PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: AT WORLD'S END (2007)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *metaphysical, psychological*

Given my poor rating for DEAD MAN'S CHEST-- which film was shot back-to-back with AT WORLD'S END-- I wasn't expecting to rate END highly. In fact, I remember watching the film in a theater in 2007 and being exasperated by its meandering plot, its over-indulgence in trump cards and double crosses, and its make-work mythology. However, watching END back-to-back with CHEST, I accrued a greater appreciation for some of the consistent myth-motifs in the 2007 production, even if they were surrounded by a lot of chaos. CHEST now appears to be a padded middle act that introduces a lot of connective tissue necessary for a stronger third act-- which, to be sure, does have a lot of messy stuff as well. 

END, after all, is noteworthy for providing a pleasing if poignant ending to the story-arc of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann (Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley), who share the spotlight with capricious captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp). The 2017 DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES added a coda to the Will-Elizabeth arc, but the conclusion of END still works as one of two major myth-motifs: that of "lovers tragically separated over long intervals," like "The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl." This motif was probably derived from one of the ancillary versions of the Flying Dutchman, where the cursed captain was able to visit the human world from time to time, seeking true romance. The other major myth-motif-- that of a curse that is passed on from one victim to another-- may be extraneous to the major expressions of the Dutchman story, but END uses the motif to provide a reason why Will is forced to loosely duplicate his father's career as an absentee husband and father.

CHEST's strongest moment appeared toward the movie's conclusion, when the good-hearted Elizabeth unleashes her "inner pirate" and so betrays Jack Sparrow, so that he's consigned to the afterlife ruled by the predacious Davy Jones (Bill Nighy). CHEST also concluded with the mercenary Beckett, representative of the East India trading company, gaining the heart of Davy Jones. With this talisman, Beckett forces Jones and his Dutchman crew to serve as his enforcers in a campaign to eradicate all piracy. Here the script builds upon the first film's suggestion that piracy can be a counter-agent to the compromises of respectable society, and so END opens with a series of grotesque executions of everyone even suspected of associating with pirates. This one sequence might be the best scene ever directed by Gore Verbinski.

Will and Elizabeth, along with former enemy Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), plan to rescue Jack from perdition, in part to overthrow Beckett's tyranny. To accomplish this, the trio engage the help of a pirate brotherhood. These "pirate lords" add a fair amount of narrative confusion, but they seem necessary to expound on just how former human Davy Jones was transformed into a soul-collector by the goddess Calypso. The brotherhood also somehow forced the goddess to become human, though they don't know which human, and indeed one of the lords thinks Elizabeth is Calypso's reincarnation. Indeed, Calypso and Jones were lovers in antiquity, making them the precursors of the pattern that will consume Will and Elizabeth.         

                

Actually, because the script concentrates so much on the Will-Elizabeth arc-- and some minor ones involving Will's father and Elizabeth's former fiancee Norrington-- Jack Sparrow doesn't have that much to do. Indeed, one of the best scenes toward the big finish has Captain Barbossa marry Will and Elizabeth while all three of them are engaged in mortal combat. Davy Jones too gets closure to his arc, while END shows Jack and Barbossa still engaged in their perfidious but harmless pirate games-- as they still will be in the fourth installment. END has no end of flaws. But as far as putting across the message that we all need to embrace our inner pirates, this is the best of the Caribbean franchise.     

XXX: THE RETURN OF XANDER CAGE (2017)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*

Maybe I was just in the mood for near-mindless action, but I enjoyed this retread more than either of the first two films. My snap judgment is that I enjoyed the directorial moxie of DJ Caruso, who'd done a couple of previous high-ticket thrillers before this, but who's not exactly known as an action-guy.

Both of the previous films involved marvelous technology kept somewhat on the margins. CAGE foregrounds a major tech-threat involving "Pandora's Box," a device that can cause US satellites to crash to Earth like ballistic missiles. The heroes themselves don't use many gadgets themselves, except for a pair of briefly-seen "strength gloves" with which one can punch through steel. It's possible that in reviving the franchise the producers decided they would go full-bore with the "James Bond As Science Fiction" trope.  

Xander Cage, said to have been knocked off in the second franchise-movie, is really alive and off the grid, not wanting to get drawn into further espionage games. However, the Pandora's Box device is stolen by a bunch of extreme-sports agents, and one of those crashing satellites apparently kills Gibbons (Samuel L. Jackson), the former head of the XXX program. The spy-chief in charge (Toni Collette) figures out that Cage is still alive and coaxes him into using his extreme-sports skills in the service of Good, even if he doesn't believe that the government is a good in itself. "It's all just rebels and tyrants," Cage tells the chief. Her response of "which are you" somehow gets him to sign up. She tries to give him a team of Marines for his support-team and Cage kicks them to the curb, selecting his own backup.

Understandably, none of the secondary players are as charismatic as Diesel's Cage, and the same is true as the enemy-team, with the possible exception of the other team's Really Hot Girl, Serena (Deepika Padukone). I'll give away one of the film's reveals by noting that the other team is also an XXX team that had been recruited by the maybe-not-dead Gibbons, and so you have another example of different government agents getting pitted against one another. The identity of the villain who has the deadly device is only a minor twist, but just when you think all is well-- it's time for another spyjinks-doublecross! Also, if anyone was missing Ice Cube's XXX 2.0 from the second movie, he comes in at the end, making this another crossover-movie.

The dialogue generally counterpoints the action: airy and light and thus matching Diesel's encore performance. Padukone and Ruby Rose (as a sniper) provide some femme-fight action, while Donnie Yen and Tony Jaa furnish representation on the XY side. Nina Dobrev as a non-combatant agent drawn into the chaos provides some humorous moments. The flick was a success, and thus I'm surprised that no further installments have appeared as yet.   
       

ASH VS EVIL DEAD SEASON THREE (2018)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous* 
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *metaphysical, psychological*

The first time I saw Season Three, I perceived a fall-off in the show's balls-to-the-wall qualities, so much so that I rather wished the show stopped with the second season. I now think the conclusion works, partly as a callback to the events of ARMY OF DARKNESS, and I agree with the stated verdict of Bruce Campbell, to the effect that this season rounded off everything possible that could be done with the character of Ash Williams. That doesn't mean the season doesn't have a big problem, though. The introduction of the overly "normie" character of Brandy, the daughter Ash never knew he had, undercuts the wild irresponsibility of the demon-hunting insanity.

FAMILY-- Again the Necronomicon summons the Evil Dead, and Ruby seeks to gain control of the demons-- this time by performing a ritual that will make her pregnant with a demonic version of Ash, the destined savior of the world. In Elk Grove Ash and Pablo encounter Ash's old (and barely remembered) lover Candy, who informs him that all this time he's had a daughter, teenaged Brandy (Arielle Carver-O'Neill), without knowing of her. This does move Ash to assume a more responsible role, meathead though he remains. Kelly shows up from some unexplained foray in the company of Dalton, a handsome fellow who belongs to a demon-fighting cadre, the Knights of Sumeria. This engenders jealousy in Pablo. Ash, Pablo and Candy get wind of a threat to Brandy, and rush to her school. However, the demons possess Brandy's friend Rachel, and in a musically themed combat, Rachel beheads Candy-- albeit only minutes after Candy has revealed to Brandy the identity of her father. Ash destroys Rachel.  

BOOTH THREE-- I'm not sure what causes Ash to suspect that Ruby may've got access to the sperm Ash had on file at the local bank-- where Ash has long been a cheerful contributor-- but he shows up in "booth three" to investigate and once again has to fight the Evil Dead. He also finds out that for some time Ruby has been at Brandy's school posing as a counselor, but Brandy, revulsed by her father's role in her mother's gruesome death, refuses to believe Ash about Ruby. Dalton tells Kelly that because Pablo still has the script of the Book embedded in his flesh, Pablo remains a danger and should be eliminated. 

APPARENTLY DEAD-- You know those disreputable relatives who make a scene at funerals, by brawling with the undead deceased? Well, that's Ash thanks to the demonic revival of Candy at her funeral, all for the purpose of further alienating Brandy from Ash. I guess this is a Ruby scheme though I didn't see what benefit that alienation was to her. A vision guides Pablo, Kelly and Dalton back to the cabin to unearth the magical dagger that seems to come and go so quickly throughout the story. A Deadite tree-monster impales Dalton with a branch (wish fulfillment for Pablo?) and Dalton too becomes a Deadite who must be destroyed. When Ash shows up at Brandy's home, he finds her watching tv with a convincing simulacrum of Brock, the grandfather she never knew. Ash is forced to destroy this fake father after having seen the real one slain by the Evil Dead.

UNIFINISHED BUSINESS-- Dalton proves to be right: Pablo is susceptible to being possessed because of his history with the Book (though the show really has no rules about who can or can't be possessed, as witness the possession of the innocent Rachel). Demonic Pablo bites Kelly's leg so as to infect it with a mini-demon face. More significantly, the spirit of the real Brock (no rules about whose ghosts can or can't appear either) manifests to fill in some blanks for his demon-hunting son. It seems that in 2012, while Brock and Ash were still alienated, Brock got a visit from a Knight of Sumeria and accidentally killed the guy-- which is important only because the knight has some missing pages of the Book with him, so that's a new grail to seek. Ash goes looking for Ruby, but she's at the cabin interrogating the corpse of Dalton, so Ash has to settle for learning that Ruby's spawn, Baby Demon-Ash, is terrorizing the "nurse" Ruby forced to care for the evil tyke. 

BABY PROOF-- Ash escaped dealing with his daughter's "terrible twos," but all his hassles with the demon-tyke more than compensate. While Ash tries to capture Baby Ash, the spirit of Pablo communes with that of his uncle The Brujo and learns a ritual by which he can return to life. Pablo does so. Ruby regains custody of her spawn, but Brandy is finally convinced of her father's heroism and joins his team.

TALES FROM THE RIFT-- More Knights of Sumeria show up on Ash's doorstep, and thanks to the past-vision vouchsafed Ash by his dead dad, he's able to find the missing book-pages. The Knights, aided by alive-again Pablo, attempt a ritual to open an interspatial rift that might help them control the demons. However, one of their number goes Deadite, killing all the Knights save one until Ash is able to slay the possessee. Kelly, by this time rid of her demon-infection, gets a hard jones to kill Ruby. The two of them have a big splashy battle, but Kelly loses and is slain by Ruby. The evil witch then allows Kelly's dead body to be possessed by another sorceress, Kaya.

TWIST AND SHOUT-- Ruby's attempt at deception is undermined when Pablo receives a vision from the ghost of Kelly. However, by this time Kaya, posing as Kelly, has joined Ash and Brandy as they seek out the school dance, where they hope to confront Ruby. A big fight erupts in front of the horrified students and teachers, while Ruby's spawn, now grown to manhood, battles the real Ash. Though Ash kills his clone, Ruby almost kills the hero with the dagger. However, Brandy intervenes and saves her father's life by taking the dagger and (temporarily) dying. 

RIFTING APART-- Gaining custody of Brandy's body, Ash has a brilliant idea how to restore her to life: he has Pablo stab him with the dagger, so that his spirit ends up with hers in the rift-world. This works better than expected, for Ash finds not only the spirit of Brandy but those of Dalton and Kelly too. Pursued by a demon, Dalton sacrifices his ghost-life to allow the others to return to the real world. Kelly can't manage to do so because Kaya's possessing her body. Meanwhile, Kaya gets hold of the last surviving Knight, name of Zoe, who's supposed to help Kaya and Ruby gain control of the demons.

JUDGMENT DAY-- Now Ruby has both the demons and the Ash Team after her, and despite the attempt she and Kaya make to conceal themselves, they have only minimal success. Ash battles Ruby, who fends off his best efforts thanks to her immortality, and even wrecks his precious chainsaw. However, the demons arrive and accidentally save Ash's life by sucking away the spirits of Ruby and Kaya. The absence of Kaya in Kelly's body makes it possible for Ash to attempt reuniting Kelly's spirit with her body-- which finally makes it possible for Pablo to get with Kelly. However, the demons have also made a full-fledged invasion of the earth-realm with an invulnerable sixty-foot demon.

THE METTLE OF MAN-- The world is finally beset by demons, though Ash only sees the part of the battle taking place in Elk Grove. Kelly is restored to her body, but the titanic demon is on the rampage, and American soldiers seek to evacuate the town before the military drops a nuclear warhead on the creature. Ash allows his friends to escape but seeks to find an alternative battle-plan, using a tank and the super-dagger to destroy the giant demon. However, in a transition intended to call back to ARMY OF DARKNESS, Ash is somehow transported into a post-apocalyptic future, where he accepts his new destiny to continue a new fight against evil.

If anyone had told me that Sam Raimi and his colleagues could make an epic out of the simple and unpromising materials of the 1981 EVIL DEAD, I would have scoffed big-time. I also would never have believed that Raimi et al could take a meathead character like Ash and make him into "the stone the builders rejected." Yet all the things that make Ash a loser in the real world-- his laziness, his vulgarity, his man-whorishness-- are the things that give him the vitality to be a larger-than-life hero. That's one reason I classified the series as a combative drama despite all the looney-toons slapstick, because Ash ends his career as a hero taking his leave of his friends and daughter, symbolically "dying" to the world of reality but finally accepting his heroic destiny in "the world to come."                

    

PLANET TERROR (2007)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *psychological, sociological*

I remembered enjoying Robert Rodriguez's PLANET TERROR pretty well when I viewed it as part of the GRINDHOUSE ensemble-feature, but for the past fifteen years I was never tempted to pull out my copy of the film and re-watch it on the small screen. Now, having watched TERROR on streaming (along with Rodriguez's faux-commercial for MACHETE, which spawned a real two-film series). And now, without seeing TERROR as part of the whole love-letter both Rodriguez and Tarantino wrote to seventies exploitation movies, this overbaked zombie flick has little more than gore effects to recommend it.

To be sure, zombie movies weren't a huge part of the seventies movie culture, but took fire more in the eighties in response to George Romero's big-budget zom-com DAWN OF THE DEAD in 1978. Of course it could be argued that the seventies were also the decade in which American filmmakers began making greater use of advances in makeup-appliances, and TERROR is replete with lots and lots of melting faces and whatnot. TERROR also resembles certain seventies sexploitation films in having a large ensemble of characters who each have separate story-lines that may or may not be brought together by some common peril.

I found that though I'd been able to disregard Rodriguez's flat characters in my first viewing of TERROR, they were far less interesting this time around. Some of them are not meant to be anything more than comic relief, like a barbecue chef who keeps telling his sheriff-brother he'll never give up his special barbecue recipe. I didn't expect much of those minor characters. But I found myself profoundly bored with the acrimonious relationship of the dysfunctional married couple, played by Josh Brolin and Marley Shelton. All we know is that Shelton's character wants to leave Brolin's character because he's some sort of violent control freak. But the wife is also a bisexual who apparently committed to the male doctor and had a child by him, and who plans to leave her husband for a former female lover. What then made Shelton commit to Brolin the first time? Rodriguez's script is too insubstantial even to give a hint.

The central relationship, though, is that of a mysterious gunman, El Wray (Freddy Rodriguez) and his former girlfriend, go-go dancer Cherry Darling (Rose McGowan). Rodriguez at least built up the failure of their relationship somewhat better than he did with the dysfunctional couple, but here too there are missing details that get plowed under as the zombie apocalypse begins, after which El and Cherry are forced to flee the brain-eaters and form a caravan of other fugitives.

Even less interesting are the schemers who created the apocalypse, bioengineer Doctor Abbington (Naveen Andrews) and rogue military man Lt. Muldoon (Bruce Willis). Muldoon still commands a presumably illegal operation oriented on recovering the chemical that unleashes the zombie plague. But since the plague is in the process of dooming the civilized world, Muldoon's activities don't have much resonance. At one point the detachment captures Cherry and some other women, and two soldiers, one played by Quentin Tarantino, attempt to rape Cherry. The best thing one can say about Tarantino's performance is that he's intending to place a one-dimensional scumbag, and so, aside from one very corny line, he accomplishes his task.

Since El Wray is so vague as to become inert, the only strong persona is that of Cherry Darling. Unlike the others, her character arc gets substantial development within the context of an exploitation film. When the film starts, she's a dancer disenchanted with her profession, and she even considers trying to branch out as a standup comedian. A zombie assault changes all of Cherry's plans, as one undead freak rips off the dancer's left leg. El Wray improvises to give her an artificial limb, first consisting of a table leg, and later, a machine gun. The image of a go-go dancer who can shoot enemies with her artificial gun-leg is the only part of TERROR that equals the most delirious of seventies exploitation cinema, and to my knowledge McGowan has never given a more three-dimensional performance.

I don't take  most of the sexual politics of TERROR seriously, though one could argue that all the "heroic bloodshed" is meant to escape the usual masculine priorities so as to pull in a feminine sensibility. But even speaking as a viewer who was never big on zombie-films, I think a lot of the zom-stomping becomes routine and therefore dull. And so I think it's unlikely I'll ever give TERROR another full viewing, be it in fifteen years or fifty.

Note: TERROR is a very minor crossover film in that it recycles Michael Parks' "Earl MacGraw" character from Rodriguez's FROM DUSK TO DAWN.

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY (2023)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *cosmological, psychological*

As I write this, DIAL OF DESTINY looks to be another of many high-priced Hollywood films that will not make back its investment. This is a shame, because it's the first good sequel to the original RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK.

It's hard to say why the contemporary audience has chosen to bypass what is almost certainly the final entry in the official series. I don't think negative reviews have much power to impede the mass audience's determination to see something they deem potentially entertaining. Thus the most likely conclusion is that many moviegoers just weren't stoked by the idea of seeing octogenarian actor Harrison Ford reprise the role of "tomb raider" Indiana Jones. Despite such viewers having experienced the reality-bending wizardries of which cinema is capable, they just didn't want to see Indy as an old guy. Perhaps negative reviews weighed somewhat in the balance, even when they were as senseless as the one that claimed that the movie was just a bunch of chase scenes loosely tied together by plot. Really? What did the reviewer think the first film was, or any of the previous three sequels? In point of fact, though the plot of DESTINY is no better or worse than those of the other movies in the series, director/co-writer James Mangold and his fellow scribes made their movie far more about giving Indiana a final character-arc, as he enjoys one last adventurous hurrah during the era of the 1960s. 

Once again, Indiana is forced to chase down a valuable archaeological item-- this time, a dial-like device invented by the Greek inventor Archimedes-- while also being chased by a cadre of Nazis left over from World War II, who believe that the device can transport them back in time. During the movie's prologue, Young Indy (a digitally de-aged Ford) learns that half of Archimedes' Dial is in the hands of Nazi scientist Voller (Mads Mikkelsen). In a tour de force of action, the swashbuckling hero manages to steal the incomplete device, later hiding the object in America, though publicly he claims that the Dial was lost in a European river. However, Voller survives the war and manages to get in good with the American government by contributing his technical expertise to the space race. It's not clear why, in the twenty-plus years between WWII's end and the moon landing, Voller and his new crew of Nazi aides don't abduct Indiana and torture him to learn whether he truly lost the Dial. But if the villains had done so, the plot could not have justified its most vital element: Indiana's god-daughter Helena Shaw (Phoebe Waller-Bridge). 

A lot of fan-reviewers were incensed by this character long before the movie came out, or any information on her character's nature were revealed, and chief among these was a podcaster named the Critical Drinker. Again, I doubt that these fan-reviewers had any great cumulative effect on audience acceptance of DESTINY, but these limited reactions reflect some of the same reluctance to see any alteration in the sainted legend of Indiana.

Once the prologue ends, and the film proper begins in the 1960s, we see that Indiana, who would have to be no less than sixty by that time, finds his life winding down. He's retiring from his collegiate teaching position-- possibly in a forced retirement. His son Mutt (from the third sequel) has perished during the Vietnam War, and the loss has for whatever reason driven a wedge between Indiana and his wife Marion (Karen Allen), who has filed for separation. He has limited options when his god-daughter Helena Shaw re-enters his life. She's the daughter of Basil Shaw (Toby Jones), who helps Indiana steal the half-Dial from Voller, and she talks Indiana into revealing that yes, he really still has the object in question. This becomes the start of a not-so-beautiful alliance, for Helena is something of a conwoman. However, to prevent the Nazis from gaining both Indiana's relic and from finding the Dial's missing section, Indiana must work with Helena, who has in many ways patterned herself on him, more than on her actual (deceased) father.

The Drinker and similar reviewers loudly protested that Helena Shaw was a "girl boss," designed to make Indiana Jones look stupid and ineffectual while trumpeting the glories of liberated womanhood. While there have been many recent movies and teleserials which were guilty of this sin, DESTINY is not one of them. In fact, these reviewers' fierce desire to protect the "legacy" of the fictional adventurer blinded them to Mangold's deeper character arc.

I said that I didn't much like the other three sequels, but the second one, LAST CRUSADE, boasts the greater insight into the Indiana Jones character. The prologue of CRUSADE establishes that as a teenager Indiana found himself in conflict with his stuffy academic father, Henry Jones Sr. (Sean Connery). After Teen Indy tries and fails to prevent the theft of an artifact by a roguish, whip-wielding adventurer, the script heavily implies that Indiana models his own look on that of the rogue, billed as "Fedora." The script does not make explicit why Indy does so, but to me it's clearly a rebellion against Henry Sr.'s domination of his son, whom he calls "Junior." The rebellion all but screams, "You ought to love me even if I'm not the same as you!"

Though DESTINY never mentions Fedora's influence on Indiana, I think it more than likely that Mangold and his aides modeled Helena on the earlier rogue. I said above that Helena seems to have modeled herself on Indiana, who was a much more romantic figure than her bookish looking actual father. The script does not say exactly why Helena took up such dubious activities as the black-market auction of antiquities, which are anathema to Indiana Jones' ethos. But is it hard to believe that she, too, sought to get the attention of her "symbolic father" (the real one having died in the interim) by  rebelling against his ethos, just as Indy did against that of Henry Sr? There's even a slight parallelism in the use of animal-names: Indiana calls his god-daughter by the unexplained pet-name "Wombat," while the heroic archaeologist took his own nickname of "Indiana" from the family dog (again, according to LAST CRUSADE).

I won't say that I fell inextricably in love with the actress Phoebe Waller-Bridge, but I didn't despise her as did the anti-girlboss crowd. I think she did all the stunts and the badinage very well, often reminding me of Karen Allen's Marion Ravenwood from the original RAIDERS. One or more early scripts toyed with the idea of giving Marion some action-scenes in DESTINY, but I think this would have been a mistake, and not solely because actress Allen is in her seventies. I think it was important to Indiana's character arc that he should meet a new iteration of his own rebellious self-image, even though Mangold does not preach this concept to the viewers. Helena may not be the ideal god-daughter, but he allows himself to forget her existence in much the same way that he (arguably) lets his relationship with Marion deteriorate. Helena storms her way into Indiana's life of quiet desperation, and despite a fair amount of collateral damage thanks to their Nazi enemies, the world is better off that the team of Indiana and "Wombat" comes into existence. She even keeps him from losing himself in his passion for the ancient worlds of bygone history, and I for one didn't think the hero was the least bit denigrated for having that moment of weakness.

I should add that none of these high-flown theories would have saved the film for me if Mangold had not presided over the most ambitious assemblage of action set-pieces since Original RAIDERS. But while the original film wins the gold in that department, the other sequels are bronze at best, while Mangold is the only contender for the silver runner-up.

MORTAL KOMBAT: ANNIHILATION (1997)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *metaphysical*

This movie's lack of both director Paul W.S. Anderson and writer Kevin Droney shows just how indispensable their services were in making the first MORTAL KOMBAT a hit. There were a couple of behind-the-scenes carryovers from the first film, but they may have done more harm than good. John R. Leonetti had been a cinematographer on the first KOMBAT, but the overall trajectory of his career showed that directing was not his strongest suit. But if anyone is to blame for ANNIHILATION, it's probably producer Larry Kasanoff, who collaborated with four other writers to produce an incoherent mishmash of motifs channeled from various incarnations of the RPG. One contemporaneous quote has Kasanoff exulting over the FX that he thought would grab the 1997 viewing public.

Oddly, the only actors who reprised their 1995 roles-- Robin Shou as Liu Kang and Talisa Soto as Kitana-- got very short shrift in the Kasanoff script. The 1995 film made Liu Kang the strongest character in the ensemble as well as the direct savior of Earth for his winning of the tournament. In ANNHILATION, there's a vague agenda about how Liu must train really hard to stave off the forces of another Outworld invasion, but his supposed training exercises are poorly conceived, thus undermining the character's entire arc. Kitana, who saw very little action in the first film, has a fine scene fighting reptile-ninjas with twin Malay daggers that can morph into bladed fans. But this character spends a lot of time in captivity, and her arc, which involves some sort of reconciliation with her mother (more on which later), is utterly botched. To be sure, though, Liu and Kitana get off better than the character Johnny Cage, played for a few minutes by a new actor before the heinous new villain kills him off.

The only other ensemble-character from 1995, Sonya Blade, is however hugely improved by her recasting, as actress Sandra Hess proves far more authoritative as a martial artist than Bridget Wilson. She's given a new partner for most of her scenes, the character of Jax, who made a very brief appearance in 1995, and who this time is essayed by one Lynn "Red" Williams. These two performers have the best fighting-scenes and character-scenes in the film, and they're the only reasons to watch ANNIHILATION.

I commented in my review of the first film that it was unwise for the sequel to pick up from KOMBAT's rule-bending conclusion. It's true that no matter course the filmmakers took, they could not have strictly abided by the franchise's internal rules, since that would sidelined all of the main characters for the next generation. But the scripters could have chosen to ignore KOMBAT's concluding cliffhanger and found some less hasty-pudding way to come up with a contemporary threat to bring all the heroes back together again. 

Whereas KOMBAT emphasized that the heroes' only way to save Earth for Liu Kang to win the tournament, Kasanoff and company muddy the waters. The character of the Emperor from the first name, now given the name Shao Kan (and played by Brian Thompson), somehow breaks the rules that should have kept his forces away from Earth-- though, in order that the producers don't have pay to the effects of vast armies, the "invasion" is a synthesis of the two dimensions that makes select portions of Earth look sterile. While the good guys run around trying to figure out how the villain pulled off his caper, their advisor Rauden (now played by James Remar) somehow knows that Liu Kang must master a martial skill called "Animality," while Kitana must reconcile with her mother Sindel (Musetta Vander). The latter was supposedly killed by Shao Kan along with Kitana's father when Shao Kan conquered Outworld, but the evil one somehow resurrected Sindel and made her one of his commanders (along with more reptile-ninjas, a four-armed female warrior and a swarthy centaur).

Does Shao Kan want Sindel around to validate his rule? But if so, why doesn't he just kill Kitana when he captures her? The one scene between Shao and Kitana suggests that he wants her to become his bride, so then why does he need Sindel? One or two lines suggest that Sindell's presence helped Shao break the cosmic rules, but this goes out the window when it's revealed that one of the Elder Gods conspired with Shao to make the invasion possible. Oh yeah, and the conspiratorial Elder God Shinnok is the father to both Shao Khan and Rayden, a fact not foreshadowed at all before its blunt revelation halfway through the film.

While Kasanoff bragged on ANNIHILATION's FX-scenes, the only good fights are those which combined FX with the performers doing inventive stuntwork. Thus a scene in which Shao and Liu fight in monster-form is a big waste of time, while another in which Sonja and Jax contend with a robotic opponent works much better, partly because Hess and Williams have good chemistry. There's not much FX when Kitana battles Sindel, but it's still a blah battle, particularly when contrasted with the hard-fought conflict between Sonja and female ninja Mileena (Dana Hee). Even George S. Clinton's score improves whenever Sonja and Jax are in action!

ANNIHILATION is far from the worst film of its subgenre. Still, it's a cardinal example of filmmakers thinking that an initial success meant that they could "coast" on the sequel. They found out differently, for ANNIHILATION killed the franchise for live-action feature films for the next twenty years, until the 2021 success of a franchise reboot.

ONCE UPON A SPY (1980)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *psychological*

Ted Danson completed this failed TV-pilot about two years before he was cast for CHEERS, so I' ll bet few people were happier than he was when the show did not result in a series. Much as I like to give unmade series the benefit of the doubt, a "Once Upon a Spy" show probably would have tainted the careers of any up-and-comers associated with it.

Jack Chenault (Danson) works for an American spy agency as a computer expert, but one day he gets called into "field work" despite his lack of training by the all-knowing agency head "The Lady" (Eleanor Parker, stuck in a nothing role). It seems that the agency is investigating a stolen NASA computer and suspicion has fallen upon eccentric scientist/millionaire Marcus Valorum (Christopher Lee). Chenault has a history with Valorum, in that the former once beat the latter out of some high-level science-award, and the agency figures that Valorum might let something slip to an old enemy out of bragging rights-- I think. Eventually 'twill be revealed that Valorum has taken a permanent ride on the crazy train, having invented a shrinking ray with which he plans to shrink Hoover Dam, just to cause lots of chaos and be generally a mean guy.

Since Chenault is not a field guy, he's teamed with a total of one field agent, Paige Tannahill (Mary-Louise Weller). Tannahill is in theory extremely skilled in both gunplay and hand-to-hand combat, but the script skimps on action in favor of far too much romantic chatter between the teammates, so the viewer has no chance to be impressed by the lady agent. Even Tannahill's climactic fight-scene against a small coterie of henchmen in the standard "villain's maze" is underwhelming.

Writer Jimmy Sangster was far better known for horror than for adventure, but he'd done far better than this knockoff in 1967's DEADLIER THAN THE MALE. As for director Ivan Nagy, I'd previously noted that his CAPTAIN AMERICA II TV-film was a little better than the previous TV-film with the hero, and SPY is a letter better than either of those. But it's a measured choice at best.

MYSTERIOUS ISLAND (1951)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological*

I have not read Jules Verne's MYSTERIOUS ISLAND, but from all accounts it's barely a metaphenomenal book at all. Several castaways become stranded on an island and must deal with issues of survival, though they get help from a mystery benefactor who turns out to be none other than Captain Nemo, who alone survived the wreck of the Nautilus in 20,000 LEAGUES, along with his fantastic submarine.

The first episode of 1951's MYSTERIOUS ISLAND is allegedly true to the book, which takes place during America's Civil War. The aforementioned castaways, all Northern officers or sympathizers, escape captivity in the South by stealing an observation balloon, but become stranded on an island. The main hero Captain Harding (Richard Crane) is given a touch more humanity at the outset than most serial-heroes, though it doesn't help once the action starts, for said action once again consists of-- lots of fighting and running around, this time in a locale which cannot be varied. As if to make up for this static situation, the scriptwriters have the five castaways menaced by no less than three separate menaces. The most mundane menace is a gang of 19th-century pirates, and technically the island's inhabitants are mundane in that they belong to some island-dwelling Earth-tribe, though the serial dresses them up in outer-space-looking garments. In contrast, the last menace-- actual aliens from the planet Mercury-- are rather mundanely outfitted, as the above photo shows. The Mercurian leader, one Rulu, is acceptably "alien" in her attire, but her minions are dressed in knockoffs derived from the look of Columbia's SPIDER'S WEB serial, right down to that hero's spider-webbed mask. I note in passing the accidental resemblance of the serial's first chapter to the title of a 1965 teleseries, but there's no truth in ISLAND's advertising. No one goes into space in the course of the serial, though we do see the Mercurian ship-- which is just a refurbished BRICK BRADFORD "time top"-- land on the island.

The various motivations of the three separate menaces are dodgy at best, while the castaways have no motivation beyond immediate survival. The fistfights are pretty good, and though Rulu is no Khana, she at least has a few magisterial moments, conquering the will of her opponents with a thought-control wand. Of Harding's four companions, the three white guys are largely interchangeable. The one black character, Ned (Bernie Hamilton), doesn't get a lot of characterization, but in contrast to the roles given black people in most serials, he's treated respectfully and is shown to be a handy guy in a fight. Given that Verne did a horrible "idiot Negro" in ROBUR THE CONQUEROR, I suspect that this may be one thing that this goofy serial improved upon-- though I'm in no hurry to read the book and find out.

G.I. JOE—THE MOVIE (1987)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*

MYTHICITY: *fair* 

FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*

CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *sociological*

               

In my review of THE FACE OF FUMANCHU I wrote:

 

The only literary virtue of racist fictions is that they give the writers a motivation to create the most delirious forms of evil they can imagine, and then project them onto the representatives of what has been termed (rather simplistically) “the Other.”

 

In this post I’ll be dealing with two animated films, both of which were spun off from cartoon teleseries properties.  None of the iterations of these properties focused totally upon racial/ethnic myths after the example of Sax Rohmer’s “Fu Manchu” novel series.  Still, I surmise that modern Marxist ideological readings would see objectionable content in both franchises, though for different reasons in each case.

 

 

The history of the G.I. Joe telecartoon franchise is relatively simple.  Though the “G.I. Joe” line of masculine toys (later dubbed “action figures”) dates back to 1964, the property did not beget an animated cartoon until said toy line was reinvented in the 1980s.  In that version “G.I. Joe” became the name of a group of American-based anti-terrorist specialists.  Though the organization maintained the semblance of a hierarchy like that of the U.S. Armed Forces, the individual “Joes” sported names and costumes more comparable to superheroes than to soldiers.  In an earlier era such a group of eccentric adventure-heroes probably would have squared off against Communists or crime syndicates.  But 1980s telecartoons were strongly influenced by the so-called “political correctness” meme.  Thus G.I. Joe’s main opponent was a “terrorist organization” named Cobra, though unlike most real-world terrorists Cobra had no ties to any nation or ethnicity.  Since the Joes included a diverse representation of races, creeds, and colors, they could be safely labeled “American.”  However, to impute any ethnicity or national origin to the villains of Cobra—the fanatical leader Cobra Commander, his weapons-maker Destro, and many others—might have drawn criticism that the show was stigmatizing real peoples by making them the targets of heroic wrath in a kid’s cartoon.

 

G.I. JOE—THE MOVIE breaks slightly with this program.  For the first time in an animated "G.I. Joe" cartoon, it’s stated that the Cobra organization has its origins in a mysterious place called “Cobra-la,” patently a jokey invocation of the famous “Shangri-La” Tibetan paradise of the James Hilton novel LOST HORIZON.  Thematically the weird denizens of Cobra-la have less in common with Hilton’s saintly Tibetans than with Fu Manchu.  Just as the mad Chinese doctor specialized in making weapons out of all manner of bizarre plants and animals, Cobra-la’s people—who are not literally Asian—also produce all manner of weird genetic mutations, most of which are weird man-eating plants, colossal insects, and anything else that suggests a more primitive, and hence more grotesque, civilization.  Early in the story Cobra-la’s ruler “Golobulus” (Burgess Meredith) appears before the leaders of Cobra.  He announces that his people have long been the power behind Cobra, and that they’re taking over thanks to Cobra Commander’s many blunders.  For good measure, Golobulus causes Cobra Commander— formerly a native of Cobra-la—to undergo an evolutionary regression, gradually transforming him into a snake with partial human memories.

 

The Joes only find out about the new players in the game when the Cobra-la agents lead a successful raid on a new Joe super-weapon, an energy-transmitting device.  A new character—name of Lt. Falcon (Don Johnson)— is partly responsible for the raid’s success, having sluffed off his duties to chat up a lady friend, who is in reality a Cobra agent.  Falcon’s failure becomes the “B-story” of the movie, as Falcon—brother to regular character “Duke”—must redeem himself by undergoing intensive retraining.  Fittingly, given that G.I. JOE is a cartoon version of the military, Falcon receives his retraining from “Sergeant Slaughter,” a new character in the JOE universe though he was based on the persona of a popular wrestler of the period, one who dressed up like a boot-camp topkick.  In addition, Falcon’s boot-bunkmates include a guy who dresses like a basetball player and a female martial-artist who does her best fighting with her eyes closed.  At this point, any references to the real world of military behavior begin to seem almost “camp.”

 

Falcon does finally shape up and fly right. Perhaps in dererence to the stature of the movie star voicing him, Falcon gets to be the hero who principally triumphs over Golobulus, although the climax pretty much gives everyone in the populous regular cast the chance to put the slug on a bug, or at least a bug-using evildoer.  Though the regular teleseries was only sporadically inventive, I have to credit the animators on this project with having reached the same delirious heights of inventiveness seen in the Sax Rohmer novels.  Most amusingly, as if to invoke (very indirectly) another “Eastern” enemy, the inhabitants of “Cobra-la” go into battle yelling the name of their country, using the same sort of ululation that some Americans associate with Muslim terrorists.

In short, G.I. JOE—THE MOVIE manages to have its cake and eat it too.  The heroes wrap themselves in the vesture of Americanism, though to be sure the JOE ethos celebrates a multicultural America.  Their enemies indirectly suggest the “mysterious East,” but they seem non-ethnic at first glance. Cobra-la itself is one with the bowels of the Earth, prolifically producing monsters as did Greek earth-goddesses like Gaea and Echidna.  The action is always fast and furious; a lot of live-action adventure-films could take a lesson or two from this cartoon.  And though none of the characters possess any depth, the villain Cobra Commander provides some affecting moments.  To avenge his mutation by his masters, he allies himself to the Joe named Roadblock when the latter becomes blinded.  This brings about a strong visual sequence as the snake-man rides the blind Joe’s back, telling him where to go and how to carry vital intelligence back to the good guys.

CYCLONE (1987)

 

Now, when I watch Ray's CYCLONE from about a year later, I'm aware that the director uses the exact same procedure that he did in THE TOMB. Yet CYCLONE was reasonably entertaining, as long as I kept my expectations low.  Where lies the difference?

A better star does help, to be sure.  Lead actress Heather Thomas came to this project following the conclusion of her most well-known role-- tough girl "Jody Banks" on the teleseries THE FALL GUY-- which meant that she certainly possessed more "TV-Q" than Michelle Bauer ever did. While not an exceptional actress, Thomas projects a basic credibility in her underwritten role.  She plays Teri Marshall, tough girlfriend of a guy working on a super-motorcycle called "Cyclone." When her boyfriend is killed Teri has to protect her dead lover's secret against a coterie of low-level spies. 

The humor is just as tortured and Wood-esque as anything in THE TOMB, though the appearance of aged Bowery Boy Huntz Hall provides a little amusement in itself.  But perhaps because Thomas might have proven to be a bigger draw because of her modest celebrity, Ray and his crew do work a little harder on the FX and fight-choregraphy.  Compared to the best that Hollywood can offer, the various car-and-motorcycle stunts are nothing special, but they are watchable.  The Cyclone doesn't seem like a super-weapon anyone would be willing to kill for, and in truth one of the plot's more moronic points is that the spies kill off the maker of the super-weapon rather than kidnapping him to learn the weapon's location.

The fight-choreography is about the same: nothing that would cause Jet Li to turn green with envy, but Thomas looks authoritative doing her stunts, particularly a big fistfight with a female agent who betrays her trust.  In reality CYCLONE didn't make Heather Thomas into a new straight-to-video action-goddess, but as a film it's probably no better or worse than those that bolstered the reputations of Sybil Danning and Cynthia Rothrock.  So though it's just as much a cookie-cutter flick as THE TOMB, at least CYCLONE has a touch more seasoning.

KING OF THE CONGO (1952)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*

FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*

CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*


Though I've frequently given ample space to serials that are top-of-the-line, the majority of them are pretty workmanlike, and don't reward close study. It's certainly not because many serials are cheap, since I've devoted full reviews to 90-minute horror films that might not be great, but may have some interesting theme or motif worth mentioning. American sound serials, however, offer almost nothing but action, and when action is handled in a repetitive manner, rather than by people who know how to make it fresh every time, the serial can become a study in tedium.

KING OF THE CONGO hails from the era when serials were beginning to be marginalized by television. It's a little surprising that the filmmakers chose to derive their scenario from a comic book that wasn't especially well known in its day. Of the three serials I cover here, CONGO had the greatest potential, which it didn't really exploit, though it's still the best of the three.

The serial's opening loosely resembles the setup of the 1950s jungle-comic, THUN'DA, KING OF THE CONGO, which concerned Roger Drum, a modern-day pilot, who crashed to earth in one of Africa's many unexplored valleys. In the comic, Drum enters a pocket "lost world" inhabited by both dinosaurs and primitive cave-people, and he becomes the leader of one such primitive tribe, who give him the name "Thun'da" to denote his leadership. The comic didn't keep the prehistoric elements very long, but CONGO presents them in an ambivalent fashion. There are of course no dinosaurs, which would have cost big bucks, but though there's a mysterious mist shielding the valley from the outside world, the script never explicitly says that the tribes living there are descended from prehistoric ancestors, even though the tribe that takes in Drum has a giveaway name like "the Rock People." Nevertheless, Drum's transformation into barely-clad jungle-hero is unusually faithful to the comic book origin.

However, Dtum isn't the only one to land in the mist-shrouded valley. A group of spies-- never explicitly called Communists, though they use terms like "comrade" to one another-- infiltrates the terrain, looking for a legendary mineral that might help them win the Cold War. The mineral gives CONGO a more marvelous nature than one finds in most jungle-serials. Though one can't be sure that the Rock People and their neighbors are direct descendants of Paleolithic types, the weird mineral is apparently the source of the enshrouding mists. It also has strange effects on those who come too close, for one episode's cliffhanger consists of Thun'da and another good guy getting "magnetized" to the side of a mineral-bearing rock.

Aside from the mystery of the miracle mineral, and the peregrinations of the prehistoric peoples, CONGO is largely another serial full of seesaw battles and little character interest. Buster Crabbe essays Thun'da, and though he was about 15 years older than he was in his Flash Gordon days, he still gave his role considerable charisma. Unfortunately, the spies are all one-note villains, so Thun'da doesn't have much to work with. One odd note is that in a couple of scenes the Rock People's elder seems to display limited magical powers-- he can foresee ongoing events in a crystal ball-- but there's no attempt to credit his powers to the miracle mineral or any other pseudoscience-explanation.

GLASS (2019)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *psychological, sociological*


Now that I've seen the culmination of M. Night Shyamalan's "ordinary superhero" trilogy-- the first two parts of which I reviewed here-- I tend to think of the whole in standard theatrical terms, with UNBREAKABLE as a fairly compelling first act, SPLIT as a weak second act, and GLASS as a strong third act.

As I stated in the earlier review, one of the more impressive things about Shyamalan's take on superheroes is that they don't really seem to escape quotidian existence. Even when a writer like Alan Moore tries to satirize the superhero idiom, he still has to reproduce many if not all of the most notorious superhero tropes in order that his barbs can find their proper target. But Shyamalan's trilogy seems to be more ambitious, in giving the audience superheroes whose powers and talents are difficult to assess.

Of course, a lot of metaphenomenal films have hinged on the ambiguous nature of the marvelous. Sometimes there's no doubt that marvelous entities exist, but there are some doubts as to the true nature of said entities. ("It's a cookbook!") At other times, the marvelous can be given a "realistic" explanation, though in many such works, ranging from Gothics to detective stories, the explanation is not much more realistic than the outright marvelous thing being suggested, thus resulting in the domain of "the uncanny." In both UNBREAKABLE and SPLIT, Shyamalan keeps his apparent marvels within a twilight realm that might transform into the uncanny. Does David Dunn really lose his apparent invulnerability when faced with his "kryptonite," or is that all part of a childhood complex? Does Kevin Crumb, in his monster-like persona of "the Beast," really possess super-strength when he's seen bending iron bars, or is he just doing what a lot of above-average strongmen can do, fueled by his own psychosis? The merely human witnesses to this marvels-- Dunn's son Joseph, Kevin's former captive Casey-- cannot be entirely sure that they have seen wonders, and so neither can the audience be sure. The only character who remains resolutely sure of the existence of modern-day superheroes is Elijah Price, and he's a madman who's killed hundreds of people in his quest to become a true super-villain. But his villainous name, "Mister Glass," constantly reminds the audience that his belief in the strength of superheroes may be a fantasy of compensation, because that strength is something that his eternally fragile body cannot ever possess.

Nevertheless, long after Price/Glass has been institutionalized, Dunn's desire to be a protector of the weak eventuates in his crossing paths with Kevin Crumb, who has recently begun preying on female victims once more. There's a brief "battle of the titans," but the forces of the ordinary world intrude on the mortal combat, in the force of Dr. Ellie Staple and a contingent of policemen. Both the would-be hero and his monstrous foe are consigned to the same asylum as the villainous Glass, and Staple claims that the only way the three of them can escape eternal imprisonment is to recant their respective belief-systems.

Since Shyamalan himself has cleverly set things up so that the audience cannot be 100 percent sure of  what they've seen, any more than can the diegetical witnesses, the audience of GLASS hangs in a position of uncertainty. Have they indulged in beliefs about the marvelous simply because they, like the characters, want to be removed from the world of the ordinary?

Staple seems, for a time, to possess the "right reading" of the escapist superhero fantasy. However, it wouldn't be a film by M. Night Shyamalan if there wasn't at least the possibility of an ending with a twist, or even a "double twist." The mechanics through which the writer-director realizes the surprise. however, are less important than the implied ethical: that the people preaching "the reality principle" may have a vested interest in controlling the reality of everyone else.

Whereas SPLIT was a little too much James MacAvoy for me at least, his florid Kevin character is nicely counterpointed by the underplayed character of  Bruce Willis's David Dunn, who remains resigned to his grim fate from the first, even when he sacrifices himself to save innocents who arguably don't deserve being saved. Samuel L, Jackson's Elijah is in some ways the moral center of the film despite his heinous acts, for he's willing to perpetrate evil deeds in order to banish a greater evil: the false belief in human limitations. Thus, GLASS may be the first film in which a hero, a villain and a monster share center-stage as part of the core ensemble. (Prior to this, the biggest admixture of persona-types I'd ever seen in a single film would be CHRONICLE, where its two co-equal stars are what I term "monster" and "demihero.")

All this, and a pretty good super-fight at the conclusion.

TEKKEN (2010)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*

MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *psychological*



Though on a whim I chose to borrow illustrations of hot kung fu babes for two martial-arts films, TEKKEN, like the majority of kung-fu films, emphasizes a dark and obsessive world of male violence, with just a few killer babes tossed into the mix.  In contrast, DOA, focusing primarily on three female fighters who cross paths during a tournament, is considerably lighter, with more of a CHARLIE'S ANGELS tonality.

TEKKEN takes place in a future-world wherein eight corporations have taken over the world and continually strive amongst themselves for superiority by matching their martial representatives against one another.  Aside from the hero's battle with one cyborg-opponent (Gary Daniels, veteran of quite a few low-budget martial mayhem films), one doesn't see a lot of advanced technology in the TEKKEN world.  Had there been no cyborg, though, the setting alone constitutes a *marvelous* phenomenality.

The hero Jin (Jon Foo) is raised in poverty by his mother Jun (Tamlyn Tomita).  She's never explained the mysterious absence of his father, and she dies early on at the hands of enforcers sent by the Tekken Corporation.  By luck Jin defeats a fighter scheduled to represent Tekken at the Iron Fist tournament.  Tekken recruits Jin to fight in the tournament, and the hero accepts with the ulterior motive of finding his mother's killer.  After his first victory he's almost assassinated by two babe-assassins (seen above) but Jin is saved by his new girlfriend, a fighter named Christie.

At the film's first mention of the "absent father," I was pretty certain Jin would meet his pappy during the tournament; however, the script did throw me a mild curve in that said father, Kazuya by name, turns out to be the main villain rather than a sympathetic ally to the hero.  Kazuya is responsible for the assassins, as well as for attempting to pervert the Iron Fist tournament in order to have the gladiators kill one another.  One might discern a very light Oedipal theme here, in that Jin's mother is killed by his father, and that TEKKEN ends with a life-and-death battle between the two.  It may also be of mild significance that Jin's mother, a martial artist herself, trained him, and that Jin needs a little help from his fighter-girlfriend to prevail over Kazuya.  This quasi-Oedipal theme is the only reason I consider TEKKEN to possess a fair level of mythicity.

THE DRUMS OF FU MANCHU (1940)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *superior*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *cosmological, sociological*


There's often an adversarial relationship between works of prose and works of the cinema. Prose is of course the older medium, and it's far more the case that films are adapted from prose works than the other way around. But films often change the works they adapt, sometimes to meet the nature of cinematic storytelling, sometimes just because some filmmaker wants to tell his own story while tying it into a "presold property." Multi-chapter serials were particularly notable for this, as witness 1941's JUNGLE GIRL, which derived nothing but a title from the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel on which it was supposedly based.

DRUMS OF FU MANCHU, directed by William Witney and John English, uses the title of the 1939 Sax Rohmer novel. However, the serial's basic plot-- in which the Asian villain seeks to gain control of diverse Asian tribes by finding a rare artifact-- derives from both Rohmer's 1932 THE MASK OF FU MANCHU, as well as a (very loose) film-adaptation with the same title and in the same year.

Perhaps because Fu Manchu had not appeared in a live-action film since 1932, the serial-makers felt it necessary to remind audiences of his literary provenance with a prologue that reads, in part: "From the pages of fiction steps the most sinister figure of all time-- Fu Manchu! Schooled in the ancient mysteries of the Orient, he is as modern as tomorrow!" Rohmer's character in fact kept his feet planted in both worlds. The Oriental mastermind's main modus operandi consisted of committing thefts and assassinations with skillful assassins or with the use of artful devices involving poisonous creatures, all very "low-tech." Yet at times Rohmer's Fu also dabbles in science-fiction weapons like reanimated dead men and a handheld disintegrator ray. The six scriptwriters assigned to DRUMS wisely chose to dispense with overt SF-weapons, so that all of this Fu's weapons are of the "uncanny" phenomenality, though a couple of them-- which I'll discuss in closing remarks-- strain the definition.

As in Rohmer's MASK novel, Fu's mission is "the conquest of Asia," and here the master plotter must do so by unearthing the Scepter of Genghis Khan, concealed in the (still unknown as of this date) tomb of the Mongolian leader. Fu finds out that various Western archaeologists have pieced together clues as to the tomb's location, and he seeks to find the tomb, implicitly somewhere in Mongolia, so that he can gain control of the resentful tribes-- which, given the boogieman status of the Mongol hordes, is apparently covalent with gaining control of all Asia. Aside from one major firearms-battle in the final chapter, Fu almost always seeks to conquer Asia using archaic weapons like knives, strangling-cords, and poisonous creatures, all wielded by the villain's vicious, slavish dacoits. Though Witney and English, like Sax Rohmer, generally support the rightness of British colonialism, Fu can't help but seem admirable for taking on the superior forces of Caucasian Europe with primitive weaponry. One chapter of the serial even directly adapts Rohmer's device of the "Seven Gates," a series of wooden gates that bring starving rats closer and closer to Fu's intended torture-victim.

DRUMS provides audiences with the closest cinematic match to Rohmer's villain. Fu Manchu is easily the intellectual superior of all of his antagonists, a master of chemistry and a skilled surgeon (he makes his dacoits subject to his will via an operation that sounds somewhat like a lobotomy, except that it leaves them with fang-like teeth.) He's also a master of hypnotism and the arts of disguise, and he receives feminine assistance from his cunning daughter Fah Lo Suee-- though she's perhaps a little more servile than she is in the books. As essayed by the masterful Henry Brandon, Fu has a sardonic sense of humor absent from most other cinematic productions, as well as his own code of honor, despite his penchant for murder and torture. One scene even allows him to display grief when his daughter is gravely wounded. displaying a level of emotion not seen in other adaptations of the character.

The other players acquit themselves well. William Royle makes for an unusually heavyset version of Nayland Smith, agent of the British Empire and Fu's eternal enemy. Most of the hand-to-hand fights are handled by a younger character, Allan Parker, who much resembles some of the "stalwart young heroes" of Rohmer's books, though actor Robert Kellard gives Parker a greater vim and vigor than the average square-jawed hero. The character of Doctor Petrie, who functions in the books to narrate Nayland Smith's exploits, obviously doesn't have a lot of relevance to this project, but it's pleasant to see him included for a few chapters, and there's even an eccentric collector of artifacts who's probably patterned after Rohmer's "Lionel Barton" character. The two female characters, Fah Lo Suee and Mary Randolph, aren't given much to do overall, but the serial gains some gravitas from short-term participation by actors like Dwight Frye and Philip Ahn.

In terms of the serial's greatest asset-- the action-- I'd say that DRUMS is the FURY ROAD of its day. Many serials just coast on repetitive fight-scenes broken up by talking-heads of the heroes discussing their next plans. But although DRUMS has its share of talking-head scenes, Witney and English manage to make even these compelling, possibly because the plot has a sense of sustained progress from one point to another, a sense of progress many serials lack. Dominantly, the heroes and villains are seen doing exciting things: fighting, running, jumping, riding horses, scaling telephone poles. DRUMS also benefits from cliffhangers with some logical payoff, as when Fu Manchu trap-doors Allan Parker into a tank with a predatory octopus!

Witney and English also structure the story to resemble Rohmer's stories in mixing elements of both mysteries and horror-tales, making greater use of shadowy or exotic locales than most serials are wont to do. One particular exotic locale, an isolated temple in Mongolia is the source of one of those "verges-on-the-marvelous" phenomena. The temple falls under Fu's aegis, and it just happens to possess a unique method of executing infidels: a great crystal that can focus the sun's rays so as to incinerate anyone placed in the path of the rays. It's almost needless to say that there's no real crystal that can perform this laser-like function. And yet, since the crystal isn't presented as being an artifact from some super-scientific civilization, like a similar item in LOST CITY OF THE JUNGLE, I have to regard it as an "outre device" that operates the way it does just because the story says that's how it works/ It's just an arbitrary rule of the game, sort of like Fu using hypnosis to instantly enthrall people into subjection.

But the outstanding "outre skill" used by Fu Manchu here is like nothing seen in the novels. In many episodes Fu Manchu's approach is heralded by drumbeats, and for most of the serial, the audience would probably assume that some of his minions are nearby, beating drums for their master. Indeed, there are comparable scenes in one or two Rohmer books. But only in Chapter 10 does it become evident that-- Fu Manchu himself makes the drum-sounds! He's only seen doing so once: Parker and Smith are in a cavern whose stalactites are poised to fall at any loud sound, and Fu, off to one side, begins emitting drumbeat-sounds from his very skull, so that the stalactites fall and nearly kill the heroes! It is, in my educated opinion, the single most delirious episode in the history of American serials. There's no explanation as to how Fu can make such a sound, and though I've played with the idea that he's somehow amplifying his own heartbeats, the truth is that it happens just it looks awesome. It's a scene that makes the audience feel as if, for a moment, they're trapped inside the skull of that supreme enemy of all things Western: the insidious Doctor Fu Manchu.

THE RETALIATOR (1987)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*

THE RETALIATOR, also frequently known as PROGRAMMED TO KILL, is largely a wasted opportunity in every way. It's not even a lively junky action-film.

The blame can be equally shared by long-time director/film editor Allan Holzman and writer/co-director Robert Short. RETALIATOR is just a basic "Frankenstein" story transferred to the arena of international terrorism, and Holzman and Short bludgeon their one idea into taking the dullest, most predictable path possible.

There's some potential in the character of Samira (Sandahl Bergman), an American expatriate who for reasons unknown has become allied with a terrorist group in Greece. Her motivations may be purely romantic, since early on she's seen sucking the face of the head terrorist, who sports the Islamic-sounding name "Hassim."  The CIA decides that Samira is the perfect subject for a cyborg-program, so they send agent Eric Matthews (Robert Ginty) to Greece to capture the female terrorist and bring her back to the U.S. Matthews only partly succeeds, for Samira fights back, knifing him, so that he's forced to kill her and bring back nothing but her dying body. This doesn't deter the CIA in the least, for they rebuild her as a cyborg killer and send her back to Greece, where she easily infiltrates the terrorists and kills them all. Immediately after that-- with no trigger to speak of-- Samira suddenly turns on her handlers and kills them. She then manages to return to the U.S, and begins killing off everyone involved in the project, as well as pursuing Matthews and his family.

There's a fair amount of shooting, but the script doesn't bother to take advantage of Bergman's athleticism, as seen in her best-known fantasy-film, 1982's CONAN THE BARBARIAN. Despite her cyborg enhancements, Matthews manages to kill her with the use of a bulldozer, in a scene even more risible than a similar slo-mo death in the intentionally comic AUSTIN POWERS.

About the only entertainment value of this loser is that of watching for an early appearance of later action-star Paul Walker.

PERILS OF NYOKA (1942)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *sociological, psychological*

PERILS OF NYOKA is one of those rare serials in which the scenarios are so fluid that, even though they're just showing gun-battles or mounted pursuits that one has seen a million times before, they seem remarkably fresh.  With many serials, one has to approach their action-setups with bemused tolerance.  But director William Witney-- admittedly working with the highest budget Republic ever gave to a serial-- consistently keeps the action pumping at a high pace.  Characters never walk when they can run, never run when they can leap, and so on.

The film is a technical follow-up to the successful 1941 JUNGLE GIRL, a tolerable but not outstanding serial about Nyoka Meredith (Frances Gifford), the daughter of a jungle-doctor.  This Nyoka becomes embroiled in stopping treasure-hunters after the villains kill her father, and then conceal the crime by having her father's twin brother-- and Nyoka's uncle-- masquerade as the doctor.  Only toward the end of the serial does this Nyoka learn of her uncle's perfidy.

The new Nyoka is given the surname "Gordon," and her father is not a doctor, but an archaeologist working in North Africa.  It's never entirely clear what project Nyoka and her father are working on exactly, although at the opening of the film several Arabs are working under Nyoka and calling her "sahib."  Nyoka's father has actually gone missing prior to the film's beginning, but Nyoka interrupts her search for him to help a group of beneficent white men trying to locate the Lost Tablets of Hippocrates, which may contain a cure for cancer.

However, evil treasure hunters-- commanded by the exotic "Vultura," a rare female tribe-leader-- learn that the Tablets are the key to a great treasure, and they try not only to hijack the map to the tablets but Nyoka as well.  This is patently a "McGuffin" story, where two opposed groups seesaw back and forth trying to get hold of some precious object, or, in related manner, someone who can help them use the valuable item.

In addition to the febrile action-sequences-- which include Nyoka fighting it out both with male bandits and with the curvaceous Vultura-- the serial's writers create a wide variety of cliffhanger threats with which to imperil Nyoka and her allies, mostly standard leading-man Larry (Clayton Moore) and young, not-overly-comical "comic relief" Red (Billy Benedict).  As is often the case, the depiction of the perils are far more stimulating than the hackneyed ways that the heroes escape from them.  That said, the most original of the perils-- a natural "wind tunnel" capable of snatching up human beings and hurling them to their deaths-- is resolved in a better-than-average manner.

Characterization is minimal, but it isn't missed given the full-bore action here, including a plotline in which Nyoka finds her father, who has lost his memory and somehow become the leader of a tribe of Tuareg warriors-- and who tries to have Nyoka executed. This provides a little psychological interest.  Ben Singer's essay on silent serials, "Child of Commerce! Bastard of Art!," observes that in female-centered serials most plots involves a woman either seeking a lost father or his legacy.  Singer also cited a rare instance in which the father carried out actions inimical to his daughter without knowing her identity.  PERILS OF NYOKA managed to duplicate both paternal positions, beginning with Nyoka trying to find her father, almost being killed by his actions, and then being reconciled to him once he regains his normal memory.