and his men are every single time), the masked heroes find out about the meeting and barge in, guns blazing. During the ensuing melee, Iron Claw's policeman pal Yilmaz is mortally wounded. A tear-filled death scene follows that would probably be really poignant if we hadn't just met Yilmaz about thirty seconds ago. After that, Yilmaz's brother--i.e Yildrim, the brooding secret agent--comes to town looking for payback and, after a really confusing scene in which he and The Uncle both appear to be pretending to be agents of Fantomas, is granted an introduction to Iron Claw and Mine. The three then agree to join forces to take Fantomas and his gang down.     Like the old serials that inspired them, these films offer a pretty set and predictable range of motivations for their villains, and here what Fantomas is after is a certain professor who has in his possession a microfilm containing something that it was apparently determined wasn't worth mentioning to the audience--and who also, predictably, has a beautiful young daughter. Unlike in those old serials, however, Fantomas ends up shooting that kindly old professor to death and then slaughtering his daughter on a sacrificial altar, so chalk one up for unpredictability. Before that can happen, however, we have scenes in which Fantomas' gang must hoodwink the local mafia in order to get their hands on the professor, which leads to much shooting of people, and then a series of scenes in which Iron Claw, Mine and Yildrim attempt to rescue the professor and his daughter, which leads to even more shooting of people, especially in the face. Beyond the whole microfilm thing, Fantomas doesn't really appear to have any one grand plan, like blowing up the moon, or making the world's gold supply smell like cheese. He more seems to have his hand in a lot of different pots, happy to stir up trouble for the Turkish people in whatever way he can. At one point he's showing off a weapons factory, then some kind of superboat that he's constructing, and then there's something that involves all kinds of boxes of TNT that he's having shipped in. It was definitely wise for him to diversify in this manner, because Iron Claw and his crew invariably show up to foil whatever evil project he's most recently announced. Because of that we don't ever get to see any of these schemes that Fantomas has been crowing about come to fruition, which made me wonder why, given that it wouldn't have impacted the film's budget in the least, the filmmakers didn't have him aim higher. After all, it doesn't cost anything to have your villain just talk about blowing up the moon. And, to give credit where credit is due, the actor who played Fantomas was really good at talking up those plans, employing a dynamic repertoire of stylized hand gestures the likes of which have not been seen since Spectreman's Dr. Gori.     Like other Turkish movies of the period, Iron Claw the Pirate was made without recourse to even the most primitive optical effects. (To put it in perspective, the documentary included with the DVD mentions how Inanc wowed the Turkish film industry in the early 1970s with his pioneering use of slow motion.) The titles are printed on cards, and a scene in which Fantomas and his gang address their Turkish counterparts via a two-way TV screen is accomplished by having the actors stand behind a facade with a screen-shaped hole cut in it. Likewise, the visual style is for the most part unadorned, with the camera simply struggling to capture the scope and velocity of all of the action that's taking place. This makes moments of inventiveness stick out all the more when they occur, as does one particularly clever shot in which a long downward pan appears to show simultaneous action occurring on several different levels of a house at once. A similar technique is used for a strange, wordless scene in which Fantomas rides a lift up the face of that same structure--a scene that struck me as having a vaguely French new wave feel to it, like something out of Alphaville. Often these films, because of the crudity of their execution and the datedness of their influences, can seem as if they're suspended in some kind of alternate reality--until moments like these remind you otherwise, and you realize that the players in the then still young Turkish film industry were eagerly studying the world cinematic landscape for techniques and elements of style that they could experiment with. Alongside their other obvious, albeit ramshackle, charms, Turkish costumed adventure pictures like Iron Claw can hit a nostalgic nerve for those of us whose childhoods included our own backyard superhero epics made with the family camcorder of super 8. Despite some niftier costumes, and the fact that their stars were actually old enough to drive, in a lot of cases the production values aren't that far beyond what a bunch of kids with some imagination and a few summer afternoons to kill could cook up. In the case of Iron Claw, for instance, Fantomas' haunted house HQ consists of a sheet with and "F" stenciled on it, some carpet remnants, and not a whole lot else. As with those home movie epics, however, what Iron Claw lacks in resources, it makes up for in enthusiasm, and when its time for a fight scene, the actors go at it with all the hyperactive vigor of a bunch of eight year olds hopped up on sugar and Ultraman reruns. Completing the picture is the ADD-like inattention to the intricacies of plot, which by means of its impatience renders the story little more than a thin and cursory connective tissue between those fight scenes. All of these factors combine with the paradoxical result of imbuing films which are the product of an industry that was no doubt about as mercenary and cutthroat as they come with a winning innocence, even as those films are actively trying to counter that innocence with another scene of sadism or tawdry burlesque.     While it's not the purpose of Teleport City to serve as a DVD buyer's guide, I did want to point out before closing that, of the Turkish films of its vintage so far released by Onar Films, Iron Claw the Pirate is one of the better looking ones; though the picture is still soft, it's largely free of the severe print damage that marred the first two Kilink pictures. Of course, seeing as no efforts were ever made to preserve these films, we're lucky to be able to see them in any condition, but it's nice nonetheless when you're able to watch one without the effect of doing so through a sheet of grimy cellophane. I'd also like to thank Onar for making these films available for us to see, because I doubt anyone is getting rich off of releasing titles like Casus Kiran and 3 Dev Adam, and the least we can do is let them know we appreciate it (oh, and also buy the damn things). For myself, I would like to believe that watching Iron Claw the Pirate enriched my life in some imperceptible--if perhaps stupid--way, even though it really just represents another ninety minutes of my life spent watching grown men in masks punching and shooting one another. At the very least, my wealth of experience in that one particular and very limited activity allows me to say with authority that Iron Claw the Pirate is indeed a very good ninety minutes of grown men in masks punching and shooting one another. Of course, that is as it should be, since the industry it was a product of seems to have taken as its primary mission the refining of such films down to their purest and most pleasurable elements. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Year: 1969 posted by Todd at 9:49 PM | 0 Comments Thursday, March 20, 2008Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen Release Year: 1968Country: Italy Starring: Mauro Parenti, Lucretia Love, Gordon Mitchell, John Karlsen, Carla Romanelli, Cyrus Elias, Charles Miller, Mario Cecchi, Agostino De Simone, Teresa Petrangeli, Spartaco Battisti, Bernardo Bruno, Mario De Rosa, Pieraldo Ferrante, Enrico Marciani. Writer: Ruggero Deodato Director: Ruggero Deodato Cinematographer: Roberto Reale Music: Bruno Nicolai Producer: Mauro Parenti Original Title: Fenomenal e il tesoro di Tutankamen Availability: Buy it from Amazon  Like many people, I find that there are certain types of films that appeal so strongly to me on a conceptual level that I tend to cut them considerable slack when reviewing them. Often times, even the very worst of these films, like when Santo is old and fat and spends half the film driving a station wagon to the grocery store, muster enough of the elements I like to keep me satisfied. And one of my very favorite genres is the Eurospy film and the various offshoots and influenced tributaries -- among them the Italian fumetti-inspired films. As we covered in some weird and convoluted fashion in our review of Kriminal and the three Turkish Kilink films, as well as Danger Diabolik, fumetti were saucy Italian comic books populated by sexy, violent anti-heroes and villains. Super-thief Diabolik became the flashpoint for a whole series of comics and related films that drew both from Diabolik and the James Bond movies. Diabolik himself was a throwback to the old pulp heroes like The Shadow, The Spider, and European counterparts like Fantomas -- with a bit of Batman thrown in for good measure. Most of the heroes and villains of fumetti did not possess super powers. They simply liked dressing up in outlandish body stockings and kicking people in the head. Needless to say, the combination of gratuitous sex appeal in the form of various Eurobabes slinking around in mod 60s mini-wear, combined with garish space-age sets and amoral violence really speaks to a sophisticated man like me. So I tend to gravitate toward these fumetti-inspired films whenever I can find them, and I'm always happy to discover new ones (such as the ones from Turkey). However, it ain't all steak and onions, and if the 1968 fumetti film Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen proves nothing else, it proves that it is possible to make a film that will disappoint even someone like me with my incredibly low standards.
Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen may be infamous to some for squandering an awesome title and the lovely Lucretia Love in a movie that, in its best moments, manages to be a middling affair. To others, it is infamous merely by association. Wait, let's backtrack. To most people, it isn't infamous at all, because they've never even heard of it. But among people who keep track of movies with titles like Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen, the film is notable as the debut (or very close to it) directorial effort from Italian exploitation filmmaker Ruggero Deodato. Deodato is a man who has built his entire career on the shoulders of the controversy generated by his infamous cannibal gore films -- specifically Cannibal Holocaust, a film that amazes me in its ability to be simultaneously disgusting and boring, shocking and banal. Cloaked in the taboo surrounding the film's content -- Deodato was put on trial by a prosecutor who was convinced the film contained actual human snuff footage, instead of just actual animal snuff footage -- Cannibal Holocaust has passed into the rarefied airs of the best known and most infamous cult films in the world. What gets lost amid all the stone dildo rape and ass-to-mouth impaling is that stripped of these few Grand Guignol scenes of brutality, Cannibal Holocaust is a really boring film helmed by a largely pedestrian director. Hell, even with them, the movie is still kind of dull, though if nothing else, it serves as a very useful intellectual exercise for twenty year olds in film studies classes, wanting to prove how shocking yet insightful their reading of the film is. And yes, shamefully I speak from first-hand experience. Deodato's short-comings as a director are made more obvious when you have to watch one of his films that doesn't benefit from several minutes of controversial cannibal torture footage. As I am a sucker, I have seen pretty much everything he's done short of the various TV movies he directed, and then something about a washing machine full of dead people or something, and there's really only been two times that Deodato kept me entertained from start to finish. In my younger and more formative years, I admit I was a booster for films like Jungle Holocaust and even Cannibal Holocaust (actually, I admit I still sort of like Jungle Holocaust), but once the initial gee-whiz shock wears off, you're left forcing yourself through a really boring couple of movies.
Really, the only times Deodata succeeded for me was with the outlandish Raiders of Atlantis, which propels itself along under power of its own brain-twisting looniness, and Barbarians, a sword and sorcery clusterfuck that is as infamous for being idiotic as Cannibal Holocaust is for being disgusting and boring. I guess my big problem with Deodata is his need to intellectually justify the basest of his works by casting them as "cautionary tales" of the hoary old "who's the real savage?" vein. Sort of like the endless string of films that teach me heroin is bad for you, or that absolute power can corrupt you. Thanks, movie makers of the world, for these news flashes. I never would have thought to question the brutality of modern man if Deodata didn't force me to, just like I never would have dreamed that people with untold amounts of power might go mad with it until Caligula taught me otherwise. But heck, at least Caligula is funny, and it has even more film school intellectuals attempting to rationalize and justify its excesses. Even with the Deodato films I've enjoyed, it's often been despite his direction, rather than because of it. Raiders of Atlantis gets by on weirdness, and on hot pink-haired Filipino Road Warrior chicks. Barbarians gets by on the astounding yet affable ineptness of its twin bodybuilder stars. Neither of these films could ever be taken seriously -- unless you see Barbarians as a cautionary tale about letting annoying jugglers and mimes have free passage throughout your kingdom -- and that's probably what makes them tolerable Most of Deodato's other work is just as incompetent, but with the added bonus of having a pretentious moral forced in to make the film seem more palatable and smarter. Given that Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen has the title Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen, and given that it was a comic book movie supposedly cut from the same cloth as Diabolik and Kriminal, I expected to enjoy the hell out of it despite a rookie Deodato being behind the camera. With any luck, his penchant for making boring movies out of intriguing topics would not yet have kicked in. Alas that being boring seems to be the core competency he showed right out of the gate, and rather than ending up being cut from the same cloth as Diabolik and Kriminal, Phenomenal is more assembled as an elementary school art class project out of the scraps left over. Against all logical presumptions based on the title and the subject matter, Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen ends up being a barely watchable bore that is notable only for its ability to turn a movie about villains trying to steal King Tut's treasures being foiled by a dude in a featureless black pantyhose mask into something fairly uninteresting.
Things start out fairly promising, as we join a drug smuggling operation already in progress. Unfortunately for our dastardly ne'r-do-wells, mysterious superhero Phenomenal has smuggled himself onto their smuggling boat, and as they approach the docks, he sets about kicking some ass. Notable is that Phenomenal, unlike most of the other fumetti heroes who made it onto the big screen, is actually a hero. Diabolik and Kriminal were thieves, and certainly not above the occasional murder. But Phenomenal is expressly on the side of the good guys, operating with the blessing -- or at least with the appreciation -- of the local police. Also notable is that Phenomenal has the lamest superhero outfit I've seen in a long time. He wears the aforementioned featureless black mask, which he somehow manages to see out of despite the lack of eyeholes, and this mask he accessorizes with...a long sleeve black t-shirt and a pair of plain black dungarees. Seriously? Diabolik took the time to buy himself all sorts of cool latex suits, and Kilink spend a whole week knitting himself skeleton themed bodystockings, and Phenomenal shows up in jeans and a turtleneck? That's like being the obnoxious kid who shows up on Halloween wearing a cardboard box and says he's a cardboard box when everyone else has awesome Frankenstein and Dracula outfits. Unfortunately, Phenomenal's lame outfit pretty much embodies the thrill level of the movie as a whole. To be fair, the opening is good stuff, and exactly what I wanted from the film. And if you, like me, enjoy it, I suggest you watch it a couple times, because that's pretty much the last you'll be seeing of Phenomenal or of action for a long time. The drug smuggling foiled, Phenomenal dives into the bay, and the plot proper kicks in. A priceless collection of treasures from the tomb of King Tut are on display at the local museum, so naturally security is skittish since every criminal gang in Europe is plotting to steal the treasures. Since, you know, that's what criminal gangs spend their time doing, rather than running prostitution and extortion rackets. Seriously, when was the last time you picked up a newspaper and read the headline, "Mafia Steals Tut's Mask! Scotland Yard Baffled!" Maybe I wouldn't have put it past John Gotti -- he liked to be flamboyant, and has a jacket made from the skin of unborn wolves (or so I was once told). But besides him, I think Tut's treasures are safe from any gangs of guys in gold chains and jogging suits. But they are not safe from big Gordon Mitchell, who leads one of the criminal gangs intent on stealing King Tut's treasures. Of course, they're not the only ones after the goods, and things are further complicated by the fact that cheap but convincing copies of the treasures were made for security reasons. Also thrown into the mix is the standard issue fu-loving, Bruce Wayne style rich guy, Count Guy Norton, played by Mauro Parenti. We are immediately lead to believe that maybe he's Phenomenal, but of course, the most obvious character is never revealed to be the masked man -- unless the film is exceptionally clever or exceptionally dumb. In the end, I'm not even sure why the film played coy with Phenomenal's identity, as it never becomes crucial to the plot, and it never manages to make the viewer give a damn one way or the other. I will say that if you do have a secret identity and a signature costume, no matter how lame, you probably shouldn't carry it folded neatly on top of everything else in your luggage when going to the airport. Most of the film revolves around Gordon Mitchell's thugs plotting to steal the treasure, getting double-crossed, and then plotting again to steal the treasure. Seriously, man, you're a super-powerful gangster. Surely you can hire better help, or I don't know. Beat up old people who run delis and make them pay you protection money. Or just open a casino. There are lots of ways for thuggish mobsters to get rich without having to concoct elaborate plans to steal stuff from natural history museums. But maybe I'm being crass and shallow, assuming that it's all about the money. Maybe it's the thrill of cat burglary, or the beauty of the objects d'art. Or maybe Gordon just wants to put on King Tut's mask and run around town making groaning noises and scaring Lou Costello and Buckwheat. I guess I can see the appeal in that.
Eventually, Phenomenal shows up to stand on the rocks along a winding country road, where he can put his arms on his hips and laugh at people. This was Kilink's specialty, but he usually followed it up by doing a plancha onto a gang of bad guys and starting a fist fight. Phenomenal is in it mostly for the standing around with arms akimbo. But at least our title character is finally back in the movie, leading us on what should be a wild chase across Europe and northern Africa as the various sides steal and re-steal the treasures. Unfortunately, by this point, the film has pretty much drained the viewer of any energy and good will at all, so the globe-trotting final half-hour fails to make up for the previous sixty minutes of uninspired tedium and long shots of Gordon Mitchell's living room. My standard disclaimer applies: I hate hating movies. Teleport City has never been about "ripping bad films a new one." I genuinely enjoy enjoying movies, and if my taste is somewhat suspect, that's really only bad for the people who read these reviews and then get fooled into thinking they want to watch Asambhav just because I liked it. And if there's anything I hate more than hating movies, its hating movies I really thought I was guaranteed to like. It never occurred to me, before viewing the film, that I would be anything but overjoyed by Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen. So about half way through, I was more than bored; I was genuinely distraught, like something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. "No!" I yelled earnestly and confused at the television as I watched yet another scene of Gordon Mitchell sitting in a recliner. "No! You're supposed to be a great movie! Come on! Quit messing with me!" but by the time the credits rolled, I had to hang my head in sadness and admit that, despite all the rooting I'd done for it, despite the fact that I believed in it, Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen let me down like a politician six months after getting elected on appealing campaign promises. My opinion of Deodato, already low as you know, was made even worse now that he had wandered into one of my favorite genres and stunk the joint up. But I try to be positive, and so let me first mention some of the few good things Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen delivers. That first scene was short but cool, with Phenomenal wearing that dress sock on his head and punching out a lot of guys. The music that accompanies that scene, and plays throughout, is far better than the movie in which it appears. Bruno Nicoli was one of the stalwarts of Italian film music, and he's rarely not on top of his game, even if the movie for which he's writing music leaves a lot to be desired. And although it's too little too late, the finale is sort of fun, including a great little fight that stumbles into a women's steam room -- a scene for which there exist several stills featuring the women doing nudity. That was either done for some unseen "international" version, or purely as titillation for the promotional stills, because when the fight actually happens, the women all manage to keep their towels wrapped around them, since even a giant guy beating up a dude in black dungarees with a black toboggan pulled over his face isn't enough to make a proper lady forget her modesty. Not that gratuitous boob shots would have helped this movie -- they just wouldn't have hurt. But a couple fun fights and the coy promise of flesh aren't always enough to salvage a film, and Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen has more problems than can be compensated for with those meager table scraps. Phenomenal himself is an obvious rip-off of Diabolik, minus the menacing cool streak, hot girlfriend, awesome lair, and cool collection of cars. Where as Diabolik makes love on a rotating bed covered in stolen hundred dollar bills, Phenomenal seems more likely to find a penny stuck to his ass after he's finished jerking off on the couch. He may stand like Diabolik, and laugh like Diabolik, and wear the Wal-Mart Halloween costume version of Diabolik's outfit, but Phenomenal is certainly no Diabolik. But that's OK since Ruggero Deodato is no Mario Bava. Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen never achieves that phantasmagoric, sprawling, big budget feel that Diabolik managed without a big budget. Everything here feels small and uninspired.
The performances of the actors deserve a better movie. No one here is bad at all, though Gordon Mitchell does at times look like he's completely forgotten he's in a movie and is thinking about something else. Still, are you going to pick on Gordon Mitchell? He'll kick sand in your face and steal your girl, leaving you in the lurch to contemplate purchasing a "Charles Atlas Secrets of Dynamic Tension" informational package. As Count Norton, Mauro Parenti is serviceably bland. He lacks the smoldering hotness of John Phillip Law, who played Diabolik, and the impish charm of Kriminal's Glenn Saxson, but if nothing else, he's too dull to be bad. It's no big shock that he never became a big star. It's also not a big shock that he was the producer of this film, not that I'm suggesting he made this film purely as an exercise in vanity. Lucretia Love, who shows up as a love interest/possible criminal/possible good guy, is always a welcome sight, but amid a flimography that includes Battle of the Amazons, The Arena, From Istanbul: Orders to Kill, and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, a lump of a movie like Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen tends to just get forgotten. There are probably worse fumetti movies out there, but right now, this one is the bottom of the barrel for me. Doedato disappoints on every level and fails to deliver pretty much everything you'd want from a fumetti inspired film. It's a shame a title like Phenomenal and the Treasure of Tutankhamen was wasted on a movie that can't live up to its promise. You really shouldn't be calling yourself Phenomenal if you aren't. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Italy, Eurospies, Fumetti, Year: 1968 posted by Keith at 6:17 PM | 6 Comments Sunday, March 09, 2008Golden Bat Release Year: 1966Country: Japan Starring: Sonny Chiba, Hirohisa Nakata, Andrew Hughes, Wataru Yamagawa, Emily Paird, Hisako Tsukuba, Yoichi Numata, Koji Sekiyama, Kousaku Okano. Writer: Susumu Takahisa, Takeo Nagamatsu Director: Hajime Sato Cinematographer: Yoshikazu Yamasawa Music: Shunsuke Kikuchi Producer: Kaname Ougisawa Original Title: Ogon Batto Ogon Batto (Golden Bat) is in many ways typical of the type of films Sonny Chiba appeared in before he became an international action star with the Street Fighter movies. Under a long term contract with Toei Studios, he racked up an impressive slate of low budget B movies during the sixties, a good number of kiddie-themed science fiction films among them. His turn as Iron Sharp in Uchu Kaisokusen (aka Invasion of the Neptune Men), as well as his starring roles in the Toei TV series Nanairo Kamen and Ala-no Shishai, also made him a veteran of the costumed hero Tokusatsu genre of which Ogon Batto is squarely a part--though in Ogon he was, for once, spared having to be the guy in the silly super hero costume (an honor that went to actor Hirohisa Nakata). This might have provided a nice break for Chiba--as well as an opportunity to enjoy a bit of shadenfreude at Nakata's expense--but it also results in a rare instance in which the charismatic and energetic Chiba is rendered relatively low-key by all that is going on around him. For, while Ogon Batto may have little in terms of art that distinguishes it from other such films in Chiba's early filmography, it does have a certain energy to its presentation that clearly sets it apart. Ogon Batto begins with Akira (Wataru Yamakawa), a young amateur astronomer, making the shocking discovery that the planet Icarus has gone off course and is heading rapidly toward Earth. No sooner has Akira made his case to the disbelieving staff at a nearby observatory than he is whisked away by a cadre of Men In Black and taken to the headquarters, hidden in the Japanese Alps, of The Pearl Research Institute, a secret, UN-backed organization dedicated to studying strange space phenomena. Here he meets Capt. Yamatone (Chiba), who promptly asks Akira to join the institute--because, despite being a kid, he obviously knows a lot about science and stuff. Akira accepts, and is immediately introduced to Doctor Pearl (Andrew Hughes) and his granddaughter Emily (Emily Paird), a twelve-year-old child who, in classic Japanese sci fi movie fashion, obviously holds a position of some authority at the institute. Doctor Pearl shows Akira the Super Destruction Beam Cannon, a ray gun with the power of "1000 hydrogen bombs" designed to blast Icarus out of the sky before it can hit Earth. Unfortunately, Pearl tells him, the cannon is not yet operational, because a special mineral is needed to create its lens. No sooner has Pearl said this than the team receives word that an expedition searching for that very mineral has run into trouble and is not responding to contact. At this, the entire staff--man, woman and child--pours into the institute's flying Super Car and takes off over the ocean. Soon the location of the expedition is spotted: It's the lost continent of Atlantis! The team touches down on Atlantis and finds the entire expedition team dead, at which point a giant tower--looking like a mile high drill bit with a squid's head on it--rises up from the ocean and starts shooting cartoon laser beams at them.     This tower is the base of Nazo (Koji Sekiyama), the self-proclaimed Ruler of the Universe, who wants to destroy humanity because "No one else should exist except for me, Nazo!" With Nazo's foot soldiers hot on their heels, the team retreats into a temple, where they find an ornate sarcophagus. On the sarcophagus is an inscription stating that, 10,000 years from the date of that inscription, a crisis would erupt that would necessitate the aid of the Golden Bat, the occupant of the sarcophagus, who could conveniently be resuscitated by just adding water. As the foot soldiers close in, Emily follows those instructions and revives the Golden Bat, a hulking figure in Gold lycra and skull mask, who proceeds to beat the enemy into retreat with his Baton of Justice. With Nazo and his minions gone for the moment, Golden Bat informs Emily that, because it was she who revived him, only she can summon his aid--and with that makes his magic bat mascot affix itself to her uniform in the form of a bat-shaped broach. He also informs the team that, now that he has been revived, Atlantis will once again sink below the ocean. The team makes for the Super Car and manages to take off in the nick of time as Atlantis crashes back beneath the waves. And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: The first fifteen minutes of Ogon Batto. And things don't really slow down much from there. The film may be a pure, hastily made, low budget construction (just how many commercial Japanese features were still being made in black and white in 1966?), but there is one thing of which you can be guaranteed: By the time you reach the end of its seventy-minute running time, you will have seen an awful lot of stuff happen within a very short period of time.     While the Golden Bat is a lesser known Japanese super hero compared to the likes of Ultraman or Kamen Rider, he is no less a venerable one. The creation of one Takeo Nagamatsu, his origin dates back to the early thirties, and is attributed, depending on who you ask, to either pulp magazines or to kami-shibai, a practice of live storytelling with printed illustration cards that was popular with children in that era. Whichever is the case, he would later make the transition to manga, where he would, at one time, be rendered by the capable hands of the master himself, Osamu Tezuka (Tetsuwan Atom, aka Astroboy, and Jungle Emperor Leo, aka Kimba). A year after his feature incarnation in Ogon Batto, he would go on to make his debut in a popular animated television series, making this movie just one stop in his journey toward total Japanese media domination. A live action television series would follow in the early seventies. It is clear that the Bat's manga incarnation is the inspiration for Ogon Batto, and it's one of the film's most admirable qualities that it tries to stay true to the look of that source, even if with mixed results. The Nazo that appears in the comics, for instance, is a distinctly weird creation, sort of an amorphous black shape with bat ears and four-laser firing eyes who has a hovering flying saucer in place of a lower body. There is definitely an attempt to duplicate that look on the part of Ogon's art department, but with the resources they had to work with, Nazo just ends up looking like a man in a big floppy flannel sack--and because the effect of him hovering above the ground with no lower body was hopelessly beyond their means, the actor simply keeps his bottom half hidden within a stationary saucer-shaped control console.     Nazo's tower, on the other hand, really looks like a manga creation given real world dimensions, and it's one of the movie's visual treats. The model is put to its best use during the film's climax, in which the tower suddenly erupts from the bowels of the Earth directly below Tokyo and rises up to loom threateningly over the city's skyline (a scene closely parodied in the 2004 live-action film version of the 70s anime Cutey Honey). In fact, all of the film's models--from the tower to the shark-shaped flying submarine that Nazo's toadies use to travel between it and their various villainous assignations--are imaginative and fun, and none the less so for all the visible wires used to put them in motion. As for the Golden Bat himself, he seems here to be the kind of super hero whose super powers rely mostly on you being repeatedly told by the other characters in the movie just how super powerful he is. His preferred method of combat is running around and clubbing people one-by-one with his baton while stopping to strike highly stylized dramatic poses, which doesn't give the appearance of being that much more effective than the ray guns the members of the Pearl Institute are equipped with. Furthermore, he always announces himself with a laugh that is obviously meant to be ghostly and fear-inspiring, but which sounds more like the kind of chattering, forced laughter that just makes people uncomfortable. Whenever he does this, you kind of expect Sonny and company to start uneasily and halfheartedly laughing along while slipping each other nervous sideways glances. And when he flies it just looks ridiculous. All of this, of course, somehow combines to make the guy actually seem kind of lovable, though I don't think that was the intention.     The practice of striking highly stylized dramatic poses is a popular one in Ogon Batto, and it's not just limited to our titular hero. In fact, the whole cast gets in on that action at one point or other, most memorably when a whole group of them, reacting en masse to some shocking revelation or bit of off-screen business, will do it all at the same time. It comes across kind of like a cross between silent movie acting and Vogueing. I realize that this film was produced in an era when camp was a dominant aesthetic in popular culture. But, as campy as all of that comes across, I don't think that the intention of the makers of Ogon Batto was to poke fun at their subject matter, but rather to use that prevailing aesthetic as carte blanche for them to be absolutely as corny as they wanted to be. The result is a film that's the cinematic distillation of the spirit embodied in the phrase "Gee whiz!" As I indicated earlier, the remainder of Ogon Batto's plot unfolds with much the same breathless pacing as it's prologue, each frantic set piece practically stumbling over the next in the overall rush to cram everything in before the credits roll. Nazo, rallying after the whole Atlantis debacle, sends three of his evil emissaries to infiltrate the Pearl Institute headquarters. This trio includes Jackal, a wolf-man, Piranha, a woman in a scaly fish outfit, and Keloid (Yoichi Numata), a Grandpa Munster look-alike with oatmeal on his face. After a series of frantic ray gun battles and the Golden Bat showing up to run around and club people with his baton, the villains succeed in making off with the Super Destruction Beam Cannon, only to find that it is missing the crucial lens (which, by the way, has now been successfully fabricated by Doctor Pearl and company, thanks to a gem comprised of the necessary mineral being in the Golden Bat's hand when he was found in his sarcophagus at the beginning of the movie).     Taking on the appearance of Naomi (Hisako Tsukuba), another member of the institute, Piranha kidnaps Emily, and soon both Emily and Doctor Pearl are being held hostage by Nazo, with the lens stated as the price of their safe release. This leads to the final showdown between the Golden Bat and Nazo, held high above the streets of Tokyo (and involving, among other things, a dog fight with that cool shark-shaped flying submarine), as the rogue planet Icarus hurtles perilously ever closer to our seemingly doomed Earth. And just where is Sonny Chiba in all this, you may ask? Well, he does have his heroic moments, but the top-billed star seems mostly content to blend into the background and let all of the insanity just happen around him. Which is a very sensible attitude to take with Ogon Batto. It's an easy film to mock, but if you take the time to step back and appreciate just how furiously it's working to entertain you, you'll find that it's equally easy to love. Just don't expect it to be a showcase for the Street Fighter himself. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Japan, Guys Dressed as Skeletons, Science Fiction, Stars: Sonny Chiba, Tokusatsu, Year: 1966 posted by Todd at 1:34 PM | 4 Comments Wednesday, February 13, 2008Kilink Strip and Kill Release Year: 1967Country: Turkey Starring: Yildirim Gencer, Sevda Nur, Suzan Avci, Devlet Devrim, Reha Yurdakul, Meric Basaran, Cahit Irgat. Writer: Yilmaz Atadeniz Director: Yilmaz Atadeniz Cinematographer: Ali Ugur Music: John Barry and James Bernard, among others, though I doubt any of them were aware of their contributions to the Kilink franchise Producer: Yilmaz Atadeniz and Seref Gur Original Title: Kilink Soy ve Oldur Availability: Buy it from Xploited Cinema.  Upon sitting down to write a review of the third film in the long-running Turkish Kilink series, I feared I had painted myself into a bit of a corner. As much as I love the Kilink films -- and believe me, I love them -- I didn't know exactly what was left to say about them. Other than a couple paragraphs dedicated to recounting the basic plot of the film, there was precious little back material I could use to fill in a whole review. Kilink's dubious history as a copyright violation of a copyright violation was covered in previous reviews. Its growth out of the Italian fumetti and fumetti-inspired films was similarly covered. Since solid information on Turkish cult cinema is difficult to find, even in the Turkish language, I wasn't really brimming over with a wealth of material I could fall back on. And yet, I find that I am both physically and mentally incapable of not reviewing a movie called Kilink Strip and Kill in which a grown man dresses up in a skeleton themed body stocking and punches out dudes with thick Luis Tiant mustaches and black suits with white ties. However, after finishing the movie, which I have to say is the best of the three Kilink films I've had a chance to see, I discovered that I was in luck, at least to some small degree, for Strip and Kill does offer up a couple topics worth exploring further. Chief among those would be the fact that Kilink begins, against the better efforts of the first two movies, to follow the same trajectory as Kriminal and Killing, the two skeleton-suit sporting Italian super-villains who quickly became celebrated anti-heroes no matter how dastardly and devious their schemes may have been.
Turkish adventure cinema was, traditionally, characterized by a very clear cut definition of good and evil. You knew who the hero was, and you knew you were going to root for the hero. Plus, you knew that, despite all obstacles thrown into his path, the hero was going to triumph. Turkish audiences did not appreciate ambivalence, shades of grays, or the concept of the anti-hero. Although Turkish cinema often looked to the West and their roots in Europe for inspiration and source material, the Turkish preference for clear cut heroes and villains was one very much in line with the Eastern roots -- specifically, the films of India, where a similar preference for explicitly drawn borders between good and evil were the order of the day. When Kilink first found his way onto Turkish movie screens, he fit very comfortably into this mold. Kilink was vile. He was pitted against a do-gooding magical flying superman in striped undies, and there was no doubt that you were supposed to be rooting for the good guy. There were several problems with this, however. First, though it may have one foot in Europe and the other in Central Asia, but there was no way the social turmoil of the 1960s was going to fail to have an effect on Turkey. Europe was cranking out all sorts of films that were infused with the decade's paranoia and distrust of authority figures, as well as reflecting the overall disillusionment with the concept of clear-cut good. Less socially important, but perhaps more likely the more probably main cause, Kilink was just way cooler than Superhero. I mean, sure, Superhero had Batman's mask, and a suit with padded muscles built into it. And he had those striped panties that I'm pretty sure he bought at Phantom's last Skull Cave yard sale. And he could fly and lift large slabs of granite in order to impress Odin or whoever the hell that old man was who randomly appeared in a cemetery and gave him all those powers.
But the problem Superhero faced, and the problem many superheroes face, is that it's way more fun to explore the bad guy's character. Superhero may have been the good guy, but the movie was called Kilink Istanbul'da. Superhero got his name in the second film, Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi, but it was almost an afterthought. It was clear, even by the second film, that people were coming to the theater to see Kilink. And why not? Superhero behaved properly and, when not bust flying, lived a quiet, typical life, so long as "quiet, typical life" includes being friends with scientists who have a tendency to be stalked by murderous madmen in skeleton costumes. But while Superhero was busy sitting in a living room, drinking tea and making plans for a picnic, Kilink was dressed up as a skeleton, making love to a procession of gorgeous ladies, watching scantily clad dancing girls, kidnapping scientists, and shooting chumps with his Luger. You sort of hit a dead end exploring a one-dimension good guy, but a bad guy? There's almost no end to the wild exploits in which you can involve the bad guy. Of course, then arises the question of at what point does the bad guy stop being the bad guy? In the case of Kilink, it happens with Kilink Strip and Kill. Where as he'd spent the last two movies menacing Turkey and killing innocent people, the Kilink we meet in this film -- while still obviously the same man -- is gently transported into the realm of only killing the criminal and corrupt. He's still out to steal gold and foil the cops, but the days when he was kidnapping the hero's pretty wife and slapping her around have been quickly dismissed. In fact, Superhero disappears entirely from this film, which picks up immediately after Kilink's apparent death at Superhero's hands while fighting atop a tower. Even though the final scene of Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi becomes the first scene of Kilink Strip and Kill, there is absolutely no mention of Superhero. It is as if he never existed. It is obvious that, even though he's still dressed as a skeleton and calling women "baby," the nominal protagonist this time around, and the obvious focus of the film, is Kilink.
In this sense, Kilink follows the exact same path as Killing, the Italian comic book and photo-novel character who "inspired" Kilink. Killing was, himself, a thinly veiled -- or not veiled at all -- rip-off of Kriminal, who was himself heavily influenced by the grand-daddy of all Italian fumetti anti-heroes, Diabolik. If Diabolik was a Cecil B. DeMille epic, and Kriminal was the lavish Dino De Laurentis copy, then Killing was the sleazy Cannon Group version of that (never mind that the Diabolik film really was a Dino De Laurentis production). Killing was a flat-out jerk. Rapist, madman, blackmailer, extortionist, not to mention prone to brandishing his pistol while women clung longingly to his leg. And yet, no matter how vile he behaved, no matter what horrifying scheme he dreamed up, Killing became if not a "good" guy, then at least an anti-hero. It would seem inevitable, then, that the same fate would befall Kilink, even given the difference in aesthetic between Turkish and other European audiences. And so, with this film, it comes to pass. We open, as I said, with the scene from the last film in which Kilink falls to his death, yet still manages to taunt the assembled crowds via a public address system that seems to have been set up specifically so Kilink could taunt people. There is, as best as anyone can tell, absolutely no way Kilink could have escaped his fate. He is fighting Superhero. He falls to his death in the middle of a gathering of onlookers. The police are already on the scene and examining Kilink's body. And yet all of a sudden, Kilink is somewhere else, laughing into the PA system and probably intentionally causing it to emit ear-piercing feedback...because that's just how evil Kilink is, baby! Strip and Kill sees no real reason to reconcile Kilink's apparent escape from death with any sort of serial-like unseen twist. It simply assumes that the best thing to do is say, "Here is Kilink's dead body...oh no!" without any proper explanation of how he goes from being a corpse getting poked at by cops to being a guy sitting in his posh living room, drinking martinis with his sexy girlfriend, Suzy (Suzan Avci, reprising her role from the first two films). Writer-director Yilmaz Atadeniz's attitude toward this seems to be, "Look, do you want a convoluted explanation of how Kilink escaped, or do you just want to watch a guy dressed as a skeleton punch out a dude with an eyepatch?" And I think the right decision was made.
We soon learn that Kilink has to attend a conference in New York, and I was instantly chilled by the thought of Kilink checking his Blackberry obsessively while sitting in a board room where Killing was explaining the robust, enterprise-wide solution that would shift the paradigm of the entire "grown men dressed up as skeletons" corporation. That said, I also started thinking about how much cooler my own conferences and meetings would be if I or someone started showing up to them wearing a black body stocking with bones painted on it. Anyway, it turns out that Kilink's conference is actually comprised of members of a secret criminal society who all wear hoods when they gather -- even though they all already know each other, and they all take their hoods off as soon as the meeting is adjourned. Kilink, it seems, was not officially invited to the pow-wow, but that doesn't stop him from showing up, killing one of the criminals, and taking his place. It seems this mysterious group is determined to steal microfilm that details the location of Turkey's various missile defense installations. Kilink seems to take some degree of personal offense at this, even though he just spent the entire last two movies menacing Turkey with a flame thrower and assorted taunts. I reckon he figures threatening Turkey is his birthright, and he's not going to let some uppity bunch of outsiders intrude on his turf. As far as Turkey itself is concerned, if you spent the last two movies being terrorized by a guy dressed as a skeleton, having your next threat be from a group of regular old gangsters just seems sort of underwhelming. Things get complicated for Kilink when a rival Turkish crime boss gets in on the picture, introducing as well a subplot about stolen gold that Kilink is going to want to be having for himself. The entire thing ends up with Kilink playing the good guy as he systematically dismantles and destroys the two criminal/spy rings -- and by systematic, I mean he disguises himself, then a few seconds later rips off the disguise and yells "Kilink is here!" while diving off a hill and onto a group of stuntmen. The story for Strip and Kill was apparently lifted more or less wholesale from an issue of the Killing photo-comics. Unlike the previous films, which existed within the realm of superhero fantasy thanks to the presence of Superhero/Superman, Strip and Kill is pure Eurospy/fumetti adventure. There are no magic powers, no ancient gods appearing in a puff of smoke -- just a dude in a skeleton suit scheming against a bunch of guys in skinny ties. Strip and Kill eschews the trappings of old Superman adventures and exists solely within the realm of James Bond and Diabolik. The series benefits from this departure. Injecting a superhero into the fumetti formula was fun on a purely "what the hell am I witnessing" level, but as a whole, it just didn't click. Superhero seemed like a guy who wandered in from an entirely different movie, and when your character is invincible and super-strong and fighting henchmen whose sole power is to wear genie pants and sultan shirts with a giant "K" taped to them, it doesn't make for especially thrilling action sequences. You know you're mostly going to see a shot of someone throwing something at Superhero, followed by a shot of that object bouncing harmlessly off his chest. With the yoke of superpowers removed from the formula, however, Strip and Kill is free to cram itself full of kinetic fight scenes involving Kilink kicking people and jumping off overpasses. Neither of the previous two films were short on action, but with the super powered guy discarded, and along with him the lengthy domestic scenes that accompanied his human identity, Strip and Kill can get down to some serious, no-nonsense skeleton guy action.
If there is a weakness in Strip and Kill, it is the final scene, which is a bit of a let-down after we've just watched half an hour's worth of film that included car chases, foot chases, a big fight in a cemetery, various fights along the road, high speed car chases, and all of the good stuff you expect from a movie with a title like Strip and Kill. But all things considered, Strip and Kill generates more than enough goodwill to make up for the final scene of our lovable rascal surrendering tot he police and expounding on their virtues. After all, you can see him turning the whole thing into a taunt for the opening scene of the next film. I should also note that at no point does Kilink himself strip and kill, and the title actually represents a proper division of labor. Kilink handles the killing portion of the job, and the stripping is left to the steady procession of astoundingly beautiful women these films seem to present to Kilink so he can slap them and make move to them -- although this time he only goes so far as to slap and make love to the evil ones. In a departure from the last film, he even gets riled up and angry when his rivals kidnap an innocent woman and her child. Luckily, this movie is full of hot, evil women, so Kilink doesn't want for sexy dames to kill even if he's laid off the innocent ones. Plus, he's always got faithful Suzy and her vast array of slinky cocktail dresses and revealing bikinis by his side.
There's precious little point to discussing the acting. The movie was dubbed in post-production, as was common for low budget films at the time, and the main character spends the entire movie in a skeleton mask. The supporting cast is on hand to look devious and/or sultry, and this they accomplish. Actor Yildirim Gencer, who plays Kilink, went on to star in a number of relatively well-known and remembered cult adventure films, including more fumetti-inspired fare like Spy Smasher, Iron Claw the Pirate, as the infamous "Turkish Superman" film Supermen Donuyor, as well as appearing in the Turkish giallo Thirsty for Love, Sex and Murder and the Cuneyt Arkin adventure Kara Murat Olum Emri. He died fairly recently, in 2005, probably before he could hear his old collaborator Yilmaz Atadeniz talking about resurrecting the Kilink franchise. Kilink's sole reliable compatriot, Suzan Avci, is still active in Turkish cinema and television. The relationship between her and Kilink is one for the ages, not unlike the relationship between Diabolik and his woman. They seem to exist on a level beyond morality. Plus, she looks drop dead gorgeous in a bikini. Although it represents a transitional softening of the title character, Strip and Kill is easily my favorite of the three Kilink films I've seen. I don't know if subsequent films continue along the same trajectory, with Kilink as the super-cool anti-hero who foils the plans of other criminals while still finding time to befuddle whatever the Turkish version of Scotland Yard may be. There's not much reason to mourn Kilink only killing bad guys when there are just so many bad guys on hand to kill. Strip and Kill is full of action, and I really like the move away from comic book superheroism and toward the world of espionage adventure. It suits a character like Kilink much better to be matching wits with femme fatales and guys with eyepatches and pointed goatees. With any luck, someone will manage to turn up additional films in the Kilink series, but old Turkish cult films are notoriously difficult to track down, with many of them truly being lost forever and those that are around enjoying almost no interest at all from fans in Turkey or anywhere else. There are plenty of other Turkish films inspired by Italian fumetti heroes as well, and it seems fitting that these two halves of the former Roman empire would come together once again, centuries later, to create a body of work in which dudes in body stockings strapped lugers to their waist, grabbed a sexy dame with one hand, and used the other to pick the pockets of both the governments and the movie-going public of the world. I know, for one, that as long as these guys and their movies are out there, I'll keep watching. Labels: Action: Superheroes, B-Masters Roundtable, Country: Turkey, Fumetti, Guys Dressed as Skeletons, Series: Kriminal and Kilink, Year: 1967 posted by Keith at 6:44 PM | 0 Comments Monday, September 17, 2007Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi
DIGG THIS ARTICLE. 1967, Turkey. Starring Yildiram Gencer, Irfan Atasoy, Pervin Par, Suzan Avci, Muzaffer Tema, Mine Soley. Directed by Yilmaz Atadeniz. Buy it from Xploited Cinema.
When last we left the dastardly, skeleton-suit clad Kilink, self-proclaimed (like grandmaster Philip Holder) King of Rogues and master of all evil, he was in his secret island lair (well stocked with randomly placed and artfully-posed bikini girls), casually bragging about his super-weapon (a rickety looking laser gun) while harassing a scientist and the scientist's beautiful daughter, who just happens to be the fiancee of a man whose scientist father was previously murdered by Kilink, causing the man to swear vengeance and thus be granted super powers and a bad costume by a crazy hobo in the cemetery. Got it? Well, if you didn't no worries, because the cliffhanger ending of Kilink Istanbul'da springboards us immediately into the sequel, Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi (Kilink vs. Superman), but not before the second film takes twenty minutes or so to recap the events of the last movie. Out of respect for this technique, I was simply going to cut and paste the first quarter of my Kilink Istandbul'da review here, but then I thought that would just be silly. Besides, I tend to repeat myself and say the same things over and over anyway, so chances are, there will be plenty of retread material even without the cut and paste gag.
And speaking of retread... As I said in the review of the first film -- and note that calling Kilink Istanbul'da the first film is misleading, as they are really nothing more than one long movie chopped up into two episodes -- the Turkish Kilink movies were drawing major influence from both the Italian fumetti characters Kriminal and Killing, but perhaps even more so, they were looking to the old American adventure serials for their formula and structure. Thus the serial-like cliffhanger ending, although to be fair, your final shot being Kilink hanging out in his living room while the good guy stands on the pier is somewhat less thrilling than many serial cliffhangers tended to be. Additionally, the recap of the previous "episode" is another trick straight out of the serials. The summary is nice, however, because it does contain bits and pieces of footage that were lost from the actual print of Kilink Istandbul'da, so if you want to get a glimpse of some Saddam Hussein looking guy laughing as he turns a knob, then this is your chance. Kilink Istandbul'da sets us up for the main event in Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi. Until this point, Kilink and Superman...er, Superhero...have only met face to face in costume once, and that showdown ended with Kilink swapping identities with a doorman who he somehow convinced to not only wear a skeleton outfit, but also to try and escape from the combined forces of Superhero and the Istanbul police force via a slow-moving construction dumbwaiter. We can assume, based on the title of this entry in the Kilink series, that we'll finally be getting the tete-a-tete between the villainous madman and the guy in the padded suit and striped bikini.
Now Superhero is the good guy, remember, but it's kind of cheating on his part to need the help of a randomly appearing god disguised as a homeless hippie and granting superpowers to beat Kilink, who has no superpower other than the ability to prance around in a ridiculous looking skeleton costume without ever actually looking ridiculous. given as how Kilink was distilled from an Italian character, I can only assume that this power is likewise some adaptation of the super power that allows Italian men to look awesome in clothes that would look idiotic on anyone else. In fact, if you recall from the review of part one, I said that contrary to Diabolik or Kriminal, Kilink is without a doubt the villain of the piece, and we are meant to root for Superhero and the good guys. This has a lot to do with the Turkish filmgoing population's preference for identifying with a strong, black-and-white hero. Superhero is both strong (see how he throws those concrete slabs around in the first film -- a brute display of strength that was probably unappreciated by the cemetery employees who came in later that day and had to clean up the mess made by Superhero and his weird Fred Sanford's friend Grady lookin' god) and his film is in black and white, so the Turks were in luck! But by the time this second part rolls around, I'm suddenly thinking to myself, "This Kilink, he's not so bad." Bear with me.
Part two opens with Orhan trying to find a ride to Kilink's mysterious secret island, which can't be too terribly secret if every fisherman in Istanbul knows it's crawling with guys in genie pants and some dude in a skeleton suit running around on the beach. Eventually, Orhan finds a guy willing to take him to the island, even though -- hey, wait? Isn't Orhan possessed of super powers that allow him to, among other things, fly? I guess he's such a good guy that he doesn't want to use his superpowers when he could help out the local economy by hiring a boatman and putting the guy in mortal peril by making him sail out to Kilink's island of doom. Meanwhile, Klink is splitting his time between making love (whilst still in his skeleton outfit) to his two beautiful women (Suzy and that ridiculously hot secretary he corrupted in part one) and showing off the awesome might of his now fully operational super weapon: that cheap looking laser gun. When he finally unveils his weapon, the end result is -- well, like I said, maybe he would have been better off if he invested his time in trying to steal an atom bomb, because the laser cannon isn't horribly impressive. I mean, he blows up a boulder with it, and later on he'll use it to mildly inconvenience Superhero, but other than that I don't see the world quaking in fear at the skeleton-bootied feet of Kilink just because he has a laser cannon -- especially given that everyone seems to know where Kilink is, and they could just drop a bomb on his lair and be done with things. They must have plenty of bombs, because Kilink didn't try to take any of those.
The action on Kilink's island is pretty boss. He's got bikini girls, and although he talks big about conquering the world, he seems more interested in lounging around in his cave's boom boom room, letting that hot secretary writhe about and strip while Suzy massages his shoulders and guys in Genie pants and vests with a giant felt "K" on them lean on their machine guns. And this is the point where I started thinking we should give Kilink a chance to rule the world and see how things work out. I mean, I know his super weapon is super-lame, but still -- his primary vision of the world seems to be one full of half-naked women slipping out of slinky cocktail dresses, groovy music, and guys with Rollie Fingers mustaches and genie pants. That doesn't sound so bad to me. Sure, Kilink has a tendency to randomly walk up to some guy who works for him and say, "Don't disappoint me, or I'll kill you," even though nothing is going on at that moment, but whatever. What world leader doesn't have his idiosyncrasies? Let's give Kilink a go. I mean, we gave G.W. Bush four years of nothing but endless fuck-ups and corruption, and then we gave him four more still. Is being ruled by Kilink with his "hot Turkish stripper in every den" policy really so bad by comparison? Anyway, Kilink soon learns that nothing gold can stay, as Orhan arrives to change into Superhero and smash things up. Kilink unleashes the power of his laser beam, which is now suddenly a flamethrower -- making it even lamer as a world-dominating super-weapon -- which causes Superhero to have to sort of suck it in (hard when your body mass is composed primarily of pillows stuffed into your long johns) and stand against the wall for a little bit. It's enough time for Kilink to make his escape, though, in classic third world dictator form. Actually, I guess those guys usually commandeer a jet at the airport, or get a free ride from some other country's government. Kilink makes his escape in, of all things, a rowboat. Ahh, but it's not really Kilink at all! It's a fat, old scientist who, when disguised as Kilink, suddenly becomes a fit, muscular man. Kilink himself slips out the back door, and begins plotting a decidedly less Bondian, more Kriminal/Diabolik scale caper: stealing jewels from a hot princess.
Unfortunately, we only get the gist of things here, as the latter half of Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi has been, as far as anyone can tell, forever lost. Onar films did their best to fill in the gaps by summarizing the rest of the action via a series of stills and narration that take us through to the final shot of the film -- which is Kilink lying dead -- apparently -- in the street after taking a tumble in what looked like it would have been a pretty awesome fight with Superhero, had we been able to see it. Onar also had the decency not to sell this as a complete film by itself on a DVD. It's a double feature with the third Kilink film (which picks up immediately where this one ends). So they make due with what they got, and it's not their fault, but that doesn't change the fact that the presumably "forever lost" status of the second half of this film (mixed with the fact that half of the first half is just a summary of the first film) is disappointing, because it looks fabulous. And it looks like Kilink might actually fight Superhero at this point, because up until now, his primary mode of operation has been to run away. But that's all right, because Kilink would rather spend his energy making love and watching strippers. After all that combined with having to spend part of the day standing with arms akimbo or pointing menacingly and laughing, he hardly has any energy left for tangling with over-enthusiastic magical superheros in striped granny panties. Still, what's here is worth seeing. Onar has greatly improved the quality of their subtitled with this release, and the picture quality is much better than it was with the previous film. The showdown between Kilink and Superhero on Kilink's island of pleasure and certain death is high-spirited and energetic, with some great fights and plenty of action. We're better off for having seen at least this small surviving sliver of the film. And luckily, Kilink never stops to take a breath, and no sooner is he lying dead on the street than he is also taunting people via some unseen and inexplicable public address unit, promising to return. And return he does, in the promisingly titled Kilink: Strip and Kill. Continued... Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Fumetti, Guys Dressed as Skeletons, Series: Kriminal and Kilink, Year: 1967 posted by Keith at 2:49 PM | 0 Comments Tuesday, September 11, 2007Kilink Istanbul'da
DIGG THIS ARTICLE. 1967, Turkey. Starring Yildiram Gencer, Irfan Atasoy, Pervin Par, Suzan Avci, Muzaffer Tema, Mine Soley. Directed by Yilmaz Atadeniz. Buy it from Xploited Cinema.
When last we tuned in, skeleton motif-clad fumetti anti-hero Kriminal was skyrocketing to fame, and in doing so, seeing the nasty edge that had made him so popular and controversial (so it is possible to be banned in France) softened somewhat to make him more palatable to a wider audience. But no worries, because even as Kriminal began to only kill a lot of people instead of a whole lot of people, another character in basically the same skeleton get-up arrived on the scene to make sure that critics and censors were still incensed by the make-believe actions of a grown man wearing a novelty skeleton body stocking. That hero -- and by hero, I mean psychotic mass-murdering terrorist -- was known appropriately enough as Killing. Created in 1966 by Pietro Granelli, Killing was a reprehensible brute on his best days, and most of the time the things he did were extreme even by the standards raised (or lowered) by Kriminal. That Killing relied on the photonovel format -- using live-action still photography of actual staged scenes rather than artwork -- made the salacious nature of his sexploitative, hyper-violent adventures even more risque. Needless to say, with Killing boasting no redeeming values whatsoever, people once again lapped it up just as eagerly as critics, censorship boards, and parents despised it. Killing was a one-man 80s metal band music video, all wearin' a skeleton suit and causing the town censor to scream, wag his finger, turn red, and finally go into cardiac arrest as the head of the PTA angrily bangs a gavel and the mousy town librarian has her top blown off by a wicked guitar riff, causing her to jump up on top of the card catalog (it was the 80s, after all) and do a sexy pole dance striptease as, all the while, this gun-toting madman in a skull mask lords over it, laughing evilly as he stands on top of an overpass with arms akimbo.
I'm not sure what legal battle ensued, though it's pretty obvious that Killing was a blatant rip-off of Kriminal. In response, Kriminal's creator went and created Satanik, a disfigured woman who takes a special serum to become beautiful, and then spends most of her remaining time killing people. It was made into a movie, but unlike Kriminal or other fumetti adaptations, it plays out like a chintzy Jess Franco horror movie rather than a comic book adventure. Don't let the Diabolik-inspired outfit that shows up in all the poster artwork fool you; that' sin the movie for like twenty seconds, as a costume during a cabaret dance. The rest is all a chick in a crazy lady wig skulking around and not doing much of anything. Anyway, the joke was once again on Kriminal creator Luciano Secchi, because as Killing got exported around the world -- finding particular purchase in Argentina, for one reason or another, he got retitled with a whole host of new names, including Sadistik and, yes, Satanik. And they couldn't stop rubbing salt in the wounds, either. 1966's live-action feature film Kriminal was partially set and filmed on location in Istanbul. Inspired by what they saw, Turkish filmmakers decided to flex their muscle as the premiere global violators of any and all intellectual property and copyrights (this was, after all, before the rise of the Chinese piracy juggernaut). After all, if the Italians could rip off their own guy, then the Turks could rip off the rip-off, and that would just be awesome. And so Turkish producer-director Yilmaz Atadeniz commenced filming of his own Killing movie, 1967's Kilink Istanbul'da. Stylistically, Kilink Istanbul'da is somewhere between the early luchadore movies of Mexico and old American horror serials -- which isn't surprising, considering how big an influence the serials were on luchadore movies. The film's opening scene, in which a mummy in a spooky room is revived and unwrapped to reveal the hideous skeleton below (oh wait, it's just Kilink, played by Yildirim Gencer if that matters -- it's not like he ever takes off his skull mask), is straight out of a serial (The Crimson Ghost is the first to leap to mind). The spookiness ends right there, more or less, as Kilink springs out of his coffin and starts slapping asses and calling women "baby" and ranting about his need for a secret formula to complete his secret weapon that will help him rule the world. Personally, I think the prospect of the world being ruled by a dude in a novelty skeleton suit from the comfort of his swanky suburban living room is intriguing. And so the plot is pretty much straight out of the old serials as well, with Kilink trying to get the secret formula from a parade of scientists whose only contribution to the world besides creating formulas for weapons of mass destruction is uttering the line, "I'll never tell you the location of the formula!" before being shot by a skeleton. But then, things get really weird -- unless, as mentioned earlier, you are used to luchadore movies.
When the dastardly Kilink murders a scientist, the scientist's son, Orhan (Irfan Atasoy), swears revenge, then bemoans the fact that a mere normal man could never hope to foil the mad schemes of a villain as diabolical as Kilink. And then Zeus or Odin or someone appears and bellows for a spell and gives the guy super-powers that will activate whenever he yells -- get this -- "Shazam!" Shouting this magic word the makers of this film made up all on their own transforms Orhan into Ucan Adam, a guy in an unconvincingly padded Superman outfit with striped underwear and what looks to be a slight variation of the Batman cowl worn by Adam West. As Ucan Adam, Orhan can throw marble slabs around, shrug off bullets, jump over stuff, and superimpose himself onto footage of clouds in order to fly. Armed with these superpowers, Orhan feels he can finally prove a match for the wicked Kilink. I'm not terribly familiar with Italian fumetti, but as far as I can guess based purely on the film adaptations of these stories, having someone with actual superpowers was pretty rare. Most of the big stars of the 1960s -- Diabolik, Kriminal, their foreign cousins Barbarella and Modesty Blaise -- were cut from the Batman mold, meaning that technically they have no superpowers, but they have trained so hard that, to us regular chumps, they would almost seem capable of superhuman feats. Kilink is very much in this vein, though perhaps a little more Joker than Batman, since he doesn't seem all that great in a fist fight. But as soon as an ancient god pops up in the cemetery and turns some guy into a superhero with pillows stuffed down his shirt, Kilink Istanbul'da starts to resemble something entirely different than the Kriminal stories that inspired it. The random supernatural aspects of the story wouldn't be out of place in one of the nuttier Mexican Santo films -- and it's obvious that many Turkish cult filmmakers were very familiar with El Santo and his ilk, since a Turkish version of Santo (along with Captain America and Spider-Man) shows up in the Turkish superhero blow-out 3 Dev Adam.
We can also see that Kilink the character is considerably different from Kriminal, if not in looks than certainly in ambition. Kriminal was interested in stealing and swingin', while Kilink is interested in swingin' and conquering the world. He also has a gang of useless henchmen dressed like Father Guido Sarducci, whereas Kriminal works alone save for his beautiful accomplice (which Kilink was wise enough to keep in place as well). Kriminal was obviously modeled after Diabolik, and both of them grew from the old pulps. Kilink has one boney foot in the madmen of the old serials and another in the more modern (at the time) world of megalomaniacal James Bond villains. Finally, we are meant to sympathize with Diabolik and Kriminal, but Kilink offers us no such hook. He is the bad guy, pure and simple, and you're never really tempted to root for him. Especially when his opponent is a guy in a super suit stuffed with pillows and socks. If a gun-toting mass murderer dressed as a skeleton fighting a superhero in a poorly stuffed suit sounds like fun to you, then Kilink Istanbul'da isn't going to let you down. It lives up to the description, and perhaps exceeds it considerably. But that's just the main event. The undercard in Kilink Istanbul'da has so, so much to offer. For instance, there's the stellar soundtrack, assembled from bits and pieces of You Only Live Twice (which had just come out that year -- that was quick!), Our Man Flint, Horror of Dracula, and a few others I recognize but could not immediately place.
Kilink also makes sure that the screen is never devoid of hot, scantily clad Turkish babes for more than a few seconds. His accomplice is the gorgeous Suzy (Suzan Avci), and it says something that a woman that unspeakably hot is made to seem plain in comparison to some of the other women in the movie, including Pervin Par as Orhan's fiancee Guile, Mine Soley as one of the scientist's smokin' secretaries and eventual Kilink hot sidekick number two, and whoever it is that plays Orhan's younger sister. None of these women can go for more than a few minutes without their tops falling off, or their skirts being hiked up, or them just walking around in a slinky bikini. I've maintained for a while now that Indian films had figured out the secret formula that enables them to cram more gorgeous women into one film than any other country, but apparently Kilink stole that formula, too, because the Kilink girls are a sight to behold. And the best part is near the end, when Kilink leaves the suburbs and goes to his secret island lair. He walks into his throne room, and there are already like half a dozen hot chicks in bikinis just standing around in alluring poses. It was at this point that I decided to surrender to Kilink and let him have a hand at ruling the world for a while. I bet he'd resign anyway after just a few days, once he learned that ruling the world meant less time laughing maniacally while surrounded by half-naked women and more time reviewing zoning ordinances and sanitation plans. To be fair and balanced, Irfan Atasoy is a fine looking man with classic matinee idol looks. But when you're a regular Joe, even one who turns into Shazam, surrounded by a dude in a skeleton suit and a bunch of chicks in slinky cocktail dresses, bikinis, and underwear, well, you tend to get lost in the shuffle.
Speaking of the end, Kilink Istanbul'da ends on a cliffhanger (yet more classic serial stylings) with Orhan trying to track down Kilink -- who has kidnapped Guile and her scientist father -- while Kilink gets it on with the traitorous secretary and unveils his super weapon -- a smallish laser beam. Hmm. Good luck with that one, Kilink. Some people have nuclear weapons. Some have navies and biological weapons. Kilink has a small laser gun in a cave off the coast of Turkey. Maybe when he turns it on in the next movie, it will be more impressive. But I bet not. Kilink suffers somewhat from a case of the Troutman Syndrome, named after colonel Troutman from the film First Blood. Troutman's only purpose in First Blood was to hover around and annoy people by constantly reminding them what a bad-ass John Rambo was. Similar characters show up in Commando (Arnold's version). A variation on the Troutman character is the grudgingly respective opponent," whose sole function is to constantly say things like, "This guy's good. Real good." Steven Seagal movies are full of this opponent, and they appear whenever an audience needs to be reassured of how awesome a character is despite evidence to the contrary on-screen. For example, Kilink seems like a bit of a dip. He lives int he suburbs in a house with cheap wood paneling; he only has like four guys working for him, and they all suck; and anytime he has to fight someone more capable than a passed out woman, he ends up hauling ass. Plus, the super weapon this whole movie is about is a little laser cannon that looks like, at it's most effective, it could be used to take out one guy -- maybe two -- at a time. Kilink can barely handle terrorizing a couple of scientists, and the only reason he ever captures anyone is because they keep coming home to the same unlocked houses even though they know Kilink is after them. And yet some cop keeps popping up to remind us, over and over, how amazingly evil and dangerous Kilink is, even though the evidence on screen points to something else. When Kilink does something as simple as pick the lock on a window, the inspector is there to slam his fist into his palm and proclaim Kilink the most diabolical evil genius who ever lived! I'm wondering if, once everyone is inevitably gathered in Kilink's secret lair for the unveiling of his super weapon, everyone is going to shrug and go, "Seriously? That's it?" as Kilink pumps his fist in the air and rants about ruling the world. Then they could drop a bomb or something on him. Does Kilink even know that in 1967 they had weapons that could obliterate entire cities? If he goes and demands a ransom of $10,000...
Despite Kilink's dubious crowning as the King of Rogues (sort of like Justin Timberlake being the new King of Pop -- because really, who else is there, and I guess Justin Timberlake is as good as anyone else who might be up for King of Pop coronation), Kilink Istanbul'da is top notch entertainment. The episodic structure of the film keeps it from ever getting dull, and there's usually not more than a minute or so before a skeleton is ripping off a woman's top or a superhero is punching a villain's car. As silly as the idea of a grown man dressing up like a skeleton and demanding to rule the world may be, it works in the fantastical context created by films like this and the luchadore movies. Kilink has a more menacing, detailed suit than Kriminal did, plus he accessorizes with a holster and pistol. he looks good in action, too. Superman...err, Superhero, is a little less spry in his action scenes, but that's just because all the foam stuffed into his shirt means his mobility is restricted to little more than walking like a stiff-jointed bodybuilder while guys pointlessly shoot at him over and over. If there's any problem with the movie, it's with the lack of a cinematic preservation culture in Turkey (as with many countries). Turks aren't big on taking care of prints of old films, which is part of the reason so few of them are available even in ragged forms. Kilink Istanbul'da looks sort of ragged, but it's probably the best it will ever be. Scenes are missing (most noticeable is the scene of Orhan and his sister being gassed by a henchman and escaping from the torture dungeon in Kilink's suburban basement), and it's hard to tell how much of the technical crudity (bad cuts, abrupt ends to music cues, etc) of the film is really a product of the filmmaking process, and how much is simply a symptom of the film being in such shoddy shape by the time Onar films unearthed a copy and did their best to restore it to a watchable condition. And it is certainly watchable, make no doubt about it. It's pretty easy to put up with a beat up print of the film when you know: 1) that's the best looking print of the film in existence, and 2) the film is this much unabashed fun. Of course, there's the whole business of the film ending right in the middle of the action. Luckily, the second Kilink film, Kilink Ucan Adama Karsi, was waiting in the wings to pick up the action immediately where the first one leaves off... Continued... Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Fumetti, Guys Dressed as Skeletons, Series: Kriminal and Kilink, Year: 1967 posted by Keith at 11:18 AM | 5 Comments Friday, August 31, 2007Kriminal Release Year: 1966Country: Italy Starring: Glenn Saxson, Helga Line, Andrea Bosic, Ivano Staccioli, Esmeralda Ruspoli, Dante Posani, Franco Fantasia, Susan Baker, Armando Calvo, Mary Arden, Rossella Bergamonti. Director: Umberto Lenzi Writer: Umberto Lenzi and David Moreno Cinematographer: Angelo Lotti Music: Romano Mussolini Producer: Giancarlo Marchetti Promote It: Digg | del.icio.us Round about 1992 or so, when I was but a young sophomore in college, this guy Shannon started turning me on to all sorts of swanky adventure films which, in my myopic kungfu- and horror-centric worldview, I had yet to see. This was good stuff, the sort of films that would become the basis for my goals in life: The President's Analyst and the "Flint" movies starring James Coburn, Robin and the Seven Hoods starring the Rat Pack, Dean Martin's "Matt Helm" spy comedies, and a candy-colored slice of pop-art brilliance called Danger: Diabolik, directed by none other than acclaimed Italian horror master Mario Bava and based on an Italian comic book -- or fumetti if you are feeling all cultured and wantin' to use words from whatever the hell crazy moon-man language it is they speak in Italy (Yoruba, I believe). I vowed on that fateful night, with a thunderstorm raging through the heavens and the rain beating down mercilessly upon my half-clothed body (I was tan and didn't have a beer gut back then, so it's cool), that come hell or high water my life would one day reflect the lives of these heroes and anti-heroes, these capering criminals and swingin' spies who populated these Technicolor adventure confections, with the high-water mark for success being one of two -- preferably both -- scenes: either I would have a waterbed that would, at the press of a button, slide me and a chosen scantily clad bombshell (or two -- I'm a decadent libertine, after all) across the room, tilting as it goes so that we are dumped gracefully into a waiting Jacuzzi, at which time a fully stocked bar would conveniently lower itself from the ceiling (thank you, Matt Helm); or I would drive my black 1967 Jaguar E-Type Series I 4.2 Roadster down a ramp into my secret, underground space-age lair so I could go make love to me beautiful woman on a rotating circular bed covered in piles of recently stolen hundred dollar bills (a moment referenced so many times on Teleport City over the years that I shouldn't even need to tell you where it's from at this point). Truly, the inclusion of either or both of these elements into my daily schedule would signal that I had, indeed, made it. Anyway, it's a work still in progress. Seeing Diabolik was -- well, to call it life-altering is to be a bit overly dramatic, I think. But it was something like that, and the movie did have a curious influence on me. For years, there had been this certain look and style of movie playing in my head. I knew it existed, but I had no clue where to start looking for it. Keep in mind that this is some years before the widespread adoption of the World Wide Web, DVD, and the rise of digitally remastered two-disc special collectors' editions of Porno Holocaust. I knew these movies I wanted were very much like James Bond without being James Bond movies -- sometimes a little cheaper, often more fanciful and outlandish. But just as in those disconnected days with a dearth of information I was unable to find a manufacturer or store where I could purchase a black, slim-cut three-button suit (I'm quite particular about such things), so too was I at a lost as to where I might find these mythical movies I'd invented in my mind and filled with go-go dancing Eurobabes and dudes in fezzes and sunglasses throwing stiletto daggers at each others' backs. Diabolik realized many of these visions, and pointed in the direction I needed to face (Italy) to begin digging up the titles for which I'd been searching (though getting the movies associated with those titles, even in today's era of widespread easy availability, is still proving difficult). It was the key to unlocking a whole world I'd sort of known was out there but could never get to. In that sense, it was much the same as that fateful (oooh!) night that I, a confused teen in Buckner, Kentucky floundering for a sense of identity, stumbled across a broadcast of the USA Channel's Night Flight that was focusing on this stuff called punk rock. As corny -- or disturbed --as it sounds, there was much in this brightly-colored, fast-paced comic book of a movie that I found worth admiring. I appreciated Diabolik's amoral hedonism. He wasn't really a bad guy. He simply disregarded the agreed-upon rules of an over-governed society. He had his own code. And he had a bad-ass pad.
The years filed past, and with the spread of the World Wide Web in the latter half of the 1990s, I was able to start digging up bits and pieces of information about Eurospy films, Diabolik, and much to my elation, the many copycats and offshoots that, like me, had been inspired by this diabolical mastermind (I also found the right suit). Among these, and of particular interest to a guy who, even in his older age, still listens to The Misfits, was a cat named Kriminal, and he wore a skeleton suit. But lets turn the clock back even further, to the era of pulp stories, to where these super-criminals like Diabolik and Kriminal, and lots of other characters who wore cool masks and spelled their names with K's instead of C's (Krispy Kreme was among them, and possibly the most salacious -- certainly the most delicious), trace their roots. In 1911, France was introduced to the character of Fantomas, a suave master of disguise and, in stark contrast to many of the pulp characters with whom people were familiar (like Edgar Rice Burroughs' swashbuckling uber-man John Carter, or any number of smilin' cowboys), a thief. It wasn't the first case of a traditional villain being recast as a charismatic anti-hero, but it certainly opened the door for a wave of similar lawbreakers and misunderstood vigilantes. During the 1930s, there was an explosion in pulp culture of these mysterious costumed characters and anti-heroes, including The Shadow, The Spider, and Robert Howard's Conan the Barbarian. When superhero comic books made the scene in the 1930s, American tastes shifted toward brightly costumed do-gooders like Superman, though at least one notable character remained firmly rooted in the darker elements of the pulp stories: The Bat-Man. Inspired by Zorro and a character from the 1930 film The Bat Whispers, The Bat-Man, as his name was written at the time, is also heavily rooted in the amoral (or at least morally ambiguous) philosophy of pulp anti-heroes, and although Fantomas remains a great influence on the European comic market (and perhaps on The Bat-Man as well -- though both Fantomas and Batman seem to owe a debt to Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo), it's in the brutal origins of The Bat-Man that we can find many of the traits that would be commonplace among the fumetti stars of the 1960s. The tragic past, the vengeful mindset, the playboy alter ego, a distinct lack of superpowers compensated for by near superhuman levels of discipline and training, the willingness to kill and maim the guilty -- these things were in sharp contrast to Superman (though not entirely uncommon in early comic books) but would have been perfectly at home in the Italian comics of the 60s -- which is funny, in a way, considering that during the 60s, DC Comics turned Batman into a smiling boy scout.
Some combination of Batman and Fantomas (who would enjoy his own revival in the 1960s via a series of colorful French productions) cross-pollinated with James Bond beget Diabolik in 1962, the creation of sisters Angela and Luciana Giussani. As many post-war comics, Batman included, became more fantastical and juvenile, diabolic was a brash return to the seedy days of the pulps. He was an accomplished thief, a master of disguise, and an ace at killing anyone who meddles with his ambitions. Clad entirely in a black suit that show sonly his eyes, and accompanied by a beautiful woman who shares his vision, diabolic cut an audacious path through the otherwise sunny, happy era, reflecting no doubt the growing tension and frustration bubbling beneath the veneer of the perfect 50s and that would explode into a time of social upheaval and unrest during the latter half of the 60s. Diabolik's amoral mayhem struck a cord with readers, who quickly catapulted the master thief to the upper limits of pop culture stardom, thus making it obvious that others would follow in Diabolik's steps, each one trying to be more outrageous and offensive than the last. Among the many characters inspired by Diabolik was Kriminal, created by Luciano Secchi working under the pseudonym Max Bunker. Kriminal was a master thief from England, most notable for his curious choice in clothing for a grown man: a black and yellow skeleton suit with a creepy skull mask. It's a difficult look to pull off, but he makes it work. Kriminal -- whose alter ego was Anthony Logan -- did his best to one-up Diabolik, exhibiting sometimes absurd levels of cruelty and violence, as well a parade of increasingly scantily-clad females that he couldn't help but menace. I mean, the dude was wearing a skeleton suit. You either have to menace or be laughed at. It was this potent combination of violence and hitherto unheard of levels of near-nudity that got Kriminal in trouble with so many critics and censors -- and also made it such a hit with readers. Like Diabolik, Batman, Fantomas, and the Mexican luchadores lead by El Santo, Kriminal had no actual superpowers. He couldn't fly or run at super-speeds, and if he needed to kill you, he usually did it with a Luger. In time, as with Batman and Diabolik, Kriminal's sadistic streak was softened, until eventually he really only killed those who were asking for it anyway, though as far as I can tell, he never did get over his need to continually menace a buxom babe whose blouse was falling off. No worries, though, because another skeleton suit wearing anti-hero was waiting to take up the slack and commit depraved acts of which even Kriminal couldn't approve. But we'll come to him in a later review of a different movie.
Although he followed in the footsteps of Diabolik in print, Kriminal beat him to the big screen. In 1966, Kriminal made the jump to movies in a feature film directed by Umberto Lenzi. Among American fans of Italian cult films, Lenzi is probably one of the best known and most misunderstood directors. And in fact he's most misunderstood because of what he's best known for. Lenzi's two best known films in American happen to be his two worst films: 1981's grubby Make Them Die Slowly (aka Cannibal Ferox), a nonsensical cannibal exploitation film that exists for little more reason than to showcase a carnival of primitive tortures in the half hour; and 1980s City of the Walking Dead (aka Nightmare City), a giddily idiotic, totally incompetent, but highly entertaining zombie film. They're both terrible, though amusingly so. Judged on the merits of these two movies, Lenzi perhaps would deserve to placed at the bottom of the barrel. But these are barely his films, and it's obvious that he was just cashing a paycheck. Lenzi's true talent was in the crime film, and during the 1970s he directed a string of blistering hits that are brutal, fast-paced, and proof of what a phenomenal director he could be when the material moved him. If you've poked around Teleport City for any length of time, you know that , Violent Naples is one of my absolute favorites, but it's hardly the only great cop film he made. From Corleone to Brooklyn, The Cynic, The Rat, and The Fist, Gang War in Milan -- these are all top notch films, and alongside Enzo G. Castellari, Lenzi practically created the poliziotteschi genre. In 1966, Lenzi was already a veteran of the Italian exploitation market, having worked his way through Eurospy films, sword and sandal adventures, and historical hellraisers. Making the shift from Eurospy to comic book super-villain hijinks was no problem, as the fumetti-inspired films of the late 60s were a direct outgrowth of the espionage genre and shared many of the same trappings and stylistic flourishes. His big-screen adaptation of Kriminal looks very much like a big budget Eurospy film, taking the strangely clad anti-hero on a globe-trotting adventure that leads from the gallows of London to Spain, and finally to Istanbul in pursuit of some diamonds. Or something. To be honest, the DVD I have of this movie isn't subtitled, and I learned enough Italian to get by in the country on a two-week long road trip. So my grasping of some of the nuances of the plot -- if indeed Kriminal can be said to have nuances -- is tenuous in many spots.
Dutch actor Rolf Boes (under the pseudonym Glenn Saxson, which is Italian for "Son of Clarence Clemens") stars as the titular Kriminal, about to be hanged for attempted robbery of the Crown Jewels of England -- a fate he escapes by somehow turning out the lights. Look, if you go into a movie about a guy who runs around in a skeleton costume and immediately start complaining about the implausibility of his escape trick, then you're not going to get anywhere in life. He is pursued by Inspector Milton of Scotland Yard, because all costumed villains need an arch-nemesis at Scotland Yard, where they have a whole division dedicated to opposing garishly costumed super-villains from Italy (like Marco Materazzi). Kriminal then gets involved with a diamond heist, and along the way he romances ladies, kills people, and plants a bomb in the inspector's office that is specifically designed to blow off the shirts of attractive women (or so it seems when we witness the aftermath of his bomb). Kriminal doesn't need to steal -- he could just market this bomb to anyone who attended college in an 80s teen sex comedy, and he'd rake in millions. When Lenzi is at his best as director, his films are snappy and crisply paced. Kriminal is one of his best. It never slows down, but it never goes so fast that you can't stop to luxuriate in all the exotic location work or admire all the swank 60s fashion. It's a much more down-to-earth film than Danger: Diabolik, which two years later would take the genre to a level of pop-art gorgeousness unmatched even by the mighty Barbarella (herself another saucy comic book character), but being less phantasmagorical than Danger: Diabolik leaves plenty of room for swingin' style, and Kriminal has it in spades. The skeleton costume looks a bit ludicrous, but even Glenn Danzig could never really pull a skeleton body stocking off. Within the context of the film, set in such a bizarre universe as the one inhabited by all the fumetti anti-heroes, we can quickly learn to accept the skeleton costume. Plus, as goofy as it looks, it's also sort of awesome. I mean, he puts on a skeleton costume, throws daggers at people, steals from the Queen of England, and makes love to gorgeous Italian women. Truly, Kriminal leads THE LIFE. And Glenn Saxson looks suave and dashing as the lady-killer (among others he kills). Saxson had previously starred in Alberto De Martino's spaghetti western Django Shoots First (De Martino, incidentally, directed a number of great films, including the top notch Eurospy capers Special Mission Lady Chaplin and Operation Kid Brother starring Neil Connery, as well as the infamous poliziotteschi meets giallo , Blazing Magnum starring Stuart Whitman and John Saxon). He would go on to star in a follow-up Kriminal film (which I've yet to see), a couple other actioners, and then a string of saucy 70s erotica with titles like The Hostess Also Likes to Blow the Horn and School of Erotic Enjoyment. He's perfectly suited for the role of Kriminal, and somehow, he manages not to look completely ludicrous when he's strutting around with his mask off and the rest of the skeleton suit still on. Supporting him is a cast of Italian exploitation stalwarts lead by Andrea Bosic as the harried Scotland yard inspector (he would later be a harried bank manager endlessly hassled by Diabolik in that movie). Bosic had appeared previously in Lenzi's Sandokan the Pirate adventures starring American muscleman and Hercules star Steve Reeves, and he starred in something called Two Mafiosi Against Goldfinger, which sounds like something I really need to see. The bombshell factor is fulfilled by a couple of chicks whose character names I couldn't keep straight because I was too busy yelling, "Dove il bagno! I know what that means!" Look, when you speak like five lines of Italian, you get excited when you can understand what the hell someone says. But I do know German-born Helga Line plays ravishing twin sisters Inge and Trudy, hired to transport jewels so Kriminal won't know which one to follow (he still figures it out, because he wears a fuckin' skeleton costume). Line's been in tons of films where I caught myself admiring her: War Goddesses, Hercules and the Tyrants of Babylon, Mission Bloody Mary, Special Mission Lady Chaplin, Password: Kill Agent Gordon; she was even in another fumetti-inspired comic book adventure, 1968's Avenger X, as well as a Santo film! She also made a lot of horror films in the 70s, including Vampire's Night Orgy and some Paul Naschy films where he doesn't even turn into a werewolf. Far and away one of the all-time great Euro cult beauties, she looks painfully beautiful (in double, no less) here as the woman pursued by the diabolical master of evil.
Highlighting the wonderful art design and snappy pace is an incredible swinging score by Roberto Pregadio and Romano Mussolini. While I would still class Kriminal the movie slightly below Danger: Diabolik, the score for Kriminal is outstanding, going so far as to outclass and out-swank Ennio Morricone's great Diabolik score. It keeps perfect pace with the movie and, like the movie, is equal parts suave, menacing, and playful. Even working with the language barrier, Kriminal is a great movie. Lots of action, lots of wit, sexy ladies, and a guy in a skeleton outfit swimming around in ponds and stuff. It easily proves the equal of even the best espionage and comic book capers, qualifying for such rarefied company as Danger: Diabolik, Deadlier than the Male, the Flint movies, and the Connery Bonds. There wasn't a minute of the film that didn't thoroughly delight me, and if I had to drum up any sort of complaint, it would be the cliffhanger ending (Diabolik did the same thing). I know, I know. There's a sequel, with the lead cast all back in place (and directed by Fernando Cerchio). But I haven't been able to find that one yet. No matter -- Kriminal is incredibly cool and highly recommended, even if you don't speak a lick of Italian. Hot dames and a guy in a skeleton suit are, after all, the international language we can all understand. In addition to a sequel, the fact that much of this film was shot in Istanbul inspired Turkish filmmakers to launch their own Kriminal franchise. Kriminal the fumetti character was eventually succeeded by the even more brutal and irredeemable Killing in a series of photonovels -- comic books that use still photography of live-action scenes. As outraged as people were by the Kriminal comic books, Killing was even worse. Kriminal had been banned in France and eventually toned down even in Italy, but Killing more than made up for it, with our skeleton-clad evil-doer sometimes crossing the line into outright psychopathic terrorist and serial killer. In love with the Kriminal movie and inspired by the even more absurd Killing photonovels, Turkish producer-director Yilmaz Atadeniz made Kilink Istanbul'da, and our favorite murderous thief in a skeleton suit found a new home in Turkey. To be continued... Labels: Action: Superheroes, Director: Umberto Lenzi, Eurospies, Fumetti, Guys Dressed as Skeletons, Series: Kriminal and Kilink, Year: 1966 posted by Keith at 5:53 PM | 4 Comments Monday, August 20, 2007Iron Fist: The Giants Are Coming
DIGG THIS ARTICLE. 1973, Turkey. Starring Enver Ozer, Feri Cansel, Suleyman Turan, Orcun Alkan, Altan Gunbay, Kayhan Yildizoglu, Huseyin Zan, Tarik Simsek. Directed by Tunc Basaran. Buy it from Xploited Cinema.
I gather that there are people out there clamoring to see a Batman vs. Superman movie. I'm pretty sure those two squared off in comic books, too. Well frankly, I'm not sure why. I don't understand the appeal of seeing two entirely different characters pitted against each other in what could only be extremely artificial circumstances--and that notwithstanding the general unlikelihood of most comic book plots to begin with. To that same end, I've only seen bits and pieces of Freddy vs Jason and Alien vs. Predator, but I loathed everything I saw, and I don't really understand why, in a movie market already hypersaturated with sequels and prequels and remakes, we need to take franchise characters or monsters and find some stupid reason to put them in a movie together to duke it out. It's not as though I don't have my own love of stupid things in movies, but... I dunno, I guess I'm just too focused on each artistic creation (regardless of how "artistic" it is) as a contextual artifact; Batman's very essence is almost inseparable from the brooding and shadowy Gotham City, for instance, and I feel like he doesn't belong in a universe that also has a planet Krypton from which an essentially magically powerful man hails. You might argue that I'm just nitpicking, I guess, but in reality I'm dissecting the issue so that I can try to explain my feelings; on a personal level, it just doesn't feel right, and so these crossover gladiator bouts bore me. However, Turkish writer/director Tunc Basaran took a different approach to this crossover idea when he made Demir Yumruk: Devler Geliyor. It's more like if Batman and Superman got in a fight and killed each other, and then some bystander came along and robbed their corpses for his own costume. Mind you, he's a bystander who can hold his own in a fight against international criminals, but he still seems to be just a guy whose only superpower is the ability to wear bulletproof vests and pretend he's dead. His name is Enver, by the way, and I'm not sure if he's supposed to be a superhero. I'm told that there are some books about him in Turkey which I guess expand on the universe in which this movie takes place, and maybe there's some backstory as to how and why he has this composite Batsuperman costume. I don't know. All I do know is that he's a Turkish spy in this movie, and after faking his own death to throw one of two major villains off of his trail, he starts wearing said costume, but he's pretty much doing the same stuff that he did before he put it on. So he might be a superhero with an extraterrestrial or radioactive origin, or he might just be a Turkish spy/cop who likes to wear masks and capes while he beats up troublemakers. Of course, either way I like his style. However, the movie does not begin with Enver. The movie begins with Lady Fumanchu. Lady Fumanchu is possibly my favorite villain in all of Turkish cinema. I think this is mainly because s/he's a magical transvestite supervillain in a wheelchair. And aside from her top aide, who's a Turk dressed up to look like an austere Chinese guy, her staff appears to consist of sexy women in flowery bikinis who all carry large guns. Lady Fumanchu is in a race to obtain a cross that will lead her to some kind of special dagger. It doesn't seem to be a notably potent weapon, but for some reason this dagger has scrawled on it the secret location of untold riches plus a cache of uranium. If your mind is filled with questions about the history of such an item, it will be best to suppress them in an attempt to join in the spirit of this sort of Turkish cinema. "Why" is not really a question that's addressed in Turkish weird cinema. Things just happen. And in Turkish weird cinema, while actions and zany schemes are powerful, explanations and logic are for the weak. Weakness is not a flaw of Lady Fumanchu, and she realizes that she not only needs that secret dagger, but she needs it before her rival of some sort, Zagof, gets it. I'm assuming Zagof is Russian, first because Russian makes a good pairing with Lady Fumanchu's presumable "Chinese" in a movie like this, and second because he demonstrates in the dialogue that whatever he is, he's not Turkish. He is entirely bald, however, and has a scar across his eye, so we can be sure that if he isn't a particularly good fighter, he must at least be ruthless as a villain. Anyway, the film then steps away from the great race for the cross that will lead to a race for the dagger, and we get to meet Enver. Enver is not only not in costume, but he's not wearing much at all; he just got done seducing some young woman. Then the door opens and we see Zagof's secretary come in and smack that young woman around a bit until she leaves. Angered at Enver's infidelity, that "secretary,"Meral, threatens to kill him. He wrestles her onto the bed and kisses her until they're both giggling, at which point she just starts relating the events of her day. It's hard to tell if they're actually swingers who find it kinky to pretend that they're not swingers, or if we're just meant to assume that either Enver is that good with women or Meral is that hopeless in a relationship. However, if you're concerned about the possible misogyny of the situation, you're in luck. Just like that out-of-place rape scene in Horror of the Zombies, after this scene is over, it's as though it never happened and it has absolutely no consequences for future events. Meral's day at work, of course, was tiring. She's a spy, you see, just like Enver. Her assignments include undercover secretary work and undercover (so to speak) bellydancing, as well as the odd jailbreak. By contrast, Enver's assignments seem to include fighting and occasionally getting caught (we'll touch upon this in a minute). There are not just two heroes, however, but four. Their friend Orhan is the comic relief--as you can tell by the jaunty angle of his hat--and although he's not really comical or relieving, he probably doesn't qualify as being odious. And in addition to Orhan, Murat is the son of a professor condemned to starve to death by Lady Fumanchu because he wouldn't reveal to her the secret location of the cross (which, again, would reveal the dagger, which would reveal the uranium and money... as a side note, I first read about this movie in Turkish, and I felt certain that I was mistranslating something, but it turns out that I got it right). Murat's a good fighter as well, which is good because you can't have too many good fighters on your side when you're saving the world... especially if your superhero is actually just some regular guy who likes capes. Basically, the plot goes as follows: each of the three groups tries to outmaneuver the other in finding the successive artifacts. Zagof tends to be very straightforward in his pursuit, while Lady Fumanchu tends to use a bit more deception. The spies come up with weird plans like apparently letting Zagof capture Enver and Murat just so Enver can fake his own death and then come back in his costume to free Murat. It's sort of like giving someone a gift and then coming back with a disguise on, punching them, and taking the gift back before anything happens to it. At one point, Lady Fumanchu demonstrates her "powers," which consist of disappearing in smoke that magically puts her enemies in jail. That might sound pretty useful, but later it looks like her powers have been reduced to little more than male pattern baldness. With that and the facts about Enver in mind, I guess this film might be tough for you if you like your superheroes and supervillains to have, you know, super powers. But hey, that's not a problem for me. Give me lots of Turkish fistfights, belly dancing, and a magical balding transvestite in a wheelchair; and unless the movie was somehow associated with Full Moon or Fred Olen Ray, I know I won't be disappointed. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Turkish Superman Double Bill, Year: 1973 posted by Ryan at 9:29 PM | 1 Comments Sunday, August 12, 2007Supermen Donuyor (Superman Returns)
DIGG THIS ARTICLE. 1978, Turkey. Starring Tayfun Demir, Gungor Bayrak, Esref Kolcak, Yildirim Gencer, Nejat Ozbek, Reha Yurdakul, Seref Pekseker, Turgut Ozatay, Kadir Kok, Kudret Karadag, Yadigar Ejder, Yusuf Cetin, Cetin Basaran, Sirri Elitas, Ferhat Unal. Directed by Kunt Tulgar. Buy it from Xploited Cinema.
Before I start reviewing, I want to say thanks to Bill at Onar Films for all of the hard work, and perseverance through a ridiculous number of setbacks, that resulted in the DVD I watched for this review. Horror films have historically been underrepresented in Turkish cinema, but to a degree that dearth is compensated for by an absolute plethora of manic costume dramas and crazy comic book-inspired films. The Turks have their own heroes, such as Karaoglan and Tarkan, but they also quite readily adapted foreign superheroes for the screen; as such, it was inevitable that they would come out with a Superman film. In fact, the 1960s and '70s saw other Superman films in Turkey before Supermen Donuyor was even conceived of--said conception occurring after Kunt Tulgar saw the then-recent Christopher Reeves film. Those who've seen Turkish Star Wars will recognize the much-lauded orange-lettering-on-black-construction-paper credits technique that may or may not have been developed by Kunt Tulgar, or by his production company, Kunt Films. Soon after that, one is confronted with the fact that this is, indeed, the famous Turkish Superman film mentioned in Mondo Macabro which attempts to invoke a moving starscape by hanging Christmas bulbs in front of a dark cloth. To Kunt's credit, many of them are star-shaped, although the spherical ones are probably better approximations of an actual star. Fortunately, the stars in this universe seem to be different than the ones that you or I might know, because we're informed that people live inside the brightest one in the galaxy--that of Krypton. Krypton, they say, is brighter than even the brightest emerald, which itself is the brightest of gems. Well, or it was that bright, until it exploded because of a mixture of some gases. You might be inclined to believe that any planet (or inhabitable star) so unstable as to contain its own chemical demise in its atmosphere (or corona, maybe) might not be long-lived enough to support, for instance, the evolution of life forms complex enough to save their children by sending them out to other planets in "rocket-like machines" with little samples of kryptonite. Well, it seems that you thought wrong, because by a combination of the opening narration (as we contemplate the Christmas bulbs) and the subsequent, "Son, y'know, we adopted you after you crash-landed in our backyard almost two decades ago" speech from Ma and Pa Demir, we learn that things played out something like that. Superman here bears the name of Tayfun Demir (Iron Typhoon), a stage name developed for the film for both character and actor. Tayfun was a friend of director Kunt Tulgar's, and due to "shyness" requested a toning-down of any action scenes so as to limit any danger to his health and safety. Now, I've yet to see any Turkish stuntmen who remind me of Tony Jaa, but I should mention that back then, since Turkish films weren't budgeted to do much with special effects, most of the stunts you'd see were either camera tricks or, when that wasn't possible, just stuff that these guys really did. Rarely have I heard of "stunt men" in these cases; it seems that the actors tended to be expected to do their own stunts. The character has to jump onto a moving train? Well... then the actor probably really jumped onto a moving train. Is that really Cuneyt Arkin doing all that crazy crap on the back of a galloping horse? Well... probably, yes. So since the leading man was uncomfortable with risking injury for the sake of the film, I must say that the fight scenes here are a bit less ambitious than in many other Turkish films of the period. Other Turkish action heroes tend not to be very convincing fighters either, but there's a flair to their ridiculous fighting styles that tends to possess its own conviction. By contrast, Tayfun Demir sometimes seems like he's never thrown a punch in his life, and is just too peaceful of a guy to learn. There's no use of crazy fighting strategies here; nor gymnastics equipment; one's own severed limbs are never used as weapons; and so on. Of course, good use is made of some rubber knives and guns here and there, a couple of creative enough traps or death machines (including a guillotine with a conveyor belt), as well as a slide projector which becomes a multipurpose tool/weapon after krypton stone is inserted into it. Tayfun might not be the most impassioned fighter ever, and the fight choreography might not be the most creative, but there's no shortage of action nonetheless. Villains constantly fall through tables, crash into walls, and generally get roughed up by the valiant man with the S on his chest, and at the end of the day, I think there are only so many complaints you can mount against that. Besides, the soundtrack keeps things moving. Except for a bit of the James Bond theme (played on what sounds like an out-of-tune guitar), I didn't recognize any of the mostly Turkish-disco/funk-sounding songs, but they'd constantly change. Jump cut? New song. Someone else enters the room? New song. The mood changes a little bit? New song. I don't like doing plot summary-dependent reviews, but fortunately, the Superman mythos is so familiar that there's not much need for it anyway. Superman's name is Tayfun, and Turkish Lois Lane is called Alev, while Turkish Jimmy Olsen is Neci. Our villain is Erken, who is working on a scientific panel with Alev's father and some other men to try to discover the chemical "formula" for "krypton stone," which appears to be a sort of philosopher's stone. Alev's father sees it as an energy source which will solve the world's ecological problems, but Erken has other ideas. After jamming it into his hairdryer or projector or whatever that thing is, he can turn any metal into gold, and he can also defeat Superman. Erken tests the machine on a cat, too, and although it looks very clearly like a special effects artist (or probably just some guy) lights a fire and the cat runs away, I think we're meant to believe that it caught fire and then disappeared completely--possibly because of the confluence of some gases. I can also add Supermen Donuyor to my list of Turkish films which use children's toys as props--in this case, a ken doll, complete with little costume and hairdryer-derived wind, is used for most of the flying scenes, which helps to explain why Superman's face is obscured by his arms in most of them. The ability to create the appearance of Superman in flight was apparently a pivotal technical conundrum for the filmmakers, and all told I think they did a better job than the makers of Puma Man, at least... Dolls can't really flail their arms like jackasses, after all. It looks decent enough as the dolls suspended in front of washed-out rear-projections of random crap in Istanbul techniques go, and unlike the rear-projections in Turkish Star Wars, none of these appear to be backwards or upside-down, though all of them are curiously blue... Kunt Tulgar explains in the interview that the filmmakers (including his wife, who sewed the costumes) were very proud of the film when they first made it, but it now looks kind of banal. Perhaps. I mean, no, it's not very sophisticated or artistic, or innovative, or captivating. The film isn't really as brilliant as it tells us that emeralds and Krypton are, I must admit. On the other hand, it's got a ken doll flying around Istanbul, plenty of smashed tables and rubber knives, no shortage of heroism and villainy, and some very interesting ideas about astrophysics and geoscience. And moreover, there's something charming in its simplicity, where dialogue is stripped down to the very basics, and there's no irritating metacognitive winking at the viewer, nor any attempts to put a "new spin" on the tale; this is the classic tale of Superman, except for the ways that it's been adapted for Turkey. As a final note, the Onar Films DVD treatment of this film is of the high quality befitting all of their releases. The interview with Kunt Tulgar is extensive and fairly wide-ranging, and the transfer looks and sounds better than most Turkish vhs dubs that I've ever watched. As far as I'm concerned, this disc belongs in your collection if you've got any interest in Turkish film, comic books, Superman, or just having a good time. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Country: Turkey, Year: 1978 posted by Ryan at 8:05 PM | 0 Comments Monday, December 13, 2004Danger! Diabolik
1968, Italy. Starring John Phillip Law, Marisa Mell, Michel Piccoli, Adolfo Celi, Claudio Gora, Mario Donen. Directed by Mario Bava. Available on DVD (Amazon).
This lavishly colorful and thoroughly enjoyable comic book romp features what is without a doubt one of the swankest moments in all of cinema, if not the swankest. Having just completed a major heist, our cool-as-liquid-nitrogen anti-hero, Diabolik, returns to his sprawling, space-age underground lair full of cool mod furnishings, where he and his staggeringly beautiful girlfriend, Eva, proceed to make love on a gigantic rotating bed covered in piles upon piles of the money he's just stolen. When I was young, and even not so very long ago, I always looked at this moment as the goal to which all men should aspire. Our lives should be like this, lived with ferocity and daring, panache and style, sexiness and suaveness. I swore, on that day, that I would work tirelessly toward such a destiny, never resting until I, too, could collapse into my rotating bed covered in cash and roll about with the woman of my dreams. As it stands right now, rather than going out drinking with socialites, rubbing elbows with countesses, and dancing the night away in a fancy club before stepping out to steal priceless emeralds and sapphires (I always preferred those stones to diamonds), I spent the evening sitting at home drinking bourbon, watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, and cutting out little color cover printouts for all the VHS tapes I'm finally converting to DVD-R in the name of conserving precious space in my ever-shrinking Brooklyn apartment. Diabolik would weep for me, or rather; he would slap me and laugh heartily before bounding off to live his dreamlike, lusty life of adventure and romance. Make no mistake about it. Though I may dress better than many of my fellow movie website masters and perhaps be in slightly better physical condition (though tonight's dinner of bourbon and cake could put an end to that), I'm still pathetic in my own special, desperately lonely way. I mean, I don't even have a hundred Friendsters yet. Granted, Diabolik would look at the whole Friendster thing and shake his head in amused disbelief as he hopped in his Jag to go punch a criminal kingpin then make sweet love to his woman all night long. The 1960s were defined by different things to different people, and while some saw the paramount of the decade as a bunch of scruffy hippies wallowing in the mud for a few days in upstate New York, I always looked at the defining moments of the decade as the films Barbarella and Danger! Diabolik. That or the violence at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Or, um, the start of American involvement in the Vietnam War. Or the Bay of Pigs. Or maybe the assassination of the Kennedy Brothers and Martin Luther King, Jr. Or the arrival of The Beatles. No, it was Barbarella and Diabolik, if for no other reason than they were the exclamation points at the end of an era of which I am particularly fond, that being the carefree Swingin' Sixties that brought the world pop art, slim mod suits, mini-skirts, go-go boots, lots of spy films, and that cute pixie haircut sported by Twiggy. Although born a shade too late to enjoy the proceedings, it's the time with which I most closely identify and still attempt to recreate in my own impoverished and pathetically undaring way. With the escalation of the war in Vietnam and ensuing civil unrest and violence, not to mention the whole hippie movement destroying any vestige of standards in the realm of courtesy, manners, social grace, and dress, there was really no way the swingin' era could survive. Being care-free was taboo, even though hippies tended to spend a large amount of time smoking pot, dropping acid, and staring at their hands. Likewise, adhering to a uniform anti-code of dress became the standard. I won't argue that increased social awareness is a boon to an individual, though I would argue against anyone who claims those who defined the latter portion of the 1960s were any more politically aware than those who came before them who were seen as shallow because they enjoyed go-go dancing more than that weird wavy-hand dance. I know many of you enjoy the ultra-casual, anything-goes world in which we live thanks in part to our hippie forefathers, but I can't count myself among you. I don't wear a shirt and tie because I have to; I wear one because I want to. I like it. It's comfortable to me. Granted, I didn't always hold this sentiment, and there was a time when I could deliver a wild-eyed sermon against the chains of suit and tie oppression as well as any other young punk rocker. But as you get older and start having more important things about which to worry, such as how you're going to get that rotating bed covered in money and a delicious European blonde to accessorize it, you realize that punk, casual - everything is as much a fashion uniform as anything else, and there really is no sin in putting a little effort into things. The only sin, really, is in wearing pleated, relaxed-fit Dockers. The mod era was on its way out, and what better way to send it off than with a duo of eye-popping, self-indulgent, cinematic flings? In 1968, director Roger Vadim gave the world a zero-G striptease by his then-wife Jane Fonda, who was without a doubt in her prime as far as bombshell status is concerned. Dino De Laurentiis, famous for throwing big-budgets and low-budget genre ideas, produced this phantasmagoric, Technicolor acid trip adapted from a French comic strip about a sexy space agent plying the galaxy in search of missing scientists and lustful encounters. It was such a hoot that De Laurentiis decided more of the same would be in order. Again he turned to European comic strips for his source material, this time setting his sights on Diabolik, the ongoing saga of a master criminal who confounds both the police and the established criminal underworld. On paper, it was supposed to be a spiritual if not narrative follow-up to Barbarella. De Laurentiis snagged Mario Bava to direct, and it couldn't have been a better choice. Since his first film in color, Bava had been a mater at playing with light and creating surreal atmospheres even on the tiniest of budgets. Films like Blood and Black Lace (1964), Planet of the Vampires (1965) and Kill, Baby...Kill! (1966) continue to influence films to this day for their bold, convention-bucking use of color and lighting, not to mention violence. With Diabolik, Bava would be allowed to indulge his sweet tooth for candy colored psychedelia equipped with a budget that dwarfed anything with which he'd previously been supplied. Not that the bigger budget mattered to him. In fact, though De Laurentiis granted Bava some $3 million for the film. Bava brought it in right around $400,000, though you'd never know it. The film looks like he spent the full budget, and one can only imagine how out-of-this-world it would have been had Bava not been so conditioned to make the most of every single cent - or lira, or whatever currency applied. French star Jean Sorel (Short Night of Glass Dolls, Lucio Fulci's One on Top of the Other) was slated to portray the suave super-villain/anti-hero Diabolik, while the beautiful Catherine Deneuve (Indochine) was to star as his partner and lover, Eva. Mere days into the production, however, Bava determined that Sorel simply wasn't right for the part, and he was replaced by John Phillip Law, who had starred as the blind angel Pygar in Barbarella and would go on to appear as Sinbad in The Golden Voyage of Sinbad. Law was a jaw-dropping hunk with phenomenal good looks, but he was never the greatest actor on the block. Still since the idea behind Diabolik was not style over substance but rather, as with Barbarella, style as substance, he fit the bill perfectly and certainly looks the part. His reserved - some would say wooden - acting style clicks nicely with the character. Casting woes continued, however, as Deneuve refused to do the nudity required for the aforementioned "making love on a pile of money" scene. Bava had always thought more of concealing than revealing, and while there is certainly plenty of flesh both male and female on display in the scene, there is no actual nudity per se, as in no one sees the earth-shatteringly taboo bare bottom or nipple. All the strategic areas were suitable strategically covered by piles of money. But the scene had to be shot with both actors in the buff, and Deneuve balked. She was quickly and, for us viewers, blessedly replaced by European starlet Marisa Mell. Mell is every bit Law's physical match. A beauty so great as to cause men to drop tot heir knees and weep, she ranks right alongside some of the all-time most beautiful women to ever grace the screen, which is a list that for my money is topped by Nicole Kidman and also includes Halle Berry, Maggie Cheung, Sylvia Koscina, and Kim Novack. As the sophisticated and liberated sidekick to the devil-may-care Diabolik, I can imagine no one else better than Marisa Mell. A serious auto accident in 1963 had left her partially disfigured, and after years of rehabilitation and reconstructive surgery, she emerged looking like some incredible kind of goddess, with the only lingering side effect of her accident being a quirky upturn at the side of her mouth which, just about everyone agrees, amplifies her beauty tenfold. It is most unfortunate that her life would take a drastic downturn not too long after this film. She was relegated to B and C-movie status, then more or less forgotten, making ends meet by posing in a nudie mag and reading poetry to try and supplement what was, by most accounts, rather a wild lifestyle. In the end, Marisa Mell died from cancer in 1992, relatively penniless. A melancholy note, but still she exists on screen in this movie as one of the great and timeless images of grace and beauty. It is that way that I think she is best remembered, as a stunning woman with an impish and playful curl to her lip. For the roll of Diabolik's foils on both sides of the law, Bava had experienced French actor Michel Piccoli as the dogged Inspector Ginco, and the robust Adolfo Celi, still relatively fresh off his memorable turn as the vastly enjoyable villain Emilio Largo in the James Bond film, Thunderball (1965), as the flamboyant Mafia boss, Valmont. It was as solid a cast of character actors as Bava had ever had. He plucks them down into a world that isn't quite real. One of Bava's great strengths, and the element that perhaps made his horror films so successfully eerie, is his ability to warp the familiar, to twist the mundane into something foreign and menacing. Here, he's pulling the same stunt, but purely for laughs. The world of Diabolik is not the world in which we live, though it bears a striking resemblance. It is, instead, a campy pop-art extraction. Money is transported in bags marked with huge dollar signs on the front. Stylistically, it has the most in common with Bava's previous Blood and Black Lace and forthcoming Five Dolls for an August Moon and Four Times that Night, both of which revel in trippy modernist fashion and psychedelic over-indulgence. It wouldn't be surprising to see the characters from any one of those movies show up in the other, though Diabolik is, in my opinion the most realized stylistically and conceptually. It is Bava at his most impish and playful. The story, as stated earlier, was adapted from a long-running European comic strip, or fumetti. Although I'll admit to being a comic book reader in my youth, with intellectual fare like G.I. Joe and the ten thousand or so Spider Man titles that littered the 1980s being at the top of the list, I don't really count myself among the legion of comic book fans. I have no interest in them now, and even the ones that people insist I'll like because they're intelligent and mature, leave me cold and a bit disappointed. Even the ones where people tell me, "no, this one is different," still fall flat. It's not that I deny their power or their artistic merit, even if I find some of the obtuse attempts to appear more "adult" by adding more violence, sex, and cussing, to be monumentally tedious. There are, to be sure, plenty of superbly written comics out there, and none of them appeal to me. Not the big names, not the plucky little independents. It's just a matter of taste, and since my taste in literature these days consists primarily of travel essays, Tony Hillerman Joe Leaphorn/Jim Chee mysteries, and old espionage novels from the 1960s, I'm hardly one to pass judgment on anyone else's reading material, though I am finally getting around to reading John Dos Passos' American trilogy, which I suppose is something every American ought to do. One of my goals for the current phase of my life, after all, is to finish up the many classics and essentials I missed during high school, college, and those heady post-college years when I spent too much time watching pro wrestling. That said, these European comic strips from the 1960s seem like they would have been a lot of fun. Considering they birthed such chain-smoking, sexy anti-heroes as Diabolik, Barbarella, and Modesty Blaise, all clad in skintight fetish gear. Well, I guess that last one is pretty common, actually. Having never read any of the original Diabolik comic strips, but having at least glanced over some English-language plot summaries, I don't think the storyline for the movie is lifted from any single episode, though bits and pieces may have come from all over the comics. The main characters certainly come from the comic strip, and here we get to watch them as Diabolik goes through a series of heists that get him on the bad side of both the police and the old crime syndicates - the establishment, basically. Chief of police Ginco sets a number of traps for Diabolik, but each time Diabolik outsmarts the inspector and makes his getaway with the loot. When one of his heists angers crime lord Valmont, Ginco hatches an unholy alliance with the mob to finally catch this thorn in both their sides. Each heist is more or less a little self-contained episode building toward Ginco's plan to melt down the whole of France's gold reserve in order to lure Diabolik into a trap. The heists are exciting and outlandish, this again being a fantasy world in which the standard laws of common sense and logic do not apply. In his quest to steal a priceless jeweled necklace, Diabolik defeats the inspector's trap by pulling the ol' "stick a photo in front of the security camera" gag. He later smuggles the jewels to safety by fashioning them into bullets, using them to kill an opponent, then posing as said opponent's relative to collect the jewels after cremation. Obviously, there are some logistical problems with this plan, not the least of which would be fitting jewels into a revolver, but this is a comic book world. We're not meant to take anything seriously or worry about realism. This is part of the reason it's also easy to accept Diabolik as the hero of the story even though he is, without a doubt, a villain. He kills cops. Not corrupt cops, but regular guys just doing their job. He has no concern for anyone but himself and his one true love, Eva. When he dynamites the nation's tax records, he doesn't do it out of any sense of Robin Hood-esque duty to the poor and oppressed masses. He simply wants to screw with The Man -- which leads to one of the film's funnier moments, in which the Minister of Finances makes a public plea to all the outstanding citizens to come forward and voluntarily pay the taxes they owe. Comedic touches like this, along with the purposeful disregard for realism, keep the movie light-hearted and chipper even when our main character is committing acts of a most heinous nature. It's not that Diabolik is immoral, however. If anything, he is adamantly amoral, completely rejecting the standards by which society judges the concepts of good and evil. He's not an evil person. In fact, he's quite likeable, almost childlike, even when he's clad in a skintight white leather outfit and scaling a castle wall to rip someone off. At his heart, he is 1968. He is the social upheaval, the youthful rebellion that was engulfing countries across the globe. It's no coincidence that the two forces most opposed to him are established law and established crime - two sides of a coin in which Diabolik sees no difference. They are the old guards; the outdated, out-of-touch generation whose lack of modern sophistication and intelligence is best exemplified by the fact that Valmont's gangsters dress anachronistically, looking like something out of a 1930s mob movie. They don't understand Diabolik's approach to crime, his use of modern technology and embracing of modern ideals. Likewise, on the other side of the coin is Inspector Ginco, a man who seems to respect Diabolik in a way, just as Diabolik respects him. In fact, it's possible that Ginco could catch Diabolik, best him, if only the inspector could break away from the established way of thinking. Unfortunately, he is a man too mired in the old ways, and thus destined to be one step behind Diabolik. If only he could escape the constant supervision and micro managing of the bureaucrats, Ginco could make real progress. In a way, Ginco must envy Diabolik his freedom of thought. It is in this way, more than through the story itself, that Diabolik achieves the depth so many people seem to claim it lacks. It is a tale of a super criminal versus the cops on one level, but on a deeper level, it is a tale of the generation gap, of the culture conflict between young and old that characterized the late 1960s. Diabolik and Eva are the new way, feared and misunderstood by their elders. They are the iconoclasts, perhaps more symbols than actual people, as is Valmont. Ginco is the man in the middle, who knows things and times must change, but not by the methods employed by the amoral and self-serving Diabolik. He is, despite being the supporting character and foil to Diabolik, the most sympathetic and human of all the characters. He is, in effect, most of us, dissatisfied with the establishment but still committed to some sense of orderly progression and society. The relationship between Eva and Diabolik is further example of the film's hidden but most definitely present depth. They are in love, deeply and passionately. Ginco seems to forego romance in favor of duty, and Valmont can see women as nothing more than playthings. But Eva and Diabolik are liberated and modern. They are sexually attractive and have an insatiable appetite for one another, but they are also in love. Diabolik steals for Eva, but Eva does not stay with him because he steals; she stays because she loves him. Stealing is simply what they do, a game, and an amusement. Another way for them to thumb their noses at the generation that does not understand them. Their relationship is strong, and they are willing to sacrifice for one another. In the face of a world that wants to rub them out, they always have each other. Sometimes, they have each other on a rotating bed covered in money. So Diabolik is not an example of style over substance as much as it is an example of style as substance. The mod, liberated, pop art lifestyle of Eva and Diabolik is a stark contrast to the buttoned-up, confining world inhabited by Ginco and Valmont. Not that the style lets itself be overshadowed by the substance. They walk arm in arm, and even if you disregard anything Diabolik might have to say, there's no denying it's look. That Mario Bava pulled this off on a miniscule budget is staggering. With the possible exception of Barbarella and some of the wilder Bond adventures from the 1960s, few films look as sleek and sophisticated as Diabolik. The fashion is impeccable, and for a man like me who has endless admiration for the mod styles of the 1960s, it's like some crazy kind of dream come true. Every outfit donned by Marisa Mell is gorgeous enough to make you cry, especially when it's draped upon someone as beautiful as she was. Likewise, Diabolik's fetishistic head-to-toe leather outfits are beautiful, leaving as they do only John Phillip Law's intense and deep eyes visible. Their underground lair is a sight to behold, as are the old Jags they both drive. I love me a good Aston-Martin, but if I had to chose, I'd go for a 60's Jag. They're just about the coolest cars ever manufactured - taking nothing away, of course, from my dust-and-road-salt-streaked black Honda Accord. Diabolik is, indeed, a mod man's dream, even more so than the more outlandish Barbarella. After all, someone out on the town dressed as Barbarella would turn heads but ultimately look just kind of silly; someone out dressed in the mod fashions displayed by Marisa Mell would simply look breathtaking. This isn't the type of film where you fret over the details, and if you do, you're just going to miss the point. Like I said, it exists in a fictitious comic book world. It's not meant to be any more realistic than any other superhero/villain movie or comic book. What does count is the pace of the story, and Bava keeps things moving along at a fair clip. It's not an action-packed movie, not by today's standards where something big must explode every ten minutes in between a sequence involving bikini girls freak dancing. But it is expertly and briskly paced, with a light-hearted tone that keeps you from worrying too much about the fact that the man we're supposed to love is a murderer and a thief. Ultimately, of course, Diabolik is a criminal and must pay for his crimes. The film's ending is vague in its resolution but absolutely fitting. Ginco must prevail, after all. The exuberance and reckless abandon of youth must be tamed. And so we are left with Diabolik encased in a coffin forged out of his own greed, a gold plating from which he cannot escape. Or can he? We'll never really know. De Laurentiis was so pleased with the fact that Bava brought the movie in $2.6 million under its $3 million budget that he practically begged for a sequel. Unfortunately, the reportedly mild-mannered Bava could not bear the oppressive and often dictatorial producer, so no sequel ever came about. We are left, then, with the final shot of Diabolik imprisoned by his own greed, laughing either slyly or maniacally, protected by his special suit from the molten gold but unable, as far as we can tell, to escape. His rebellion, after all, was not perfect. And while the establishment is able, at least for the time being, to contain Diabolik and his socially challenging threat, while they may suppress it, it's unclear as to how long that will be the case. It could always resurface. It is a beautiful tongue-in-cheek ending, one that even works quite cleverly in conjunction with the fate of Valmont, who finds eventually himself on the more fatal and literal end of greed. Although it would seem, at first, to be a major departure from Bava's greater body of work, most of which up to the point had been gothic horror and giallo, Diabolik still manages to cover most of the director's pet themes and thus fits quite perfectly into his oeuvre. Diabolik is an outsider who rejects what those around him see as established common sense. Appearances are, as always, deceiving at their very best. Diabolik's use of disguises and his foiling of Ginco's trap by using a photograph of an empty, peaceful room are the most obvious examples. And like most of Bava's anti-heroes, Diabolik eventually gets his comeuppance. For my money, Diabolik is an unabashed success on all levels. The art design is without parallel. The script is crisp, witty, and fast-paced. The universe Bava creates is wild and enjoyable. And the performances - yes, even John Phillip Law's - are wonderful. It is the ultimate super-villain movie, with a villain so charismatic that you forget he isn't the hero. Campy, clever, and never taking itself as seriously as some dim-witted critics seem to think it does, Diabolik is one of the best, if not the best, European comic book/fantasy/sci-fi films, not to mention of the most breathlessly beautiful and fun films of the 1960s. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Director: Mario Bava, Espionage, Eurospies, Year: 1968 posted by Keith at 6:20 PM | 1 Comments Monday, September 20, 2004The Punisher
2004, United States. Starring Thomas Jane, Rebecca Romijn, John Travolta, James Carpinello, Ben Foster, Laura Harring, John Pinette, Roy Scheider. Dirext"cted by Jonathan Hensleigh. Available on DVD from Amazon
What did I do? Why do I have to be punished by watching this movie? Truth be told, I didn't even know if I was going to review it since technically I didn't rent this for myself. It was a request from the li'l lady, who has a fondness for all things comic book in nature. She even managed to watch that Roger Corman-made Fantastic Four film and that unspeakably awful live-action made-for-TV Justice League movie. So while she may not be able to tolerate pretentious Frenchie films or anything with zombies, she's possessed of stamina for a different type of bad film. Tempting as it was to give The Punisher a pass on these grounds, I figured my initial statement was that I was going to review everything Netflix sent me, not just everything I wanted to see from Netflix. Since the name on the envelope is mine, then The Punisher gets the same treatment as everything else. And anyway, it's nice to have a girlfriend who makes me write statements like, "Yeah, she made me watch The Punisher instead of, "Yeah, she made me watch a Sex and the City marathon." To settle things right up front, let me say that even when I was interested in comic books, I hated The Punisher. I thought he was boring character, the sort of comic book nerd wet dream of a tough guy that makes people who read the comic think they're tough too. I could never understand the appeal. Everything was so repetitive, so fantastically boring and above all, just so desperate for some sort of comic book street cred. When the first movie came out, I saw it because I always see crap like that when I stay up late. It was a pretty bad movie, but at least they put The Punisher in normal clothes instead of that ridiculous spandex skull costume he wears in the comic book. I guess a lot of people were upset that they ditched the skull logo on his chest, but as far as I'm concerned grown men shouldn't be parading about in skull logo t-shirts regardless of how well armed they may be. When they announced a new, big budget version of The Punisher was going to attempt to ride the coattails of Marvel's success with the Spider-Man and X-Men movies, it didn't really make any impact on me besides inspiring my usual bout of nerdy jokes about them making an Alpha Flight or Power Pack movie. The Punisher came and went, and about the biggest praise this film got when it was released was that it was better than the Dolph Lundgren Punisher movie. Now that I've seen it, I don't know if I agree. If it is better, it's only marginally better and only because it has a slightly bigger budget and because you get the satisfying pay-off of seeing John Travolta set of fire and dragged around behind a car. You probably know the story by now, even if you aren't familiar with the comic book, since the same basic character has been used in about fifteen million movies this year alone. The good man (in this case one Frank Castle, played by Thomas Jane) has his whole family wiped out by criminals and thus launches a one-man crusade to punish the evil. Batman did it. All those guys in spaghetti westerns did it. That big fat grandma did it in Surf Nazis Must Die. The trick to making it into a plot for your movie is in adding interesting characters and sub-plots to augment it, which The Punisher fails to do. The entire movie is literally nothing but the guy stalking Travolta and his goons and killing them. He takes some time to cause a ruckus with Travolta's business ventures, which seems an odd thing to do since he's just going to kill the guy in the finale anyway, but I guess they had to pad this thing out somehow. They also try to pad it out by giving The Punisher a cast of eccentric neighbors I'm told come directly from the comic book. None of them really add a thing to the story, and they're all pretty dull. Maybe the fat guy was a little interesting, but the pierced guy was zero-dimensional and Rebecca Romijn has nothing to do but try to romance the Punisher after knowing him for a few days and also after discovering that his wife, child, and entire family were murdered less than a year earlier. Hey, class act! These characters basically exist so they can be caught and tortured by Travolta's goons, thus showing their loyalty (even though they've only talked to the Punisher once or twice, and he hardly said anything in return) and giving Frank Castle the strength he needs to fight on and put an end to John Travolta's ill-advised "little page boy" haircut, which for the most part, he keeps mercifully pulled back for most of this film. So since I try to be the eternal optimist with any film, let me point out the attributes that kept The Punisher from being a complete stinker of a film. Thomas Jane is a decent actor, even if he's given practically nothing to do but furrow his brow and mumble. He bulked up for the part and looks good. The real miracle is that somehow someone managed to restrain John Travolta and keep him from launching into his usual Shatner-esque histrionics. I wouldn't call his performance good. There are some really awkward lines, and he never seems to be conveying the correct emotion for the scene, but at least he's not ranting and raving and being all Battlefield Earthy. You know, it might have been better if he had let go just a little. At least someone in this movie would have been memorable besides the mincing fat guy. There is mercifully little CGI, and when it does rear it's computer generated mug it's just so we can watch someone drag John Travolta through a lot full of exploding cars, so we can forgive it. The fight scenes are okay. I think there were only one or two instances of slow-motion John Woo style diving with a gun. And I don't think anyone held their gun sideways, which I hope is representative of the fact that Hollywood has figured out how stupid that whole trend was. Even with those positive points, the flaws in the film significantly outweigh what it does right. For starters, as I said, there is no plot beyond "man hunts down gangsters." Even Steven Seagal films with that plot gave us a little more to go on in their running time. I guess defenders of the film could refer to this skeletal plot as "lean" or "streamlined." Completely unengaging is the phrase I'd use. There's no tension whatsoever. We know exactly how the film will end, know exactly what will happen, and The Punisher never once sees fit to throw us or a curveball or attempt to do anything but fulfill the most obvious course of action. It makes for very boring viewing, especially stretched out to two hours. There's not more than eighty minutes worth of movie here, and even that would be a pretty thin affair. Why they pad things out to two hours is beyond me. The atmosphere, as you would guess, is decayed and grim. So relentless and unimaginatively grim that it, too, becomes completely boring. The film screams at you, "look how bleak I am!!!" and just comes across as desperate to seem tough. Although like most Marvel characters, the comic book Punisher was based in New York, the movie has him working in Tampa. Tampa? Seriously? And a Tampa that seems totally devoid of a police force that does anything other than show up for press conferences. Well, at least we're spared scenes of the Punisher and Rebecca Romijn's waitress bonding over a trip to Busch Gardens to ride the Montu and Kumba and watch monkeys jack off. Hmm, maybe that's what this movie needed. Like the plot itself, the Tampa locations sap the film of any sense of energy. Nothing against Tampa, but it's a boring town no matter how they may try to pass it off as "the Miami of central Florida." Something about The Punisher, beaches, and palm trees just doesn't mix. Director Jonathan Hensleigh does not have what you might call a sparkling resume. In fact, The Punisher is his first film as director, but he's worked as a screenwriter for The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, Jumanji, Armageddon, and that third Die Hard film. In addition, he was an executive producer on the Nicholas Cage remake of Gone in 60 Seconds, Armageddon, and Con Air -- which means that he is yet another member of that seemingly endless line of Michael Bay/Jerry Bruckheimer acolytes mucking up action cinema. He's also responsible for what little script there is here, but while he fails as a writer, his direction is less nauseating than Bay or many of the other action directors running around. At least he doesn't shake the camera around wildly. There are very few over-stylized directorial tricks, for which I'm thankful. I reckon the material demanded a more low-key, low-razzle-dazzle approach, and if nothing else, at least Hensleigh gave us that, and that alone is reason enough for me to not completely dislike this movie. It's not enough for me to recommend it to anyone, but these days you have to take what you can get. Comparisons to other recent Marvel Comics adaptations are inevitable, which is too bad for The Punisher since those include two superb X-Men movies and two superb Spider-Man movies. If only The Punisher had been able to compete with Dr. Strange or that Albert Pyun Captain America movie where Cap doesn't wear his goofy outfit or use his shield. Up against that competition, The Punisher is a masterpiece. But up against movies that have actual plots, compelling and complex characters, and entertainment value, The Punisher just seems shabby. I reckon it's more enjoyable than Daredevil only because Ben Affleck makes me want to cough up my own skeleton. The last refuge of a film like The Punisher is the action scene, and even those fail to ignite any sort of emotion whatsoever. The best action scene, in which Castle battles some hulking hitman in his apartment while classical musical blares and no one else notices until the very end has also been done about a hundred other times. Well, no, a lot more than that. The rest of the action is surprisingly unengaging partially because there's no reason to care about any of it, partially because you know how it all ends anyway, but mostly just because it's choreographed without any energy whatsoever. The lesson we take away from most Jackie Chan films is that if your film lives and dies by its action scenes because the plot is so poor, then you better at least try to make the action scenes entertaining. Earlier I referred to the direction being mercifully low on the shaky-cam style of action filming. Unfortunately that also lets us get a look at how uninspired the action scenes are. The Punisher tries to insulate itself from being compared to its more accomplished brethren by being nastier, more violent, and more foul-mouthed. Once again, all this winds up coming across as desperate, like an annoying little brother trying to shock people by getting a stupid piercing or a tattoo of the Punisher logo. It's too low-brow to be in the same class as other the bigger Marvel movies, but it's still too polished and calculated to be as grim as it pretends to be. It's fitting that the soundtrack features that horrendous band Drowning Pool, because The Punisher reminds me of all those bands comprised of boring suburban guys pretending to be tough and tortured as they scream about the streets and pain and rage. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Netflix Diary, Year: 2004 posted by Keith at 11:51 PM | 0 Comments Saturday, April 17, 2004Incredible Paris Incident
1967, Italy/France. Starring Robert Browne, Dominique Boschero, Dick Palmer. Directed by Terence Hathaway
I've been trying to write this review for a little while now, and it just wasn't working out. I knew what I wanted to say, despite the fact that this movie very nearly overwhelmed me, but something just wasn't coming out right. My fingers kept hitting the wrong keys -- more so than usual, that is. I was forgetting words, unable to complete thoughts and sentences. And then it hit me. I was wide awake and lucid. This is not the sort of film you can watch or write about in a sane state of mind. Now I sit here, exhausted and in pain, and suddenly the words flow like the crystal clear waters of a bubbling mountain brook. Power surges from my fingertips, and each touch on the keyboard is like a bolt of lightning striking down my enemies. I am tired, my vision is blurry, I'm listening to traditional Native American flute songs, and finally I am in the right state of mind to discuss what is, far and away, the most mind-alteringly weird spy film I've seen in many a moon. The Eurospy film. Traditionally, it's not among the more accessible genres here in the United States. A few meager offerings trickled over, primarily because they starred Neil Connery, the Connery with the slightly less cool name than his slightly more famous brother. But just about all traces of the Eurospy film in the States have faded along with cool tiki themed lounges full of men and women in sharp outfits. They were products of the 1960s through and through, and unlike their bigger budget cousin, the James Bond films, they could not adapt themselves to the changing times. For that matter, Bond himself had a rough time of it. Think about it. You're a spy. Do you feel cooler while wearing a sharp suit, driving a hovercraft, and bedding some beautiful buxom French woman in a mini-skirt and go-go boots (the 1960s), or do you feel cooler wearing a leisure suit and making time with some waifer-thin disco queen with feathered Farrah Faucett hair and a beige pantsuit? In the 1970s, you could be grim and gritty, but you could not be suave. That's why tough cop films ruled that decade instead of the spy films, which ruled the 1960s. I'm hoping that there will be some renewed interest in Eurospy films. It happened over the summer with obscure sword and sandal films, so maybe soon we'll see these debonair men of espionage parading triumphantly back into the $8.99 bin at Tower Video. Until then, Something Weird Video is about the only place you can turn for these films, but wit Something Weird's cheap prices, that's not a bad place to turn. The Eurospy film came about as most genres do -- in the wake of the success of a trend-setting film, in this case Dr. No, the first of the many James Bond films. In the blink of an eye, dozens of people were dashing off cut-rate imitations as well as a few big budget ones. A lot of these films sucked. Some of them were pretty good. But the one thing that makes the genre interesting is that, this time, it wasn't really the Italians. Fans of exploitation cinema know that when something becomes popular, while the Italians won't be the only ones to rip it off, they'll sure be the highest profile at doing it. But with the spy films, countries from all over Europe got in on the fun, thus paving the way for the eventual reunification of Germany, the fall of Communism, and the introduction of the Common Market and the Euro. Oh sure the Italians cranked out plenty of Eurospy films, including many of the cooler ones (after all, the Italians are pretty cool), but they were matched stride for stride by Germany, England, much of Scandinavia, and England. I think even the Swiss got involved at one point, and you don't hear very much about the Swiss film industry. Note the reserve I show in not making a joke involving the Swiss and cheesy films. Of course, to simply reduce it all to "they rip off James Bond," is over-simplifying things and ignoring quite a bit of history. For starters, the Europeans had been making spy films since Fritz Lang in the 1920s. And while there's no denying that the success of Bond is entirely the reason there were so many spy films made in the 1960s, it still helps that Europe was well versed in spydom, not to mention the hub of real-life espionage across the world. America got in on the action as well, but the result was often disastrous. While the Eurospy flicks were often bad, they seldom lacked entertainment value. Many of the American Bond rip-offs came out looking like Agent for H.A.R.M., and no one wants to relive that. Sure, we made a few good Matt Helm films, and both Derek Flint movies are classics, but those are all spoofs as well. It's no wonder Europe was better at making spy films. They had cooler spy stuff. When you think of the Cold War, you think of the United States and the Soviet Union, but most of the "fighting" in the Cold War took place in Europe. You can't really do espionage in America or Russia because they're both just too damn big. Plus Russia has those harsh winters. Europe is full of all those nice little countries with cool ancient architecture and winding country roads. There are lots of borders to cross, and lots of cool things lying about. If you are going to be doing espionage, you have to do it in Europe, or possibly "Arabia." Ahh yes, many are the nights I've dreamed of engaging in some cloak and dagger slyness in "The Casbah," where people wear fezzes and smoke those big water pipes and are always helping out Pepe Le Moko. Asia is okay too, but that's an entirely different case. So it's only natural and only fair that the continent where all the espionaging is happening in real life would wind up making the coolest spy films. The most realistic spy films? Well, maybe not, but who really cares? If you want a realistic film, set a camera up and film yourself sleeping and watching television for twelve hours. If I want realism, I'll go out and do something, because nothing on film is more real than real life. No, I do not want realism in my spy films, because that would be a movie about some guy sitting in a cramped room doing research. Would you rather watch James Bond repel down a fake volcano to machine gun a bunch of Commies with the help of a secret army of Japanese ninjas, or would you rather watch two hours of Wen Ho-li shuffling floppy disks around? And in the realm of unrealistic spy films, I don't think any could get any less realistic than Incredible Paris Incident, which is about one of the most honest film titles ever. Well, maybe this is the second most unrealistic spy film ever. Denise Richards as a brilliant nuclear physicist is definitely the most unrealistic moment in spy film history. The most realistic spy film moments are probably all those moments in Agent for H.A.R.M. where Derek Chance just sits around in the living room. Incredible Paris Incident begins with the daring burgling of the Crown of England, which a guy steals by dressing up as one of those Beefeater chaps and hiding the crown under his big tall furry hat. It didn't seem like the most ingenious scheme of all time, but I guess it's better than stuffing an overcoat full of porno mags then walking around the store staring and the ceiling and whistling tunelessly. The police are baffled, as they often are. For all their big reputation, every time Scotland Yard appears in a movie, it's usually in a newspaper headline followed by the phrase "Is Stumped!" They look cool and all, with their tweed jackets and London Fog overcoats and pipes, but when is the last time they successfully solved a crime in a movie? "Scotland Yard Baffled!" "Scotland Yard Left Without a Clue!" "Scotland Yard Mystified!" Hell, even the Scotland Yard guy in this film goes, "What? They expect us to solve these crimes?" What's the deal with Scotland Yard? The inspector also gets to make an offhand dig at Northern Ireland, but that doesn't get him any closer to solving the crime. Meanwhile, on his own private island somewhere in the Mediterranean, we meet our hero, code name: Argoman. Don't confuse him with Super-Argo, another European spy-cum-superhero. Sure, they're almost identical characters, but what are you gonna do? Complain about plagiarism in a film genre that is already just stealing ideas from other films? With all that goes on in the world, I'd like to think that no court time was lost debating the copyright violations in the case of Argoman versus Super-Argo. Luckily for copyright holders, Argoman is supposed to be a wacky spoof of Super-Argo, who himself was supposed to be something of a spoof of spies, superheroes, and possibly Mexican wrestling movies. Argoman is your typical ultra-smooth European spy guy. He has his own island and one of those mansions with the cool space-age bachelor pad look. Everything is hooked up to remote controls and computers. It's sort of like where I live, except that instead of an island, it's a neighborhood in Brooklyn, and instead of a space-age mansion, it's a crumbling one-bedroom apartment in a shabby prewar brownstone. Except that half the brown stones are were painted a rusty yellow and have a faux castle design to them. Stupid building. While relaxing poolside in his villa and chatting with his very European looking Indian servant (we know he's Indian because he's tan and has a turban on), Argoman senses something unusual. That's right, Argoman has various psychic abilities, one of which allows him to detect when sexy women are piloting their own private hovercrafts near his island. Being a sly devil and all, he uses his psychic powers to the hovercraft to his island, and then levitates the sexy woman across the beach and right into his lap! Really! If this doesn't make Incredible Paris Incident the coolest movie you've ever seen, then I don't know what will. Perhaps the fact that he follows this act of kidnapping with the line, "Please forgive me, but when I sensed you passing by I couldn't help but dabble in a little telekinetics." The woman (Jenabelle) who we recognize as the woman behind the thievery of the Royal Crown (the hat, not the soda -- no one would steal RC Cola), is annoyed at first that this total stranger has mentally hijacked her boss hovercraft and levitated her across the island into his lap, especially since he is wearing those shiny little European man micro-short swim trunks. The way I see it, if you're going to wear something like that, you might as well just go naked. You'll be much more comfortable. However, when she is witness to a display of his rapier-sharp wit and charm, she can't stay mad at him for kidnapping and molesting her. Argoman's servant is nervous, and reveals to us that after having sex, Argoman loses his powers for six hours. Argoman just laughs and says he is safe because he's on his own secret island. Plus, he hasn't gotten laid in a while. But this is a Eurospy film, so our two potential sex partners can't simply retire to the boudoir for a night of tender passion and animal lust. No, they must play a little game. Argoman gives the woman a bow and arrow. If she can hit the bull's-eye on a target, he'll give her an assorted gift pack of precious jewels and a brand new Rolls Royce. If, however, she misses, well then he hits the button on a remote control to slide open the wall, revealing his rotating suspended bed. I wonder if this is the first time he's done this, or if this is a pretty regular little Price is Right shtick for him. Anyway, Jenabelle lights up a cigarette because, well, smoking may be bad for you but it looks cool, and in full Jackie-O beachwear, takes the bow and arrow and just narrowly misses the target. Darn! But, something crafty seems to be going through her head as she and Argoman head toward the bed. After they do something behind closed doors, presumably playing Boggle though I can't be certain, she comes out, nonchalantly picks up the bow and arrow and nails the bull's-eye with no problem. Why, that lovable scamp! She was a master archer all along and just wanted some nookie! She then thanks Argoman for the sweet lovin' in the rotating suspended space-age bed, takes the sapphires, and says she won't need the Rolls as she already has one. Never one to be outdone, much like Al Gore, Argoman has to huff, "Well, I have several." Then she hops back in her hover craft and darts off across the sea. Man alive, if I could tell you how much this was like my own life, well, you'd know I was one lyin' son of a bitch. This is maybe the swankest sequence ever in any movie, maybe even swanker than the scene in Danger: Diabolik! where Diabolik and his sexy girlfriend/accomplice are in his space age secret cave hide-out, making love and rolling around naked on a giant rotating bed covered in hundred dollar bills. When I go on job interviews and people ask me where I see myself in the future, I am going to describe one of these two scenes to them, and hopefully, they'll say, "Well, this job will give you all that and more." Unfortunately, building websites may pay the rent, but it's hardly paving my way to having a secret lair of a private island, and though I have met many women, none of them have their own personal hovercrafts. Most of them don't even have cars. And while I may not be able to make love on a giant rotating bed covered in hundred dollar bills, I might be able to get a little action on a futon covered by a pile of pennies. So I'm on my way, working slowly up the ladder of swankiness, and in a few years, I figure I'll have all the stuff Diabolik and Argoman have. Meanwhile, back in England, Scotland Yard is still stumped by the theft of the crown. They have decided to blame Argoman, who we learn is sort of like Batman in that he does heroic things but everyone thinks he is a criminal. Granted, they think he is a much suaver criminal than Batman. However, the inspector seems to have some secret knowledge about Argoman, and soon contacts him. Argoman is annoyed that the same guy who tells the press Argoman stole the crown is the one calling him for help in solving the case, and who can really blame him? It's like saying, "Well, I ordered your execution today, but I was hoping you could drop by beforehand and help me move a couch." Luckily, Argoman is a sport, plus he can levitate sexy women across and island and right into his lap, so he's probably in a good mood most of the time. He agrees to leave his plush sub-tropical private island in order to help the bumbling buffoons of Scotland Yard get their stupid little crown back. When reviewing security photos of the museum, Argoman recognizes Jenabelle in the crowd. He then begins to think something fishy is going on. Could Jenabelle possibly be the dreaded "Queen of the World" who has been taunting Scotland Yard via telegrams? Speaking of which, Scotland Yard must have a palace full of "letters from master criminals taunting Scotland Yard." Meanwhile, Jenabelle returns the crown, just to further taunt Scotland Yard. She also demands that they turn over to her a giant diamond that was created by a nuclear blast. With the human head-sized diamond as the centerpiece of her giant computer, she will be able to harness untold powers! Meanwhile, Argoman is on his way to Paris, or Gay Paris as they call it, to stop her diabolical scheme, even though no one really knows what it is. Right off the bat, Argoman catches her men, who are dressed in the same leather outfit that David Hasslehoff used to wear when he was lip syncing on Solid Gold back in the 1980s, robbing a bank. He uses the old "distract the guard with a naked woman" shtick that we've probably all used a thousand times, but hey! You stick with what works. He sneaks into their truck to find her secret layer, and soon finds himself getting his ass kicked by out-of-shape guys in form-fitting leather Buck Rogers outfits. So he does what any man would do -- he instantly transforms into a laughing super-hero in yellow and black underwear and a cape that is three sizes too small to actually look cool. He thing proceeds to stand with arms akimbo, laughing that manly laugh as he tosses lackeys about with his mind powers. Argoman has what has to be the goofiest looking superhero outfit I've seen in a long time. If superhero shows and movies have taught us anything, it's that normal humans don't look good in spandex superhero outfits. No matter how buff the guy may be, you put the brightly colored spandex long johns on him, and they have the strange ability to make him look scrawny as a scarecrow while, at the same time, having a rather pronounced beer belly. Take the suit off the guy, and he could be a chiseled god with abs of steel, but the second you put the superhero outfit on, he becomes a goofball. But this is what makes this film so special. Oh sure, it could have been a straight-forward Eurospy film, but they decided to go on and throw the whole superhero thing in for good measure. It's the little things that make these things so special. For instance, Darth Vader had to wear the sexy leather outfit and helmet so he could breathe, but he just went ahead and threw the cape on for the hell of it because he knew it looked cool. Likewise, Argoman could have just been a slick undercover spy with psychic powers and a private island and a sexy secretary and glowing green eyes, but he goes ahead and puts the superhero costume on just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, it doesn't work as well as Darth Vader's cape. Jenabelle counters by dumping tons of money on the streets of Paris and following it up with a threat that she will flood the French economy with currency, thus throwing the country into a state of gross inflation and causing it to collapse. Naturally, the French representatives immediately mobilize to surrender to her every demand. Argoman has other ideas, however, and dresses up in a Patrick MacNee outfit to meet up with Jenabelle again. He's not so happy about having to wear the bowler hat and suit, but would you really take fashion criticism from a man who wears yellow spandex and a mini-cape? Upon meeting Jenabelle again, they immediately pick up where they left off, which is in bed. But Argoman knows better than to go all the way, lest he lose his mental super powers. Jenabell gives him the "join me and together we could rule the world" speech, which has never worked ever in the entire history of its being attempted. Even when someone agrees to it, they are always just playing along until they can get the opportunity to foil the villainous scheme. Well, let me step forward with this message to all super-sexy would-be queens of the world: I will gladly accept your offer and rule the world by your scantily clad side. Of course, Argoman simply turns her down and puts on his superhero spandex so he can do some laughing. Just as he's about to subdue Jenabelle, she turns the tables on him and shows him a video of his secretery being attcked a very slow and poorly made robot. Jenabelle escapes while Argoman battles the robot, which is slightly less mobile than a Dalek. At some point I must have missed, Jenabelle also gets the giant diamond, and we finally learn the details of her heinous plot: she is going to use it to program an army of automatons who look just like the various leaders of the world. This is an especially diabolical plan in light of today's politics, as no one, no matter how astute, could possibly tell the difference between a poorly made robot and the actual politicians we are stuck with these days. Would we really be that much worse off being ruled by a sexy woman and her army of robots? We're already at the mercy of the robots, so we might as well get the sexy woman in for good measure. Argoman sends some time dispatching automaton agents, then returns for the final showdown with Jenabelle. The movie takes a turn for bizarre -- well, even more bizarre -- when he uses his mind powers to disarm Jenabelle, then proceeds to blow her away! The hell kind of hero is this guy? He can use his mental powers to incapacitate and disarm someone, then he just goes off and shoots her! Of course, everyone cheers this, and the world is saved! Hooray! Oh well, at least they didn't do tat ending where he lets her live only to kill her when she suddenly turns with a hidden weapon and attacks him in one last ditch effort. Wait a second! I just realized that not once does the fact that after having sex he loses his power for six hours play any role at all in the plot. He never gets tricked into doing the deed only to find himself powerless at the hands of Jenabelle and her forces. Oh well, that's small potatoes in the greater ocean of a film involving a grown man in yellow underwear wrestling with other grown men in black leather bondage suits. Incredible Paris Incident is indeed one of the most incredible damn things I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of incredible things. It has a good sense of humor, tons of action, and more weirdness than you can shake a walking stick at. Director Terence Hathaway, also known as Sergio Grieco, directed several Eurospy films, including Password: Kill Agent Gordon, Operation Istanbul, and a few others, but this is far and away his weirdest, and probably one of the weirdest the genre has to offer. It's also cooler than I could ever hope to be. It's movies like this, where everyone is so amazingly smooth and swank and sexy, make me ashamed to be the slothful loser than I am. I wish my life could be more like Argoman's life. I wish I could be more like Argoman. In fact, this movie is so astoundingly good that it has inspired me to do more than just sit on my ass, watching wrestling, and complaining. I am going to take control of my life. I am not going to wish I was swanker. I am going to make it happen! And I am going to begin by wearing bright yellow spandex and a little red cape everywhere I go. Labels: Action: Superheroes, Espionage, Eurospies, Year: 1967 posted by Keith at 4:00 PM | 0 Comments Wednesday, December 12, 2001The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl
1993, United States. Starring Frances Lee, Charles Pelligrino, Soomi Kim, Madoka Raine, Louise Millman, Jon Sanborne, Clark Donnelly. Directed by Pat Bishow.
When asked by a hairy guy what was good in life, the solemn Conan replied with a short list that would become one of the most famous lines in genre movie history. Well, crushing enemies and hearing lamentations may be okay if you are a big, long-haired barbarian, but I am a little, short-haired barbarian and I can think of things much better in life than crushing and lamentations. If asked the same question, I would come up with a slightly different list, which would not include the lamentations of the women but would include women in superhero outfits. It would not include seeing my enemies driven before me and crushed, but it would include masked Mexican wrestlers who crush their opponents with piledrivers. If this makes me a wuss and draws the ire of Vikings and barbarians, so be it. I'll have a masked Mexican wrestler and cute female superhero as friends, so bring it on, Kull. Luckily for Conan, there seem to be a lot of people who delight in crushing enemies and causing people to cry. Luckily for me, there's at least one bunch of people out there who share my more relaxed, entertaining vision of what is good. And best of all, they brought video cameras! We've dipped our toes into the shot on video home production before, possibly even jumped in off the high dive. While many of these films fall short of achieving adjectives with a positive slant, we've always appreciated the effort and done our best to communicate to people how much energy and work go into these labors of love, even stinkers like Redneck Revenge. That we've been involved and continue to be involved in the production of no-budget independent films makes us, I feel, not only more sympathetic to the cause and eventual outcome, but also makes it possible for us to provide a little more insight into the process of making and critiquing these films beyond the feeble scope of, "Dude, this movie sucks. It was nothing like The Matrix." While the reviews may not always be good, I feel we are at least fair, and even people involved in movies we've completely trashed (most notably Redneck Revenge), seem to agree. Not that I'm tooting my own horn or anything, but the way we handle other's film and video babies is far more delicate than the way we'd probably handle their actual babies if they have them. So it is all that much more of a treat when a shot on video production comes our way that manages to be good enough to get a positive review without me having to throw in lots of, "but let me tell you how hard these movies are to make" justifications to soften my negative comments. Drawing influences it seems from the old Batman series starring Adam West, Pat Bishow's Adventures of El Frenetico and Go-Girl is a perfect example of how much fun a shot on video film can be not just for the makers and their friends, but for other people as well. It is a perfect example of what happens when a little effort is put into a movie rather than it being the product of one of those drunken nights full of "You know what would be a really funny movie? If we stole that chicken nugget outfit from work and made a movie about a vengeful chicken nugget!" proceeded immediately by you doing just that without any planning, script, actors, or anything other than your inebriated visions of how funny a chicken nugget is. Not that there's anything wrong with those types of movies - they can certainly be amusing - but it's also fun to see a movie that has a lot of love and effort put into it. It also helps that the movie is about a drunken past-his-prime masked Mexican wrestler-superhero and his cute kungfu bad-ass of a female sidekick who, in true sidekick form, actually does most of the work. There are three episodes to this feature, and each one improves upon the last. Part one pits the duo against the villainous snack cake king Heinrich Syphon, who wants to inject a chemical into his popular food items that will turn people into wax dummies! Unfortunately for him, his zombified henchman, and his stern assistant Hilda (a precursor to that uptight screaming lady from the Austin Powers movies), the ever-spunky Go Girl catches wind of his dastardly scheme and enlists the aid of her old partner and former idol, El Frenetico. El Frenetico, however, has fallen on hard times and is more likely to be chugging liquor than fighting crime. El Frenetico is also dubbed in the same style as the classics of Mexican wrestling science fiction. He's El Santo on hard times, which probably would have been more interesting to see than all those later Santo movies where they ran out of outlandish villains for him to fight and so had movies full of filler scenes like, "Santo investigates CD rates at the local bank" or "Santo peruses the newspaper for a good restaurant." If nothing else, those movies gave us a lot of the scenes I love of Santo in a three-piece-suit while still adorned in hi trademark silver wrestling mask, but even I can stomach only so many scenes of Santo taking care of daily chores before I'm screaming out for some vampire women or ninjas to jump him while he's in line at the ATM machine. Go Girl manages to snap her old chum out his stupor in enough time for them to stick it to Syphon. The fights in this -- and subsequent -- episodes are handled primarily by Go Girl (Frances Lee), and she performs remarkably well. Trust me when I say I know more than a thing or two about just how profoundly awful kungfu in a shot on video homebrew movie can be. Sure, some people think Don "The Dragon" Wilson is bad, but there is stuff out there that will make you marvel at the Yuen Biao-like adroitness of Don Knotts in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, let alone a competent but unspectacular performer like Don. Frances, however, is several notches above the shot on video standard. She moves well, looks convincing, and obviously knows a thing or two about kicking some ass. It helps that she's not one of those rail-thin types who we're supposed to believe are powerhouses even though a light breeze could snap them in half. With a professional choreographer, Frances could easily make an impact (but thankfully not a Double Impact) as a martial arts star. But even more important, at least in the realm of action cinema, is the fact that the director and cameraman know where to point the camera. Lots of low budget - and even quite a few big budget - films have this problem of not knowing that they should position a camera so that you can't see kicks and punches not landing. Unless you're part of the Sammo Hung philosophy of actually making hard contact then settling up the medical bills when the day's shooting wraps, you're not actually beating the living hell out of your actors. In the absence of George Lucas style special effects computers that can make people and punches appear closer to their target than they were in real life, this means you have to fake it by coming as close as you can without actually making contact, or that you know how to edit a blow so that you see contact that is actually faked after the blow has already been shot. More times than not, this results in you and me watching Jim Kelly throw a punch that stops a foot from his foe's face yet still manages to knock them back ten feet through a window. A simple repositioning of the camera at a different angle would often alleviate this problem, but it seems few low and no budget filmmakers have thought of that because El Frenetico and Go Girl is one of the few movies that pulls it off, resulting in fight scenes that may not be straight out of Sammo Hung's Magnificent Butcher, but are heads better than most of the action committed to and on video, which is often more like committing a small crime. The acting is also above what one expects from these sorts of productions. Most of the time, you just cast your friends, their friends, and who ever else you can convince to work for beer and nachos. If Pat did just draw from a pool of pals and acquaintances, then he at least knows some talented people. Frances is not just a solid action performer, she's also a solid actress and delivers her lines with just enough camp to be amusing and fitting for the subject matter, but not so much that she just sounds silly, or like the WWF's Hurricane Helms. El Frenetico is dubbed with intentionally flat sounding dialogue, so he doesn't count. Charles Pelligrino, the man behind the mask, does mimic the stilted movements and mannerisms of your finer Mexican wrestlers with amusing accuracy. He may not be Santo, but he's pretty close to Mil Mascaras or Blue Demon. Jon Sandborne as Syphon performs with all the cartoonish glee of Caesar Romero, though to be honest, I'd be far more afraid of Caesar Romero kicking my ass (in or out of Joker make-up) than Jon. Not that I want to fight anyone. There's just a lot of people I'd rather have to fight than Caesar Romero, even if he's old or dead. Well, whatever, there are worse things than having said to you, "You remind me of Caesar Romero." Granted Sandborne gets to ham it up as the over-the-top snack cake mogul bent on world - or at least town - domination, and being hammy is always more fun than being serious, but even hams, and probably even Ham the chimp who was the first American in outer space, can deliver lines flatly. Sandborne doesn't. He mugs beautifully and even manages to deliver his straight lines well. The supporting cast, including the angry Hilda and a panicky scientist, do well up until the point we meet the panicky scientist's father, who delivers his few lines with all the feeling and skill of your finer elementary school students doing the first read-through of the school play, or me and my friends Rob and Roman when we decided to annoy our third grade teacher by reading everything in class with a monotone robot voice. Granted finding older actors willing to play a part in a video production is difficult, which is why you see so many twenty year olds with long hair playing Nobel Award winning scientists from World War II. That they even bothered to find a guy who actually looks his age is a testament to dedication, and it's not like he's constantly onscreen or anything. Ultimately, he's more amusing than he is "bad." And who am I to judge? Brilliant scientists are a weird lot. Sets and locations are always another big problem when you have no money, which is probably why so many shot on video features are about people awakening ancient evils in their own home or in the nearby woods. A couple things you can almost always tell from one of these movies are where the director and their friends live and where they work. And where they go to school if they're still in. Curiously, every movie I was involved with from 1986-1990 revolved around my high school or my friend Dave's basement. From 1991-1995, everything suddenly revolved around the University of Florida campus and the parking garage across the street from where a bunch of my friends lived. Coincidence? El Frenetico and Go Girl handles this limitation well. I don't know what the factory of a snack cake king would look like, but I do live a stone's throw away from a Domino Sugar plant along the East River, and it's not that nice, especially when striking workers rent the giant inflatable rat and sit it so that it's peering into the bosses third floor window. I don't know if this is the practice everywhere, but here in New York City the big inflatable rat (and his smaller brother) gets a lot of business. Whoever rents it out must be making a killing, because every picket line I see these days has the big inflatable rat. Syphon's lair looks about what I imagine the layer of the Domino Sugar guy looks like, if he has a lair - and I'm sure the people on strike would say he does. At least Syphon doesn't have to deal with the big rat. The rest of the movie is sensibly set in a series of warehouses, crowded industrial offices, and little convention center type places, thus avoiding the need to pass off a card table set up in front of your video collection in your living room as the headquarters of the NSA. There are only a few special effects, and while we ain't talking Ray Harryhausen or ILM, did you really expect that? In one scene, Go Girl is foiled by a big sticky trap, then menaced by a couple paper mache spider monsters. The whole thing is shot in an off-kilter fashion and set to weird music, and it ends up feeling like you've suddenly stumbled into a music video by The Residents or Renaldo and the Loaf. They also spit that neon goo you get out of coin machines at Toys-R-Us, which Frances dutifully has flung in her face. Bleah! The second episode improves upon the first in that the supporting cast has no noticeable weak spots and the fight choreography is even better. This time around, Go Girl's best friend and her supermodel cousin Bonnie are kidnapped by a villain known as The Fop, who can best be described as Paul Reubens starring as Parry Farrell of Jane's Addiction fame, or I guess as Parry Farrell starring in the Paul Reubens story. One got caught stealin', and the other got caught feelin'! Thanks you. You've been a great audience. Try the clam dip, folks. I'm here all week. Just feel lucky that you got that one and not my joke about how now that Buffy has gotten it on with Angel and Spike, they should change the series name to Buffy the Vampire Layer. The Fop wants to force the town's models into a fashion show highlighting his entire line of crappy designs. Turns out that as a young, up and coming designer, he was snubbed by teachers and the fashion establishment, and now he's seeking revenge.or is he just trying to get them to give him a little respect. El Frenetico, meanwhile, squares off against The Fop's main henchman, a ghost from El Frenetico's past by the name of El Fuerte. Also packing a surprise is Bonnie, who proves that while she may be a model, she has all the ass-kicking kungfu power of her superhero cousin. The big addition to the cast here is Soomi Kim as Bonnie, who later adopts the superhero persona of Runway. She's a good actress and a great martial artist, or at least very good. The scenes involving her and Go Girl kicking ass are great. They outshine even most of what you find in bigger budget (though still low budget) direct to video martial arts films starring way more experienced actresses like Cynthia Rothrock, and hell, they're even better than most of what passed for martial arts in most big budget films before Jackie Chan and Yuen Wo-ping made everyone realize Jean-Claude Van Damme wasn't actually as good as everyone thought. Not that I'm saying Soomi or Frances could whup Cynthia's ass. We all know Rothrock is a legitimate bad-ass, and while both Soomi Kim and Frances Lee could probably kick my ass (but then, who couldn't?), I'd still have to put my money on the five time forms champion and star of Righting Wrongs. My point is that once Cynthia Rothrock left Hong Kong and stopped getting directed by Sammo Hung and Yuen Kwai, she started making some really crappy films with some really weak looking martial arts choreography. I'd much rather watch the work in El Frenetico and Go Girl than what I saw in China O'Brien II. If you're wondering why almost all the action talk revolves around Go Girl, that's no accident. It's tradition that the sidekick ends up doing most of the work. Sherlock Holmes had Dr. Watson doing most the work. Birdman had Avenger, and now the hard-drinking El Frenetico has Go Girl to solve most of the mysteries, do most of the thinking, and even handle most of the fighting. When El Frenetico comes out of his drunken coma long enough to fight, he clobbers everyone in true wrestler fashion. His "rematch" with his old in-ring nemesis is the most action he ever sees. Considering just how good Frances and Soomi perform, that's not a bad thing. The second big addition to the cast is Clark Donnelly as The Fop. Once again, both the plot and the villain seem to have stepped right out of the old Batman show. In such a setting, Donnelly is free to go way over the top without it seeming out of place, and he just that while, at the same time, playing a villain that actually isn't nearly as villainous as he initially seems to be. The script also avoids gay jokes and other lowbrow nonsense. The Fop probably isn't even gay. He's just a, you know, fop. Whatever he may be, Donnelly turns in a credible performance that is about as far from flat as you can get. Part three sees the dramatic return of Syphon and Hilda, only all is not well in the land of the super villainous snack cake king. He and his assistant are sprung from jail, or from a factory, by the mysterious Shade, a beautiful but dangerous secret agent who in generally offended by the male dominated world that allows incompetent boobs like Syphon and El Frenetico to be criminal masterminds and superheroes while intelligent, competent women like Hilda and Go Girl do all the work. When Go Girl shows up to foil the jail break, we also learn that she and Shade already know each other. The ol' "We trained with each other" deal. Hey, just like Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow! Shade urges Go Girl to join her and drop that load named El Frenetico, but Go Girl refuses. A quick shot of sleeping gas later, and the trio of villains have escaped. Shade's assertions are made all the more convincing by the fact that El Frenetico is too drunk to help Go Girl and, left on his own without the input of Hilda, the best plan Syphon can come up with is to randomly hire some ninjas for no real reason. In one of the funnier scenes, the ninjas arrive to unload some boxes for Syphon and one of the ninjas simply stands off to the side swinging his nunchuka around wildly and with no purpose. When Shade and Go Girl meet up again, Go Girl agrees to join Shade and Hilda in the plot to ditch the men and kick some ass, girl style. When Go Girl's bluff is called, it all comes down to a rooftop fight between her and Shade. El Frenetico, meanwhile, gets up long enough to track down Syphon, who he finds tied up in the closet with no idea what the evil plan is since he never did much of the thinking in the first place. The only disappointing thing about this chapter is the absence of Runway. She makes a cameo in the Tick-like superhero bar where all the super types hang out, but she's otherwise absent from the action, which is a shame given how good Soomi Kim is in action and how well it would have played into the plot about the women being so much better at their jobs than the men who are in charge. But I guess you can't have everything. Making her debut here is Madoka Raine as Shade. She's cute and looks great in her evil 1960s villainess black costume with white go-go boots, as seems par for the course for the starring gals, but she's a weaker on-screen fighter than Frances Lee and Soomi Kim. Not bad, mind you, and certainly better still than most of the would-be martial arts stars flailing about in SOV productions. Once again, however, the folks behind the camera know where to point it in order to cover fighting and choreography shortcomings. The final fight between Go Girl and Shade reminded me of the similar rooftop fight between Sho Kosugi and his ninja opponent in Revenge of the Ninja, except that I think I enjoyed the showdown between Shade and Go Girl more. Maybe if Sho Kosugi had donned a red cape and tights -- and been Frances Lee. Acting-wise, Raine is as solid as the rest of the main cast. A bit flat from time to time, but not bad all things considered. And since she plays a greater role this time around than she did in the first episode, it's worth mentioning Louise Millman as Hilda. While she doesn't speak much, she maintains that classic "stern German matron" type of sour scowl perfectly, right out of any of your finer Nazi exploitation films. There are a bundle of limitations to making a no budget, shot on video movie. Ask anyone who has made one, and they can spend days rattling off all the hassles they endure in the name of love, art, and mild (or raging) insanity. First and foremost there is the cheap equipment, and even cheap equipment can be hard to come by, especially when you discover that just because a piece of equipment may have been made cheaply and performs cheaply doesn't mean it can be rented or purchased cheaply. Then there's the fact that you can't afford to hire people most of the time, and thus are limited to the talent pool of people who will work for free or for some chips or to get into a convention for free later on down the road. Then there's the editing process, which is far more difficult and time-consuming than even dedicated people are often willing to endure, resulting in shoddy, poorly paced final cuts on account of a lack of patience or proper editing equipment. In previous reviews of shot on video films like Goblin and Twisted Issues, I've already gone on about what a pain in the ass analog editing systems are for VHS. You better like picture quality degradation and machines that go "ka-chunk" a lot. The true test of one of these films and of the talent of the people behind them is in how they manage to work around their limitations. Are they smart enough to figure it out? To write scripts that don't demand more than production can deliver? To be aware ahead of time of the problems they'll face? Will they be clever enough to solve them in ways that don't require money and teamsters? The answer is almost always a resounding "no." Very few people realize how much is involved in making a movie that exists in a realm beyond those that can only be shown to close friends. Well, okay, amateur porn is easy, but even then you gotta know enough to do something with the camera, even if it's just shoving it in your partner's crotch. And sure, acting in amateur porn is easy once you get used to it (not necessarily speaking from experience here), but you still have to make yourself or your subject last more than five minutes, and that's something fewer guys than will admit to themselves can muster. But we're not talking about amateur porn here. We're talking about an action film with a script, fight choreography, and people with lines more complex than, "Oh yeah, right there, baby! Make me yodel like that little cardboard hiker on The Price is Right!" I'm pretty sure that's an actual line from a porn film. If it isn't it will be as soon as I make my own porno film. Going beyond that is a trial, to say the least, and if more people knew how difficult it was, you'd have a lot less people making their own movies and a lot more critics understanding better how much effort went into the piece they are viewing. Not that it would make a bad movie any better, but it does give you a better perspective. Like I said once before somewhere else, you don't have to make a movie to be a valid critic, but you should try anyway. The remarkable thing about The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl is how well it hides the short-comings inherent in the medium. Granted no one is going to mistake this for a million dollar movie, and granted it isn't perfect. The sound recording in particular could use some work, but that's also one of the most difficult things to get done properly when you have no money. The acting is good. The editing and pacing are shockingly tight for home video. My biggest complaint about most SOV films is that the directors don't know when to stop and they don't know what to cut out. This results in scenes that are overlong and dull, or those shots that begin with someone standing around in awkward silence for a few seconds before saying their line or doing what it is they're supposed to do. A little editing can eliminate that, and any good editor will tell you what you cut out of a movie has as much to do with making it good as what you leave in. The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl violates the norm in that it is, for the most part, well edited and thus moves along quickly. I've already gone into the surprisingly high quality of the fight scenes, and that's thanks in part to the ability of the editor to know when to go to the next shot rather than to linger on someone waiting dumbly for their cue. It's not 100% polished, but it's definitely one of the most smartly edited amateur films I've seen, and I've seen a lot of them. Writing is another typical pitfall of the no-budget film. Usually, people who can't write very well throw together dumbed down rip-offs of their favorite movies. There must be a million lame Evil Dead and Night of the Living Dead copies out there, each one as abysmal as the next. The scripts here, however, actually have some wit and intelligence behind them. We're not in James Joyce territory, but then, James Joyce never had enough sense to pepper his work with cute women in superhero outfits either, so it's a give and take. At least no one trots out the tired old "This is like a bad horror movie!" joke. The plots are straight-forward, but the writing has a charm to it that shows they actually bothered to put some thought, and some decently smart thought at that, into the words. They even write some decent sympathetic villains with more to them than just "they're evil." Making it better is that since they wrote passable and witty scripts, they don't have to rely on gore. Just about every shot on video movie I've seen relies on gore, primarily because the people making them wanted to make cheap gore effects, not an actual movie. Scripts and other considerations were simply a means to showcase gobs of red-dyed Karo syrup. El Frenetico and Go Girl is one of the few shot on video productions that doesn't have to (or want to) rely on cut-rate splatter effects. You could actually sit your whole family down for the show, if you wanted to. It's better than the Power Rangers, after all. While I don't demand that any movie be family entertainment, it's nice to see something that is, while remaining loads of fun no matter how depraved you might be in the darkest recesses of your evil little soul. After editing, writing, and acting, the two biggest pitfalls for a film like this are lighting and sound, also two of the most difficult to master and hardest to understand elements of making a movie. In pro productions, entire teams of people are in charge of nothing but recording the sound or setting up the lights. Sound is a given, but you'd be amazed at just how important lighting is for a scene. It's part science, part art, and it's amazingly hard to do well. Most no-budget movies cannot afford to rent most of the proper lights for a movie, let alone afford some union type well-trained in what to do with them. And lighting video, which is by nature rather flat and cold compared to film, is even more of a hassle. About the best you can hope for is that the people making the movie had enough sense to at least light the set so that you could see everything you were supposed to. Once again, this being done properly is the exception more than it is the rule, and you are then stuck with one movie after another that defeats itself by having long stretches in which you cannot see a damn thing. The crew behind The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl succeeds in making sure you can see the action, and they even through a little flare in now and then to show that, while they may not have an expert or expert equipment, they at least understand the basic concepts and can use them to alter and enhance the mood of a scene. It's not Dario Argento, mind you, but he maybe goes a bit overboard anyway. The sound recording is the film's major technical flaw. It can be hard to hear what's being said sometimes, and once again that's probably more a reflection of the limitations of the equipment available than it is a reflection of the skills of the people making the movie. Given that they nailed the editing and acting, and at least didn't blow the lighting, I find it hard to believe they neglected the sound. The basic problem is that recording sound well is hard. Built-in mics on the camera are practically useless, and even cheap remote boom and directional mics pick up as much ambient noise and atmospheric hiss as they do whatever sound it is you are actually trying to capture. A decent sound engineer can fix this in post-production, but again, most no budget films hardly have the means to finance sound engineering or buy all the equipment one needs to do it. Added to the equation is the fact that VHS is a lame medium to begin with, and audio quality is one of the many elements that suffers every time you reproduce your work and move generations away from the original. I've yet to encounter a single no-budget shot on video film (and even some low budget shot on film productions have the same problem), that didn't have at least some spotty audio trouble, and at least in this The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl has its one noticeable flaw. It doesn't happen nearly as much as it does in other similar films, though, and to their credit it's almost as if they knew certain scenes would sound bad and so limited the amount of dialogue in them. Actually, that probably just happened naturally since the bad audio comes primarily in the fight scenes shot in wide-open spaces, so there isn't much dialogue to begin with. Wide-open interiors and windy exteriors are the most problematic to shoot in. Cheap mics love echos. But come one. If infrequent audio troubles are the biggest complaint about a shot on video film made with no money and no professionals, then that's quite an accomplishment. Shot on video movies, even the ones I enjoy, are often a chore, and I sit through them purely out of stubbornness or because I have to in order to write a proper review. So it is with no small degree of joy that I received this movie, one that actually made me want to keep watching because I was having fun, as were the people making it, no doubt. Their enjoyment and energy shines through, and that probably helps the film out quite a bit in ways mere competence cannot. You know, like those surfers who spout off all that stoned surfer Zen philosophy. Sure, they may not technically be as adept at the sport as their sponsored contemporaries, but then they don't see it as a sport - or a business - in the first place, and probably get a lot more out of it. Just look at Patrick Swayze in Point Break! He loved surfing, man! I'm not going to say that director Pat Bishow is the Patrick Swayze from Point Break of shot-on-video movie directors, mainly because I'm not 100% certain that's a compliment, and given how much I enjoyed The Adventures of El Frenetico and Go Girl, I wouldn't want to insult the guy. Labels: Action: Luchadores, Action: Superheroes, Martial Arts: Kungfu, Microbudget, Year: 1993 posted by Keith at 10:39 PM | 0 Comments Friday, July 13, 2001Superargo and the Faceless Giants
1968, Italy/Spain. Starring Guy Madison, Ken Wood, Luisa Baratto, Diana Lorys, Aldo Sambrell. Directed by Paolo Bianchini.
There is a place unlike any other; a place where the women are all bombshells, the scientists are all mad, and masked wrestlers are consulted frequently regarding affairs of state. It's a place where the fate of millions is entrusted to the hands of a man in ill-fitting tights whose primary qualification for the gig of "protector of the masses, champion to all" is his ability to take out a dozen henchmen with a well-executed plancha. In the place, the police are impotent and the henchmen are either mystical and wise Asian masters or super-strong midgets in devil-red leotards. It's a place where a man in a silver mask and three-piece-suit can cruise down the boulevard in his boss little convertible sports car and not be thought of as a freak. A freak? Not only is he not a freak - he's a hero, ready do dispatch evil with a flurry of dropkicks, forearms to the head, and figure four leglocks. Such an assault may seem outdated, even quaint in this day and age of high-tech computer glitches and military targeting blunders, but think for a second about how simpler this world would be if Arafat and Sharon simply locked it up in the squared circle to settle this thing once and for all. Imagine if, when asked what he was doing in response to some touchy and complicated situation in the Middle East or anywhere else in the world, the President of the United States could look squarely into the camera and, with a voice dripping in confidence, tell the world, "There's nothing to worry about; I've got the Nature Boy Ric Flair on the case." Unfortunately, this place seems to no longer exist, though for a time Mexico came pretty damn close. The Mexican masked wrestler movies that peaked in quality and popularity during the 1950s-1960s constructed for us a world in which men with names like El Santo and Blue Demon saved the world, or at least Mexico, from any number of vampires, vampire women, aliens, ninjas, gangsters, werewolves, mad scientists, and countless midget henchmen in devil-red leotards and capes. The Santo movies spanned decades and pitted a masked Mexican luchadore against all manner of opponents, and in the process El Santo became one of the biggest legends in Mexican wrestling and film history. In his wake, a legion of masked wrestlers launched similar careers, often fighting alongside El Santo for the good of all humanity. The Mexico of the lucha libre sci-fi adventure films is just about as close to our version of the Promised Land as you can get. I'd gladly turn in our world of turmoil, suffering, and nouveau French cuisine for a good chimichanga and a world where the biggest news comes when pro wrestlers have to thwart the diabolical scheme of some mummy. Oh sure, no one is going to be crazy about a world full of mummies all walking around with their dusty heads full of diabolical schemes, but once you get over the shock of "Hey, look! A mummy! Is that a midget in a cape next to him?" things really are not so bad. The mummy might kidnap a sexy chica in a flimsy negligee so he can carry her around a bit, and he might injure some old pipe-smoking man by knocking him out with the patented "chop to the shoulders" blow that seems to comprise the mummy's only real offense, but that's about it. In the end, you know the mummy poses only a minor threat to the world as a whole, and Santo or Mil Mascaras will be around eventually to bodyslam the mummy and burn down an old castle. Compared to what we have to deal with in the real world, I'd much prefer luchadores duking it out with mummies. Wrestling heroes were not limited to Mexico however, though that's certainly where the best of them hung out. America got in on the scene with a handful of rather lame wrestling films that were little more than juvenile delinquency films, completely lacking all the outlandish imagination and supernatural trappings of their south of the border compadres. Closer to the mark were the few notable European entries into the heroic wrestler genre. Germany had a couple entries into the scene if I recall, but Europe's big winner was Superargo, a Spanish-Italian co-production Superargo and his European compatriots were not, however, simply stealing the Mexican formula and plopping it down in the middle of the BeNeLux powers. While Mexican wrestling movies mixed grappling action with science fiction and horror (and the occasional gangster or ninja storyline), European wrestling superhero films generally selected from different genres, mixing their costumed crime fighters with the equally popular Eurospy films that came in the wake of James Bond's success. Superargo is equal parts Santo film and swank Eurospy adventure, with more than a little influence being drawn from American superhero shows like Batman and Green Hornet. The result is a film that is heavy on elements from each genre but ultimately lacking the eerie atmosphere achieved in the better Mexican films. More Umberto Lenzi, less Mario Bava in feel. Since Eurospy films often incorporated elements of science fiction into their espionage storylines, you get plenty of that here -- including zombielike robots, a mad scientist, Indian mysticism, and assorted ray guns -- but there's something crips about it, a failure to conjure up the gothic, otherworldly feel of the Santo films. Not that what Superargo has going on is bad. It's just a different approach. Superargo got his start in the film Superargo Vs. Diabolikus, where we met the superhero secret agent who retires from the ring after accidentally killing an opponent, only to return to action when his special powers - like telekinesis, levitation, and "fast coagulating blood" that allows him to accelerate the healing process - cause the secret service to enlist his aid in a case. Since his Superargo mask and tights brought him luck in the ring, he insists on wearing them on the case as well, no doubt causing no small amount of embarrassment to the men who hired him. Superargo returns in this sequel, Superargo Vs. The Faceless Giants, a curious title since the opponents Superargo must overcome are neither faceless nor especially gigantic. Sure, some of them are big, but none of them are Andre the Giant size, and all of them not only have faces, but many of them have very large faces. A psychedelic credit sequence clues you into the fact that this isn't going to be business as usual. I wonder why it is that European and Mexican wrestling movies were so far-out while American wrestling movies were so mundane. I guess part of it was the more colorful nature of Mexican wrestlers. Clad in masks and capes, drawing on a rich history of masked warriors, the Mexicans looked like superheroes right out of the gate. All it took was Santo beating up some Martians, and the wrestlers found themselves occupying the same territory as other costumed crime fighters. Lou Thesz was an incredible in-ring performer, but by contrast, no one would accuse the man of being especially flashy. Besides, American already had plenty of comic book heroes running around in garish, skin-tight outfits. Still, you'd think if someone was going to go through all the trouble of making a wrestling movie, they'd at least through a wolfman into it. Superargo's action begins where it always should - in the ring. A tan, shaven man (thus the good guy) is pounding the tar out of a hairy, pasty dude (thus a bad guy). The good guy's post-match celebration is cut short when a gang of saggy-faced (but not faceless) guys in black leather body suits and huge, unwieldy silver helmets rush him. Well, they don't actually rush him. They sort of stagger very slowly toward him in that style of walking that is meant to signify to the viewers that the people doing the walking are, in fact, robots or zombies. No matter how slow they walk, the robot zombies are still able to surround our hero, who is overwhelmed by the sheer number of exceptionally slow moving lunkheads wandering to and fro and emanating an extremely annoying electronic "bing" noise. The robots kidnap the wrestler, and unfortunately for him, Macho Man Randy Savage isn't there to make the save by jumping on top of the van while wearing a big-ass lime green foam cowboy hat. The wrestler's sister, Claire, does manage to escape by walking slowly away from rather than towards the assailants. It is a technique that could have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble if only it had been employed on a more consistent basis. No matter how many times it happens, and no matter how well I know that it's just one of those things, I can't help but ask why people are always being overtaken by lumbering, slow-moving lugs. A child walking at a brisk pace could outdistance these things and have time to stop and buy a Rocketpop from a pot-smoking ice cream man. Yet in movies, as we all know, even the very fit are unable to outmaneuver or outrun villainous assailants who exhibit all the fleet-footed dexterity of Manny Yarborough. Part of the reason I always appreciated Tom Savini's remake of Night of the Living Dead is because Patricia Tallman as Barbara takes a look at the zombies and surmises that she and her cohorts could escape simply by walking in a speedy and orderly fashion away from the ghouls. Then later on, she does just that. Problem solved. Alas, she is one of the few in horror film history who has proven able to outpace attackers possessing a quarter of her speed. The police are baffled by the case of the loud robots. You know, there is a lot that is good about Europe: Scandinavian women, ancient buildings and castles, fine food and spirits, Bjork kicking the shit out of reporters. There's plenty of good stuff about Europe, but if Eurospy and superhero films are to be believed, one can never offer too few compliments to the police force of any European nation. Not only to the British insist on wearing outdated, goofy hats, but every single time we see the police force, even those geniuses at Scotland Yard, they're baffled and at a dead end. Even the most trifling of cases has some moustache-sporting inspector throwing his arms into the air and whining, "That's it! We're stumped!" These guys can't issue a parking ticket without having to first phone up some womanizing globetrotter named Super Dragon or some guy who insists on conducting official police business while wearing a red body stocking and a black leather mask. The only police officer that was more useless than the police in a Eurospy film was that guy Mahoney who hung around Commissioner Gordon in the old Batman TV show. How the hell did that guy even keep his job? Maybe they would have depended on Batman less if they fired Mahoney's sorry behind and got someone more competent, like McCloud. With no leads and no hope of solving this bizarre case, even though slow-moving robots with giant metal headgear aren't exactly capable of blending seamlessly into society, the government decides to once again call upon the services of Superargo. To put this in context, try to imagine the confidence you would have instilled in you if the police and FBI had been unable to solve that mailbox pipe bomb case, and their solution to the problem had been to call a press conference and announce to the country that, "I think La Parka might have some insight into the situation." Oh sure, it works in a comic book, but the whole concept of costumed crusaders doesn't stand up too well to real-world analysis. Of course, the real world is also where we pay taxes and have to get the timing belt replaced on our car, so it's not as if I'm totally married to everything having to be just like it is in the real world. No one wants to see a movie about someone getting their timing belt replaced, or at least I don't want to see that movie -- not unless while the mechanic is working on the car, the garage is besieged by a Frankenstein monster. Still, it's amusing to think about the idea of comic book superheroism being applied to the real world. Can you imagine if, during the hellish civil war between Tutsi and Hutus in Africa, a guy in a purple leotard and mask came riding out of the jungle and yelled, "The Phantom commands you to stop this madness!" Or for a less sinister example: anyone remember that talk show where they had the guy on who really thought he was Batman? He would skulk around the city all night long in his homemade Adam West duds just looking for crimes to fight. All this reminds me of a story once relayed to me, I think by my friend Pat, though i could be wrong. Anyway, he knew a guy who was making a movie or a Halloween costume based on the Stainless Steel Rat character. The guy had crafted this whole sheet-metal get-up and was trying it on one night when a burglar, unaware of the fact that anyone was in the isolated work room, broke intot he house. Upon hearing the noise, the guy grabbed a bat or a crowbar or something and, in full Stainless Steel Rat armor, rushed the burglar, who was suitably freaked out by seeing a big-ass armored rat charging at him. Apparently as he was being arrested, the criminal kept babbling about the freak in the rat suit, not unlike people int he comic books do about Batman. So I don't know. Maybe there's more validity to costumed crime fighting than we think. Whatever the case, I wouldn't have made it very far in life if I was the sort of person who sat around whining about how Spider-Man wasn't realistic because he wears a silly costume. I mean, the dude can crawl up walls and make wavy black lines emanate from his head when danger is near! Who am I to judge his fashion sense? Complaining about the inherent nuttiness of costumed superheroes is like complaining that Star Wars is unrealistic because you shouldn't be able to hear all that sound in space. We first meet Superargo as he's practicing his levitation skills with his personal swami and sidekick, Kamir. When the police arrive, Superargo proves his power to them by doing the whole "I knew you were going to come here" thing, meaning that so far, Superargo has proven himself at least as capable as Mistress Cleo. When the secret service rep seems less than enthused about employing a pro wrestler (perhaps he was familiar with the cinematic body of work attributed to one Terry "Hulk Hogan" Bollea), Superargo further impresses all parties by concentrating for thirty seconds in order to crack a vase using nothing but his astounding mental powers. Never mind that he could have just walked over and kicked the thing in a lot less time than it took him to whip up his Force abilities. I'm not saying that if I could break priceless ceramic antiques using just my mind that I wouldn't do it, but in a pinch if it came down to focusing the sum total of my chi powers for thirty seconds versus just slapping someone, I'd go with the slap. I know it's not very metaphysical of me, but that's the kind of guy I am. The government is still hesitant to entrust the fate of the country to Superargo and Kamir, at least until the robotic zombies strike again, this time robbing a bank. For some reason, the police run right by the van parked on the sidewalk in front of the bank, with its hatch open. You'd thin they would at least take a passing notice to such a prominent getaway vehicle. They might also at least pretend to be interested in the guy sitting in the black sedan next to the van with the big blinking control box in his lap. But what do I know about police work? In classic dumb movie cop form, they realize the robots are impervious to bullets and respond to this revelation by shooting even more bullets. Superargo soon surmises that someone is kidnapping the world's best athletes and turning them into slow-moving robotic zombie minions. Exactly why you would take the time to kidnap the worlds best and brightest athletes, the fastest and strongest people in the world, then turn them into shuffling buffoons is beyond me. Seems like you could really be kidnapping any old slob and getting the same ultimate outcome. Superargo also figures that Claire, being an acclaimed swimmer, is still a target since nothing is handier to your sluggish robot army than having one of them who might be a decent swimmer were it not for the pounds and pounds of electronic equipment strapped to its head. Superargo devises a genius plot involving Claire hiding in one room while he waits in the other for the robot men to come after her. His plan works wonderfully. She stands in one room, and he's in the other getting his ass handed to him by the robotic thugs. For some reason, one of them is carrying a medieval mace. What the heck is his deal? If Superargo's plan included getting beat up and allowing Claire to be successfully kidnapped, then it all worked out pretty well for him. Superargo gives chase in his keen little sports car, the kind that all spies and heroic wrestlers seem to own. Fat lot of good having a fast car does him, because the Faceless Giants with big faces manage to shake him. For his next plan, Superargo decides to stage a dramatic comeback in the world of wrestling, figuring that this will make whoever is behind the kidnapping want to kidnap him too. At Superargo's request, the German secret service sets up a match. I didn't know that among the police force's many duties were booking and promoting pro wrestling matches, nor that these matches would be nationally celebrated affairs reported in all the papers. Despite the blatant transparency of his ruse, a plot so feeble and obvious that there is no way the mysterious villains couldn't recognize it as a trap, it still works. The Faceless Giants show up and kidnap Superargo - except that it's not Superargo at all! It's an impostor, and Superargo is following close behind in his inconspicuous sports car. It might be easier if he had allowed himself to get captured, but that's just my stupid plan. I do know that by this time, all Superargo has managed to do is break a vase and get two innocent people kidnapped. By this point in the movie, El Santo would have wrestled three matches, judged a beauty contest, and punched Frankenstein in the face. Kamir and Superargo begin wandering aimlessly around in the woods in the general vicinity of where they last saw the robots. Superargo's bright red body stocking aids him in blending into the dull brown background of the woods. Kamir sees one of the kidnapped athletes making a run for it, and this athlete was obviously not a track star. He moves like Rerun from What's Happenin', with arms flailing wildly in little circles at his side. What was this guy's sport? Maybe rowing? Or curling? Unable to help for some reason, possibly laziness, Kamir and Superargo regroup back at the road, only to be discovered by a sultry beauty in a car every bit as sporty as Superargo's own ride. She seems especially unimpressed that a pro wrestler and his Hindu sidekick are wandering around in the woods, like that sort of thing happens all the time. I know I'd be pretty shocked to see Honky-tonk Man and Mr. Fuji in the city, let alone loitering along the side of a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. We soon learn that the woman works for the man creating the robot army, and that man is none other than famed iconoclastic rock star Elvis Costello, or at least someone strikingly similar in appearance. Superargo and Kamir get attacked in the woods, and once again one of the robots is lugging around one of those spikey morning star things. What the hell? You have the technology to turn the world's greatest athletes into awkward, clumsy robotic minions, yet the best you can do for arming them is some Renaissance Festival surplus? Look, I know Europe has a rich medieval history and all, but give your guys some guns or something. Who robs a bank or fights heroic costumed superheroes with a mace? Superargo, in turn, throws trees at the robots. So I guess on top of mental powers and fast-coagulating blood and levitation, he also has super-strength. Doesn't that sort of make his in-ring career even more of a sham? I mean, how heroic is it for a guy with supernatural strength and mental powers to pick on lugs whose only real power is a mean hammerlock? Meanwhile, for all his metaphysical mumbo jumbo, Kamir's only power seems to be to yell "Superargo, help!" really loud when he is getting choked by robots. He does this in pretty much every scuffle the duo gets into, making you wonder why Superargo even brings the guy alone. Sure, he may be an ace at helping you develop your telekinetic abilities, but that obviously doesn't translate into him being a good fighter. Chun this guy is not. Superargo does manage to kill and capture one of the Faceless Giants. After struggling to get the thing into the tiny back seat of his European sports car (I bet Superargo wishes he'd bought something a little more sensible now), he takes it back to HQ where it is operated on by Jeffery Combs and Will Farrell, or at least two more striking look-alikes. They don't tell him much except for what he already knows, but it does cause him to remember some crazy old scientist who had been doing robotics research before going totally insane. While Superargo and Kamir visit the mad scientist in a building labeled "Asylum for the Criminally Insane" (would they really advertise that so prominently?), the diabolical Dr. Wond hypnotizes Claire into trying to kill Superargo. The remainder of the movie involves a lot of running around in the woods and Kamir screaming, "Superargo! Help me!" before everyone ends up in Wond's underground lair for the big final showdown. Wond could have avoided a lot of trouble if he just killed Superargo with a knife or a gun or something instead of some goofy mad scientist way (gas chamber). To his credit, at least Wond does try and kill Superargo instead of pulling that "I want you alive so you can see the fruition of my mad scheme" nonsense that most mad movie scientists pull. All in all, Superargo is a pretty cool little superhero film. Thanks to it being a European production from the 1960s, there's a lot of trippy phantasmagoric stuff. His powers are okay, I guess. I mean, I wouldn't complain if I could throw trees and levitate. Superargo is no Santo, and this isn't nearly as cool as the better Santo films, but it's still a fun adventure with a few twists and turns in the plot. Granted they're very predictable twists and turns, but what do you want from a movie about a superhero wrestler battling robots? It delivers chuckles and thrills, which is enough to keep a lowbrow chump like me satisfied. Although there are scenes of "deduction," the movie generally eschews exposition in favor of more scenes involving Superargo having to pull Kamir out of quicksand. Can't he just levitate out? Anyway, that's a good example of the "show, don't tell" rule, though when my composition teacher told us that, I don't know if she had in mind red-tight-wearing superhero pro wrestlers pulling swamis out of quicksand. Superargo manages to pull off a ludicrous costume fairly well, though I still don't know how comfortable I'd be with Superargo being the last, best line of defense against the forces of evil. I guess he's better than Hulk Hogan, but what I'd really like to see is a group of villains that have to contend with Abdullah the Butcher or Cactus Jack. Superargo's wrestling outfit is no more outlandish than The Phantom's sweet lavender tights -- and that guy was in the jungle! -- or Adam West's pot belly-enhancing spandex. At least Superargo looks fit beneath his tights, a feat that is actually harder to pull off than you might think. Even big, muscular Henry Rollins type guys tend to look silly and skinny in long-sleeve bodystockings, which is probably why most of them opt for those bodybuilder tank tops with the foot-wide arm openings. When Rollins had on the Superman outfit for one of his videos, he looked like a scrawny goofball, yet weirdly enough, when the decidedly non-muscular Christopher Reeve had the blue and red on, he looked okay. All things considered, I'd rather have Adam West looking goofy in tights than any of those absurd "built-in fake muscles" suits that have been so popular since the Tim Burton Batman movie. At least Adam West and Superargo can turn their heads. What the heck was Batman thinking when he made that costume? And then when he had the chance to revise it, what did he do? Add head mobility? No, he added fake nipples. Man, I hope SUperargo kicks his ass some day. Acting-wise, there isn't much to gauge here since my copy of the movie is dubbed. Besides, when you don bright red jimmies and a leather mask, those tend to do the acting for you. The rest of the cast is pretty stiff it seems, but honestly, are you watching Superargo and the Faceless Giants in hopes of spotting the next F. Murray Abraham? Or M. Emmet Walsh? The cops are there to huff and say, "Well old chap, I'm completely baffled." The women are there to scream or say, "Superargo, you will protect me, won't you?" The mad scientists are there to say, "Those fools will pay for laughing at my research!" And Superargo? He's there to kick a little butt. Dr. Wond comes across as a bit of a weak villain. Sure, he has a keen underground lair full of random scientific equipment, and he has the beautiful female assistant who isn't as evil as she thinks, but where the heck are his midget henchmen? Although I would have appreciated a little more in-ring action from a wrestling superhero movie, the action overall is pretty good. The fights are well-choreographed, with only a few of those horribly telegraphed stunt set-ups. I wonder why the only time Superargo uses his super strength is when he throws the tree at the robots. Maybe I'm wrong and that wasn't a super power at all. Maybe it was one of those surges of adrenaline you read about in the papers. The rest of his powers are pretty useless. He gets to levitate once, but he misses the chance to really piss off Dr. Wond by using mental powers to shatter the madman's assortment of antiques. Superargo was spoofed in the film Incredible Paris Incident, and while this movie isn't nearly as goofy or as fun as that one, it's still plenty goofy and plenty fun. With so many people attempting to make superheroes dark and serious and "adult" (or as adult as a costumed crime fighter can be), this campy, wacky throwback to a simpler time is positively delightful. Unless the success of Spiderman reminds Hollywood executives that superhero movies can actually be fun rather than all somber and sour-faced, then at least we know we can look back to the golden age of the 1960s, when all you needed to save the world was a bulletproof bodystocking, a mask, some telekinetic powers, and a turban-wearing sidekick. Hey, what ever happened to that guy who pretended to be Superargo in that one scene? Labels: Action: Luchadores, Action: Superheroes, B-Masters Roundtable, Eurospies, Year: 1968 posted by Keith at 5:49 PM | 1 Comments |
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