Legendary Weapons of China (1982)

Thanks to El Rey Network on Sling TV, I've been watching a ton of Kung-Fu movies lately. And in doing so, realized I haven't really reviewed one here.

This classic Shaw Brothers film includes some of the most important elements of any great kung-fu movie. Sure, you expect great fight choreography. Maybe you also expect a bit of comedy (like the many great Jackie Chan films, you know...before they weren't so great anymore). Well, this one has all the right elements of entertainment, without going full-on comedy throughout. Though, you WILL laugh...

To hit all the appropriate notes of a great kung-fu film, this one features:

Super-shiny metal weapons!

The elaborately choreographed intro is a given.

...the use of Chi!

...and students sacrificing themselves needlessly!

Yes, that guy suicided by ripping out his own crotch.

Sadly, though, the movie does not include a White-Haired Evil Dude.

What I'm getting at is this kung-fu flick is all kinds of the awesome type of weird. It's got Gordon Liu making his students invincible to everything (except bullets).

He puts paper on their wounds to...heal them, I guess?

Anyway. The premise finds members of a secret society competing to kill a traitor to keep him from exposing their big bad secret: the society's magic and supernatural kung-fu arts can't, in fact, stop bullets. The inclusion of this magic stuff adds some of the best, weirdest elements of the film.

Voodoo Kung Fu, anyone?

But there's also little nuggets of strange translation, like how they say "pugilism" instead of "kung-fu" quite a lot throughout the film.

My Shoulder-Blade Pugilism Style is STRONG!

Or where two people spit on Gordon Liu's hat to simulate rain.

What I'm getting at is: this movie has it all. Great fight choreography. Absurdity galore. Gordon Liu. And all the "legendary weapons."

Seriously, the last thirty minutes are insane kung-fu awesomeness. So many weapons, with such a mixture of choreography. Everything prior is just a build-up to the last two fights, and because of that, this is a Shaw Brothers gem.

Legendary Weapons of China can be seen regularly on El Rey Network's rotation of Thursday's "Flying Five Finger One Armed Exploding Death Touch" line-up. Or purchased cheaply on Amazon.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)

With the news that Michael Bay has produced another version of my childhood to be released in theaters this summer (and the controversy that's already swirling), it seemed "relevant" to take a look back at the first big-screen appearance of the Teenage Mutant Not-So-Ninja Anthropomophized Animatronic-Faced Nightmare Fuel.

We all look like this on the inside.

Let's get this out of the way before we take a look at the 1990 film. This type of recycling will happen again, and again, and again, and again. Just as it happened before, and before, and before, and before. One might make some commentary about how the last go-round was centered on old television shows while this one seems all about old toys and games. But that "one" won't be me. I will simply say that Hollywood is a regurgitation machine, spitting pre-chewed ideas onto movie screens like a mother bird treating us as its baby birds in the nest. Open wide, and wait for next meal, little baby birds.

Gimme.

No. I have a larger task - providing you, dear reader and internet at-large, with a psuedo-review of what some may call the harbinger of this toys-and-games-to-film era. Of course, there were other big-screen versions of toy lines before it (notably, Masters of the Universe). But none had yet attempted to cleave to the source material so closely.

Dolph Lundgren would've looked awesome in a pink shirt.

If you don't know the origin story of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, let's just say that they are basically four turtle-variations on Marvel's Daredevil except they didn't go blind, and they're not lawyers. Also, they basically jumped into the vat of radioactive stuff and started making "snow angels." It didn't fall on them in a horrible accident. Whatever. You get the idea...probably.

Not the best role models for children.

So the plot that fills the cracks in-between references to other movies and 90s pop culture revolves around a group of teens and pre-teens who have joined a gang run by Bad-Guy-Shredder because they've been "rejected by society" and whatnot. They steal stuff for him to "build his empire" and otherwise just hang around to play video games and smoke cigarettes and play poker while drinking Pepsi Cola in a warehouse. In their spare time, the kids train in the martial arts until they've reached a high enough level to join the Foot Clan...which, if you've seen the old cartoon, is a joke of a training regimen since they're just fodder for Ninja Turtle weapons, kicking, and punching. Eventually, we're told that Bad-Guy-Shredder killed Good-Guy-Mentor-Splinter's master (still keeping track of this? well, okay, I'll continue...we're almost done) over a woman. Since Splinter trained the Turtles with the fighting style he learned while being a rat in a cage as his master practiced, Shredder wants to kill them too.

The Turtles spout classic exclamations throughout the film like "bodacious" and "cowabunga" and "tubular." No doubt, this was an executive-level attempt to make their dialogue transcend time itself. Surprisingly, it did not work. Instead, every word written in the script, article of clothing, and cultural reference (Stallone and James Cagney impersonations? Domino's Pizza 30 minutes or less guarantee? April O' Neil's hair and clothes?) hardens like a cocoon around this fossil, preserving the mummified remains within. Making it a "thing" that existed in 1990...

Those are some serious shoulder pads.

Unfortunately, the entire film isn't so much a film of its own, but is simply a pastiche of tropes (the loner Raphael, the bad guy's inextricable connection to the good guys, training montage, Han-Leia  love stuff between Casey and April, revenge for the trainer/master/father-figure, etc.), and the tapestry it weaves with these pieces was thin to begin with, but it has become utterly transparent over the past twenty-four years. Take for example, the flashback scenes. Some of us fondly remember a time before "dark and gritty" were subsitutes for actual character development and depth. Don't get your hopes up for those brighter days if you choose to rewatch this movie. Dark and gritty were heavily employed here, far before they were in vogue. But in this case, they were mostly used to mask the horribly inept special effects.

I can't be certain of anything in this scene.

Another example is the characterization of the Turtles. Raphael takes most of the "characterization spotlight" (meaning, the others are simply two dimensional character stereotypes: Leonardo the Leader who stands guard over his injured compatriot, Michaelangelo the Party Guy who always wants pizza, and Donatello the Genius who helps fix a car) by going to a movie and saving some lady's purse from a snatching and getting angry and then hurt so bad that he needs to be healed slowly at a farm house.

Bathtubs are the best kind of medicine.

No one expects great depth. Just give them each one emotional anchor that might help an audience see them reach towards the upper levels of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. This issue became clear to the writers right about the time that the Turtles stop fighting for about ten minutes half-way through the film, and the story simply abandons the concept of making these large green things relatable. Instead, it shifts to focus on a Casey Jones and April love-hate story rather than the Turtles' singular revenge/rescue motivation. It's a silly transition 45 minutes in, but we're quickly distracted and re-routed back to the rescue/revenge by Splinter's Jedi-like appearance in the fire.

The blue flame means Splinter is safe to drink.

There's a lot of problems here other than the story and the special effects and the mystical ninjitsu, is what I'm getting at. Regardless, there are devotees to this film and the cartoon series that preceeded it (little to no mention, however, of the deviations they both took from the original comic).

Aw, man. I can barely tell who's who without the colored masks.

Some people love the idea of their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They don't want it changed. They figure, "There's only one version of the Turtles...MINE."

And they're right...right? Just like there was only one Batman in the last 20 years...

And Spiderman too...

Well, some timeless things don't change ever. Like...Shakespeare's Hamlet!

These same people say: "MY things are real, and they are one way. And they are MINE, so you can't change them. They should never be changed."

Get shut of that idea. I understand that it's a lot of fun for everyone to nit-pick the things they really like. I certainly do it. That's part of the joy of being a "geek" about whatever you're a geek about. But keep some perspective. In a long enough timeline, the things that you get pedantic about will evolve and change many, many times. New people will interpret them and add to them and alter them. That's the point. Staying static means that no one is into [insert name of thing you love] enough to bring a different point-of-view into the mix. No one ever retroactively goes back to change the things that you once loved. (Well, mostly never.) They are still there for you to enjoy.

As is the original Turtles movie...if you're into that sort of thing.

The Last Airbender (2010)

There's an old saying in writing: show, don't tell.  

This film takes that idea, kicks it in the nuts, stabs it in the ribs with a rusty shiv, then lights its carcass on fire and wears the charred skin like a suit so that the image and smell linger long after you stop watching.  

If that wasn't bad enough to make for a truly bad film, the acting is about as good as an episode of Saturday Night Live where the actors are reading their lines from a poster board just off-screen.  I get that they're children for the most part, and that they are driving the entire plot through close-ups and conversation, but if you're going to make a fantasy movie, the actors are going to have to pull off some seriously weird lines.  It's just part of the job.  

I'd summarize the plot for you, but since the actors spend 100% of their on-screen time doing that, I don't want to rob them of their only useful job in this pile of loosely coiled, steaming excrement.  Besides, I don't care enough.  Not about the characters.  Not about the story.  Just not at all.  

Make no mistake, this is not a "good" bad movie.  This here is just a plain, old-fashioned, horrible film.  After watching these people talk to one another about things for over an hour (and then narrate to "mix it up" a little), I wanted to punch the population of the world in the face for going to see this movie to the extent that they did.  Shame on you, worldwide film-going audiences.  Shame on you.

But I made it through.  With the help of some severe inebriation, I braved the excruciating exposition and total lack of any character doing anything that might get the viewer to the next plot-point.  Honestly, I don't recommend the level of annihilation that this film requires.  There may not be enough intoxicating substances to last us as a society if too many people try to endure all 100+ minutes of this apathetic talk-a-thon.  

What I do know (because it was said so many times) is that if you kill the Avatar, he'll just be reborn again.  Maybe they should have killed him.  That way he might have been reborn into a decent movie.  

Hausu (1977)

The Criterion Collection just released this film on DVD with a fantastic set of extras and a whole slew of infused legitimacy. Honestly, I think it's the best example of the company showing that they are not just movie snobs with an interest in reinforcing the standard canon. It's a little like a Shakespearean critic giving two thumbs up to 10 Things I Hate About You and then hosting a Ross Perot-style Infomercial about the DVD. You might not get what their motivation is, but the fact that they're going to these lengths is impressive even without understanding it.

While the film is about a young girl who goes to visit her aunt with a group of her school friends, it is literally shot in such a fashion that makes all of what I just typed irrelevant. The stylistic content is absolutely stomping on the literal plot. From the painted backgrounds to the animated segments and the creepy cat, this film takes the snooze-worthy set-up and churns it into a raging blast of quirky artistry. Nobuhiko Obayashi definitely did not waste the screen-time of his film. He took every rubber-stamp moment and turned it on its head. Need to get those school-girls to the house of the film's title? Well, why not do it with a little psychadelia sprinkled around the edges? Got some boring exposition? Spice it up with kaleidascoping. How can you jazz up a lot of drawn out chatter? Throw in a pratfall scene and boatloads of matte backgrounds...maybe even a short animated sequence where the girls ride the train out to the countryside.

Even with all the Easy Rider experimentation, the first part of the film drags. It's nice that we actually view a flashback as if the girls are watching it on an old grainy film, but it still doesn't quite make up for the fact of that the story is a bit tedious. As I said, the style is definitely out-weighing the substance here. But maybe that's the point: to take a vapid script and turn it into something visually exciting. To tell the truth, most American horror films can't seem to accomplish this task. And I still wait for the day when both style and substance wedge their way into American film in general (although, to reel the cynicism back a notch, there are a few examples that do a damned good job).

Once the girls get to the aforementioned House, the weirdness doesn't stop (some kung-fu action against falling chandelier crystals, for example). As soon as there's a floating severed head biting her schoolgirl friend on the ass, you know that weirdness has turned a strange corner. After that, there's a woman eating a severed hand, a fire-woman, a schoolgirl getting beaten to death by pillows and mattresses, and an awesome-ass piano death (see below).

Needless to say, the movie is weird. It's even a hair more weird than my usual fare, but still not quite as far out in the stratosphere as The Holy Mountain. Definitely a different kind of horror to be had with this horror film.

A few things to note:

*Word on the street is that the director got the story idea from his 12 year-old daughter

*The director got his start directing Charles Bronson in Mandom commercials (nothing sells some cologne like showing a couple of guys putting it on...together)

So, thank you Criterion. You've definitely educated me on how liberally you interpret the phrase "important classic and contemporary films". This movie definitely opened my eyes to all sorts of crazy. Maybe next time you could do an edition of The Killing of Satan?

Super Infra-Man

Let’s start our cocktail with a little bit of Ultraman. You know, the Japanese show where a dude turns into a superhero and grows large enough to battle giant monsters each episode. With this, you get inexplicably confounding dialog and a plotline that must have come in the acid dreams of a free-association writer. Then you add a little bit of Shaw Brothers (the kung-fu guys) for flavor, and you have Super Infra-man – the inventor of the “Power Rangers” style of fight choreography.

The “plot” of this film is that the Demon Princess is going to destroy the world by bringing up monsters from the center of the earth via a fancy transporter beam. In retaliation, the Chinese government (or rather, the “people of earth” from a Chinese perspective) injects a dude with some super-serum in order to turn him into a robotic “Infra-man” who is powered by a nuclear generator and looks like a cross between Optimus Prime, a bug, and Michael Jackson. Sweet, right!?!

This movie isn’t about plot though (I don’t see how it could be as it's near-jibberish), it is about action, and Super Infra-man definitely delivers a nuclear reactor’s worth of that. Once Infra-man (we’re tight, so I can call him that) is unleashed on an unsuspecting plant, he unravels an ass-kicking that would spell out “EPIC” in Braille if it were melted down and played backwards. From there, he goes on to battle a red spandex-clad Wild Thing, a vicious enlarging bug (where he finally gets the opportunity to set the standard for growing big and destroying a monster), an awesomely handlebar-mustached fire-breather and a drill-handed somethingorother, and the fantastic final battle with three dozen skeleton dudes, dumping a hot chick into lava and then...well, you should probably just see the video below.

But, is it good? You ask?

Before I answer, I want to digress into an insight.

You know, there really isn’t a better idea of “science” than there was in these types of films. It’s a little like what you imagined science was when you only knew a few vocabulary words and figured that flashing buttons were the evidence of the future. Scientists were the builders of things to come and they ran their experiments all rogue-like in laboratories which must have been funded by the phsycho-kenetic energy of any Westerner trying to discern the plot of a poorly translated Asian film. Those were the days when you could put a nuclear reactor in a man and not have to face “ethical” issues. It truly was the golden years of hypothetical progress.

So anyway. Yes, it’s good. It’s actually pretty damned awesome, as evidenced below.

Seriously, watch the whole thing. And don't worry if you can't understand the dialog - it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway.

(You can thank me later.)