Welcome to the film-related musings, complaints, and comments of Zack Clopton, an amateur film-critic, scholar, and screenwriter. Featured here are Director's Report Cards, essays, and other reviews. Enjoy!
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Showing posts with label hong kong cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hong kong cinema. Show all posts
Bruce Lee's unexpected death in 1973 would leave a number of his proposed projects unrealized. The most well-known is probably his TV martial arts western that may or may not have morphed into “Kung Fu.” The most notorious is the partially filmed “Game of Death,” which later emerged as a widely loathed hodgepodge. Unlikely to be mentioned is a project Lee supposedly intended to star in for Lo Wei, his “The Big Boss/Fists of Fury” director. “Yellow-Faced Tiger” was to be about a jaundiced martial arts master. It would eventually be filmed as “The Man Called Tiger” with Jimmy Wang Yu in the starring role. That original title, however, would later be reused for a different project of Wei's. Starring the much less famous Wong Tao, 1974's “Yellow-Faced Tiger” furthered the Lee connection by emulating “Way of the Dragon” and casting Chuck Norris as the bad guy. The movie remained in obscurity until the early eighties, after Mr. Norris had been established as a box office attraction in his own right. A U.S. distributor scooped it up, dubbed it, cut out twenty minutes, re-titled the film “Slaughter in San Francisco,” and stuck Chuck's name above the title. The movie immediately fell back into obscurity after that, subsequent VHS releases furthering the misleading claim that this was a lost Chuck Norris vehicle. Cult movie nerds, however, rarely forget. Recently, Eureka Films would give it a Blu-Ray that includes both the original “Yellow-Faced Tiger” cut alongside the abbreviated American edit.
Wong stars as Wong, a Chinese man born in Korea and raised in the United States. He is a cop and close with his partner, John, the two fighting crime with their mutual kung-fu skills. An attempted arrest results in John being beaten by thugs on the beach, Wong killing one of the attackers to save his friend. He is arrested and his badge taken away. Years later, Wong and John remain good friends. After witnessing a bank robbery, John is pursued into the backyard of the Chus, where he's killed. The crooked police chief assumes the Chus are connected and locks them up. Looking to avenge his friend and protect the innocent Chinese family, Wong starts to investigate the crime. He uncovers a web of corruption involving the San Francisco police force that leads all the way to the city's most powerful drug lord.
Depending on one's perspective, “Yellow-Faced Tiger” represents either an interesting melding of a few different cinematic styles or a desperate chasing of several trends at the same time. Setting a kung-fu movie in San Francisco, right away, shows an intent to have a more international appeal than most Golden Harvest productions. Teaming up Wong with the afro-ed Robert Jones was clearly an emulation of Jim Kelly in "Enter the Dragon," speaking to the crossover in audiences between kung-fu flicks and blaxploition movies. This is also rather evident in the film's funky soundtrack, heavy on the groovy bass and rolling rhythm. The choice in setting was possibly influenced by "Dirty Harry" as well, another film about a vigilante cop. That aligns "Yellow-Faced Tiger" with the noir genre a little bit. That connection is most visible in the movie featuring a few too many story lines on the hero's way to confronting the bad guy. The corrupt police chief, a time skip, references to drug running, and the subplot about an innocent family and their imperiled lawyer feel like attempts to put more narrative meat on the script's bones. While it is interesting to see how the film blends various elements that were floating around in pop culture in 1974, it's not the most successful fusion. John's story line never feels fully formed, the conspiracy is underwritten, and the legal subplot drags the pacing down.
Many a fight movie has overcome a shaky script thanks to the quality of its action and its star's charisma. Don Wong Tao doesn't have the magnetic physicality or charm of Bruce Lee, who he is clearly called upon to imitate a few times. However, he's not bad either. He does a lot with an angry glare, conveying the hero's outrage at injustices going unpunished. He can't be as funny as the script needs him to be when shaking down witnesses but he otherwise does okay. He's also a competent fighter and the action in "Yellow-Faced Tiger" is solid throughout. His moves are fast and acrobatic. This really peaks during the last act, when Wong finally confronts the bad guy at his base of operations. There's an impressive mid-air double kick, a shovel being used as a melee weapon, a thug being kicked head over heels, and a few well done suplexes. While the final fight with Norris features a few awkward steps around a fountain, it still makes for a satisfyingly drawn out showdown.
And what of Chuck? The "Slaughter in San Francisco" cut renames his character Chuck Slaughter while the original version only refers to him as "The Boss." Amusingly, some prints seem to credit Norris as himself, giving the impression that the karate champ had a side gig as a West Coast drug kingpin. He doesn't appear until over an hour into the movie and doesn't actually fight anyone until the finale, save for some random sparring practice. When asked to smirk wickedly behind big sunglasses, put a cigar out on a waiter's hand, or make offers you shouldn't refuse, Norris does not seem that confident. The Boss' villainous attributes are more informed than detailed. However, a sequence where he unsuccessfully attempts to assault the female lead clarifies that this character is a real scumbag and not only one by reputation. There is indeed some novelty in seeing Chuck play a cocky rich bastard with no redeemable qualities. When operating as a physical force against the hero, he manages to be intimidating. I'd go so far as to say he does more actual acting here than he did in "Way of the Dragon," a role that didn't ask him to do much more than fight.
The more widely available "Slaughter in San Francisco" largely excises the subplot concerning the Chu family and their attempts to defend themselves against a crooked system. This also links the movie to Bruce Lee's work, by adding an element of Chinese people and Chinese-Americans as social outsiders in a racist city. A local committee in Chinatown has to pool their resources to fund the Chu's defense team and the lawyer meets an unfortunate end as part of an organized cover-up. An innocent Asian family being accused by a white cop of being involved in an unrelated crime is clearly meant to comment on how the system protects the wealthy and persecutes the powerless, like racial minorities. The elder Chu tries to bribe the cop at first, knowing these guys only respect money but is still punished for not doing things the "right" way. This bends towards an unavoidable A.C.A.B. subtext. Wong is kicked off the force, turning in his badge, and that is when he really begins to protect the innocent and fight crime. The idea seems to be that true justice can not be served by an unjust system. Unfortunately, "Yellow-Faced Tiger" backs away suddenly and awkwardly from any bolder themes in its last act. The dirty chief is imprisoned, a good man takes his job. The cops arrive to restore order at the end, Wong being reinstated treated like a triumphant victory. It's a bummer that the movie takes aim at the status quo at first before seemingly changing its mind and deciding that the status quo is actually great at the end.
Perhaps this last minute backtracking on the powers that be is an indicator of the time "Yellow-Faced Tiger" was made. Other indicators of that include everything else about the movie, most noticeably it's fashion, music, and interior designs. Which makes it pretty funny that, at the start of the eighties, some producers tried to sell this as a brand new movie. (Also, the subtitles show Wong referring to John as "Blackie," which definitely suggests to me that no Americans were involved in the writing of the dialogue.) The "Slaughter in San Francisco" cut is badly dubbed and I would recommend the original version if you get a chance to see it. I don't know how successful the film was in Asia. Don Wong Tao got top billing in a few other martial arts movies, mostly made in Taiwan, but his career doesn't seem like it took off to the degree that many of his contemporaries did. Clearly, it didn't do much for Chuck Norris' career either. However, taken on its own merits, it's a not-bad fight flick with some interesting elements to it. [6/10]
[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 3 outta 5] [X] Facial Hair [] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall [X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy’s Face [X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest [] Sports Some Cowboy Getup
The cultural legacy left behind by Carlos Ray Norris, far better known as Chuck Norris, is a varied one. Within the world of professional competitive martial arts, he was a respected elder statesman. Experts in such matters seems to be regard him as actually a good fighter. For those within cult movie circles, he was the second of Cannon Films' go-to action stars, the bridge between the classic Americana school of stoic masculinity represented by Charles Bronson to the waxed and glowing karate camp of Jean-Claude Van Damme. For people who grew up watching too much television in the nineties, he might be a source of fleeting nostalgia as the star of an inexplicably long-running, cheesy cop show and endless Total Gym infomercials.
Those a little younger than that probably best know him as an internet meme. Chuck Norris' later fame became inseparable from the farcical “Chuck Norris facts.” These exaggerated claims of bad-assery expanded so far outside of their target audience of irony-poisoned message board dwellers that most people don't seem to know that the joke was originally that everyone thought Chuck Norris was a ridiculous figure. He was so worthy of mockery and scorn that suggesting he could do anything as cool as what he did in his movies was a source of laughter. How soon we forget the Walker, Texas Ranger lever. The late Mr. Norris would mostly use that resurgence to express support for his shitty political and religious beliefs, cutting multiple ads endorsing Mike Huckabee for president. Which did very little to dissuade the notion that we should only be laughing at this clown, not celebrating him.
But to me, he was always Dad. I mean, not really. However, my mom's taste in guys tended towards burly mountain man types, meaning Chuck Norris was her most prominent movie star crush for many years. I attribute this to her having access to HBO in the mid-eighties when she was single and lonely. While not usually a fan of cheesy shoot-em-up flicks, she had a fondness for his films because of his hairy-chested macho appeal and a slight willingness to make fun of himself from time to time. This led to many light-hearted jokes about how Chuck was my “real father” and how, surely, any day now would be returning to claim me. Alas, I don't think that's gonna happen now, ma! What this really meant is I grew up with the roundhouse kicking star being an unusually common presence in my childhood. All of which is to say that I have a fondness for the work of Mr. Norris that extends beyond just being a fan of eighties action schlock and watching people get kicked, sometimes through windows.
I haven't done one of these action star retrospectives in, uhh, about nine years but I always had a really good time with them. Chuck has been on my list of careers to do a proper retrospective of since the beginning. Once you start watching through every movie one of the “Expendables” guys has made, you kind of have to watch all of them. Obviously, with his recent passing, now would be the best time to pay tribute to whatever merits Mr. Norris had as a performer, a screen presence, and a kicker of men. Like I have done in the past, I am ripping off my buddies at All Outta Bubble Gum. When writing about Norris' movies, they would sometimes include a list of trademarks Chuck often does in his movie. I'll be doing this too, so I'll be watching out for these tropes as I work my way through four decades of this guy.
[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS] [] Facial Hair [] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall [] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy’s Face [] Shows Off His Hairy Chest [] Sports Some Cowboy Getup
I don't know how much of “Walker, Texas Ranger” or “Chuck Norris: Karate Kommandos” I'll be watching for this. Depends on how bored I get, I guess. Anyway, let's put on your action jeans and get kickin'.
Of all the iconic faces and names in cinema, few have been as mythologized as Bruce Lee. In addition to being the most beloved and imitated martial artists of all time, he was a philosopher, a poet, a teacher, a roof top brawler against punk-ass Triad kids. Lee's screen presence and style was such that every movie he starred in essentially belonged to him. However, Bruce only officially directed two films and only completed one within his life time: Known in its native language as “Ferocious Dragon Crosses the River,” released in the U.S. after Lee's passing as “Return of the Dragon” and today best known as “The Way of the Dragon.” The film's overseas setting would show Lee's commitment to his belief that martial arts could have a place in any culture. To further that idea, he would cast an American karate champ he befriended as the movie's final boss, inadvertently launching another star's career along the way.
Lee wrote the script for “Way of the Dragon” too and you can tell he didn't want to complicate matters too much for his directorial debut. It's a simple story. Tang Lung arrives in Rome, at the behest of Chen Ching-hua and her uncle Wang. Their Chinese restaurant has come under fire from local gangsters, who desperately want the land the building resides on for otherwise undisclosed reasons. The co-workers are skeptical of this “Chinese boxer's” prowess at first until he shows off his considerable skill by fighting off the mob enforcers. This infuriates the local boss, who sends more thugs, assassins, and bribes to get Tang out of the picture. When the martial artist continues to fight off their attempts, the gangster call in an American karate expert named Colt to escalate matters. The two men end up fighting to the death within the Coliseum, the entire reason, one suspects, the film was set in Rome in the first place.
In addition to its standard “fighting to protect somebody's business from the mob” plot, “Way of the Dragon” is generally light-hearted in its approach. Lee introduces himself by gulping down four giant bowls of soup. This proceeds multiple moments where Tang Lung has to use the bathroom. The supporting characters are flatly ridiculous all around. There's a flamboyant, swishy Chinese middle man working for the baddies. Most of the other guys in the restaurant provide further comic relief. No attempt is made to flesh out the characters beyond their roles in the simple story. Chen not even getting enough distinction to classify as a damsel in distress. An attempt to add a little variety to the plot via a last minute betrayal doesn't quite land because the cast is so thinly sketched.
As a visual storyteller, Lee does not exactly distinguish himself with “Way of the Dragon” either. The camera movement is sometimes shaky. The editing is occasionally choppy. Even when watching the meticulously restored Blu-Ray release, a few moments are a bit dimly lit. The non-fisticuffs scenes tend to drag a bit, the movie feeling rather slow at times. If not for the presence of, oh, the greatest martial arts star of all time, “Way of the Dragon” would probably be a pretty forgettable motion picture. Of course, Lee designs the film around his abilities as a fighter and star. That makes all the difference. His physicality, a wag of his finger, a sideways glance, is enough to intimidate his opponents. A sequence of Lee disrobing and stretching is enough to convey his superhuman fighting skill, to make him seem like a massive man on-screen. And once the punches start flying, “Way of the Dragon” becomes pretty damn impressive. To quote a man far wiser than myself, those cats really were fast as lightning.
The sequences devoted to Lee kicking a sparring partner into a wall of boxes, fighting off a crowd with swirling nunchakus, or turning a simple mop handle into a powerful weapon hit with a quickness and power that would become the blue print for a thousand fight movies after this. That's where “Way of the Dragon” shines. I'm no Lee scholar but I know that fighting was more than just roughhousing for the star. You can see his philosophy expressing itself through these fight scenes. Strictly through body language, Lee expresses his Style of No Style, mixing different techniques and fast foot work to catch his enemy off-guard. The final bout with Chuck Norris is inter-cut with an innocent kitten watching, a placid contrast to the violent acts. Upon brutally dispatching his opponent, Bruce covers the corpse and prayers over it. There's a sense throughout that the film's heroes use violence largely as a defensive reaction to the more predatory forces against them.
Why Uncle Wang's restaurant is so valuable isn't important. That the Chinese family are outsiders in this European land, however, is much more pointed. Lee faced discrimination both in Hong Kong and aboard for his mixed heritage. This theme informed “Fists of Fury” and reoccurs here as well, the foreigners persecuted by the locals simply for the crime of being outsiders. The contrast between the different schools of martial arts – especially Japanese karate against so-called “Chinese boxing” – is repeatedly referenced. When presented with the ruins of the ancient city, Wang Tung points out that it reminds him of the slums back home. Later, he's visibly unimpressed with Roman architecture. Lee's ego is almost as legendary as his fighting skills and it's difficult not to sniff that out here, in a story of Bruce single-handedly proving his mastery over everyone else around him. The final scene presents Tang as a mythic wanderer, going where ever he is needed to right wrongs. However, “The Way of the Dragon” also represents a cultural outsider standing up to the homogeneity of the land. No wonder these movies were so popular with urban black cultures in the seventies, despite the sole black character being a cartoonish bad guy.
I don't think I'm making any observations here that haven't been previously made a hundred times. One assumes that the relative small size of Lee's output, when compared to its massive influence, makes these the most studied and overturned of any kung-fu movies. “Way of the Dragon” is a sluggish, fairly goofy movie except for when the fists start to fly, at which point it becomes electrifying. Lee's titanic presence is unmistakable and his charisma could not be chained by shadowy direction or mediocre dubbing. As the world's introduction to Chuck Norris, “Way of the Dragon” is also pretty interesting. That final fight is legendary for good reason, the bodies in movement being almost poetic before the killing blows become brutal. While Chuck doesn't have much to do besides glower and kick – he doesn't show up until the movie is nearly over – the fact that he makes an impression in Lee's own movie is a feat on its own. [7/10]
[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 2 outta 5] [] Facial Hair [] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall [X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy’s Face [X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest [] Sports Some Cowboy Getup
In 1986, concerns in Hong Kong about the effects of violent movies on children led to the creation of a rating system. Three separate categories were introduced to let parents know what kind of content a film contained before their kids watched it. Category I movies were deemed acceptable for all audiences. Category II was for movies tagged inappropriate for children. (Later, this label would be divided into IIA and IIB, about equivalent to the PG-13 and R ratings we have over here.) Category III, meanwhile, was the only rating that carried legal consequences: Anyone under the age of eighteen was forbidden by law from renting, buying, or watching such a film in theaters. Rather than lead to a softening of violence in Hong Kong cinema, this new system ended up galvanizing exploitation filmmakers. They began making movies deliberately packed with explicit sex and grisly violence, to utilize the inevitable Category III classification as a marketing tactic. These "Cat-III" films would become especially notorious among international horror nerds, in search of ever-more extreme and depraved shock value. Among these notorious titles, "The Untold Story" is probably the most critically acclaimed among global gore hounds. Well, I've got a pretty strong stomach so let's sit down for this extra-rare international delicacy.
In 1978, Hong Kong resident Chan Chi-Leung brutally burned a man to death. He would destroy his government-issued I.D. and flee to Portuguese Macau, assuming the name Wong Chi Hang. Eight years later, "Wong" is operating a successful restaurant called the Eight Immortals. He claims to have won the business in a gambling match from its original owner, Cheng Lam, who then left the country with his wife and eight kids. The cops grow suspicious of Wong after receiving a letter from Lam's brother, saying he's been missing for months. When severed human limbs wash up on a local beach, one of which belonged to Lam's mother-in-law, authorities begin actively investigating Wong Chi Hang. They are right to do so. Wong is a violent psychopath, prone to murdering anyone who offends him. The Eight Immortals restaurant, and its popular barbecue pork buns, has provided him with a very effective way to dispose of the evidence of his crimes...
The very first scene of "The Untold Story" depicts a man being viciously beaten and then set ablaze. This establishes, right away, a malicious mood. While some of the violence occurs with a degree of sick humor – a corpse's buns being buttered like it's a Thanksgiving turkey, a receipt spike to the eye – unrelenting brutality seems to be the primary goal here. When Wong assaults and murders a waitress, it's the kind of limits-pushing extremity I've come to expect from international shock-fests. However, “The Untold Story” keeps going. Multiple scenes follow of people being beaten. Methods of torture, like water being injected under the skin to create blisters, are detailed. Self-mutilation and urine being expelled, consumed, and bloodied are reoccurring topics. Yau's film grabs the viewer by the throat and drags them through this world of casual cruelty, in which people are butchered and fed into the meat grinder in exactly the same manner as pigs. In which nearly every interaction is met with shouts, mockery, or punches. It's grimly impressive how “The Untold Story” manages to keep topping itself in terms of shocking, mean-spirited content. After eighty minutes of despicable violence, the film then made me audibly gasp during its climatic cavalcade of cruelty and executions.
Obviously, such punishing material makes for an uncomfortable watch. One understands the filmmakers' desire to, perhaps, provide some moments of levity in-between the beatings and cannibalism. The choices Yau and co-writer Danny Lee came up with is far less elegant. The group of cops assigned to Wong's case are bickering clowns prone to slapstick antics. Among them is a character named King Kong, also played by an actor named King Kong, a buffoon with a bowl cut. He's part of a team that includes a wannabe macho he-man type, Lee's womanizing lead officer, and the token female named Pearl. Pearl's tomboy fashion and mannerisms are a source of constant bullying from her sexist co-workers. Lee is regularly dragging sex workers into the office, parading them around in mini-skirts and tight dresses. When trying to get finger prints off a severed arm, Kong and Pearl comically hold their noses. This is the level of Keystone Coppery “The Untold Story” chooses to include to lighten an otherwise extremely grim story. The tonal whiplash that ensues is of a severity not seen since “The Last House on the Left.”
As annoying and out-of-place as these scenes are, I do think they serve a roundabout purpose. (Aside from Hong Kong filmmakers' previously documented disinterest in tonal coherence and tendency towards broad humor.) “The Untold Story” portrays the cops after Wong as incompetent. They are warned about him early on but dismiss the concerns and letters. It's only after they see him throwing away suspicious material that they think maybe he's up to something. Wong escapes police custody not because he's a criminal mastermind but because the authorities are nincompoops. When they grab the killer again, their response is to throw him into a jail cell with other crooks they know hate Wong. The police ignore his pleas for help as he's repeatedly beaten. Wong is tortured and kept awake for days until he confesses to his crimes. Basically, “The Untold Story” pits an openly corrupt and inept “justice” system against a monstrously deprived killer, raising questions of whether justice is a concept that can be said to truly exist at all.
While “The Untold Story” is largely an uncompromisingly grim exercise, there does seem to be a purpose to creating such a loveless cinematic world. Anthony Wong becomes Chan Chi-Leung by wearing giant square glasses and shaving his hair down to a widow's peak that makes his head dome-like. He juts his bottom jaw out to create an unflattering double chin, while starring ahead unblinking and pursing his lips together tightly. Wong often swears and yells at anyone he meets. When accused of cheating at mahjong, he admits that he does cheat but is still driven to rage by the accusation. The guy is despised by everyone who meets him. This makes Wong a rather accurate depiction of an anti-social personality type. He's an exposed wire, a terrifying presence that can launch into brutal violence without a moment's notice. Wong also looks astonishingly like the Chudjak meme, the modern face of petty bitterness and undirected hatred leading to mass murder. This is fitting, as Chan Chi-Leung is also a stupid, charmless person. It never occurs to him that killing his employees and putting up a help wanted sign the next day is suspicious. He is motivated primarily by greed. After accidentally committing one gruesome murder, he escalates to full-blown familicide by reasoning that there's no point in stopping now. There's something chillingly accurate in this depiction of evil not as something brilliant and charming but ugly, impulsive, senseless, and greedy. It feels truer to life than your usual cinematic serial killer.
Anthony Wong's performance was such an impressive display of aggression and ignorance that he won the Hong Kong Film Award for Best Actor, the country's version of an Oscar. It's hard to imagine an exploitation film as gross and nasty as this achieving an honor like that in Hollywood. “The Untold Story” is made more disreputable by being based on fact. Or, more accurately, it is based on the sensationalist rumors that arose in the tabloids and urban legends after the actual crime. The Eight Immortals restaurant was a real place and the family that owned it was murdered following a gambling debt gone wrong. None of the cannibalism or more outrageous acts of violence depicted here are known to have actually occurred, making the film about as tacky an enterprise as possible. Despite that and some embarrassing comic relief, it is a compelling brutal motion picture, that achieves an effectively stunning impact on the viewer. Assuming you've got, uh, a taste for such things. [8/10]
Arch Hall's son was going to be a movie star. Hall, an actual cowboy who became a Western stuntman, he founded the film company Fairway Productions in 1959. His first feature, “The Choppers,” arrived in 1961. The teenage delinquent flick just so happened to star Arch Hill Jr., who also sang several songs in the film. The movie was profitable on the drive-in circuit, allowing Hll Sr. to pursue his dream of turning his son into an Elvis style rock 'n' roll singer/movie star. Archie Jr.'s lack of screen idol good looks wasn't going to stop him either. Their next features, the killer caveman/rock n roll/dune buggy flick “Eegah!” and musical “Wild Guitar,” were also mildly successful without turning Hall's boy into a teen idol. (In addition to being regarded nowadays as some of the most miscalculated B-movies ever made.) Perhaps with the thought that nobody wanted to see Arch Hall the Second as a hero, it was decided to cast him as a villain in the next Fairway Production. This was the origin of “The Sadist” which, intentionally or not, has become the best reviewed of Arch Hall Jr.'s misbegotten film career.
Ed, Doris, and Carl are all school teachers. The trio is headed to a Dodgers game, mostly because the married Carl wants to see the single Ed and Doris get together. Some engine troubles ensue and they stop into an isolated gas station in the Antelope Valley. The place is seemingly abandoned but Carl soon finds a still-warm meal sitting on the table inside. That is when a strange young man, Charlie and his equally odd girlfriend, Judy, make themselves known. Wielding a gun, Charlie holds the three teachers hostage. He forces Ed, a former mechanic in the war, to fix their vehicle. When not doing that, Charlie and Judy torment and harasses the three adults. After Carl attempts to reach out to the young man's better nature, he beats him and shoots him in the head. That is when Ed recalls the spree killings reported in the area, realizing that the sadistic and unpredictable Charlie and Judy are responsible. And that they are aiming to make the remaining teachers their next victims.
“The Sadist” has the kind of set-up that would've been commonplace in the seventies. It's loosely inspired by notorious spree killer Charles Starkweather and his underage accomplice Caril Ann Fugate, whose crimes had shocked the nation six years prior. Attached to this vaguely true crime-like premise is a grim tone. The title is apt. Early on, Charlie beats Carl and starts playing head games with him. Judy asks the young man if he enjoys causing other people suffering, causing Charlie to merely smirk. B-movies were getting nastier in a post-”Psycho” world but “The Sadist” still seems unusually focused on the psychological torment the villain puts his victims through. Charlie constantly reminds Ed and Judy that he's capable of killing them at any point. He forces Judy's face into the dirt, instructing her to eat it, before groping her breasts. It's not that the violence or sadism is especially graphic. It's not. It's that “The Sadist” seems determined to capture a tone of hopelessness. Whenever a chance for escape comes along, it is foiled. The film only grows more downbeat as it goes along, leaving the viewer truly wondering if anyone is going to make it out of this alive.
Part of what makes this bleak quality more surprising is that it exists inside a fairly typically cornball B-movie. Richard Alden is your standard, stout-chinned, fifties style good guy. When he stripes his over-shirt off to work on the car, he warns Marilyn Manning's Judy so as not to scandalize her. Manning and Don Russell, as Carl, give especially mannered and dorky performances, seeming as square as can be. Somehow, these dorks stumbled into a proto-”Texas Chain Saw Massacre” style situation, right down to the extremely grungy looking setting. At the center of this is the bizarre anti-charisma of Arch Hall Jr. Hall's bulging eyes, pug nose, cherubic face, giant chompers, and prominent chin already give him an uncanny quality. “The Sadist” emphasizes this with a streak of make-up under his brow. He guffaws in an idiotic manner and affects a cartoonish voice for many scenes. At other times, his voice is weirdly gruff. Intentionally or not, the film seems to capture the real Starkweather's "dull normal" intelligence. Either way, Hall is such a distressingly bizarre figure that he makes for the kind of cinematic villain you can't take look away from.
Not much actually happens in “The Sadist.” Its super-low budget is apparent in almost the entire movie being set in the gas station. The script is repetitive, composed of failed escape attempts and Charlie threatening the heroes again. Every bright spot is short-lived, possibly making the film feel like a pointless exercise in nihilism. An unexpected attribute holds it together. “The Sadist” was the debut credit of cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond. As in the guy who shot “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,” “Deliverance,” “The Long Goodbye,” “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and “The Deer Hunter.” Unsurprisingly, this means “The Sadist” is full of striking images. Zsigmond repeatedly attaches the camera to the perspective of Hall's gun as he peers at his victims. Or to the soda bottles he constantly, mindlessly gulps from. The stark black-and-white photography is paired with the flat, desolate landscape that stretches in all direction. The result is a sense of foreboding isolation, furthering the feeling that the protagonists are really out there and alone with this chuckling nut case.
It's entirely possible that Zsigmond's cinematography is the secret ingredient that makes the difference here. Director James Landis' other credits do not inspire much confidence. Hall's lack of star power is well documented and his dad would stop putting him in movies shortly after this. While it's hard to argue for the quality of “Eegah!” or “Wild Guitar,” “The Sadist” is too grim and unsettling to be dismissed. Like all the Fairway Productions filmography, this was quickly made to fill out drive-in double bills, meaning no precaution was taking with copyright. The film fell into the domain immediately and is accordingly available anywhere. However, there's enough artfulness in that carelessness to create an irritating but effective exploitation flick. I know Rob Zombie is a fan of the film and you can see it as a direct influence on his later depraved white trash killer sagas. [7/10]
The season finale of “Alien: Earth” sees, as tend to happens, the evil corporation losing control of the unpredictable super-weapon they've engineered. Wendy and the other Lost Boys are captured and held in confinement. Unfortunately, Boy Kavalier has forgotten that Wendy can seemingly control the island's entire network with merely her thoughts. She proceeds to torment the security force. She lets her brother and Morrow out of their separate cell, the cyborg soon having his showdown with resident synthetic Kirsh. Wendy goes off to protect Joe, who Boy Kavalier hopes to infect with the crawling eyeball parasite. Through it all, the xenomorph – which seems totally obedient to Wendy – lurks around and kills any one who attempts to hurt it. Eventually, the various opposing forces come to blow, certain someones will be held accountable for what they've done, and youths will be forced to grow up.
When paired with “Alien: Earth's” on-going “Peter Pan” fixation – oh god, I just realize Morrow having one hand makes him Captain Hook, doesn't it? – it becomes clear that this is a show about growing up. Considering “Alien” has always been a series fascinated with reproduction, this is a logical enough idea. However, as it repeatedly has, the show seems fixated on its ideas only in the shallowest of ways. Wendy repeatedly states that she is not human and not machine, not a grown-up and not a child. She is not a robot-girl, not yet a robot-woman. She strikes me most as an edgy teenager, discovering that the world is a shitty place, some people will try and manipulate you, and it can be hard to do the right thing. When Joe sums all of this up by saying that it is “complicated,” she gets mad with him. But he's right, man. Life is fucking complicated. Aside from her cybernetically enhance super-ability and intelligence, what does Wendy think she can do to change that?
There aren't much in the way of any answers. Certainly not to the question of how or why she can do anything she wants with nearly any other machine. There's also no explanation for why Nibs has become delusional and violent, which the other robot children don't seem concerned about. What “The Real Monsters” gives us instead is an origin story for Boy Kavalier. He describes his father as an abusive drunk that he replaced with a robot he built himself. That suggests he grew up in blue collar roots – a betrayal of not only what we know about the super-rich in real life but the show's own themes – and that he's kind of sad and pathetic inside. The show doesn't use this back story as an excuse for his behavior. If anything, this finale clarifies that Boy is an entitled little asshole. However, I don't understand “Alien: Earth's” repeated need to give all of its villains some sort of tragic origin. Why was that necessary?
I can't answer that question either and it's not the most pressing mystery anyway. No, I've left season one of “Alien: Earth” wondering why the hell anyone would want to make an “Alien” TV show and spend so much screen time focusing on other aliens. The crawling eyeball creature remains the actual extraterrestrial antagonist here, getting a dramatic showdown with the heroes and a promise that it'll be back next year. There's also a bit of gory spectacle, in the show finally displaying what the weird Venus fly trap creature can do. Sure, whatever, that's fine. Aren't we here for the xenomorph? It has a few moments of on-screen chaos but largely lurks only on the sidelines, hissing. As with everything else about Wendy's extraordinary abilities, her bond with the alien is left unexplored. That this TV show reduces one of cinema's scariest, most provocative monsters down to a subservient pet for its super-powered protagonist ultimately strikes me as deeply unsatisfying. Maybe a little insulting too.
What does “The Real Monsters” leave us with, aside from that hilariously grandiose title? There's a fight scene between Babou Ceesay's Morrow and Timothy Olyphant's Kirsch that is mildly entertaining. It says a lot about this show's constant need to re-affirm its own cleverness that, seconds away from winning the fight, Morrow starts rambling about John Henry instead. Ya know, it's weird that this future set series keeps referencing contemporary pop culture! Ultimately, season one of “Alien: Earth” proved to be such an immensely unsatisfying experience to me that I don't think I'm likely to bother with another big budget serialized streaming spin-off series any time soon. Rehashed premises from the older films under the guise of something new, characters that ranged from one-note to annoying, themes and social commentary that was deeply shallow but self-important, and that ever-present god-awful pacing made this season mostly a chore to get through. [5/10]
One assumes that, when the idea first arose to turn “The Hunger” into a horror anthology show, David Bowie was always intended to be the host. I guess the Thin White Duke must have been unavailable at first though. Season one was, instead, presented by Terence Stamp. I had no plans to revisit “The Hunger,” since the episode I watched last October was annoying, but Stamp's recent passing has motivated me to give an earlier installment a try. “The Secret Shih Tan” follows Craig Yun, the owner of the Golden Tail, the fanciest Chinese restaurant in town. One night, millionaire Hugo Lawery appears with his female companion, Zan. He asks Yun to prepare a rare, poisonous fish and watches him cook the dish. Afterwards, he's given a business card promising access to the Secret Shih Tan. That would be a mythic cook book said to contain the most delicious and forbidden recipes, which drove the last man who made a meal from it insane. If you are guessing the main ingredient in these secret recipes is people, you'd be right. Horrified at first, Yun is compelled by curiosity and blackmail to make Lawery a meal from the book. The young and beautiful Zan, purchased by Lawery at a young age to do with whatever he pleases, is chosen to be the main course, the recipe calling for her to be slain at the height of sexual pleasure.
“The Secret Shih Tan” is based off a short story by Graham Masteron and directed by Russell Mulcahy, two storytellers who know how to make trashy material entertaining. The episode reveals fairly early on that the secret ingredient is people, in an effective sequence where we watch Yun thumb through the legendary cook book. Jason Scott Lee, an underrated performer, does some excellent face-acting in this scene as he notices that all the diagrams in the book are of human beings. “The Secret Shih Tan” does have a twist ending, an act of misdirection that's fairly easy to predict. However, it does fulfill the gruesome promise of the premise while also providing a surprisingly potent taste of social commentary. The rich already figuratively consume the poor and this set-up merely makes that literal. The ending is upbeat while grimly suggesting that participating in this act of classist consumption is the only way to advance in this world. Either way, it does make for a fittingly ironic ending.
“The Hunger” being a slightly disreputable late night, premium cable series, the kind of flesh that's eaten is the only one on display here. The script simply had to include that detail about the young women being in orgasmic ecstasy before being cooked, leading to a predictably softcore love scene. Compared to how obnoxiously directed the two episodes from the Bowie season I've seen were, “The Secret Shih Tan” looks calm in comparison. Only the montage where a body is prepared is prone to shaky camera work and overly frantic editing. Otherwise, Mulcahy brings the level of cool slickness you expect from him here. Not a bad little morbid morsel, this one. As for Stamp's host segments, he makes the totally bullshit narration seem profound and sells the seriousness with only a few glares. The man was an utter professional, that's for sure. [7/10]
When I was a kid, it seemed like “Scooby-Doo” never really went away. My family signed up for cable shortly before Cartoon Network launched, when I was all of four years old. I was glued to the channel as a kid, where the various “Scooby-Doo” iterations made up a large chunk of its programming. However, the nineties were actually something of a slower decade for the mystery-themed kids franchise. “A Pup Named Scooby-Doo” ended in 1992 and there would be little “Doo” content for several years after that. This started to change in 1998, with the debut of “Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.” This would kick off a long-running series of direct-to-video feature films starring the talking dog and the rest of Mystery Inc. As a regular Cartoon Network watcher, I recall the film being heavily promoted. To this day, “Zombie Island” remains one of the better regarded of the many features starring these characters.
“Zombie Island” acknowledges the gap in “Doo” productions by beginning with Mystery Inc having gone their separate ways. Daphne is hosting a popular supernatural investigation show, with Fred acting as her producer. Velma operates a book store while Shaggy and Scooby work as baggage checkers at an airport. The gang gets back together for Daphne's birthday, investigating mysteries again all over the country as part of her show. Every time, the paranormal entity turns out to be a man in a costume, like always. The group arrives at Moonscar Island, a location in the Louisiana bayou that carries a legend about a pirate, Morgan Moonscar. While staying at the pepper plantation of Simone Lemore, strange things begin to happen. Shaggy and Scooby are chased by undead pirates, voodoo dolls of the gang are discovered, and many clues point towards a curse hanging over the island. Yet are the zombies the real threat?
I watched the various “Scooby-Doo” cartoons as a kid, because I was a child and I didn't have too many better things to do. Yet I'm not sure I'd ever call myself a fan of the franchise exactly. I appreciative the spooky vibes of the show but, even as a kid, I noticed how formulaic the “Doo” series was. Every episode follows almost the same pattern, while the characters have remained more-or-less consistent over the decades. “Zombie Island” wastes little time reuniting the quintet, removing that conflict from the story quickly. Instead, the film devotes a lot of time to its archetypal characters acting in the manner we expect. Velma analyzes clues all over the place. Daphne is given the characteristic of wanting the supernatural to be real, while Fred is a designated skeptic. Scooby and Shaggy eat enormous amounts of food, something the film returns to over and over again. It all gets tedious quickly, as the script never bothers to include many jokes. The Mystery Gang is as one-note as can be and “Zombie Island” has no interest in expanding beyond that. The supporting characters are similarly archetypal, including a Cajun boat captain, a disreputable fisherman with a pet pig, and an overly friendly local girl.
Then again, it's not like anyone goes into a “Scooby-Doo” movie expecting insightful character development. Fans expect these characters to do certain tasks in every appearance, to act in very specific ways. The appeal of “Scooby-Doo,” for me anyway, has always been the spooky locations and monsters of the week. If you can get pass the long chase scenes and many lame non-jokes, “Zombie Island” does deliver on this. The feature is certainly better animated than your typical Hanna Barbera cartoon. While long stretches of the movie look fairly bland, there are a number of moments where clearly some money was spent on the animation. The opening encounter with a monster in a castle looks good. The zombies rising from the grave, groaning and comically losing some body parts, look mildly atmospheric too. The final act also reveals some well done sequences of transforming humanoids. The sequences of moaning zombie pirates and snarling were-cats might even be a little too creepy for really young kids.
As a kid, who always loved monsters and ghost stories, I was always a little disappointed that “Scooby-Doo” so rarely featured real supernatural events. As an adult, I actually like how the show depicts skepticism, by revealing that most people preaching the existence of the supernatural are just after your money. ”Zombie Island” is somewhat controversial, among “Doo” fanatics, for featuring real monsters. It's an idea I have mixed feelings about. Kids probably do need to be taught to be critical of anyone advertising the paranormal. However, I must admit that the zombies, ghosts, voodoo, curses, and were-cats being real admittedly makes for a more entertaining movie. “Zombie Island” breaks with “Scooby” tradition by not just featuring genuine other-worldy creatures but by also making the zombies mere victims of a greater villain. The last act is weighed down with too much exposition. However, I did get a thrill out of seeing snarling panther people and shambling revenants being animated in a fairly fun, detailed fashion.
For animation nerds, “Zombie Island” does feature plenty of recognizable voices. Veteran vocal performers like Billy West, Tara Strong, Mark Hamill, Jim Cummings, and Cam Clarke and Frank Welker are all here. Adrienne Barbeau also appears as the primary villainess, adding a little more novelty to the horror ambiance here. “Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island” must've sold well for Warner Bros., as they've released one or two new “Scooby-Doo” feature cartoons every year since. (Including a direct sequel to this one in 2019.) Many of those films also features actual monsters, so I guess this one was pretty influential in the “Doo” world. Your patience for this series' shenanigans will largely dictate how much fun you have with this one. My tolerance for “Scooby” clichés are limited but there's enough novelty, some decently animated bits of kid-friendly horror movie nonsense, and some obnoxiously catchy songs for me to give this one a half-hearted recommendation. If nothing else, re-watching this was less embarrassing than “Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School.” [6/10]
If Hong Kong films could be said to have added any monster to the cinematic bestiary, it would probably be the jiangshi. Due to being reanimated corpses that suck life force, instead of blood, they are often referred to as Chinese vampires. Yet these revenants are also characterized by their funeral garb, rotting appearances, and stiff, jumping movement. This is why the creatures are also known as “hopping corpses.” Jiangshi became a common feature in Hong Kong movies starting with 1980's “Encounter of the Spooky Kind,” which would kick off a whole wave of films featuring the mythological monsters. Starring and directed by martial arts icon Sammo Hung, the film has recently become more widely available here in the West.
Rickshaw driver Cheung suspects his wife to cheating on him with his employer, Master Tam. This is true and Tam fears that the affair might be discovered. He employs a sorcerer named Chin Hoi, to dispose of Cheung. Cheung is dared into spending two nights in a haunted house, avoiding a jiangshi both times with the help of Tsui, Chin Hoi's virtuous brother. Framed for his wife's disappearance, Cheung goes on the run with Tsui. The priest teaches him magic and the two soon confront Tam and Chin Hoi in a spiritual duel.
If you know who Sammo Hung is, you probably know he is a life-long friend and frequent collaborator of Jackie Chan. Hung and Chan popularized the idea of combining martial arts and slapstick comedy together, which continues here. As someone much more familiar with Chan than Sammo, I was amused to see him pull one of Jackie's trademark moves here: Picking up a random object – a stool, in this case – to defend himself. Either way, the kung-fu on display here is obviously top notch. Cheung's fight with a roomful of sword-wielding guards is an exciting display of acrobatics. The climatic duel is where the comedic elements really come to the surface, as Hung is possessed by the spirit of the Monkey King. He mimics ape-like movements, while chattering the whole time and mugging generously for the camera.
As incredibly well-done and effortlessly entertaining as the comedic fight scenes in “Encounter of the Spooky Kind” are, the highlight of the movie probably remains the spookier elements. The peak of which is Cheung's encounter with the jiangshi. (Played by another frequent Chan collaborator, Yuen Biao.) Biao stiffly moves his arms back and forth, leaping up and down, while Hung skillfully avoids contact with the ghoul. “Spooky Kind” has a loose plot, basically being a series of set-pieces that shove Sammo into different spooky scenarios. Such as an especially inexplicable, but extremely fun, scene where he meets a corpse that mimics his movements. A cat then jumps over the body and it attacks him, which I'm sure made sense to Hong Kong viewers. There's some great ambiance in the haunted house, a cool opening involving skeletons in a jar, and an exceedingly goofy sequence with a ghost reflected in a mirror. I was really pleased to see just how much “Encounter of the Spooky Kind” embraces the supernatural elements of its story.
Granted, the film's combination of tones and genre might rub some the wrong way. All throughout the film, Sammo Hung's character is chastised for being fat. The film ends in an especially baffling moment, taking a hard right-turn into sexist violence literally seconds before the credit. Throughout it all though is the conviction of the totally professional cast. Hung's combination of goofy mugging and physical prowess makes him an oddly compelling hero, someone you can root for as well as laugh at. Jonny Chan sweats and growls as the villain, while Chung Fat plays it totally straight as Tsui. If you're going to buy into a movie like this, the theatrical acting and unexpected tonal whiplashes – especially if you're watching the dub, which seems to be intentionally farcical – become part of the appeal.
The action is great, the comedic is frequently amusing, and the horror elements scratch a particular itch for me. A similarly committed cast and cinematography seals the deal. “Encounter of the Spooky Kind” is a hoot, from beginning to end. Hung would star in a sequel ten years later but that was only after producing the long-running “Mr. Vampire” series, which further popularized the jiangshi in Hong Kong cinema. By the start of the nineties, the hopping corpses were practically a subgenre unto their own in Hong Kong, with the creatures showing up in films occasionally in the years afterwards as well. I'll definitely have to check out some of those other titles, assuming they are half-as-entertaining as the wild, effortlessly fun “Encounter of the Spooky Kind.” [7/10]
Out of the previousthreeinstallments of “Into the Dark” I've watched, I've only really disliked one. However, the general lack of buzz around Blumhouse and Hulu's monthly feature-length episodes didn't encourage me to watch more. However, “Good Boy” – released in September of 2020 to tie in with Responsible Pet Ownership Month – did catch my eye. It was directed by Tyler MacIntyre, of the delightful “Tragedy Girls” and “Patchwork.” The cast was also stacked, with a starring role for Judy Greer and supporting parts for Steve Guttenberg, Ellen Wong, and Maria Conchita Alonso. I decided this dose of doggy derangement was worth a look.
Maggie is a struggling journalist, whose biological clock is ticking something fierce. Her paper is going digital only, her doctor has questions about her fertility, and she can't find a decent man. Feeling overwhelmed, Maggie decides to adopt an emotional support dog. She names the little mutt Reuben and quickly falls in love with him, the two becoming inseparable. While out on a bad date, the sleazebag man is brutally killed after Reuben runs outside. Maggie writes a story about the incident and it becomes a hit. She also receives romantic attention from handsome cop, Nate. Whenever someone is really stressing Maggie out, Reuben has a way of making them disappear. Yet Maggie is reluctant to do something about her beloved dog murdering people, especially when it's improving her life.
People get crazy about their dogs and I completely understand why. I love my little Spooky girl, after all. Dogs give you a life time of companionship and will never judge you the way people do. Yet some folk's definitely get a little weird about their pets. This gray area is fertile ground for horror. “Good Boy” nicely explores this. The way Maggie instantly falls for Reuben, simply because he's a warm and loving face when she needs one the most, is fantastically conveyed. That her dog fills a hole in Maggie's life couldn't be more apparent. He's not just an emotional support pet. He's a crutch, that replaces other human connections for Maggie. This is made very apparent in one of the episode's final moments, and also it's most striking image. Of course, Maggie doesn't just make excuses for her murderous pooch. She covers for him and, eventually, eggs on his killings. That kind of codependence is bound to get toxic for any relationship, whether it's between people or animals. It also doesn't hurt that Chico – the little guy playing Reuben – is absolutely adorable and quite an expressive actor. You immediately relate to Maggie's need to protect him.
“Good Boy” is also a display for Judy Greer, a talented actress too often relegated to supporting roles. Greer is excellent at showing the anxiety that Maggie feels all the time, as well as the relief that comes when her pup is in her life. She's, overall, extremely funny and likable in the part. Considering the script follows the character from normal person to one step below an actual serial killer, that's important. We relate to Maggie's problems. To the anxiety she has over failing in her career, loosing her home, never finding a partner, and never starting a family. Really, all of Maggie's fears boil down to a primordial fear of not being loved. No wonder a dog is exactly what she needed. Even when the character is starting to become a bit unhinged, Greer remains a relatable presence.
In his previous features, Tyler MacIntyre nicely balanced horror, comedy, and compelling character work. This continues in “Good Boy.” The episode draws quite a lot of humor from contrasting Reuben's utterly unassuming appearance with his murderous actions. Such as when he scarfs down a human finger, while Maggie chastises him to “drop it.” Smartly, MacIntyre keeps most of the carnage off-screen, realizing that a murderous puppy dog is probably more laughable than frightening. This also builds a decent deal of mystery around what exactly Reuben is, which is never quite answered. The more blatant attempts at horror – a few jump scares, a nightmare sequence – fall flat. The real horror here, of Maggie loosing the one person who loves her, is based in the smart writing.
In other words, “Good Boy” is strong enough that it probably deserved better than to be buried within a little watched Hulu program. If this had been dropped into theaters, or even released as a stand alone feature, it probably would've gotten decent notices. It's even photographed pretty well, mostly in those black-and-white dream sequences. There's a nice sarcastic streak throughout the story, most evident in the amusingly silly supporting parts from Guttenberg, Wong, and Alonso. However, the heart of the tale – the bond between human and dog – makes sure this one has some pathos as well. Lastly, would I dispose of the evidence if Spooky Girl tore someone apart for me? I mean, I like my dog way more than a lot of people I could name, so... [7/10]
Earlier this year, Skeptoid Podcast did an episode digging into the urban legend of the Pope Lick Monster. That is one of several half-human, half-goat monsters said to haunt American back roads. (My old stomping grounds of Clinton, Maryland is home to probably the second most famous Goatman.) What makes the Pope Lick Goatman notorious is that people have died looking for it. The monster is said to haunt an isolated train trestle bridge out in the woods near Louisville, Kentucky. There's been at least five examples of teenagers climbing up onto the bridge only to discover there's no easy way down when a train is coming. It's a sad example of folklore leading to people losing their lives and a dark reminder to always put common sense above the thrills of legend tripping. More dispiriting is how cryptozoologists and other proponents of the paranormal have sensationalized these actual deaths as evidence of the monster's existence.
Skeptoid concluded that the story of the Pope Lick Monster was further propagated outside the small neighborhood of Fisherville, Kentucky thanks to Ron Schildknecht's 1989 short film, "Legend of the Pope Lick Monster." It follows three teenagers — Clancy, Ben, and Katie — bored and a little drunk on a Friday night. Clancy tells the story of what the script calls the Sheepman. They drive out to the bridge and Clancy goads Ben into climbing up into the trestle. There, Ben discovers the Sheepman is more than just a legend. And that the bridge is still frequently used by trains.
"Legend of the Pope Lick Monster" is definitely a film student project. It's a fairly amateurish production. The acting is extremely hammy, especially from Clancy Dixon. He improvises an obnoxiously catchy song about being a redneck, which plays in its entirety twice. All of the actors are visibly way too old to be playing high school students. The special effects used to create the Sheepman are underwhelming, especially when the film foolishly zooms in on its face. That's a monster that probably should've stayed in the shadows. Even at only sixteen minutes long, the short feels a bit extended past a comfortable run time.
Despite its evident shortcomings, "Legend of the Pope Lick Monster" does get an A for effort. The black-and-white cinematography, provided by Schildknecht himself, is quite good. The shots of the small town at night set the mood nicely and, once the film gets to the bridge, it really starts to move. This one plays the urban legend totally straight, even being told as a story directly to the viewer, which pleases a folklore aficionado like myself. Even if the unlikely climax probably encouraged more than one person to foolishly explore the bridge in real life. That aside, this is an amateurish effort made with enough youthful, monster kid energy to get a mild thumbs-up from me. [6.5/10]
