On May 8, 2018, Kino will be releasing the uncut Blu-ray for 1979’s Seven, by cult director Andy Sidaris. In Seven, a government agent discovers a plot by a cartel of seven gangsters to take over the state of Hawaii. He hires a team of seven hitmen to stop them.
The film stars William Smith (Any Which Way You Can), Barbara Leigh (Terminal Island), Guich Koock (American Ninja), Christopher Joy (Cleopatra Jones), Art Metrano (Breathless), Grandmaster Ed Parker (Kill the Golden Goose), Richard LePore (Stacey), Lenny Montana (The Godfather) and Martin Kove (Rambo: First Blood Part II).
Seven marks one of the earliest titles in Andy Sidaris’ Bullets, Bombs, and Babes or Bullets, Bombs, and Boobs (BBB for short) series of action B-movies, which featured Playboy Playmates and Penthouse “Pets”.
Rising star Wesley Wong (Pacific Rim Uprising), son of legendary Hong Kong actors Angie Chiu (Private Eyes) and Melvin Wong (Aces Go Places V: The Terracotta Hit), will star in the GenFilms’ original production Qi : Spacetime Warriors, an upcoming sci-fi actioner directed by Jessie Kerry and renowned Hong Kong/Hollywood action director/stunt coordinator Andy Cheng (Red Line, End Game, Rush Hour).
The following information is from the film’s official press release:
Qi takes place in a technologically evolved society of a future China and tells the story of the Chinese Taoist (Wong), who is destined to become a Spacetime Warrior and save the universe from an ancient threat from another dimension determined to destroy the world.
Qi’s script, which won Silver for Best Original Screenplay at the 2017 Chinese Canada Golden Maple Film Festival, was written in English with sections in Chinese, Russian and an artificial language making it a unique concept in the Sino-foreign co-production landscape. Qi will include many Chinese actors and martial artists while also featuring about 36 foreign roles.
Other signed talent include Chinese actor Stefan Sun (Legend of Princess Lanling), New Zealand actor James Trevena-Brown (Shannara Chronicles) and Canadian-Chinese actor Kent S. Leung (John Apple Jack), with Australian actor Marcus Vanco (Shannara Chronicles) and Spanish actor Ivana Baquero (Pan’s Labyrinth) in talks for major support roles, and mixed race Chinese talent Julia Lilly Sives has been cast in a special role that will bridge cultures.
Qi’s pre-production is scheduled for December 2018 at the renown Wanda Studios in Qingdao, China and will commence with Principal Photography in March 2019 with the World-Premiere set for May 2021 at Cannes International Film Festival.
We’ll keep you updated on this project as we hear more. Until then, here’s a look at what director Andy Cheng is capable of in the Trailer for 2007’s Redline:
According to Zindela, here’s what you can expect from this South African-set actioner: Zulu and Thailand cultures clash when the son of Lion slayer, Senzo, confronts a dangerous Thailand con man. Vitaya controls rhino poaching business and illegal diamond mines in the region, but everything goes wrong when a local boy steals one of his rhino horns…
Red Cargo also stars Osas Ighodaro Ajibade (Cadillac Records), Israel Makoe (Beyond the River), Zozeen Panyanut Jirarottanakasem (Monkey Twins), Sumret Muengput (BKO: Bangkok Knockout) and Siyabonga Melongisi Shibe (Human Cargo).
Shooting is expected to to start in June. Until then, be on the lookout for JeeJa Yanin’s appearance in the all-star martial arts spectacle Triple Threat, which opens later this year.
Popular Hong Kong actress Sandra Ng (Jian Bing Man, In the Line of Duty 3) makes her directorial debut with a horror-comedy titled Yao Yao Ling (aka The Monsters’ Bell). The film will be available exclusively on Digital this April 3rd from Well Go USA under the title Goldbuster.
A quirky internet star, a pair of retired gangsters, and the black sheep of a prolific family of herbalists are a few of the oddball tenants that call the dilapidated apartments of Humble Grove home. Fearful of being locked out by a ruthless property developer with his eye on the building, they’ve stayed inside for years. So, when supernatural incidents befall them all on one night, instead of running, they turn to flamboyant ghost hunter Golden Ling to perform a most unusual exorcism.
Director: Ryoo Seung-wan Cast: Hwang Jung-Min, So Ji-Sub, Song Joong-Ki, Lee Jung-Hyun, Kim Soo-Ahn, Kim In-Woo, Kim Joong-Hee, Lee Kyoung-Young, Shin Seung-Hwan, Ahn Se-Ho Running Time: 132 min.
ByZ Ravas
Although director Ryoo Seung-wan has engaged in big-budget spectacle in the recent past – 2013’s The Berlin File felt like the filmmaker’s attempt to top the Bourne trilogy, and long before that he’d dabbled in the superhero (Arahan) and spoof (Dachimawa Lee) genres – he’s long felt most at home helming scrappy action flicks like the fan favorite City of Violence, not to mention 2015’s box office smash Veteran. Of course, it’s never fair to expect a filmmaker to operate in just one mode, no matter how good they are at it, and so Ryoo Seung-wan is back with his most expensive and ambitious project yet: the World War II epic The Battleship Island.
The film is based on conditions at Hashima Island, home to a daunting military installation that feels one part labor colony, one part wartime fortress, in which the Japanese army forced some 400 Koreans to work in its labyrinth of coal mines. Although the real world location still stands, and is a UNESCO-sanctioned World Heritage site, much of the film’s $21 million dollar budget went into constructing massive sets to replicate Hashima Island (considering how many explosions go off during the movie, it was probably wise not to film at the historical site!). Indeed, the sprawling sets built for the film serve as the viewer’s first indication of Battleship Island‘s biggest selling point: this is easily one of the most impressive Korean productions ever made, and despite some occasionally below-par CGI, Ryoo Seung-wan’s technical accomplishment frequently stands alongside the best Hollywood has to offer.
As the story opens, the Japanese Army is beginning to realize they’re on the losing side of war, even as their country’s leaders direct them to carry on as usual. Part of their orders involves regularly shipping off Korean detainees en masse to work the coal mines of Hashima Island, a perilous job due to unsafe working conditions such as gas leaks and runaway mine carts. Despite their will to escape, and the measured leadership of an exiled Korean political figure (played by The Pirates‘ Lee Kyoung-Young), no prisoners have managed to overtake their captors or flee the ocean-bound fortress.
But that fate might just change with the most recent shipment of laborers, a ragtag group that includes a womanizing band leader (Hwang Jung-min) and his young daughter (Train to Busan’sKim Soo-ahn), as well as a swaggering gangster (So Ji-sub). So Ji-sub is an actor known primarily for his work on Korean television, but I imagine most Westerners will recognize him as the titular character from A Company Man, as well as the Kim Ki-duk-penned Rough Cut. Hwang Jung-min, meanwhile, needs no introduction, as he arguably the most recognizable actor working in Korean cinema these days; I have to confess that Jung-min’s presence took me out of the movie somewhat, simply because he is the sole Movie Star in a film that is clearly attempting to convince you of its historical verisimilitude, but you won’t catch me saying a bad word about his performance.
If The Battleship Island possesses a fatal flaw, it’s that it too often feels like a holdover from the many Korean productions we saw circa 2014, such as The Admiral: Roaring Currents and Tiger: An Old Hunter’s Tale, in which the Japanese villains are portrayed as extremely one-dimensional, desperately evil monsters, a characterization that is likely exacerbated here due to the World War II setting. As in those pictures, the Japanese characters are portrayed by Korean actors, and the only direction from Ryoo Seung-wan seems to be for them to play their parts as big and broad as possible. The movie also pulls no punches when addressing the Japanese military’s use of “comfort women” – while it mercifully stops short of depicting the practice onscreen, it is distressing how often the screenplay threatens the audience with something unspeakable happening to the very young Kim Soo-ahn. There’s even a (brief) flashback of Japanese soldiers rolling a Korean schoolgirl over a bed of nails that recalls the notorious nastiness of Men Behind the Sun.
Granted, I doubt most audiences are asking for a World War II movie that glosses over the atrocities of that time period, but offering up such a one dimensional and cartoony portrayal of the Japanese hardly seems to do right by the people who endured hardships on Hashima Island. Indeed, some of the survivors of the labor camp have spoken out against the film’s inaccuracies – as just one example, the Japanese are seen in the film burning the corpses of deceased workers en masse, when in reality Koreans were offered respectable burials. Fortunately, the fictional storyline is enlivened by the addition of Song Joong-ki as a capable Korean spy who infiltrates the mine in order to rescue Lee Kyoung-Young’s political leader. Despite his babyface looks, Song Joong-ki proves quite believable during his action sequences; there’s even one scene in which he takes down some soldiers with a detached bayonet that felt clearly inspired by the opening battle sequence of Donnie Yen’s Legend of the Fist: The Return of Chen Zhen. Events are soon set in motion that will see the forced laborers attempt a daring escape from the Island, which leads to the movie’s climactic setpiece (and perhaps its biggest flight of fantasy).
Even with a hefty runtime devoted to telling this story – and the Director’s Cut is reportedly even longer at 151 minutes – by the end it’s clear that Ryoo Seung-wan’s real interest in this tale lies in staging the miners’ heroic prison breakout, and it’s a grand finale worthy of any Steven Spielberg or Ridley Scott picture, complete with crane shots that soar over the battlefield and an emotive score. If Ryoo Seung-wan is hoping to cross the pond to Hollywood like his peers Kim Jee-woon and Chan-wook Park, he has no doubt delivered his calling card with the visually stunning Battleship Island. Fans of his leaner and meaner action flicks like The Unjustwill likely be entertained by the spectacle on display during the climax, but with such a simplistic depiction of the events surrounding Hashima Island, the movie too often feels like the most superficial retelling possible of what is, in actuality, a remarkable true story.
No, it’s not a remake of the 1976 Martin Scorsese classic Taxi Driver (nor is it a remake of the David Chiang film). This Taxi Driveris based on the true story of Korean taxi driver and his adventures with a German reporter during the violent Gwangju Uprising.
A Taxi Driver also stars Thomas Kretschmann, Yu Hae-Jin (Veteran) and Ryoo Joon-Yeol (No Tomorrow).
Director: Chan Tung-Man, Noda Yukio Cast: Sonny Chiba Shinichi, Luk Chuen, Shiomi Etsuko, Bolo Yeung Sze, Fong Yuen, Kong Chuen, Tadashi Yamashita, Lau Nga-Ying, Peter Chan Hoh-San, Krung Srivilai, Naowarat Yooktanun, Somjit Sapsamruey Running Time: 94 min.
By Paul Bramhall
At the risk of blacklisting myself from ever writing for an Asian cinema site again, I’ll admit I initially wasn’t very enamoured with Sonny Chiba. When I first got into Asian cinema in the late 90’s, I found myself developing an insatiable appetite for Hong Kong action and, without realizing it, I came to expect action from any corner of Asia to be on the same level. When, inevitably, I found myself watching The Street Fighter, its exploitative tone and raw karate style were met with indifference from my younger self. What was the deal with everyone digging this guy so much? Of course, in the preceding years I’ve come to appreciate The Streetfighter for the raucous slice of OTT exploitation greatness that it is, but let it be said – if the first Sonny Chiba movie I watched back then was Soul of Chiba, I would have been on the bandwagon straight away!
In 1977, allegedly tired of the Toei executives lack of understanding on how to make a proper karate movie, Chiba took matters into his own hands and hauled ship over to Thailand to produce a movie over there (and more importantly, do things his way). He brought several members of his Japan Action Club with him, including Etsuko Shihomi, and the director and star pairing of the Za Karate trilogy, Yukio Noda and Tadashi Yamashita (aka Bronson Lee). Throw in the likes of Bolo, and frequent Shaw Brothers player Luk Chuen, what you’re left with is 90 minutes of unadulterated, delirious entertainment.
Dispensing with such trivialities as a coherent plot and characters that make a lick of sense, Soul of Chiba chooses to go for broke from the word go, with a frequently laugh out loud nonsensical plot, some of the best action I’ve seen Chiba partake in, and randomness around every corner. The guilty parties at the helm are co-directors Yukio Noda and Chan Tung-man (the father of Peter Chan, director of Wu Xia, who also has a small role as a child that looks up to Chiba). Noda was a journeyman director in Japan, and would also direct Chiba again during the same year in Golgo 13: Assignment Kowloon. Tung-man on the other hand is more interesting, and seemed to specialise in Hong Kong or Taiwan co-productions with Thailand, with titles like Killer in the Dark and The Wolf Girl (sadly no relation to Chiba’s Wolf Guy) contributing to his short filmography of just 5 movies.
There are various angles one could take when considering how best to explain the plot, and after some deliberation, I’ve decided to go at it like this. There are essentially 3 main characters – Chiba, who we meet as a child when the movie opens just as his parents are murdered. Swearing to take revenge, he grows up under the tutelage of an old kung-fu master, however when the master is murdered by a traitorous student (Luk Chuen), he decides to hunt him down instead (seriously, his mission to avenge his parents is never mentioned again). There’s been some shady drug dealings going on involving the murdered teacher and student, so Yamashita turns up as an undercover cop (= a fake moustache) to get to the bottom of where the drugs are coming from.
Then you have Thai actor Krung Srivilai, whose unfinished Thai movies often turned up in cut and paste IFD ninja flicks, playing a black market diamond and drug dealer visiting from Hong Kong. Hilariously, Srivilai’s character is treated almost like a suave 007 style debonair, as he seduces Shaw Brothers sexpot Lau Nga-Ying (indulging in some From Here to Eternity beach frolics), and struts around with a confident swagger. Somewhere along the way, he kind of/sort of sees the error of his ways, as he comes to terms with his difficult upbringing (more on that later). This results in Yamashita teaming up with both Srivilai and Chiba at various points throughout, but for those wondering, there’s no need for concern as this is very much the Chiba show, despite him not always being front and center.
It would take forever to detail all of the wonderful bizarreness contained within Soul of Chiba’s duration, but my favorite moment was when Srivilai takes a bullet, so Yamashita sends him down the river to his family, who he promises will take care of him. While there he falls unconscious, constantly yelling “Mother! Mother!”, until he wakes up and it’s revealed that… Yamashita’s mother is also Srivilai’s mother! The mother then proceeds to ramble on for what feels like 5 minutes stating this fact, “This man is my son, yes, he really is my son…” It’s one of the strangest family reunions ever committed to celluloid, but is quickly topped by another scene of Chiba training his fists and feet in an insane flurry of motion, while electricity surges through his body via various electrodes connected to his limbs (and posterior, as the camera frequently reminds us).
As if turning yourself into a human car battery wasn’t enough, he also kills the pain by gulping down handfuls of cocaine. Yes, long before Beast Cops gave us Anthony Wong going into battle under a cocktail of booze and pills, Soul of Chiba has Sonny Chiba throwing down while fuelled on the white stuff. No wonder he’s forgotten about avenging his parents. Regardless of the moral ambiguity of it all, the fight scenes on display are of a stellar quality. The budget is obviously much lower than Chiba’s local Japan productions, but this was made up for by the fact he gave himself much longer to film than Toei would provide on native soil. From a confrontation against a group of Muay Thai fighting locals on a bridge, which has Chiba literally throw one of them like a ragdoll into the river below, to a face off against four fighters in the jungle, who are possessed by monkey magic.
This fight is a particular standout for a myriad of reasons. The fighters, played by members of the Japan Action Club, eschew the traditional monkey style kung fu, instead opting to utilise a more feral approach, that sees them attempting to bite Chiba to death. When Chiba decides to let loose, it’s a sight to see, in a wildly satisfying display of ferocity. Amusingly, one part of the fight has someone off-screen throwing real monkeys at Chiba, but I guess that’s Thai filmmaking for you. This fight also utilises the technique that was first seen in Karate Warriors, with the mix of slow motion and normal speed within the same shot (which in more recent times Isaac Florentine has become known for using), used to emphasise both the impacts and the choreography itself. While some say today the technique is overused, here it’s a perfect example of how it can enhance a fight.
Events eventually build up to Chiba and Yamashita closing in on Luk Chuen, Bolo, and the equivalent of a small army in the Thai jungle, for an extended finale that features more bullets missing people at point blank range than you can shake a stick at. After dispensing of wave after wave of hapless lackeys, the finale culminates in a showdown that pits Chiba versus a silver wigged Chuen, and Yamashita versus a trilby hat wearing Bolo. Seeing the karate style pitted against kung fu is perhaps Soul of Chiba’s biggest strength, as in a way it forces it to look more dynamic than how it’s usually portrayed, and both fights are a pleasure to watch. It’s likely a safe guess that both Chuen and Bolo contributed their own ideas to the choreography, especially considering Chuen choreographed The Damned from the same year, and Bolo also contributed to 10 Magnificent Killers.
There aren’t too many movies like Soul of Chiba out there. It feels like the wild exploitative nature of Japanese karate flicks collided head on with the energy of the Hong Kong kung-fu movie, crash landing in Thailand. Instead of going up in flames though, a strange kind of alchemy occurred and the end result somehow works, if not necessarily in all of the ways it intended. Throw in a random parasailing escape, grilled parrot for supper, lackeys being blow torched in the face, and a bow and arrow being made out of some string and a twig, the best way to describe Soul of Chiba is like a jolt of electricity to the posterior. You may want to pretend you didn’t enjoy it, but the reality is, it leaves you wanting more.
Note: The version being reviewed is the English dubbed release.
AKA: The Young Rebel Director: Seijun Suzuki Cast: Ken Yamauchi, Masako Izumi, Midori Tashiro, Chiharu Kuri, Emiko Azuma, Mieko Takamine Running Time: 95 min.
By Kelly Warner
The Taisho era, named after Emperor Taisho, was a period in Japan sandwiched between the rapid modernization of the Meiji period and the ultimate push to war of the Showa era. Director Seijun Suzuki was born in the final years of the Taisho period but that period of Japan seems to have meant something to the filmmaker. One of Suzuki’s most critically acclaimed works was the Taisho Trilogy of films (Zigeunerweisen, Kagero-za, and Yumeji), which used the period of change as a backdrop for some of the strangest stories of his career. The Taisho period is also the focus for one of his earlier and lesser-known films, The Incorrigible, which tells the story of a troubled youth who doesn’t fit in with his time or place.
The Incorrigible (also known as The Bastard) is based on the semi-autobiographical tale by author Toko Kon (Stolen Desire). The Toko stand-in is named Togo in the film and played by young Ken Yamauchi (Whistle in My Heart). Togo comes from an upper-class family in the city of Kobe. Togo’s a bit of an ass, shows little respect to his elders, and his antics get him kicked out of his private school. His mother is tired of him embarrassing the family, so she tricks him into joining her on a train ride and dumps him in some backwoods town at the house of a school headmaster. But Togo ain’t having it. He plans to raise all hell and force this new country bumpkin town to expel him, too, thus hopefully sending him back to the big city.
It’s difficult to like Togo in these early scenes. Maybe downright impossible. He’s an insufferable, spoiled brat who expects to get his way about everything. But when the world knocks him down a peg or two, he finally decides to make the most of his new home and become a (somewhat) respectable student. The audience’s appreciation for Togo grows as he settles down but still finds a way to remain true to himself. In this town of farmers, Togo’s interest in love, higher thinking, and art make him stand out like a sore thumb.
It’s not just the small town atmosphere that makes Togo stand out, it’s the culture of Japan at the time. The Taisho period was very conservative. You can sense the rising fascism of pre-WWII Japan. The school’s student-operated Public Morals Unit watches over all fellow students and harshly punishes those who it perceives to be in violation of the rules for good, upstanding Japanese youth. Of course Togo, with his love for foreign books, girls, and individualism, becomes the Public Morals Unit’s prime target. And though Togo never exactly rages against the system of Japan as a whole, his constant fights with the ultra-conservative Morals students makes him appear as a rebel against society.
The Suzuki film that The Incorrigible resembles most is the underrated Fighting Elegy, made just three years later. That film addressed the fascism and militarism in the student body even more directly than The Incorrigible, with an abundance of violence that made the movie more in tune for what Western audiences expect from Seijun Suzuki. The Incorrigible is more of a Barnes & Noble book club take on similar themes, as Togo struggles to find out what kind of man he is going to be while also falling for the girl of his dreams (Masako Izumi) in the last place he would’ve expected.
I have some issues with the editing of the film, which features some graceless cuts, but otherwise I can find very little fault with the movie as a whole. It’s smart, angry, and unusually literary for a Suzuki film. The director feels a tad restrained by the content of the film, as if he was trying to make a respectable youth drama and did not want his oddball tendencies to get in the way of that. There is one striking moment when it appears (?) as though the narrator himself reaches beyond the camera to open a book that’s been left on the floor. It’s a strange moment, but one I liked.
Ken Yamauchi delivers a fine performance as the incorrigible Togo. The actor is okay with letting the audience hate him and I appreciated that. It’s an interesting film in Suzuki’s filmography for all the strong women who make up the cast. While the men duke it out over their differences, it’s the women who set terms and command attention. I enjoyed Masako Izumi (Tattooed Life) as the girl who enters into a forbidden relationship with Togo. A moment of memory has Togo recall his first time with a woman, the geisha named Ponta (Chiharu Kuri). It’s a female student (Midori Tashiro) and her tough-as-nails mother (Emiko Azuma) who are among the only people to defend Togo from the Public Morals Unit. And of course it is Togo’s mother, played by Mieko Takamine (The Inugami Family), who first sets the entire story into motion by dumping her ungrateful son in the boonies.
One of the main things I will come away with after watching a helping of his ‘youth movies’ is that Seijun Suzuki was more of a chameleon as an artist than I’d originally thought. He really could make all kinds of movies, from the fierce to the sappy, from the dark to the joyous. The Incorrigible, like some of the best dramas, runs the gamut of emotions. But it remains true to its tone, and perhaps even more importantly, the film’s characters remain true to themselves. I may not always like Togo, but he’s a character worth remembering alongside some of Suzuki’s best anti-heroes.
Today’s Deal on Fire is the Blu-ray for Haofeng Xu’s highly-anticipated, award-winning martial arts film, The Master, re-titled as The Final Master(read our review) from Well Go USA Entertainment.
Xu made a name for himself by penning the screenplay for Wong Kar-Wai’s The Grandmaster. But it was 2011’s The Sword Identity, his directorial debut, which showed Xu’s true talent. Then came his acclaimed second film, 2012’s Judge Archer (aka Arrow Arbitration).
Xu’s trend in both films was presenting the martial arts in a less stylized and more realistic manner, perhaps not unlike the 2007 Japanese film Black Belt or David Mamet’s 2008 MA-themed Redbelt.
The Final Master stars Liao Fan (Black Coal, Thin Ice, Chinese Zodiac), Song Yang (The Sword Identity), Jia Song (On His Majesty’s Secret Service), Li Xia (The White Dragon), Huang Jue (Founding of the Party) and Chin Shih-Chieh (The Brotherhood of Blades).
Director: Jang Chang-Won Cast: Hyun-Bin, Yoo Ji-Tae, Bae Sung-Woo, Park Sung-Woong, Nana, An Se-Ha, Choi Duk-Moon, Choi Il-Hwa, Heo Sung-Tae, Kim Tae-Hoon, Jung Jin-Young Running Time: 117 min.
By Paul Bramhall
Coming just a year after Jo Eui-seok’s Master, The Swindlers leans on the same true life story of a CEO who defrauded victims out of their savings, thanks to an elaborate pyramid scheme. Unlike Master though, here the crime is used as a jumping off point, one which is used to frame a tale which feels more like a slice of The Thieves-lite. The events that Master takes a whole hour to cover are here breezed through in the first 10 minutes. The character that Lee Byung-hun played is switched to Heo Sung-tae, in a fleeting role which has him end up in Thailand rather than the Philippines, before a newscast reports that he’s believed to have died in a fire.
His escape from Korea is made possible by a master forger, in a welcome cameo by Jung Jin-young (Gangnam Blues), who provides him with a fake passport. However after making a late night exchange at a port, later on police find Jin-young hung in a nearby building, in what seems like an apparent suicide. What nobody counted on though was the fact that Jin-young’s son knew where his father was going, and doesn’t believe for a second that it was a suicide. Played by Hyun-bin, a swindler himself, he proceeds to spend the next 8 years attempting to get to the bottom of exactly what happened on the fateful night, which is where the story picks up from.
There can be no denying there’s a distinctive air of familiarity during the opening of The Swindlers. The scene of defrauded victims wailing on the floor of the office the scam was run out of could, at this point in Korean cinema, be stock footage. We’ve seen it countless time before in recent years, but the belief remains that nothing gets a Korean audience riled up more, than seeing those living on the breadline swindled out of whatever savings they have. It’s rather ironic then, that having established the devastating effect that these swindlers have on the innocent population, first time director Jang Chang-won then proceeds to make the characters we’re expected to relate to swindlers as well.
The Swindlers may be Chang-won’s directorial debut, notably also working from his own script, but he’s certainly not a stranger to directing. A protégé of Lee Joon-ik, the director behind the likes of The King and the Clown, Radio Star, and Battlefield Heroes, Chang-won frequently worked as assistant director on many of Joon-ik’s movies. However while Joon-ik’s productions are well known for their strong characters, in his debut Chang-won crafts a story which is frequently at odds with the audiences need to relate to the characters in it. This is mainly due to the fact that The Swindlers relies on a series of reveals which serve the purpose of showing a characters true intentions, but as a result, onscreen it translates to never really knowing exactly who it is we should be rooting for.
This issue is confounded further by the fact it’s never 100% clear exactly who the main character is. Sure, on paper it should be Hyun Bin, as the son seeking revenge for whoever was behind his father’s death, but as a swindler himself, often his actions and motivations are kept in the dark, to allow for a plot point to make sense later on. As a headlining follow-up to his confident co-starring turn in the previous years Confidential Assignment, The Swindlers falls short of convincing he can do more than strut around with a variety of different haircuts. Depending on which way you look at it, this may not necessarily be such a bad thing, as it means that, intentionally or not, the lion’s share of screentime goes to Yoo Ji-tae, as a prosecutor who wants to get his hands of Sung-tae.
Ji-tae hasn’t had a strong presence on the big screen in recent years, however in the late 90’s through to mid-00’s he was one of the most recognizable faces in Korean cinema. In 2003 alone he played Choi Min-sik’s captor in OldBoy, as well as taking the lead in the horror Into the Mirror, and sci-fi Natural City. His prosecutor character is one that will do anything to catch his target, and as such he’s been leveraging the services of a trio of swindlers, that he hopes will help secure him a promotion. The trio are played by the always reliable Bae Sung-woo (Office), Ahn Se-ha (One Line), and K-pop star Nana (who acted alongside Ji-tae in the K-drama The Good Wife). These guys even operate out of their own base, masterminding jewellery heists to pickpocketing, and when it’s revealed Sung-tae is back in Korea, they team up with Ji-tae and Bin to take him down.
Unfortunately nobody seems to have told Ji-tae he’ll be onscreen the most out of everyone, essentially becoming the proxy main character, and I have a feeling not even Chang-won realised that the final product would end up that way. As a result, many of his scenes are treated as if he’s a supporting character, playing out unremarkably with no sense of gravitas in relation to what’s actually at stake. When we witness exactly how far he’s willing to go in order to get promoted, it also becomes clear he’s not the most trustworthy character, an inescapable irony considering he plays a prosecutor working in the midst of swindlers and thieves.
The lack of focus on one central character could well be argued to be a side effect of cramming so many in. Sung-woo, Se-ha, and Nana as the trio of swindlers also get their moments in the spotlight, although as the only female in the story, it’s unfortunate that Nana’s role doesn’t go beyond looking sexy (which she admittedly does well). It’s also easy to speculate that a lot of footage likely ended up on the cutting room floor. We know Bin went to Thailand to hunt down Sung-tae, and it’s apparent that Chang-won and co. took a trip there to shoot on location, but the total time spent in Thailand onscreen amounts to about 30 seconds. Most likely a lot more was shot, but was considered superfluous once it went to the editing room. This would also explain the feeling of Bin’s reduced screentime.
The Swindlers does come with a couple of bright spots from its supporting cast. Choi Deok-moon (Assassination) plays a bumbling real estate conman, the type of which had it been a higher budgeted production, would no doubt have been played by Oh Dal-soo. His energetic performance brings the breezy caper like atmosphere Chang-won appears to have been aiming for with the rest of the production, but fails to realise for the most part. Likewise for Park Sung-woong (reuniting with Bae Sung-woo from Office), who plays an acquaintance of Sung-tae that visits from China to strike a business deal, and is lulled into falling for Nana’s charms. His smooth business man may see him on auto-pilot, but he does what he can with what little the role has to offer.
Ultimately The Swindlers finally comes off the rails in its final third, as Chang-won goes for a twist heavy conclusion that quickly begins to feel tiresome. At best his ambitions are admirable, however at worst some of the revelations are just plain illogical, and result in some severe head scratching (in particular, the introductory scene of the trio of swindlers makes no sense after one particular revelation). For all of Bin’s vengeful spouting of how he’s going to kill his father’s killer as soon as the opportunity arises, The Swindlers decides to bow out with a remarkably safe and uneventful finale. One of the criticisms I held against Master was how the finale attempts to turn it into an action movie, but if the alternative is what goes down here, then in retrospect I’m fully behind the sudden decision to go guns blazing.
With a closing scene that strongly hints at a sequel, one would hope that if a follow-up does somehow get made, it goes the Wolf Warrior route and blows its first instalment out of the water. As it stands though, while Chang-won’s first time going solo appears to have all the right ingredients for a rollicking adventure, the fact is they only come out half-baked, and don’t really go well together. In the end, just like the victims have been swindled out of their money, as an audience if feels like we’re swindled out of our time.
Director: Takahide Hori Writer: Takahide Hori Animator: Takahide Hori Running Time: 115 min.
By Martin Sandison
Dystopian Science Fiction has a prerequisite to be po-facedly serious in tone and downright depressing at times (see genre stalwarts Blade Runner and Brazil), and it’s about time a movie came along that alters this. Enter Takahide Hori’s Junk Head, a one-man show labour of love that manages to be an endlessly inventive, hilarious entrant in the genre that is refreshingly silly and purely entertaining. Hori has virtually every creative credit on the film, due to the fact it is a stop-motion animation; without doubt one of the best I have ever seen in this style. Sure, the narrative is an extension of a short Hori made in 2014, so it doesn’t hold up very well, but every other aspect of the film is so strong that this is an afterthought.
In the distant future, the human race can extend its lifespan, but at the cost of losing the ability to procreate. The creation of clones to boost the workforce has gone wrong, creating monsters and various other unsavoury creatures. They have rebelled, forcing their creators to banish them to the lower levels of the huge structures where the humans live. A single human is sent to these to find genetic material that will save the race. The film follows this human, in various forms, as he tries to fulfil this mission; encountering many different characters and situations along the way.
The characters, animation and set design are constantly imaginative. Characters range from myriad types of robots, some with human parts, to really creepy-looking monsters. The most interesting, in visual terms, are the females, who are huge and ripped, clad in red, with huge breasts. The various doctors and scientists play like Doctor Who crossed with Hellraiser. Sets such as the endless corridors of the first section of the movie, the lift from level to level and the gas compressor chamber are magnificently created, and take the breath away.
Interestingly, there are a few different languages used in Junk Head, all of them made up, but one sounding like Japanese. There is a Cronenberg/Lynch feel to the film, with body horror elements and surrealistic passages, such as the different forms the monsters morph in to. The cyperpunk genre is also in there, in aesthetic especially, with references to the Japanese style of this genre with movies like Shinya Tsukamoto’s unmatched Tetsuo. These come across especially in the chase scenes, with skewed angles and industrial music. The end action scene contains some nods to the likes of John Woo and Hong Kong action cinema, and is put together with so much love you can’t help but sit back and soak it in.
The movie has its tongue firmly lodged in its cheek. In fact it is one of the most amusing I have seen in the cinema in the past year or so. I was in stitches at the antics of our hero and the strange creatures that either help or hinder him. On reflection, the approach to humour reminded me of Nick Park’s work; especially his short The Wrong Trousers. While Park and his heroes Wallace and Gromit are fixed firmly in the British humour tradition, Hori appropriates this but transplants it in to a dystopian world, and does away with cultural specificity. I would bet that most of anyone (adults only) would find the laughs in Junk Head amusing, as they are so universal. This is also bolstered by a real feel for good characters, not just in design but construction. The first creatures to help our hero are so loveable, hilarious and deep that you can’t help feeling for them, especially in the climactic scene. The juxtaposition of this with lashings of gore and creepiness means the movie isn’t for everyone, but for those who love all of these aspects put together, you’re in for a treat.
The narrative plays as a series of vignettes, and the biggest fault with Junk Head is that it never really gels. Our hero goes from situation to situation, each one seemingly unrelated to the last. Those who prize narrative logic and meaningful payoffs will be disappointed; I, meanwhile, am not one of those types, so I loved the film. There is so much to rediscover in the invention of its construction that I can’t wait to see it again.
Martin Sandison’s Rating: 8.5/10
Watch the Trailer for the feature film below, followed by the 2014 original short for Junk Head 1:
Director: Jonathan Li Producer: Soi Cheang Pou Cast: Max Zhang Jin, Shawn Yu Man-Lok, Gordon Lam Ka-Tung, Janice Man Wing-San, Wu Yue, Yasuaki Kurata, Tai Bo, Cecilia So, Derek Tsang, Kumer So Running Time: 100 min.
ByPaul Bramhall
Martial artist Max Zhang may have been showing off his stuff since the early 00’s, however it’s only in recent years that he registered on the radar of many kung fu cinema fans. With scene stealing supporting turns as the villain of SPL II: A Time for Consequences in 2015, and the conflicted antihero of Ip Man 3 from the same year, it was only a matter of time before he was given leading man status. That time is upon us, with 2018 promising a barrage of Zhang goodness in the form of the Yuen Woo Ping helmed Ip Man spin-off Master Z: Ip Man Legacy, and Fruit Chan’s The Invincible Dragon, in which he’ll fight alongside UFC legend Anderson Silva.
Before either of those though, The Brink is first out the gates, giving Zhang his first legitimate starring role. Thrusting martial artists who are used to shining in supporting roles into leading star status is always a risky business, with the pressure of carrying a whole movie on your shoulders being considerable. Xing Yu failed miserably in 2013’s The Wrath of Vajra, displaying all the screen presence of a wet leaf, while Philip Ng’s ropey acting often made 2014’s Once Upon a Time in Shanghai a cringe inducing experience. As much as I tremendously enjoyed watching Zhang lay the beatdown on the likes of Wu Jing, Tony Jaa, and Donnie Yen, I kept my expectations firmly in check for his turn as a good guy in director Jonathan Li’s debut.
While The Brink may be Li’s debut, he’s certainly no stranger to the art, having worked as assistant director on several of Andrew Lau (Daisy), Soi Cheang (Dog Bite Dog), and Derek Kwok’s (Full Strike) productions over the last 15 years. Here Soi Cheang is on-board as producer, and likely provided a guiding hand. It’s a big relief then, that the combination of debut director and first time leading man proves to be a winning one. Zhang plays the angry cop with an attitude that Donnie Yen had all to himself through most of the 00’s, strutting around wearing shirts that look like they’re made out of curtains from the 1970’s, and beating the living daylights out of any criminal in his path. Even before the first scene is over, which has him rampaging through a dilapidated Hong Kong apartment full of junkies, it becomes pretty clear – this guy has it.
In terms of plot, The Brink feels a lot like an updated version of the 1979 Ho Chung Tao actioner The Gold Connection. Shawn Yue plays a Sea Goddess worshipping, pocket harpoon wielding skipper of a ramshackle ship, one being utilised by a smuggling operation to transport a stash of unmarked gold into Hong Kong, currently residing at the bottom of the sea. Yue is a relatively small fry on the ladder, answering to both the captain (played by a grizzled Tai Bo) and his son, who work for a Japanese gangster, played by the legendary Yasuaki Kurata (clocking in his 4th movie of 2017). However Yue has grander ambitions, and when he finds himself double crossed by his employers, he wages a warpath to seize the gold for himself.
On the right side of the law, Zhang gets pulled into Yue’s scheming when his partner, played by Wu Yue (the highlight of Paradox), is kidnapped by the smugglers and held for ransom. It’s a simple setup, but the setting of The Brink makes it stand out in a way that few Hong Kong movies of late have been able to achieve. Eschewing the usual HK Central locations and Kowloon backstreets, much of The Brink unfolds alongside the territories waterways, be it in bustling wet markets, or the moored boats docked in Aberdeen Harbour. The maritime feel provides The Brink with a unique atmosphere, with small touches, like the worship of the Sea Goddess, adding a layer of depth seen all too rarely in today’s Mainland-friendly filmmaking climate.
Zhang is given plenty of opportunities to let loose on the action front, and for the first third seems to spend almost every other scene he’s in running after the bad guys. A chase across the various moored boats will likely bring to mind a similar scene with Jackie Chan in The Protector, and the initial confrontation with Yue and his gang allows for both Zhang and Wu Yue to show off their action chops, fending off knife wielding attackers from all angles. The choreography is handled by Nicky Li, who is known for his fondness of wires, however here (as in Extraordinary Mission from the same year) he keeps them largely in check, keeping it grounded and efficient. It’s refreshing to witness this side of Li’s action directing, which I like to think we’re seeing since Wu Jing never called him back to choreograph Wolf Warrior 2, so perhaps he decided he needs to up his game.
One of the biggest pluses of The Brink is Yue’s character, tattooed and a man of few words, he recalls the more complex villains of Hong Kong’s yesteryear, even if his actual motives don’t stretch far beyond striking it rich. Yue himself is a distinctly Hong Kong actor, and has proven he’s more than capable of performing action several times before, with roles in the likes of Dragon Tiger Gate, Invisible Target, and Reign of Assassins. He’s joined here by what feels like one of a few remaining Hong Kong actresses in Janice Man, whose relationship to Yue is ambiguous, but they clearly have a history. Minor scenes like when he enlists the services of a prostitute, while Man cooks outside, do their part to provide a level of characterisation to the often overlooked villain character.
However Yue’s sadistic streak comes to the fore when he’s backed into the corner, and his unwillingness to let go of the gold is what ultimately sets him on a collision course with Zhang. Li doesn’t shy away from getting down and dirty in The Brink, with Yue at one point demanding one character gut another (which allows for some Chang Cheh style red filter usage), and in another he literally rubs salt, whole handfuls of it, into another characters open wound. All of this of course provides Zhang all the more reason to take him down, and events eventually build up to a confrontation on the boat in the middle of a fierce typhoon, as Yue tries to retrieve the gold in conditions he knows nobody else would dare sail into.
It’s a fantastic finale, with the two going at it in treacherous conditions which see them frequently thrown over by torrents of gushing water, and a boat which is being lurched around like a toy. From a technical standpoint, if two people were attempting to kill each other while on a boat in the middle of a typhoon, this is probably exactly what it would look like. Ok, so make that two people that know kung fu. Kudos is well deserved to all involved for pulling off such a scene while being completely saturated. Similarly, The Brink throws in a thrilling underwater action sequence which I believe may be a first for a Hong Kong movie, as Zhang and his superior (played by a scraggly haired Gordon Lam) tussle with Yue and his gang while they attempt to intercept the gold.
Being a directorial debut, it’s not all calm waters for Li. There’s a completely throw-away sub-plot involving Zhang being the legal guardian to the daughter of a criminal he may or may not have accidentally killed, which feels like filler. Especially when she reveals she’s pregnant, and Zhang doesn’t even both to ask her who the father is (I guess that would have stretched the scene out too long). Other details are so delightfully random they draw unintentional laughs, such as when Zhang avoids being charged for the death of the same criminal, after spending a few months in prison he comes out with dyed yellow hair. I guess he must have signed up to a hairdressing course while he was inside. Thankfully it wasn’t a vocation he chose to pursue.
These are small gripes though, and overall The Brink ticks all the boxes when it comes to being an exciting thriller with a healthy dose of action. Perhaps most significantly, for fans of Hong Kong cinema, it signals that we don’t just have Max Zhang’s upcoming movies to look forward to, but also that there’s a new director in town to keep an eye on. For every person that declares the Hong Kong action movie is dead, it’s good to know that movies like The Brink still come along to remind us there’s life in it yet.
According to Variety, Along with the Gods: The Two Worlds sees the story of a firefighter who is taken to the afterlife by three guardians. He has to complete seven trials before he can be reincarnated.
It’s the age of the comic book movie in Hollywood. And though you can argue that there is an oversaturation of such films at the theatres, I don’t really think there’s much debate that the filmmakers have gotten better at making these movies. Likewise, Japan is going through a bit of a manga adaptation period. The cause for both film trends is partly that special effects have caught up with comic book storytelling, but perhaps mostly because a comic/manga adaptation is a reliably easy sell for a shrinking theatre audience. If I am allowed to follow this line of thought further and make another comparison, then I would say that Gintama may be the Japanese equivalent of Deadpool, not because of any similar themes or visuals, but for its shared interest in genre self-deprecation, meta humor, and fourth wall-shattering antics.
I’m not oblivious to anime and have enjoyed a handful of good shows and movies over the years. But Gintama, which was a manga before becoming a long-running anime series in 2005, completely slipped past my radar. When I sat down to watch and review the live-action adaptation, I did so with only the most basic understanding of what I was getting myself into (honestly, I just read that it had samurai in it and said, Sure, I’ll watch that). Um, it quickly became apparent that Gintama is… kind of weird. And though it tries to make itself relatable to new audiences (there’s even a moment where the characters note that longtime fans will undoubtedly have complaints so appealing to general audiences is a must), it’s not the easiest nut to crack.
We get a rundown of the Gintama universe’s history before jumping into the plot. Aliens came to Japan during the samurai period when Tokyo was still known as Edo, forever changing the country and making it a bizarre mix of tradition and modern tech at a rapid pace. There was a resistance to the alien invaders (known as Sky People), but the aliens proved victorious and formed an allegiance with the Edo government, forcing freedom fighters to work in the shadows. Now aliens walk the streets amongst us. Jaguar people. Fish people. Weirdo horned people. The aliens are treated as an elevated social class. And it’s here that I thought maybe Gintama was a sci-fi take on the post-war American occupation, with the huge leaps in tech and culture a thinly veiled look at the nation’s westernization. But that thought quickly vanished when the heroes go on a beetle hunt, encounter the 90% naked police chief covered in honey, an expressionless alien bird thing named Elizabeth who talks by holding up signs, and a cigarette smoking guy slathering mayonnaise onto trees. Uh, okay. You have my attention, Gintama.
The movie begins by throwing everything at the viewer that they can handle and then some. Then it restarts itself. There’s a moment when irritating little cartoon representations of the stars stop the movie, give us a brief rundown of ‘it’s a long story,’ and then joke about Warner Bros. lawyers before the WB logo shows up for the second time and the movie begins anew. It’s… something else. It’s also the moment when I think some viewers may decide they’ve seen enough and check out. This would be a shame, as the movie does settle down (just a bit) after the scattershot opening and a crowded first act.
It’s not all fun and games in Gintama. There’s a serial killer stalking the streets with a robotic sword that’s like something out of Soul Calibur. After the killer, who is known as Nizo the Butcher (Hirofumi Arai, Blood & Bones), strikes down a hero resistance fighter on the streets, it’s up to a group of friends who specialize in heroic odd jobs to track down the killer and bring him to justice. Among them is the white-haired rogue Gintoki (Shun Oguri, Lupin the 3rd), the blue-eyed alien girl with an addiction to ramen, Kagura (Kanna Hashimoto, I Wish), and the shy wannabe tough guy Shimura (Masaki Suda, Assassination Classroom). Their investigation leads them to a ship in the harbor and a group of extremists who plot to attack the city and overthrow the government.
The plot, once it gets going, is actually fairly well constructed. There’s a good deal of drama and action to accompany all the very Japanese comedy. A final showdown between Nizo, who becomes more and more like a Testsuo: The Iron Man monster as the film goes along, and the wounded Gintoki is over the top but not totally unfamiliar to fans of samurai action cinema. And the ensemble cast, which includes that alien bird thing named Elizabeth (played by Takayuki Yamada, of all people), give the audience some memorable scenes as conflicts come to a head.
It’s the comedy that won me over, however. There are many in-jokes for fans of the series and fans of popular anime that went right over my head (one gag with a Miyazaki character gave me a laugh, though), but it’s done with such madcap energy that you just gotta hold on and go with it. There’s physical comedy, sight gags, and no shortage of good lines. The actors are so into it. In addition to the main cast, supporting actors like Kankuro Nakamura, Ken Yasuda, and Masami Nagasawa all put in great work. But it’s Kanna Hashimoto and Jiro Sato who are the MVPs of the cast, each putting on comedic master classes that delighted me to no end.
Some of the comedy doesn’t work quite as well. In anime, there are a few frequent sight gags that you’ll see in almost every mainstream show; the bloody nose in a moment of embarrassment or in the company of hotness, the shock falls where one or many people hit the floor in an instant, and the slow-mo punch in the face for comedic effect. When these appear in animation, I accept them, because I feel the medium supports them. But they’re beginning to appear in live-action with groan-inducing results. Gintama uses the slow-mo punch gag a lot. Too much. And I tired of it long before the end.
Gintama is something like the halfway point in Japanese cinema where mainstream comic book entertainment meets WTF comedy. Writer/director Yuichi Fukuda made his name by crafting some of the weirdest comedies of the past decade or more, most notably the Hentai Kamen: Forbidden Super Hero films which feature a chiseled young man wearing fishnet stockings, a string bikini, and a pair of panties for a mask. Gintama is more mainstream and less pervy than those films, but still perhaps too strange an introduction for Japan’s peculiar brand of comedy.
I find Gintama a difficult film to rate as well as a difficult film to offer a general recommendation for. I liked it. But I also didn’t totally get it. Bigger fans of anime than myself will get a whole lot more out of it, as the film was clearly made with them in mind. (Fans of Gintama, I have no idea how you’ll feel. Maybe it’s a masterful adaptation, maybe it’s a bastardization. You be the judge.) All I know is that I had fun. It’s big, dumb, and strange. I just read that Gintama Part 2 is supposed to be on its way later this year and I am excited about the prospect of revisiting this anything-goes world of samurai, idiots, and aliens.
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