The Black Godfather (1974)

Bury any thoughts of Francis Ford Coppola's films before dipping into this enjoyable but minor effort anchored by a strong lead performance from Rod Perry (S.W.A.T.). The Black Godfather is a fairly average blaxploitation production with some strong acting and a fun synth score rescuing it from total mediocrity. While the efforts at making this a "message" film are admirable, the heavy handed moralizing becomes a bit difficult to swallow by the film's end.

Perry stars as J.J., a small time thief rescued by local crime boss Nate Williams (blues musician Jimmy Witherspoon) after a robbery goes wrong. Soon (as in, after the opening credits) J.J. is the Black Godfather, though we don't actually see him commit any crimes. Instead, ol' Nate tries to run all of the heroin dealers out of town, as well as the white mobsters who put them there. Tony Burton (Don Chastain, hamming it up), doesn't take kindly to being leaned on, and soon he's all up in JJ's area. Will is all come down to a gunfight in a hospital basement? You bet it will.

I do have to give director John Evans credit for trying something a little different, and a little less exploitive, with his film. While the message of black solidarity and freedom from white oppression is conveyed through lots of talky dialogue scenes, at least the message comes through clearly and is made palatable through some occasionally sharp writing and charismatic performances. It's never subtle, but it's also rarely boring.

But more of the credit has to go to Rod Perry who shows off his chops and makes an appealing lead, even if you have to wonder when he gets a chance to commit actual crimes between personal crusades. As his mentor Jimmy Witherspoon won't be winning any awards, but his presence brings gravitas to the role. Better is Tony Burton (Apollo Creed's trainer in the Rocky films) who is a lot of fun as Nate's surly bodyguard. Don Chastain is required to be white and a douchebag, and does both very well.

As with most 70s blaxploitation films, this one comes equipped with a hip soul music soundtrack. The original songs by Martin Yarborough are a bit cheeseball, but the synth & bongos score goes over well and brings a little fun to what is an often humorless production. Though, there's plenty of humor to be found in the decor and clothing choices. Expect lots of frills and plaid.

Once again taken from the Millcreek 50 Kung-Fu Film collection, the fullscreen image is dark and murky. Thankfully, most of the film takes place during the day, though the night scenes - particularly a climactic airplane explosion - are a little hard to make out. The film appears to have been transferred from a VHS source, with occasional tracking lines. Audio is equally shaky, but dialogue isn't hard to make out.

Thanks to some strong performances The Black Godfather mostly overcomes a slow pace and preachy script. It's light on action, but worth the time for fans of blaxploitation and "take back the street" pictures.

Lie Tou (aka The Headhunter) (1982)

Not one of Chow Yun-Fat's proudest moments, Lie Tou (aka The Headhunter/The Long Goodbye) is a fairly average Hong Kong action thriller which is sunk by some atrocious dubbing and a talky, confusing script. Patient viewers (and fans of Chow's future work with John Woo and Ringo Lam) will enjoy the occasional fun action scene, but there's little here to hint at the superstar that Yun-Fat would become in the following decades.

Chow stars as Nguyen (or, in the English dub.. Andy!), a former soldier and Vietnam immigrant now living in Hong Kong as a film special effects technician - and part time assassin! Nguyen is, as usual, a killer with a conscience and is haunted by his experiences in the war, wishing only to pay for his family to join him so he can stop the killing. After falling for a beautiful TV reporter (Rosamund Kwan), the two discover that the film company that Nguyen works for has been manufacturing chemical weapons for the US. Eventually, Nguyen's past comes back to haunt him (in the form of Kim Tai-Yung, a fellow soldier out to murder him for abandoning him during the war), and someone eventually gets their head chopped off. Who will it be? You'll have to tune in!

Is the Headhunter a meditation on the long term effects of those traumatized by the Vietnam war? Or, is it simply a reaction to the dozens of "Vietnam Vet goes apeshit" movies coming out in the early 80s? While there are hints of a higher purpose, we're a long way from Taxi Driver and the story being told simply doesn't feel significant. The actors generally aquit themselves admirably, particularly Philip Chan as the unhinged Kim Tai-yung, but the dubbing negates most of the famous charisma that Yun-Fat brings to the table, and the reporter sub-plot is predictable. They even pull out the old gag of the reporter looking to make the big reveal to the police, only to find her evidence suspiciously missing.

It's in the unfortunately rare action scenes things do spring to life a bit, particularly during a string of assassinations early in the film. There are a few moments of actual martial arts action as well, though these are fleeting and sometimes hard to make out because of the dark photography. Director Shing Hon Lau shows some talent for building tension during these scenes, but generally his style is flat and uninvolving.

Part of the Millcreek 50 Martial Arts movie pack, The Headhunter is surprisingly presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, and appears to be uncut. There are various cuts of the film floating around - the one retitled The Long Goodbye is significantly shorter - but thankfully this version is complete. Despite that good news, the image quality is a mess with washed out color, grain, and the image sometimes being so dark to be almost unwatchable. The score seems to be patched together from library music, which actually is enjoyable when you recognize the music from other sources. Cult movie fans will definitely recognize a piece from the original Dawn of the Dead.

While likely dull even in subtitled form, the dubbing here is appalling, making the long scenes of dialogue embarrasing. This is particularly crippling later in the film when (thanks to some not-so-shocking deaths) the film takes a turn for the melodramatic.

What might have been a solid entry in the slate of Vietnam themed exploitation films in the early 80s, The Headhunter is sunk by an unfortunate focus on the love story which takes focus away from the more enjoyable exploitation elements. These faults are compounded by the weak dub-job and unfortunate image quality. Unless you're a rabid Chow Yun-Fat fan this film and presentation simply isn't worth your time.

Ran (1985)

Kurosawa. As directors go there are few that receive more reverence. And rightly so, with a cabal of films that defined action cinema for decades, including such classics as Rashomon, The Seven Samurai and Yojimbo. Incredibly prolific throughout the 50s and 60s, in the twilight of his career Kurosawa sadly had more difficulty finding financing for his projects. Always a perfectionist, the director was more and more unwilling to compromise his epic vision, which meant that his film Ran was in development for a decade before it was finally brought to the screen. Dealing with failing health (and eyesight) and the untimely death of his wife, the director still managed to create a beautiful and heartfelt Shakespeare adaptation which touched on some of his favorite subjects - honor, loyalty and revenge.

The plot follows King Lear rather faithfully in parts, while diverging in some key details. After a rattling dream, Lord Hidetora decides to bestow his kingdom to his three sons - Taro, Jiro and Saburo. While Taro and Jiro accept their new positions with glee, Saburo warns his father that the unity of their family will not remain strong. Angered, Hidetora banishes Saburo. Soon, Saburo's predictions come to pass, as Hidetora is abandoned by his sons who eventually even try to murder him and his men when they take refuge in the kingdom's third castle. Stripped of his family and title, Hidetora is brought to the brink of madness as his keepers try and find Saburo to help regain the family throne.

Kurosawa was no stranger to Shakespeare and Shakespearean themes going into the production of Ran, having translated both Macbeth (Throne of Blood) and Hamlet (The Bad Sleep Well) previously. Transplanting these works into Feudal Japan wasn't particularly unique, especially considering Kurosawa's own work The Seven Samurai was adapted into The Magnificent Seven, proving that these stories were strong enough to endure many levels of interpretation. However, despite the Elizabethan origins, Ran feels entirely like Kurosawa working at his peak. Huge battle scenes, breath-taking photography, and an attention to detail that borders on obsessive.

The film's centerpiece (literally) is the attack and burning of the Third Castle which required the construction of an actual building on the slopes of Mount Fuji. The fire raining down on Hidetora as he descends the steps is all very real, and Kurosawa directs the scene with a master's touch. Even in the age where computer effects make even the most fantastical things possible, it doesn't take knowing what you're seeing is real to be impressed.

This scope of action carries onto the battle scenes, where Kurosawa makes his 1400 extras look like ten times that many. The colorful costumes mark each soldier's designation, making things much easier to follow when the soldiers begin to clash. And Kurosawa doesn't shy from the horrors of war, with the bloodshed being both graphic and plentiful. He leaves his most strikingly violent image, however, for a memorable decapitation scene near the end of the film.

Part of what makes Ran so rewarding to watch is the level of character development afforded to secondary characters. Lady Kaede (played with sometimes shocking passion by Mieko Harada) is not merely playing a variation on Lady Macbeth, but is also setting her own plans of revenge into motion. Kyoami is not just a jester, but also comments on the action while showing frustration at his station and having to care for Hidetora out of loyalty. He also brings such much needed comic relief to material that sometimes edges towards melodrama. But it's Tatsuya Nakadai as Lord Hidetora who is really the star here, bringing an otherworldly quality to the anguish his character through reflected by the dramatic (and intentionally obvious) make-up changes his character goes through. While some have pondered what Toshiro Mifune may have brought to the role, Nakadai pours himself totally into the performance and he's excellent here. It's difficult to not see Kurosawa himself reflected in the character of Hidetora, abandoned by his children and being haunted by the actions of his past.

I viewed the Masterworks Edition of Ran released by Fox Lorder after some negative response to their initial DVD of the film. I should mention that there has also been a Criterion release of Ran that would likely be the definitive release up to this point. Video quality is good, preserving the carefully constructed 1:85 ratio compositions (though the image appears slightly cropped and sometimes soft) and containing a great deal of detail. There is a short feature on the DVD dealing with the restoration of the image, comparing it to previous versions, and the difference is dramatic. The soundtrack by Tôru Takemitsu is outstanding, forgoing the bombast of usual epic soundtracks for a more contemplative and eerie score.

The DVD includes the film's trailer, but the real treat is a pair of commentaries, each focusing on a different aspect of production. The first by Stephen Prince is a real treat, exploring the thematic concerns of the film, the similarities and differences from King Lear, and other fascinating (though, often rather scholarly) points. It remains screen specific, and packs an incredible amount of information into the running time. The second commentary is by Peter Grilli who gives a much more anecdotal commentary, speaking about his experiences with Kurosawa and being on the set of Ran during filming. While plagued by long gaps, and rarely referring to what is actually occurring onscreen, it remains a terrific counterpoint to Prince's commentary. We also get a couple of trailers and the restoration video.

Akira Kurosawa's final masterpiece, Ran is a beautiful film which ended up benefitting greatly from its extended development time. Despite the epic 160 minute run time, there is hardly a wasted frame or line of dialogue in the film and when the battle begins to rage in the final half hour, the groundwork has been adequately laid for the tragic and dramatic ending.

Cemetery Man (Dellamorte Dellamore) (1994)

Here’s what movie fans need to know about Cemetery Man: the director, Michele Soavi, was the assistant director to both Italian giallo-Master Dario Argento and Monty Python alumni-turned-auteur Terry Gilliam, and Cemetery Man sort of looks like a film designed for the former and filmed by the latter. And that alone makes it terribly interesting.

For anyone to whom those names mean nothing, this is what Cemetery Man is about: Francesco Dellamorte (Rupert Everett) is the caretaker of an Italian cemetery, a position which would be fairly simple for him if it weren’t for the fact that the dead have a tendency of coming back, newly endowed with a taste for human flesh. And so it is Dellamorte’s job to kill them by breaking their skulls. Dellamorte lives in the cemetery with his Igor-like assistant, Gnaghi, and ensures that these “returners” rest eternally.


The odd thing is, the zombie storyline only goes so far, and then seems to sputter out about half or three quarters of the way through. Instead, the film focuses on Dellamorte’s fixation on (and connection to) “She,” a woman played by the gorgeous (and often topless) Anna Falchi. “She” enters Dellamorte’s life again and again, in at least three incarnations: first, as a sexy widow, then as various girls he encounters, and even as some sort of uber-zombie.

So, is she a doppelganger? Or is her recurring appearance merely an affect of Dellamorte’s obsessed mind? I, for one, couldn’t tell you. I can tell you, however, that the whole thing drives Dellamorte mad, and he ends up causing more chaos than any of the zombies ever did. Meanwhile, Gnaghi seems to be having more luck with the ladies. He cuts off the head of the mayor’s (recently deceased) daughter and stashes it in his broken TV set, and soon the two are a happy couple (her brain not being destroyed, she is free to live on, and even take a few bites at Dellamorte in the process).


Soavi certainly learned a few things from working with his quirky masters, and it isn’t hard to see a bit of Gilliam in some of his better-composed shots. This is what a Terry Gilliam horror movie would look like--and what The Brother’s Grimm (which Soavi also worked on) probably should have been. In fact, the main reason you should watch this film is for its stunning visuals, which you often don't expect in a horror film.


It must be said, though, that some of the special effects are fairly transparent (though they’re all conventional effects, which is something I appreciate). Especially bad is a scene in the cemetery with floating balls of blue flame … each of which are visibly tied to strings which lead them around. However, the viewer should be quick to forgive this--it’s so obvious that if the shot had worked it would have been beautiful.

One of the biggest detractors to Cemetery Man is the film’s overly enthusiastic fans, who have been known to speak of the film as though it were less a horror-comedy and more a philosophical treatise on love and mortality. And it isn’t--not unless you think the same thing about Bazooka Joe cartoons, at any rate. But it doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be deep and intellectually stimulating. It just has to be a fun movie. Which it is. So stop thinking so hard and see it.

Pontypool (2009)

Canada is not a country known for its filmmakers, and so it’s with a small amount of pride that I declare two of my favourite working directors to be Canadian. The first, David Cronenberg, is internationally renowned, so he hardly needs any extra word of mouth. The second, Bruce McDonald, is certainly less well-known. Cronenberg wears his influences on his sleeve; the effect of Marshall McLuhan and Philip K. Dick is relatively clear, especially on his earlier work, and the fact that he’s translated Burroughs to the screen gives some indication of his interests. However--and though taking a different tact--McDonald seems to have similar interests, and in his last few films has similarly tried to get across the idea that “the medium is the message.” This is evident in his use of the documentary form in Hard Core Logo and his deconstruction of the image (and linear time) in The Tracey Fragments. Now, in Pontypool, McDonald turns his focus to language itself. And he does so with zombies. Bravo.


OK, so perhaps that might give the indication that McDonald is an overly cerebral director. He isn’t (at least, not in any pejorative sense). HCL, The Tracey Fragments, and Pontypool are all very accessible films--perhaps more accessible than all but the latest of Cronenberg’s films--and one of the major detracting factors surrounding Pontypool is the fact that every reviewer feels the need to talk about how “smart” it is. Rather, the film is “clever”; you don’t actually learn anything about language, and names like Barthes are bandied about without any weight put behind them. The premise is far more interesting than most zombie films, though, and so sets the film apart.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Pontypool is the story of morning DJ Grant Mazzy (Stephen McHattie), a grizzled veteran DJ who apparently lost his job in the big city for being too controversial (I think) and so has been banished to the sticks (in this case, the small, unincorporated Ontario village of Pontypool). Stuck with Mazzy in the bunker-like basement of the abandoned church--Pontypool’s makeshift radio station--are his producer, Sydney Briar (Lisa Houle) and their technician, Laurel Ann (Georgina Reilly), recently returned from Afghanistan. The film never leaves these three characters, and cameras remain--almost exclusively--within the radio station for the duration of the film.


On this particular cold morning, the denizens of Pontypool have begun, without warning, to turn upon each other. Moving with typically zombie-ish, shambling steps, and (typically) hungering for human flesh, the people of Pontypool have seemingly entered the realm of the undead. Not so, instructs McDonald. These are not zombies. These are “conversationalists.” We, the viewers, soon learn that everyone has been infected by a sort of virus, not unlike the unfortunate people in the 28 Days Later films. This virus is not airborne, however, nor is it an infection of the blood; no, in Pontypool, language itself has become infected.

The victim of the language-virus suffers a few short symptoms before going full-blown zombie. Primarily, the victim begins to stumble on, and repeat, a word, a specific word. Repeating it over and over again, the victim finally becomes enraged, and lashes out. Since the virus passes through language, Mazzy (and his radio show) are quite probably the Typhoid Marys of the village.


Pontypool is low-budget filmmaking the best sense of the word; that is to say, the film in no way looks cheap, and the acting (save for one actor--you’ll know who when you see it) is all pretty great, especially McHattie, who’s always on the ball. No, Pontypool is low-budget in that it has only a handful of a cast and only one real location. Rather than being strapped by these limitations, McDonald is able to ramp up the claustrophobia. Indeed, about half of the films 90-minute running time has passed before we even see one of the zombies. McDonald keeps our interest by giving us repeated radio-updates from people outside--in particular the weather man, Ken Loney, who is the first on the scene--and by letting us share in the unease of the radio station employees, rather than dazzling us with special effects or jump-type scares. In this way the viewer feels a building sense of dread--one that, sadly, begins to ebb as soon as the outside world finally does come into the radio station.

Pontypool is a great little film, and while it has its share of weaknesses, it stands as one of the better horror films of recent years, and a nice change from the recent zombie-fair we’ve been fed. It’s definitely worth a watch, for fans of the genre, and it’s enough to keep me interested in McDonald’s two upcoming sequels.

The Man Who Stole the Sun (1979)

It starts--like more than a few Japanese films--with images of a mushroom cloud, a sight which I can only imagine is even more terrifying in Japan.

Makato Kido (Kenji Sawada) wants the police to call him “Nine,” since he can now be added to the list of eight nations who own nuclear weapons. He becomes known as “Mr. A-bomb” instead, a figure who achieves folk-hero status by holding the government ransom, threatening to detonate his homemade a-bomb if they don’t submit to his demands. To the kids at school, he’s just “Bubblegum,” a science teacher who is barely more mature than them, and who spends most of his time sleeping in class.


Kido bores his students by teaching them about nuclear weaponry, rather than following the standard high school science text. Since they’ll never be tested on Kido’s lessons, the students tend to ignore him. And no wonder: Kido has almost no personality to speak of.

The teacher explains to his students that A-bombs are easy to make--you just need the plutonium. This is one of the strangest parts of the film: to get the plutonium necessary for his bomb, Kido breaks into a military installation (I think), which appears to be guarded by members of Devo. The action comes in a series of still frame images, portraying a suddenly James Bond-esque Kido getting his hands on the goods, all to some swell 70s music.


Once he constructs the bomb (which we get to see, at length, in a series of montages), Kido is free to make his demands. But what is it that this terrorist demands? For starters, Kido wants to watch baseball games until the end--the TV stations always cut out after the seventh inning for the news. After that … well, he hadn’t thought that far. Enter “Zero” (Kimiko Ikegami), a local DJ who starts taking Kido’s calls on her new show. She suggests that “Mr. A-bomb” demand a Rolling Stones concert. He agrees with her and makes the demand, all to the chagrin of Detective Yamashita (Bunta Sugawara), a determined and heroic cop.

At this point, The Man Who Stole the Sun begins to look like a more run-of-the-mill cops and robbers story, except that the “good guy” is a science nerd with a nuclear weapon. The movie begins to engage in cat-and-mouse stuff, with car chases and the lot, and Kido having to be one step faster than the police. He never seems entirely aware of the severity of what’s going on--does he really have the guts to detonate the bomb? Or is it all just bluff? Kido seems more interested in constructing the bomb just to prove that he can; the power it grants him is almost an afterthought.


Added to the cops and robbers plot is a budding romance between Kido and Zero. The disc jockey is obviously attracted to the mystique around Kido, and the element of danger involved in being with a criminal. Typical to the 70s (at least in North America), Zero has bought fully into the “us against them” attitude, considering those people who are over thirty, or in authority, as evil. Still, she’s a fairly shallow character, whose real motivation is never really felt by the audience.

Oddly enough, The Man Who Stole the Sun was written by Leonard Schrader, brother to writer/director Paul Schrader, with whom he wrote Taxi Driver. The Man Who Stole the Sun has more than a few similarities with that film--the outsider as protagonist, the dangerous loner lashing out against society in a random and homicidal fashion that still somehow encapsulates the irritation and rage of the everyday man.


More so than in Taxi Driver, it’s not always clear in The Man Who Stole the Sun that the audience should be taking everything they see at face value. How much is actually supposed to be the events as they happen, and how much is supposed to be in Kido’s head? Does Kido really dump plutonium into a full swimming pool, or is it just something that he dreams up? While Taxi Driver seems like the more cerebral film, The Man Who Stole the Sun leaves you questioning whether or not some bigger statement is being made.

Or perhaps its just uneven. The car chases and the final battle with Detective Yamashita seem more like something out of a 70s cop show than a challenging work of art. I’m tempted to assert that this is somehow a comment on film itself, that a cops and robbers movie will always devolve into cliché and convention. Or something.

Despite its uneven nature, and its longer-than-necessary running time (147 minutes), The Man Who Stole the Sun is an intriguing film, and well worth seeking out, if only for the oddness of seeing a Western plot and story told by Japanese filmmakers.

Black Fist (1975)

I'll admit it. I'm a sucker for revenge flicks. It's such a simple formula, and one difficult to perfect, but watching a sympathetic character get horribly wronged and then proceed to wreak bloody havoc is one of my greatest pleasures. This formula was taken to the limit in the 1970s with movies like Rolling Thunder, Last House on The Left and (especially) Death Wish, a film which is obviously a big influence on this rather minor blaxploitation effort. Black Fist is filled with muddled dialogue, murky photography, and iffy performances, but when it works it works because of a tried and true plot and some interesting stylistic choices by the director(s).

Richard Lawson, who has a voice sometimes eerily similar to Samuel L. Jackson, stars as Leroy Fisk, a young street-fighter who rises quickly through the ranks after hooking up with a gangster named Logan (Robert Burr). Soon he's making money hand over (black) fist, but has to deal with scummy racist cop Heineken (Dabney Coleman, who is terrifically sleazy) and constant put-downs from his honky employer. After making a big payday, Fisk decides to quit the business and buy himself a club, but Logan doesn't take kindly to this and decides to retaliate by blowing up Fisk's car, with him in it! Things don't go quite according to plan, however, and it's actually Fisk's (pregnant) wife and brother-in-law that go up in flames. As you can imagine, Fisk takes this somewhat badly and is soon taking bloody revenge on gangsters, pimps, and anyone else who wants to face his BLACK FIST.

From very early on you'll know you're in familiar territory with Black Fist. We're barely introduced to the character before he's dabbling in street-fighting, and his rise is predictable and fairly bland, improved only by the charismatic lead performance of Richard Lawson, and some fun character work by future Miami Vice star Phillip Michael Thomas. In fact, Thomas gets to play two fairly ridiculous characters in the film, though their similarities make an already muddled plot even more confusing. This gets particularly egregious in the film's second half, where the dark photography sometimes makes it difficult to tell exactly what is going on. This is worsened by some choppy editing, with scenes seemingly ending early and a near-incomprehensible ending. The two credited directors probably had a hand in the confusing nature of the plot, as the movie seems to be patched up like a Godfrey Ho film.

Though it's marketed as a martial arts film (at least, in this collection), the fighting in Black Fist is more Pro Wrestling than Kung Fu (in fact, several of the opponents are played by 70s Pro Wrestlers). It's easy to scoff at these fights in the days of UFC and regular MMA events, but the fighting is fast-paced and spirited, and one of the directors was even smart enough to put in some awfully gratuitous breasts being exposed to keep things from ever getting too repetitive. There's nothing here that you would likely want to revisit, and don't expect expert choreography, but it's fun.

Part of the Millcreek 50 Martial Arts movie pack, Black Fist is a full-screen, faded, scratchy mess. The photography is dark, and the sound is inconsistent from scene to scene. I'd like to say that this adds to the drive-in feel, but in this case it makes an already confusing plot almost impossible to follow. Chapter selections are included for those who are looking to skip to the revenge portion of the film.

An occasionally worthy and well-acted revenge film, Black Fist is too confusing and jerkily paced to be very entertaining. The lead performances are a lot of fun, and the last half hour includes some entertaining scenes of bloody revenge (including Heineken being put on ice, and some brutal beatings), but the meager pleasures are simply not worth the frustration of watching such a mess of a film.