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!
Last of the Monster Kids
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When “The Karate Kid” was released in 1984, it gave lame white people all over the world an excuse to embrace martial arts. John G. Avildsen's re-shuffling of his already iconic “Rocky” would also become a surprise hit. It turns out moving the well-worn underdog sports story to a youthful demographic and adding a generous helping of Asian quasi-mysticism was a winning formula. An easily replicated one too, as several similar films emerged in its wake. The second half of the eighties and early nineties contained a surprising number of movies that directly emulated “The Karate Kid's” premise or combined martial arts with a kid-friendlyangle. At some point during Cannon's financial free-fall years, the idea emerged of building a new Chuck Norris feature around clips from his other movies. Norris liked the idea enough to hold onto it after Cannon's collapse. With a cash infusion from a Texas mattress mogul, “Sidekicks” came into being by 1992. The film would become a modest box office success and, owning to being a lot less violent than most of Chuck's earlier films, a frequent presence in my childhood VHS player.
Barry Gabrewski is a socially awkward, asthmatic kid living deep in the heart of Texas. His mother died when he was young and his dad is preoccupied with his computer business. Instead, Barry looks up to karate champ and action movie star Chuck Norris. He often daydreams about being Chuck's sidekicks in his various cinematic adventures. Worried about the boy, Barry's favorite teacher Miss Chan introduces him to her uncle. Lee takes the kid under his wing and begins to train him in martial arts. Barry still fantasizes about being friends with Chuck but he starts to overcome his asthma, draw the attention of a crush, and stands up to his bullies. That includes the protegee of Kelly Stone, the obnoxious asshole sensai of a local karate dojo. Lee and Miss Chan submit Barry into a local martial arts tournament. This not only gives the boy a chance to truly prove himself but also brings him shoulder-to-shoulder with his idol.
“Sidekicks” does little to dissuade the notion that it was heavily influenced by “The Karate Kid.” This is, after all, the story of a scrawny white kid learning discipline and uncovering his inner strength under the tutelage of a wise old Asian guy. As far as wannabe Daniel-san and Mr. Miyagis go, I think this one is serviceable. It helps that Barry's plight is fairly relatable. He wants the cute girl in his class, who is Winnie Cooper. At the same time, his physical frailness holds him back from self-actualizing as a traditionally masculine man. When the girl outright tells him that she doesn't like him that way but rather feels sorry for him, as someone who was an awkward dweeb in school himself, I know how that feels. “Sidekicks” is as facile a wish fulfillment fantasy as any other action film. Barry does learn to believe in himself, physically bests his bullies, defeats his asthma through the power of karate, and clearly seems to win Danica McKellar's heart. Despite actually fighting alongside his hero, he discards the fantasy father figure of Chuck Norris for his actual father figure at the end, a dramatic turn the script doesn't really earn. If anything, Mr. Lee has been more of a dad to Barry than anyone else.
However, Barry's frequent fantasies about being Chuck Norris' little buddy does occasionally touch on something more significant. While having an asthma attack that puts him in the hospital, Barry imagines himself as a prisoner-of-war being tortured by some rather Nazi-like officers. He imagines Chuck is there with him, giving him encouragement as imaginary chains tighten around his lungs the way his condition does. Later, while trying to climb the rope in gym, he again daydreams that Norris is there, quietly talking him through how to beat this. Ya know, if you grew up with a deadbeat dad and looked to surrogate father figures in pop culture to fill that void, this is not an entirely unreasonable premise. “Sidekicks” definitely takes Barry's fixation with Norris too far. The way he constantly carries around a beat-up karate magazine is very silly. As is the degree to which he looses himself in his daydreams. However, I do think the film, juvenile as it is, sincerely tries to tap into something deeper about how fiction can help us cope with reality sometimes.
I'm not suggesting that one of Chuck Norris' family movies is secretly “Cinema Paradiso” or anything. As a comedy, “Sidekicks” is often broad and irritating. Far too much of the film is dependent upon the comedy stylings of Joe Piscopo. He plays the Martin Kove part from “Karate Kid,” the leader of the bad guy dojo who practices martial arts not to achieve inner peace but to physically intimidate people. Piscopo spends the entire film bathed in shiny flop-sweat, grimacing and trying to push his skull out of his face in every scene. During Barry's fantasy sequences, he dresses up in cartoonish outfits and somehow reaches even more grotesque levels of overacting. The “Missing in Action” inspired scene has the future right-wing talk radio host donning yellow face and a questionable accent. Piscopo's villain is set up as an egomaniacal rival ready for the fall against Norris, his defeat being maybe the most ridiculous moment of buffoonery in this motion picture. Or maybe it's the “Hitman” based scene, that sees Piscopo in black leather and chain mail as he fills candy and toys with poison and razor blades.
These extended fantasy scenes are the main gimmick that separates “Sidekicks” from “The Karate Kid.” For fans of Chuck, that makes the movie a greatest hits reel of sorts. I say “of sorts” because the script seems slightly confused. The “Missing in Action” homage does indeed copy the scene where Norris rises out of murky jungle waters while firing a machine gun in slow motion. The opening sequence is inspired by “The Octagon,” with Norris fighting off a horde of enemy ninjas in some sort of secluded, fortified compound. It adds more outrageous flourishes, like Norris in an all-white ninja costume or a bad guy in an elaborate Noh mask, but the homage is evident. When Chuck and Barry are in trench coats and wielding saw-off shotguns, that's obviously “The Hitman.” However, while the western saloon daydream practically mentions “Lone Wolf McQuade” by name, it is a direct horse opera spoof. Chuck Norris has never done a regular western. He's never done a World War II movie either, which is what the Nazi torture fantasy is presumably going for.
“Sidekicks” is a film stars Chuck Norris as an idealized version of himself, was directed by his little brother, features a cameo from his son, and positions the man as a ineffable figure of strength, heroism, charity, and upright fairness. The final scene suggests the legacy of Chuck Norris will continue to inspire the disadvantaged and down-trodden to victory. This is an ode to the man's own ego. Which makes you wonder why it doesn't get more about Chuck's own movies right. Maybe Norris was imagining a slightly better version of his own career for himself here. Perhaps the version of Chuck Norris that exists in this movie's world didn't do the same kind of movies over and over, like in our more mundane universe. I guess a “Silent Rage” or “Invasion USA” homage wouldn't have fit the squeaky-clean image this one was going for.
Pedantic nitpicking aside, “Sidekicks” is a little better than it needed to be. The cast is actually quite likable. The bright-eyed Jonathan Brandis successfully mixes a child-like sense of awe with a more reserved kind of sadness. Julia Nickson is surprisingly good as Miss Chan, sweet and caring in a way that feels genuine. (She's also, if you'll allow me to say, gorgeous.) Beau Bridges has some decent chemistry with her in a few scenes. Mako gets probably the script's corniest dialogue as our Dollar Store Mr. Miyagi. A scene where he slapsticks his way through a fight with some bikers is quite bad. As are any of the moments when he drops some rambling ancient Chinese secrets on the hero. (Would've been nice if, once again, Mako Iwamatsu could have played a Japanese man but whatever.) However, Mako was too likable a presence not to make some of his scenes work. Such as when he humbles a bigot at the airport or decides upon the humiliating name for Barry's karate alter-ego. And when he slams through that pile of bricks at the end? That shit is still cool.
Aaron Norris' direction is no less mawkish than in past credits. However, I think he's learned by now to let João Fernandes go a little crazy with the cinematography. “Sidekicks” looks shockingly good for what is otherwise such a chintzy production. That opening ninja scene features some ominous slow pans over creepy statues. A shot of Barry training around a fountain, as his and his master's shadows are reflected on the wall, looks fantastic. The physical comedy is goofy but why is the lighting so fucking good in that shot of a ninja exploding through the school wall? You didn't have to go that hard, João. I'd say the same to Alan Silvestri, whose synth-heavy rock score genuinely gets the heart pumping at times. The film definitely needed a proper theme song, its own “You're the Best” or “Hold Onto That Vision,” to truly make it work but I'm still fond of Silvestri's score. I guess it's fair to say that I'm still kind of fond of “Sidekicks” in general, as vain, dumb, and formulaic a motion picture as it is. Maybe the nostalgia is talking but I do think I'd take it over “Three Ninjas!” or “The Next Karate Kid.” [6/10]
[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 4 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 [X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup*
The first references in Japanese history to the descendants of a disposed samurai founding a school to train soldiers in guerilla warfare appear around 1160. By the 15th century, the word shinobi-no-mono – literally translated as "one who hides or steals" – had come to refer to soldiers specializing in espionage and stealth. During the Sengoku era, a 150 year period of political instability and civil war between feudal lords, clans and villages devoted to the training of shinobi are said to have existed. They were hired as mercenaries, spies and bodyguards. Actual appearances of soldiers like this in the historical record are uncommon. Details on the techniques they practiced and the tools of their trade – collectively known as ninjutsu, a term that does not seem to have been in common usage at the time – are limited to a few sources. Much of what we think we know about the practitioners of ninjutsu, what you might call ninjas, actually emerges from pop culture. Folk tales, novels, and plays about these mysterious warriors have been popular since the early 1800s, often giving them fantastical abilities and depicting them clad all in black. (A cliché that got started in kabuki theatre.) A series of popular kids books on the subject extended the public fascination with the ninja into the modern age and it's been going ever since.
That's how the ninja became a pop culture phenomenon in Japan. What about here in stupid ol' America, where we don't know a daimyo from a dip shit? It's mostly James Bond's fault, as "You Only Live Twice" would introduce the world at large to the pop culture conception of the ninja. While a little bit of ninja media would be imported abroad during the seventies martial arts craze, it wasn't really until 1980 that the shadow warriors started to catch on globally. That year saw the release of a best selling novel and, later, a Chuck Norris movie called "The Octagon." That is the humble well from which several Marvel Comics characters, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a plethora of video games, thousands of Halloween costumes, Sho Kosugi's entire career, and another internet meme about exaggerated acts of masculine super prowess emerged. But let's go back to "The Octagon" for a minute and consider its worth, apart from the ninja boom that followed it.
Martial arts pro Scott James is invited to a ballet performance, where the prima ballerina incorporates some karate into her dancing. Their date afterwards is ruined by ninja attacking and killing the girl. This is the latest in a series of high-profile assassinations that bear the marks of the Shinobi. Scott knows this because he was raised within a secret camp to train ninjas. There, he formed a bond and then a rivalry with Seikura, his ninja foster sibling who was kicked out of the order for being too bloodthirsty. Seikura has now returned to take over the family business and the increased global presence of ninja assassinations is his work. Scott attempts to get to the bottom of this. His investigation leads him to an heiress with an anti-ninja agenda, his old mercenary friends, a recent disaffected trainee from the ninja school, and to the fortified fortress known as the Octagon.
As I watch my way through the oeuvre of Mr. Carlos Norris, I'm noticing a frustrating trend. His movies tend to take too long to get to the good shit. Perhaps it was his previously stated desire to make more story-driven action movies at play. In effect, this means we've had to wait through some half-ass attempts to build up a proper story before we get to the ass-kicking. This is definitely true of "The Octagon," a film to which the maxim of "there's too much plot getting in the way of the story" can be applied. The film follows multiple story threads, cutting between Scott's journey, flashbacks to his past, the trainees being molded into professional killers at shinobi boot camp, the behind-the-scenes drama of Seikura seizing control, and the fates of several supporting characters who get entangled with this ninja business. The result is a motion picture that never seems to truly get moving, cutting away to some other event any time the promise of chopping and fighting seems ready to ensue.
"The Octagon" is thankfully less of a slog than "Good Guys Wear Black" nor as squeaky clean as "A Force of One." In fact, the movie starts with a brutal execution featuring some extra juicy squibs, as if to announce that we are in the eighties now. While all the ninja training does feel more like an extended prologue to the actual action, a demonstration involving a sai and a melon amused me. Strangely, these warriors of the invisible arts seem to do a lot of recruiting among barns and tractor pulls, leading to more than a few scenes of Chuck intimidating some rednecks. There's also a decent car chase in the first half-hour. Much like Norris' previous few flicks, this one also has some recognizable faces in the supporting roles. Chuck has good banter with Lee Van Cleef as his grizzled mentor, one generation of tough guy actor interacting with another. Art Hindle has some nice smart-ass energy as AJ, Scott's sidekick. Mostly, I got a kick out of random familiar faces popping in for some minor parts. Such as Ernie Hudson randomly appearing in two scenes or Tracey Walter doing an above-average Peter Lorre as the creepy recruiter for the bad guys. I'm always happy to see these guys.
Hindle's role points to another curious reoccurring trope in Chuck's flicks. Once again, a guy younger than Norris' hero, who seems to definitely look up to him, gets brutalized and captured by some bad guys. As in "Good Guys Wear Black" and "A Force of One," Chuck ultimately fails to rescue this surrogate little brother or son figure. Normally, such a plot point would motivate the hero to more extreme measures or make his mission against the bad guys all the more personal. This comes across as especially gratuitous in "The Octagon," as Scott's former foster brother being the villain already makes this a long-brewing vendetta for the hero. Moreover, the death blow occurs right before the climax, just a little extra escalation for the final fight.
When you read about the man's personal life, the auteur theory as applied to formulaic action stars seems to ring true once again. Chuck was the oldest of three siblings. His youngest brother, Aaron, plays his character in the flashbacks here. His middle brother, Wieland, died in Vietnam at the age of 27. You would think that, if Norris was going to play-act this formative trauma over and over again in his movies, he would rescue the kid every time and symbolically bring his little brother home. But he frequently doesn't and it adds an intriguing melancholy quality to these movies. Or maybe I'm reading too much into a dumb-ass action movie. Perhaps. However, "The Octagon" does feel a bit more introspective in other ways too. From the red-tinted opening credits, the movie repeatedly gives us a peek at the main character's inner thoughts. This play out as whispered, repetitive phrases that echo in his head during multiple key moments. It's, surprisingly, one of the more realistic depictions of how thoughts and an inner monologue work that I've seen in a film.
Another interesting reoccurring element is the role of women in these movies. The hyper-masculine ubermensch that would come to dominate the action genre in the eighties rarely had any use for women beyond a token role. While the tough guys in earlier decades, your Bonds and Eastwoods, seem to disregard women in gruffer, openly sexist ways. Chuck is not in-touch with his feminine side and the love interests in his films have yet to truly distinguish themselves. At the same time, the movies do keep playing him as a romantic figure, usually unreachable by women but often desired by them nevertheless. "The Octagon" gives Chuck three ladies to bounce off through its runtime. The cute Kim Lankford exits early on, while Chuck's scenes with Karen Carlson are characterized by a more combative chemistry. Scott James is too focused on his mission to be distracted by a woman's charms... Except when he isn't, as he shares a love interest with Carol Bagdasarian as the ninja deserter. It's a fairly gratuitous moment, surely including for titillating purposes, but moments like these do distinguish Norris from his contemporaries. He was definitely being sold not just as a macho figure of wish fulfillment fantasy for the guys but also obviously as a sex symbol for women.
But what the hell am I talking about? You don't rent a Chuck Norris tape from your local Ma and Pa video store because you want to see this guy mourn or emote. You wanna see him punch and kick some dudes. For what feels like the first time since he left Hong Kong, "The Octagon" sees the karate champ really showing off his skills. The entire last act of the movie is Scott navigating the titular fortress, fighting and killing every ninja attacker that gets in his way. And it's pretty damn cool, Norris' smooth but powerful fighting moves actually getting a proper display here. It makes "The Octagon" a proto-video game movie, the hero navigating an obstacle course and the enemies within, taking them out with his special moves, before reaching the area where he battles the big boss. In this case, that being decorated martial artist and stuntman Richard Norton. This is his film debut in the memorable role of a hissing, mute ninja in a bitchin' looking mask and he is clearly a good match against Norris. That bout ends in a spectacular manner, worthy of an early pixelated cut scene from a "Double Dragon" or "Final Fight" game. If that isn't enough action for you either, the film also throws in some shoot-outs and a big-ass explosion.
This means that "The Octagon" does indeed make up for its slow start. If the movie was as awesome as its final third throughout its whole runtime, it would easily be the best movie of the star's career up to this point. Even with a belabored set-up, this one does reveal some quirkier notes than you might expect, in terms of its approach to its hero's inner pain and how that may or may not have reflected on the public image Norris was creating. It definitely needed way more ninja theatrics. Next year's "Enter the Ninja" and its sequels would build much more on the mystique of the stealth killers, eighties ninja-mania getting well underway at that point. (And this one's director, Eric Karson, would later direct Sho Kosugi in "Black Eagle.") However, at least this one is not so timid with the ass kicking once it finally gets around to it. [7/10]
[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 4 outta 5] [X] Facial Hair [X] 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
Back when I was in the sixth grade or so, my school had one of those annual book fairs. For whatever reasons, I picked up a paperback collection of the comic book “Predator Vs. Judge Dredd,” despite its gory content probably not being teacher approved. Nestled in the back of that collection was a second story, told entirely without dialogue. It depicted an African tribesman, sometime in the distant past, encountering an extraterrestrial hunter while on a manhood ritual. Dark Horse often told stories like that through their extensive “Predator” and “Aliens” comic book series, realizing these monsters can work in almost any setting. The cinematic installment of this particular franchise never showed any interest in following this lead until Dan Trachtenberg took over with 2022's “Prey,” which did just that. Trachenberg was clearly so fond of this approach that he's doing something similar with “Badlands,” the forthcoming release in the franchise which has a post-apocalyptic theme... And the surprise animated “Predator” movie that was made in secret and dropped on Hulu back in April. “Predator: Killer of Killers” sends the iconic alien into three different eras of mankind, once again showing how versatile this particular creature truly is.
In 7th century Norway, Viking warrior Ursa and her teenage son Anders seek revenge on the Krivich warlord that murdered her father. The bloody onslaught into enemy territory is interrupted by the arrival of a human hunting alien creature, equipped with a sonic wave manipulating weapon. 700 years later, in feudal Japan, the sons of a samurai damyo are forced to duel to see who will inherit his royal role. Now as adult, the losing brother – acting as a shinobi – sneaks into the family stronghold to resolve the sibling rivalry. Plans are interrupted by an intergalactic interloper. In 1942, teenage John Torres is drafted into World War II. While stationed on a battleship, the fighter jets start being shot down by a mysterious craft that doesn't belong to either side of the earthly conflict. In the final segment, the survivors of these three encounters awaken on an alien world, forced to compete in gladiatorial combat for the amusement of the trophy-obsessed travelers.
The idea of the original “Predator” was that Earth's mightiest warriors, over-the-top icons of machismo like Arnold and The Body, had met their match in the form of a big game hunter from beyond the stars. It established a pattern that most of the four or six sequels have followed. We Earthlings are always outmatched by the Predator's superior technology at first but human ingenuity and our never-say-die attitude eventually wins out. “Killer of Killers” sees this same outline playing out four times in a row. This gives the impression that these Yautja – the species name for these creatures introduced in the comics that I guess is canonized now – actually aren't very good at hunting other lifeforms. However, it is a sturdy formula. The viking familiarity with the frozen Scandinavian landscape, a samurai's sense of brotherhood, or a World War II mechanic forced to think on his feet in mid-air all prove to be interesting ways to get the upper hand on the aliens. And maybe there's simply an evergreen appeal, in we mighty humans actually being allowed to be the underdogs against a greater threat.
Obviously, setting does ninety percent of the work in “Killer of Killers.” There's an undeniable cool factor in the concept of the Predator fighting Viking warriors, of a ninja and a samurai teaming up against the same alien, or a WWII dog-fight with an UFO. However, each segment does a good job of quickly getting us invested in the characters. Ursa introduces herself with a tale of woe, detailing her quest of vengeance. The sibling rivalry that drives the feud between Kenji and Kiyoshi is the kind of universal theme anyone can relate to. Same goes for John Torres trying to prove himself as a mechanic getting his first shot at piloting a plane. The characters are archetypal. The film does nothing to dissuade cliches of vikings being obsessed with paying blood to blood or the samurai fixation on bushido honor. Once John gets a tough but fair commanding officer, it's not hard to guess what will happen to him. (The officer is voiced by Michael Biehn, who now joins Bill Paxton and Lance Henrisken in a very exclusive club.)
As simple as the characters and stories in “Killer of Killers” can be, it works in the film's favor. The script takes just enough time with each character and setting to fully establish them, before introducing the mandibled threat on their tails. These themes are universal, the characters straight-to-the-point, to get us hooked as quickly as possible, since the film only has so much time to showcase each segment. This also leaves plenty of room for the other thing “Killer of Killers” is about: Kick-ass action. “Prey” showed Trachtenberg had a talent for creatively engineered mayhem, the camera weaving in and out of stylish showcases of high-tech butchery. Being a cartoon – visual effects expert Josh Wassung is credited with co-directing the film and presumably handled a lot of the technical aspects of the animation – allows this one to go further with that approach than “Prey” did. Ursa dismembering enemies with a battle axe and shield is a smoothly executed, highly brutal sequence. The stylized swordplay of the samurai sequence is also extremely well down, the end including a visual trademark of the Jidaigeki genre that is truly satisfying.
If there is a weak link in “Killer of Killers'” quartet of stories, it is probably the World War II sequence. That sequence sees a Predator – this one has an eye-patch, so you know he's a bad-ass – mostly doing his hunting from a spaceship. The film works hard to incorporate the species' trademark technology into this setting, shooting heated chains that can cut through jets like a cheese slicer, but it's not quite as compelling. Either way, it's incredibly clear that Dan Trachtenberg loves playing in this sandbox. Each hunter is outfitted with their own technological gimmick. There's a sonic wave super punch, a spear that sprouts extra barbs, and a chained whip. Pretty cool stuff and logical expansions on what has appeared in previous entries. The final segment takes us back to the home world, giving us a bit more of a peek at the alien culture that produced such honor-obsessed poachers. You can tell the movie was made by massive “Predator” fans because the leader of the clan has a cape of spinal columns that bares more than a passing resemblance to the old Kenner Toys conception of a “King” Predator. That made me smile, big and proud.
If all modern franchise film-making can be described as overgrown nerds playing with their action figures well into their old age, the mid-credits teaser “Killer of Killers” throws in will do nothing to dissuade that notion. Which is a fair enough criticism. I'm not sure every corner of a nostalgic nerd property needs to be overturned, in order to mine them for all they're worth. However, at least “Predator: Killer of Killers” expands more than it retreads. The freedom of animation – competently done, if not a mind-blowing application of the cell-shaded CGI style seen in most post-”Into the SpiderVerse” features – allows a lot more leeway in what can be shown here versus in a live action film. I don't think an “Avengers Assemble” of past “Predator” heroes is necessary. However, Trachtenberg and his team clearly have a passion for this world that extends beyond merely homaging what came before. That bodes well for "Badlands" – annoyingly not releasing during the Halloween season – and hopefully for the rest of the franchise's future as well. [7/10]
To me, Larry Cohen is one of the essential New York City filmmakers. Fred Williamson strutting through Harlem as "Black Caesar," Andy Kaufman becoming a rogue shooter during the St. Patrick's Day parade in "God Told Me To," "Q: The Winged Serpent" roosting in the Chrysler Building: The guy was gifted at invoking something essential about America's most prominent metropolis. In 1984, Cohen would return to NYC after an unsuccessful year in Hollywood. He would shoot two low budget thrillers back-to-back, made with no-name cast plucked from the local theater scene. While the self-reflective "Special Effects" has grabbed a little bit of attention over the years, the second of this burst of creativity, "Perfect Strangers," remains largely overlooked. If you search the title on Wikipedia, you have to scroll a bit to find this one. A Google search produces more results about the sitcom and Deep Purple song of the same name. Is this one a hidden gem or a rightfully forgotten piece of Cohen's eccentric career?
Johnny, a young punk in the New York mob, is ordered to knock off a small time drug dealer. He stabs the guy to death in a back alley. Only to realize that a toddler saw the whole thing. Feeling guilty, Johnny tells his boss about the witness. He is next instructed to clean up any loose ends, in whatever manner necessary. Johnny goes about talking to Sally, the two year old's single mother. She is having trouble with her baby-daddy, who never wanted the kid but is now protective of him, and barely scraps by as a clothes reseller. She is charmed by Johnny and soon falls in love with him. He starts to develop feelings for her too and also bonds with Matthew, the kid at the center of all this. As the police continue to investigate the murder and connect Sally to the crime, Johnny is put under more pressure to complete his orders. More killings follow, a child is endangered, and a mother will have to defend her baby.
The entirety of “Perfect Strangers” hinges on a rather implausible idea: That any judge in the land would put a two year old kid up on the witness stand. Matthew is a toddler, non-verbal and unable to dress himself. The likelihood of him remembering witnessing a murder, much less being able to identify the killer, strikes me as unlikely. Moreover, if Johnny had kept his mouth shut and simply not mentioned the kid to the mob, he wouldn't have been commanded to commit infanticide. This speaks to the rather cheesy tone that infects all of “Perfect Strangers.” Cohen and Paul Glickman, his regular cinematographer, made the baffling decision to shoot the entire movie through a waxy, soft-focus lens. This makes the whole film look like a flashback sequence. Dwight Dixon's score – his sole credit – is defined by chintzy sounding synth shrieks. This is paired with some hilariously corny songs from Michael Minard. (Previously of the hilariously corny “Fall Break” from “The Mutilator.”) It's difficult to take whatever angst Johnny might have seriously when he expresses himself by spray painting black outlines of his own body underneath bridges.
A degree of campiness or intentional melodrama would not be unprecedented, from the director of “The Stuff.” I guess there's a big difference in handing material like this to a professional eccentric like Michael Moriarty versus the less experienced cast here. Brad Rijn, as Johnny, has a strange rhythm to his delivery. He never seems entirely convinced of anything he's saying. Anne Carlisle is a little better as Sally. However, the love story between the two is never anything less than awkward. The two don't have any sparks so much as a weirdly antagonistic vibe between each other, that the script insists they play as romantic. They go from being strangers to lovers far too quickly. The eventual sex scene can't overcome a sense of discomfort. All the acting in the movie is kind of like that. Stephen Lack, the extremely wooden star of “Scanners,” plays a detective as some sort of camp-gay figure. John Woehrle, as Sally's ex, walks an uneasy balance between stilted and exaggerated. Meanwhile, Carlisle's “Liquid Sky” co-star Otto von Wernherr shows up for one inessential scene, lumbering through a conversation with a distinctly Schwarzeneggerian accent.
As a romance, “Perfect Strangers” is sunk by the bizarre anti-chemistry between its stars. As a character study of Johnny and his conflicted morality, it never comes together. Mostly because of Rijn's weird performance but also because of the script's refusal to give Johnny any real depth. The scene where he's bathing Matthew and trying to couch the kid on what to say are, I think, supposed to be suspenseful but only come off as uncomfortable. Which is odd because, as a thriller, “Perfect Strangers” is quite competent. Cohen gets right to the point – so to speak – arriving at the bloody stabbing that kicks off the plot the minute the opening credits end. That's a frantically cut scene, a furious stabbing that concludes with blood stylishly splattered on the ground. A moment where Johnny is pushing Matthew on a swing set or the kid is in a mobile merry-go-round come close to catching that same sense of out-of-control danger. As the kid flies overhead – the little actor genuinely seeming in peril – the film taps into the inevitable feeling this is all going to end in tragedy. Which it does. The last act of “Perfect Strangers” transforms into a well executed stalk-and-slash scene, the film finally committing to the slasher undercurrents it was suggesting all along. Right before ending rather abruptly but at least it goes out on a high note.
The most interesting thing about “Perfect Strangers” has little to do with the genre parameters it plays around in. As was often his style, Cohen shot part of the film right on the streets of New York without any permits at all. When Matthew is abducted briefly by his father, the reactions of the people behind the arguing couple seem genuine. Most notably, a long sequence was shot at an on-going Women Against Pornography march. This brings up another element of the film I've not yet mentioned. Sally's best friend is a die-hard feminist and talks greatly about how women have to defend themselves from men. A key scene has Johnny going ballistic on her ex, beating him in a playground. Any exact message about the relationship between men and women isn't totally coherent. It wouldn't surprise me if Larry Cohen was working through some hang-ups with his own ex-wife through this story. At the end though, the film does seem to come around to the idea that women are pretty justified in being afraid of men, who are too often driven by feelings of violence and entitlement.
To repeat a statement I think like I've been making a lot this September, “Perfect Strangers” is an extremely flawed film that still has some interesting stuff floating around inside it. When focused on being a grim little thriller, Cohen definitely shows his skills as a consumerist pro at giving the audience what they want. He also couldn't repress his tendency to make his films both a record of their time and place and a statement on some woes of the day. All of which is well and good but not quite enough to make up for the movie being a bit of a fiasco otherwise. A silly script, an uneven cast, a fine layer of cheese, and a very slow middle keeps “Perfect Strangers” from standing tall on the wings of its dreams. Vinegar Syndrome put the film out on Blu-Ray recently, meaning it will be rediscovered by people who will probably like it more, but I kind of agree with history forgetting this one. [5/10]
Door Into Darkness: Eyewitness La porta sul buio: Tentimane oculare
Last year, I watched an episode of Dario Argento's short-lived seventies anthology series. In the time since, “Door Into Darkness” has gotten a spiffy Blu-Ray release from Severin, along side a few other Argento obscurities. Ultimately, Dario's style of murder mysteries proved a little too intense for Italian television. This is why the series would end with “Eyewitness,” only its fourth episode. The hour follows Roberta who, while driving home one night, sees a woman leap out in front of her car. She looks closer and sees that the woman was already bleeding before she was nearly struck, spotting an obscured male figure nearby. She reports the crime to the police but they are unable to locate a body. Roberta is convinced of what she saw though and continues to investigate on her own. The detective and her boyfriend, Guido, both become concerned about her sanity. Especially when she claims to be pushed into traffic, despite everyone around her reporting that she nearly fell. Once Roberta receives a threatening phone call from the killer – who says he'll track her down that night, while Guido is out of town – she knows she isn't crazy. She's in danger.
“Eyewitness” has a lot in common with “The Tram,” the installment of “Door Into Darkness” I previously covered. Both episodes present a seemingly impossible mystery: A woman stabbed to death inside a crowded cable car with no witnesses in the former and an apparent murder for which no evidence can be found in the latter. Both hours get off to slow starts, as the protagonists go through the routine of everyone believing they are crazy despite never wavering in their certainty. However, where “The Tram” followed the eccentric detective on the case, “Eyewitness” has the much more classically Argento premise of an ordinary person caught up in a crazy mystery. Marilù Tolo plays Roberta as a woman who is nervous enough to be possibly cracking up but also seems sensible enough. She returns to the scene of the supposed crime, goes over the events in her memories again and again, and tries to assemble a logical explanation. Once you factor in the creepy phone call, the similarities to “Profondo rosso” truly come into focus. Like in that classic, the killer ends up revealing themselves after the hero gets too close to the truth.
The gender of the protagonist adds an interesting new layer though. Roberta is surrounded by men who think she's hysterical. Her boyfriend never outright says he's concerned about her sanity. The detective admits he respects her and believes her recollection of events. (While also implying he's romantically interested in her.) At the same time, there's an undeniable layer of condensation to their words of encouragement. Argento's work has been accused of sexism many times over the years and not always without good reason. However, “Eyewitness” does force the viewer to relate to a woman who is doubted, looked down on, and manipulated by the men around her. It feels like something of a rebuttal to the idea that the director had issues with women. (Though how pushed around Roberta is by the plot, not exactly being proactive in the second half and waiting for the killer to come get here, makes it difficult to interpret “Eyewitness” as a feminist text.)
The opening credits of “Eyewitness” claims it was directed by Roberto Pariante, Argento's second unit man on the Animal Trilogy. In fact, Dario was displeased with Pariante's work and fired him after a few days. He finished the episode himself before having Luigi Cozzi go back and re-shoot everything Pariante did complete. You can definitely see Argento's stylistic fingerprints on “Eyewitness.” Early on, there's a point-of-view shot from the perspective of a tea cup. Later, Roberta is watched by the camera as she listens to an answering machine. The episode has a jazz score, largely composed of frantic drumming, that recalls Ennio Morricone's soundtrack for “Four Flies on Grey Velvet.” The climax has the girl cornered in her own home, while a black-gloved killer wielding scissors busts through the door. It's a tense sequence and shows that the director could still create plenty of suspense without the gore of his theatrical releases. The denouncement is a bit disappointing, the responsible party simply explaining the how and why of their crimes. Still, up to that point, “Eyewitness” is a suitably Argento-esque experience that fans will surely get a kick out of. [7/10]
After having extra helpings of Grandmama's yak stew at dinner, Gomez gets out of bed in the middle of the night with an episode of sleep walking. Being an Addams, Morticia doesn't consider this suspicious. Nor does she connect this moment with the story on the news paper the next day of a cat burglar stealing valuables in the neighborhood. As the title reveals, these two incidents are very connected, Gomez's newly acquired collection of gold, jewels, and furs in the basement making it apparent. The family makes multiple attempts to prevent the patriarch's nightly somnolent activity – such as Fester standing guard outside the bedroom door or Morticia playing a snake charmer's flute to hypnotize her husband – but nothing works. When the cops show up, something more serious most be done.
"Gomez the Cat Burglar" is a very sight gag centric episode. Luckily, the bits of wacky physical comedy and implementation of goofy props are consistently amusing. Lurch acts literally when instructed to help Gomez "hit the sack." The sequence where Fester attempts to stand guard outside the master bedroom – he immediately falls asleep – keeps escalating in nicely ridiculous ways. I like the reveal that the Addams keep bags of dirt, including a fire axe behind a "Break In Case of Emergency" glass, in the hallways. The bit with Morticia playing a magic flute to hypnotize her husband also gets silly quickly too, Gomez busting out a bugle in response. The last act features John Astin disguising himself as an old man to fool the police but it's spoiled when Morticia says "Voila." Good to see the writers finding new variations on the "Tish, that's French!" running joke. The resolution also managed to catch me off-guard, one goofy joke coming back around to resolve the plot.
This episode is especially a showcase for Carolyn Jones' comedic timing. Her initial reaction to her husband sleepwalking or her response to a newspaper smashing through a window are both so perfectly deadpan. Though it does strike me as odd that she's confused by her ability to only cut paper dolls with multiple limbs. Or Fester reacting to her modernist painting with bafflement. You'd think this family would be delighted by such weirdness! Presumably not wanting to be left behind by Lily and Herman, this episode reveals that Gomez and Morticia are now sleeping in the same bed together. (He puffs his cigar in his sleep and her nightgown is almost identical to her regular clothes, both subtle little gags.) In fact, Gomez says the word "Sex" later in the episode. Maybe 1965 was less prudish than I previously thought? Also, there's a cool shot when Fester and Morticia enter the dark Playroom, the two of them framed between the spokes of gold wagon wheel. Nice cinematography there. [7/10]
From my lofty position as a “geriatric millennial,” I have seen the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles franchise evolve through far more iterations than I ever expected. After the heady heights of Turtle-Mania in the early nineties, when Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird's scrappy indie comic had become a massive pop culture phenomenon, the series seemed to retreat from the public eye, the way any fad does eventually. By the time the frankly embarrassing "The Next Mutation" was airing, being into TMNT was just about the lamest thing possible. Yet, surprisingly, the Turtles have become one of those kid brands that continuously get resurrected every few years. Since my own childhood, I've seen three new television series and four additional theatrical films join the franchise. The latest of which is "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem," only the second animated film in the series to hit theaters. Fascinatingly, the Heroes on the Half-Shell have gone through just about every step of the reboot cycle, arriving back at the goofy, kid-friendly phase.
Many things change but some elements remain consistent. The turtles always became mutants thanks to a mysterious green ooze. They are always Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michaelangelo. They always live in the New York sewers with their father figure, Splinter the Rat. In "Mutant Mayhem," the boys long to join human society, feeling cloistered by the secretive life style their father insists on. When a villain called Superfly begins to torment the city, the Turtles see their chance to become heroes and be accepted by humanity. This goal gets closer as they become friends with April O'Neil, a teenage reporter determined to crack the Superfly case. Yet the Ninja Teens are shocked to discover that Superfly is, like them, a mutated animal with a whole gang of similar partners. The young heroes must decide if they want to help the villain fulfill his grudge against humanity or fight for what's right.
Not too long ago, I opined that "Into the Spider-Verse" is one of the most immediately influential films in animation history. "Mutant Mayhem" is the latest entry in the growing list of high-profile projects to emulate that movie's combination of CGI and traditional animation techniques. Here, this manifests as a painterly style, colorful and slightly messy strokes visible on just about every surface and character. The result combines the fluidity of CGI animation with the personality and artistry of hand-drawn works. This invokes the Turtles' roots as a gritty, home-made indie comic. The character designs in "Mutant Mayhem" are lovably grotesque, with bulging eyes, a diversity of body shapes, and innumerable little details and quirks. This universe feels lived-in, a fully realized New York full of gunk and graffiti. The characters have a somewhat sketchy quality to them that feels unique on the modern, big budget animation landscape.
This combination of styles is, naturally, a great fit for some amusingly chaotic action sequences. The highlight of the film is a montage, which breathlessly cuts between the Turtles cracking down on various criminal elements, which represents the animation team truly flexing their muscles. This style lends itself as much to physical comedy as it does thrills though. Another notable moment is a delightfully goofy car chase, set to one of the film's many nostalgic needle drops. (This scene is also the closest we're likely to ever get to a big screen TMNT/Masters of the Universe crossover.) You also see this approach in a close-quarters scuffle in an auto shop, representing the turtles' first awkward steps towards becoming crime-fighters. The peak of this fusion of comedy and action occurs when Splinter – lovingly voiced by Jackie Chan – emerges from his hiding place to help his boys. The resulting scene pays homage to Chan's history as an action cinema innovator in a truly unexpected and fantastically giddy fashion.
What truly differentiates each iteration of the Turtles from each other are how they approach the titular terrapins. "Mutant Mayhem" emphasizes the “Teenage” part the most. The four reptile martial artists long to be accepted, to attend high school like normal kids. They goof around and tell silly jokes. Leonardo harbors an awkward crush on April while Raphael deals with unbridled emotions. In what can be seen as either an obnoxious attempt to make these almost forty year old characters appeal to the modern youths, or a decent leap at updating things, the Turtles are often on their cellphones. They watch Youtube videos. Mikey twerks in one scene. Whether you find modern pop culture references like this – there are many – fitting or annoying depends on your tolerance for zoomer antics, I suppose. More often than not, I thought it was cute.
If I have any problem with the movie, it's not that the story strays too much from established “Turtles” lore. Instead, I find the script to be a little too linear in its construction. Each member of the cast has a structured character arc. Raph has to learn to handle his rage. Donnie masters his driving skills. April overcomes her fear of being on-camera. Splinter learns to be a better, more open dad. It's all a little too compact and fine-tuned, in my opinion. This even extends to the residence of New York City, who learn a valuable lesson about acceptance in a last act that felt a bit overextended and belabored.
Still, “Mutant Mayhem” is mostly a highly entertaining motion picture. For long time Turtle Fanatics like myself, there's plenty of nods to the franchise's long history. It's a hoot to see long-loved characters like Mondo Gecko or Wingnut finally on-screen, even re-imagined in these highly new variations. (The former, voiced by Paul Rudd, is especially amusing.) Animation fans are likely to have a good time with this and I imagine kids will dig the fast-paced action and storytelling. Obviously, plenty of breadcrumbs are left for a sequel and, considering the movie's positive reception and decent box office, hopefully we'll get more “Mayhem” soon enough. [7/10]
Because of the insular quality of the comics industry, it’s a lot easier for various properties to get together and make oddball crossovers happen. This is, after all, the medium that brought us “Alien vs. Predator,” “Ape Nation,” and “Archie Meets the Punisher.” In recent years, IDW Publishing has created a number of truly unexpected crossovers. The company has allowed “Star Trek” to meet “Doctor Who;” “Ghostbusters” to meet “Transformers,” the Rocketeer to meet the Spirit, and G.I. Joe to meet Cthulhu. One of the company's crossovers was “Batman Meets Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” This mini-series was so successful, IDW and DC has published several follow-ups. That popularity prompted WB Animation – who have been putting out direct-to-video animated films based on the DC superheros for years – and Nickelodeon to get together and turn “Batman vs. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” into a feature film. What a time to be alive.
Loosely adapted from the first mini-series, an alliance between the Shredder's Foot Clan and Ra's al Ghul's League of Shadows brings the Ninja Turtles to Gotham City. Batman initially blames the Turtles for these crimes, leading to their inevitable confrontation, before they work out their differences and team-up to fight the baddies together. In actuality, the story is just an excuse to match-up various complimenting elements from both franchises. So the Party Van and the Batmobile race together. Donnie nerds out over the Bat-Computer. Batman's rogue gallery is transformed via mutagen, leading to such sights as Polar Bear Mr. Freeze or Plant Monster Poison Ivy. Those are just some choice examples, the filmmakers' nerdy glee showing in each mash-up.
Aside from both being a source of nostalgia for nineties kids, what do Batman and the Ninja Turtles have in common? Well, there's a shared affinity for martial arts and stealth attacks. The wide differences between the two cast provides much of the fun factor to “Batman Vs. Ninja Turtles.” Bruce immediately sees something of a kindred spirit in the serious, studious Leonardo... But the young, inexperienced turtle has fears, which the Scarecrow's fear gas utilize. Similarly, Raphael and Damian Wayne bond over their mutual status as gruff outsiders. Donnie and Batgirl end up doing machines and science together, a fun set-up. The goofiest of these interactions is Michaelango's pizza obsession and skateboard habit inconveniencing Alfred. The film cannot resist the fun factor in getting Batman involved with this either, having him eventually consume Italian cheese/sauce bread and shout surfer slang.
There is a downside to the film though. A big problem with WB's series of DC animated features is that they all look very similar. I've seen a bunch of them and they all tend to blend together in my brain, on account of having an identical style. Since the Turtles naturally look a little more exaggerated than the Batman crew, that requires slightly cartoonier character designs. Otherwise, it's the same bland approach we're used to. “Batman vs. Ninja Turtles” even features some lousy CGI, when weightless looking cargo crates are tossed into the air. This line of animated films also sometimes double-down on edgy violence, in an attempt to prove how PG-13 they are. Despite obviously appealing to a younger audience, “Batman Vs. Ninja Turtles” does this too. Did we really need to see Ra's al Ghul cut heads off or the Shredder shove his claws through some random guy's chest?
Ultimately though, films like this are for the fans. Since “Batman” and “TMNT” both have long histories, there's lots of in-jokes that are sprinkled throughout. Fittingly, since it aired around the same time as the original "Turtles" cartoon, the film has several shout-outs to “Batman: The Animated Series.” Like those awesome crime blimps. While no one from either original series is in this movie, the voice cast is full of soundalikes. A campy fight scene with the Penguin recalls the Adam West “Batman” series. “TMNT” lore dominates the shout-outs. Shredder's entrance recalls his slow-mo descend in the first live action movie. Baxter Stockman appears as a delightfully grotesque fly humanoid. Theme songs and catchphrases are reprised. For fans of both series, it's fun to catch this stuff.
Like so much comic book-adapted media, this ends on a blatant sequel hook. While the four-color crossover promptedthreesequels, it's hard to say if the various corporate agreements that allowed this film to happen will last through to a continuation. But I would watch it, if it got made. “Batman vs. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” is ultimately a trifle, a light-weight and fluffy snack that doesn't even approach the more meaningful layers of either franchise. The animation if forgettable and the story is nonsense. Yet seeing your childhood toy box play sessions realized in animation does provide a thrill or two. [7/10]
At best, I'm a mediocre player but most of my favorite video games are still fighting games. So I actually have quite a lot of experience with the “Dead or Alive” series. There are many technical reasons why the series has its merit but its main appeal, the thing that truly differentiates it from other fighting games, is its gratuitous T&A. “Dead or Alive” is most famous for, and largely defined by, its many female characters and their large and bouncy physical features. (To the point where there's a spin-off series that plays like the softest of softcore porn.) The games have a plot, the characters have back stories, but they are very convoluted and totally unimportant. So “Dead or Alive” was a weird choice for a film adaptation. Yet something about “DOA: Dead or Alive” attracted legendary Hong Kong action choreographer/director Corey Yuen. The result was one of the few video game adaptations that both gets the appeal of the original games while functioning as its own thing.
As I said, the plot of the “Dead Or Alive” series is both too complicated and too insignificant to cover here. The movie abbreviates things nicely: There's a fighting tournament called Dead or Alive, run by a shady corporation with evil genetic experiments in mind. A bunch of talented martial artists from all over the world are invited to participate. Such as runaway ninja Kasumi, who is pursuing her missing brother Hayate; Ayane, a rival ninja who is chasing Kasumi; pro-wrestler Tina Armstrong, who is seeking independence from her overprotective pro-wrestler dad; internationally wanted thief Christie; and Helena, peppy daughter of one of the corporation's founder. There's many other fighters in the film – including “Ninja Gaiden's” Ryu Hayabusa – and quite a lot of deviations from established game lore. But, seriously, who cares?
“DOA: Dead or Alive” is essentially a live action cartoon and I'm not even talking about its over-the-top action scenes. This is – and I'm being one hundred percent serious here – a movie that has cartoon hearts floating around a guy's head to indicate he's love struck. Within the opening minutes, a high-tech hang glider is deployed out of nowhere. All the fights around the island are cinematically observed. In a further attempt to replicate its video game roots, life bars are displayed overhead during these fights. When simpler options are available to the characters, they choose to do things like ascend bamboo shoots, walk along spinning water wheels, or acrobatically climb an elevator shaft. Someone is defeated via thrown shoe. Yes, there's even a volleyball scene, as dramatically orchestrated as any of the fights, because “DOA: Dead or Alive” perfectly understand the gleefully brain-dead appeal of its source material.
These delightful excesses are simply another manifestation of the cartoon world all of “DOA” inhabits. Of course, the biggest indicator of this is the fight scenes. “Dead or Alive” is almost non-stop action, the film squeezing in much punching, kicking, and sword fights as possible. The characters are not bound by the laws of physics. Kasumi cartwheels weightlessly through the air, kicking opponents on the way down. Tina defends her yacht with high-wire kicks and punches. One especially ridiculous moment has Christie slipping on her underwear while fighting off attackers. If the film's women are never less than graceful while fighting, its men are supernaturally strong. The likes of Bass and Bayman punch through doors and walls without any effort at all. The film's interior logic is such that we hardly notice when the bad guy knocks someone sideways with a simple punch near the end.
The fight scenes are very dumb but they are not assembled in a dumb way. Corey Yuen has been making martial arts movie, either as an actor, director, or choreographer since the early seventies. He knows his shit. As artificial as the flipping and tossing looks, it's all very intentionally in line with the movie's ridiculous world. “DOA” is an absurd ballet of violence. This is most clear during two key fight scenes. The first occurs when Hayabusha fights his way into one of the island's secret laboratories. He gracefully cracks, bashes, and dispatches a line of dudes with dancer's like speed. A later, even more impressive scene has Helena fighting off a horde of ninjas with a sword, alongside a scenic temple backdrop. It's a moment that just becomes more over-the-top as it goes on, the audience's smile getting wider as it goes on.
I have no idea if Yuen or the film's trio of screenwriters were fans of the “Dead or Alive” video games. However, somebody must've been because the movie shoves in as many of the game characters as possible. Granted, some of them – drunken boxer Brad Wong, wise old kung-fu guy Gen Fu, dragon lady Lei-Fong, Bruce Lee knock-off Jann Lee – don't amount to much more than cameos. Yes, there are some odd adaptational changes. Rather than the emotionless assassin she is in the game, Holly Valance plays Christie as a fun and carefree jewel thief. The character called “Helena” is actually a hybrid of the game's Helena and another femme fatale named Hitomi, more-so resembling the latter. This Ryu Hayabusa is much more child-like and bubbly than the stern and unwavering video game version. Victor Donovan, played by a fabulously sleazy Eric Roberts, graduates from background character in the games to full-blown final boss here. Again, not that any of this matters.
Yet some of the other characters are pitch perfect adaptations. Brian J. White hits the right notes as Zack, an oddball hustler based on Dennis Rodman. Jamie Pressly and Kevin Nash could not be better cast as the bickering father/daughter pro-wrestlers. Granted, none of the leading ladies have the famous proportions of their video game counterparts. This is especially noticeable with the very modest Devon Aoki, playing the famously busty Kasumi. Aoki's performance is also pretty flat. Natassia Malthe – who also appeared in several Uwe Boll related video game movies – gives a similarly broad and wooden performance. Not that acting and emoting matters much in a movie like this and all the performers are excellent fighters. Kane Kosugi and Collin Chou are especially well equipped in that regard.
Here in the U.S., “DOA: Dead or Alive” had the misfortune of being distributed by Dimension Films during one of the Weinsteins' many financially difficult moments. It was barely released in American theaters, grossed less than a million dollars at the box office, before being dumped onto the Dimension Extreme DVD label. Intentionally, the movie was released a full year earlier and did much better business. I don't know if “Dead or Alive” would've done better here if it had actually gotten a decent release – intentional audiences tend to be a little more open to bullshit like this – but I suspect it might've. Because “Dead or Alive” is a lot of very silly fun, full of fantastic action and tonally faithful to the games that inspired it. [7/10]
