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Wall-to-wall delirium

Offering wall-to-wall delirium, The Heroic Trio is certainly bursting with creative energy and pulpy comic book visuals, compensating for a confusing and cloyingly over-sentimental story by serving as an irresistible showcase for three of the coolest women warriors ever to hit the silver screen. Even with all the eye-popping motorcycle stunts, bloodthirsty undead, cannibal infants, and kinetically choreographed wirework, the whole film feels like it's about to come apart at the seams despite hitting the ground running with such a tantalising hook. Style may be more plentiful than substance, but thanks to Johnnie To's consistently stunning visual eye with sweeping camera movements, wind machines, and an abundance dry ice, it matters little—especially when combined with the supernatural fight sequences, choreographed by Ching Siu Tung, that are dark, violent, and bursting with all imaginative dynamism you'd expect from this era of Hong Kong cinema. Although I wish the film had embraced the darker and more disturbing aspects of its tone throughout. It's hard to fault any of the performances from the leads; Maggie Cheung, Michelle Yeoh, and Anita Mui are all fabulous company, even if the latter two have been saddled with straighter roles as everyone else goes off the chain or hams it up, especially the likes of a near-mute Anthony Wong, severing heads with a lip smacking glee. Despite all of The Heroic Trio's inspired lunacy, the artificial trappings tend to make the film feel set-bound and confined, but ultimately, none of that diminishes the overall entertainment value the film possesses in spades.

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mfw no dancing

More of a free-wheeling and heart-warming romantic drama than a full-on comedy, Carry On Dancing is a fairly dull affair, but it's an affair that at least has something to say. Offering insights into how an individual relates to the larger environment, with the thin line between the sane and the insane blurring. There are some nice scenes and mildly amusing moments, thanks to the adequate direction, sappy music and performances from the cast, but it never becomes genuinely funny at any point. It's a real slog to get through and could have really benefited from some Yuen Woo-Ping dance choreography, hell, even any form of dancing at all. Despite Carry On Dancing's best intentions as a madcap romantic farce, the frequent dislocations and excessive number of unnecessarily one-note characters only slow things down.

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An effective solid disaster film throwback

An affectionate and well-realised update of Junya Satō's The Bullet Train, Bullet Train Explosion's devotion to delivering relentless edge-of-your-seat thrills ensures it's a blast from the moment it leaves the station. After his masterful reworking of Ultraman 3 years ago, I've been patiently waiting for Shinji Higuchi's next film. While the visual effects, direction, cinematography and camerawork are all top-notch, the carnage feels relatively restrained compared to Higuchi's prior work. However, even then, the film's greatest strength lies in its construction of tension and its commitment to showing how people respond to chaos. Some rise while others fall. Even with Higuchi as the film's conductor, this is still very much a one-track film, where Satō's original cross-cuts the action on board its Shinkansen with Ken Takakura's criminal antics, and here we are solely dedicated to the action on board. Despite its familiarity, there's also a fair dose of originality, although the late-game villain reveal had me howling with unintentional laughter. It's a long journey, full of near misses and assorted beats of suspense; although it abandons the complicating human factors that gave the original its soul, the film works very effectively as both a remake and a legacy sequel alike, even if the first half is far stronger than its latter half. Backed by strong performances and a rousing score by Taisei Iwasaki, Bullet Train Explosion is an effectively solid action disaster throwback, full of collectivism and collaboration.

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Carry On Shaw

A relatively faithful adaptation of the Carry On humour, Carry On Doctors and Nurses sees the Shaw Brothers taking a stab at creating their own interpretation of the classic formula. It repeats many beats from the four hospital films of the classic British institution but mixes them up just enough not to seem like a direct riff on the same jokes, just with worse timing. While there are plenty of great moments of slapstick pratfalls and an equal dose of Hong Kong's brand of absurdist humour, the film fails to come together satisfactorily and contains too much dead air to tickle the funny bones. Anthony Chan's direction isn't terrible and does enough to keep the picture moving with a shot of surrealist horror. I admit to getting a good chuckle out of the exceptionally lengthy Ghostbusters parody, but other jokes tend to wear out their welcome very quickly, being milked to the point of powder. While Carry On Doctors and Nurses certainly isn't awful, it does feel rather tired, although the cast's bafoonery does elevate it above the realm of disposable.

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Carry On Hotel

It's hilarious to me that the unequivocally British Carry On series was popular enough in Hong Kong to inspire its own set of exploitation films. Although Carry On Hotel doesn't really fit the vignette of that series and is as lightweight and inconsequential as they come, it still provides plenty of screwy all-star silliness and as many tonal mixes as something crafted by Wong Jing. As most of the stories are unrelated to one another, the film progresses without pausing for much unnecessary reflection or even explanation of what is happening, maintaining a comfortable pace to keep the proceedings moving without losing the viewer, however, director Jeffrey Lau struggles with consistency and pacing. We're merely expected to follow these numerous unimportant storylines while finding some form of entertainment in them. It seems that the presence of big stars and nonsensical comedy is meant to make everything all right, and it somehow does, ideal for spending a mellow afternoon with HK Cinema pals Eric Tsang, Cherie Chung, Joey Wong, Richard Ng, Cecilia Yip and Jacky Cheung. Unlike bigger and more ponderous all-star comedies, Carry on Hotel never attempts anything other than strange comedy and brief, amusing asides, a fluffy affair that can be suitably diverting, especially if watching these likeable stars engage in silly pratfalls is your idea of a good time.

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Definitely not a Sweet Child of Mine

Cobbled together is the best way to describe Gun n' Rose, for all its star-studded cast brings to the table we end up surrounded by tiresome comedy routines and a script that feels like it was written in a drunken afternoon with the added challenge of fitting in as many gangster flick clichés as possible. There's little to no structure with this Clarence Ford-helmed mess, only existing to serve one purpose; give its stars as many opportunities to look cool as possible, the effortlessly badass Andy Lay in particular, oozing charmisa throughout. The action is completely over-the-top, but effective in that acrobatic guns blazing style, with some brilliantly choreographed and inventive set pieces sprinkled throughout the film's rapid runtime, however, the horrendously disorienting editing is what sadly kills it; all those fancy moves are nothing if you can't follow where everyone is in terms of proximity to one another or even master a basic cut. The cast feels rather wasted or just flat-out misplaced here, Leon Lai is blandly intense while Simon Yam gets almost nothing to do, Lau is admittedly one of the film's saving graces but it's easy to see how his smarmy persona can quickly grate on the viewer. Even more out of place is Alan Tang, who uses an army of stunt doubles to achieve dizzying stunts that he clearly isn't suited for as he can barely jump two feet off the ground. Since he's also the producer of the film, Gun n' Rose ultimately feels like a well-staged vanity project more than coherent entertainment, still some decent music, a killer main theme, choice performances and fun action do make up for the film's shortcomings; there is undoubtedly a fan base for this film, although, sadly, I am not amongst them.

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Swaps surrealism for sheer horror

Swapping the dark fantasy and wild surrealism of its predecessor for sheer unnerving terror, Tokyo: The Last War still manages to feel ambitious even with its relative limitations and plenty of spine-chilling imagery. The story is much more straightforward, with a narrower narrative focus which lends the plot a greater degree of urgency and momentum; teeming with plenty of visual flair. You don't need to dig very far to find out the film was predominantly ghost-directed by Lam Nai-Choi and even features some choreography by Philip Kwok, expanding on the Hong Kong-styled elements of the first film. There are plenty of truly harrowing sequences throughout this film, the tone is consistently bleak, rarely containing a moment of hope for its characters, with the firebombing sequences especially delivering goosebumps whenever they grace the screen. The combination of having effects work by Screaming Mad George and H.R.Giger doing the art direction gives the film a strikingly gruesome edge to it in which people are dispatched in horrifically brutal fashion. The performances from the central cast are all solid but it's really the returning Kyusaku Shimada who steals the show, Kato is given a much more menacing edge this time, with plenty of build-up as this darkly oppressive figure. Combined with a great musical score by Koji Ueno, Tokyo: The Last War is certainly an escalation of that of The Last Megalopolis, a dramatic departure in tone and style but that only makes it more compellingly different and mesmerising. One that is certified to leave chills lingering long after it's over.

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Japan's Dune

One of Japan’s most expensive films of the 80s, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis is deeply rooted in the neon-tinged landscape of its time blended with the surreal gothic urban nightmare of the past. Akio Jissoji's wildly engrossing adaptation of Teito Monogatari certainly puts its money onscreen, epic in scale but does so with an identity crisis, it's a film that feels distinctly less Japanese and more like it came from Hong Kong with the references to obscure Chinese philosophy certainly adding to the disassociation. There's an obvious comparison to that of David Lynch's Dune, both films being ambitious, visually lush, large-budget adaptations of dense science fiction works that compressed the source material's narrative to fit a 2-hour time slot. There are moments with striking visuals that recall Jissoji's earlier work, diving headfirst into surrealism, his direction certainly shines but it's done so with a colour palette that lacks any form of scale other than grey, really annoying given some of his other more colourful works. Furthermore, there are problems to be found with its story, pacing and often sporadic editing, it's a film that needed more room to breathe than it was given and feels like a lot of material was left on the cutting room floor; however, that being said, the film's effects work is simply top-notch with the creature designs by frigging H.R.Giger make a distinct impression. The acting for the most part is all great, especially from the late great Shintarō Katsu and a very hammy Kyusaku Shimada as the evil sorcerer Kato, in conjunction with Maki Ishii's atmospheric score certainly gives the film a unique vibe most would be unable to replicate. As a mood piece, it's hard not to recommend Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis, however, the film simply tries to cover far too much ground in too short a time, yet at present it feels like it stretches on forever. The ambition is here but it all got lost in the edit.

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Brokeback Samurai

A Brokeback Samurai murder mystery, Taboo is a bold and visually stunning exploration of the strict social codes of nineteenth-century Japan, a mesmerising and atmospheric tale infused with a subversive undercurrent of homoerotic frisson. Nagisa Ōshima's final film, one he directed from a wheelchair due to his 1996 stroke, is one to behold; there's plenty of beauty to admire throughout the film's runtime, even if the narrative doesn't quite come together by the end, ending on a bloodless whimper, it's far from a pure drama thanks to Ōshima peppering the story with a little action here and there to keep the audience engaged through the long stretches of slow-burning heavy-handed dialogue. However, the way the production elements are assembled is what makes this film work, Ōshima's visual scheme creates a film full of the bare, dark wood interiors of the militia base and the mud brown of uniforms, where just a few significant colours stand out; very traditional of its genre but its elevated by the slow deliberate camerawork. The cast is easily one of the film's biggest perks. You get Takeshi Kitano leading the cast and story just as brilliantly as he always does, but it's the combo of Tadanobu Asano and Ryuhei Matsuda that truly sparkles. The score by Ryuichi Sakamoto is certainly one of the film's strengths, it pulls away from more traditional sounds of the genre, instead replacing it with Sakamoto's signature sound, it's not one of his most memorable works but it fits the film beautifully. Even though Taboo is relatively open and straightforward about its themes, the actual imagery remains pretty demure and suggestive, even with all its faults, Ōshima's swan song is a film worth watching.

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A bottomless depth of intentional emptiness

Punk nihilism offset by pure, unfiltered anger, The Youth Killer becomes all the more bleak once you learn the events surrounding it were true, a volatile outburst of teenage desire and frustration, unwilling to be tamed by the people supporting them. The only other film directed by Kazuhiko Hasegawa, The Youth Killer offers a vastly different experience to that of The Man Who Stole the Sun, chronicling the complete collapse of a young man's life in two highly traumatic, chaotic days of murder and madness. The direction and photography capture the suffocating, hellish setting its protagonists inhabit, most fittingly in a film that on occasion, and considering the large parts taking place in single locations with only two actors, points intently towards a stage play. The editing does induce the whole thing with a sense of speed, but the truth is, that the film lags significantly, with certain scenes, especially the exploitation / erotic elements that are there mostly for titillation, overstaying their welcome. There's an unwavering faith in the central performances, a faith that borders on the indulgent though ultimately they do pay off, a lot of the acting is very laconic but it weirdly works with everyone in a heightened distressed state, it adds a great amount of grim reality to the film. Coupled with an upbeat, deranged and nightmarishly unfitting yet extremely catchy Godiego score, The Youth Killer is a difficult watch at times but one with such an integral and fascinating radicalism it's hard to look away from, beautifully shot but sinks into the bottomless depth of intentional emptiness all too easily.

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Kitano breaks down all barriers

Continuing Takeshi Kitano's obsession with the code of yakuza loyalty and belonging while simultaneously making the most of its stranger in a strange land premise, Brother boldly juxtaposes images of geographical displacement and transience with underlying themes of cultural permanence and immutability. One that crafts a new vs old world, brother against brother epic battle straddling both sides of the Pacific style narrative without compromising the stylistic beauty of Kitano's other works. To Kitano, LA appears to have no indigenous culture of its own; he portrays it as nothing but a blank space on which immigrant Japanese, Italians, Africans and Hispanics do battle for supremacy, apparently unencumbered by the laws and customs of America. Although seemingly eager to embrace the shoot-outs of old Westerns, Kitano's screen blows hit home most painfully when he allows us to observe the conflict between assailant and victim at close quarters, as in the wince-inducing scene when Yamamoto grazes Denny's eye with a broken bottle. These encounters invoke the spectre of samurai sword fights rather than frontier shoot-outs is where Kitano's talent for provocative, confrontational filmmaking is pushed to the forefront. Kitano's face, alternately warm and chilly, weatherbeaten and oddly expressive despite its partial paralysis, speaks clearly in any language. It makes his relationship with a very underrated Omar Epps all the more special, these men don't share a common tongue but you can see the development of their relationship as naturally as anyone else. It's a very well-acted film and Kitano's script succeeds in creating likeable characters with the minimum amount of dialogue possible, a talent the man has seemingly never lost. Elsewhere, Kitano's distinctive blend of aggressive visuals and the lyrical, elegiac scoring of his regular composer Joe Hisaishi raise the tone from the sensational to the spiritual, reminding me of Sonatine's haunting mix of music and mayhem. Despite Kitano's own reservations, I highly recommend you give Brother a go, laid back yet rougher than most would expect, it's loud, direct and completely uncompromised, expressing more without words than most directors would dare to achieve.

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Kinda amazed Fukasaku didn't do more straight comedies.

A darkly comedic heist thriller exploding with pulp sensibilities, Gambling Den Heist sees Kinji Fukasaku try his hand at something a bit more light-hearted than the yakuza dramas he was more widely known for. It retains his characteristic cynicism and violence but has a degree of fun with the material to balance things out, showcasing the criminals of Japan as both hilariously incompetent and brutally effective. When friendship and loyalty become manipulative tools for our bosses, we inevitably wind up feeling lonely, disillusioned, and looking out only for ourselves. It's a briskly paced story, never getting bogged down in the details or too convoluted with character motivations. It has some hilarious scenes that thankfully never veer too far into madcap. All of Fukasaku's directional trademarks are here and out in full force, the cast is fantastic with a highly energetic Kinya Kitaoji in the leading role and the musical score by Toshiaki Tsushima is as upbeat and funky as you could want from a film like this. Gambling Den Heist is easily one of Kinji Fukasaku's more underrated films of his impressive filmography, the dude could direct a film like this in his sleep and it would still be fantastic, yes it's more lightweight than some of his more heavy hitters, but damn if this isn't just incredible fun.

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Don't be put off by the first half

Representing the first starring vehicle for Yuen Biao, he had a lot riding on Knockabout, a chance to show that his combination of martial arts prowess, good looks and acting skills could blossom into the charisma of a movie star, someone who could be at the centre of a major picture. Surrounded by a combination of old pros and rising young stars, given a script no worse than most kung fu comedies of the period, he was given every chance to flourish, which thankfully he did. As a comedy, the film doesn't quite work as well as intended, the humour is extremely laboured and chock full of poor jokes that admittedly probably work better with a crowd; once the humour backs off and Sammo Hung's action choreography is allowed to take centre stage, the film massively improves ten fold to the point I'm willing to forgive the majority of bad jokes and Karl Maka mugging the camera. While Sammo's direction is fantastic, unfortunately, the pacing is completely borked. It could have really benefitted from the odd trim here and there to tighten it up, especially during the rather painful first half because once the second half begins, it becomes something truly special. Despite my negativity, Knockabout truly benefits from Yuen Biao's effortless likeability, a strong supporting cast, an extraordinarily evil villain played perfectly by Lau Kar-Wing and some outstanding fight sequences that keep it from becoming an otherwise disposable venture, improving the longer you stick with it. I probably would have liked this a lot more had it not been for the sour first impression.

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A huge downshift

In its attempt to one-up The Peacock King, Saga of the Phoenix unfortunately feels like a massive downturn often coming across as a huge internal battle between two directors whose styles do not fit together, cutting the darker and more adult fantasy elements to make it more kid-friendly was a poor move. Poor Yuen Biao spends most of the film encased in ice and nobody seems to care, granted the sequences helmed by Lam Nai-Choi are a sight to behold with plenty of great special effects work and dazzling production design, however, the action is sorely lacking even if it is rather well shot. Nobody ever sets out to make a bad film but sometimes even the best intentions go badly awry, there's a wealth of oddness and general daftness to keep you entertained but it lacks what made its predecessor special. Granted the film does earn an extra brownie point with me for having Zatōichi himself, Shintarō Katsu, in the film even if it is a relatively small role. By the time Biao returns to the film to set things straight, the damage has been done. Truth be told, the film is passable in spurts but sadly, it's also 25 minutes too long. The scope of Saga of the Phoenix may be smaller but there's still a lot of charming creativity which means I can't hate the effort, although catering the film for a younger demographic did not help matters and hurt its overall impact.

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Daigoro is an ugly mf

Made to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Tsuburaya Productions, Daigoro vs. Goliath is certainly a film that follows in the goofy, thoroughly ridiculous crater-like footsteps of other 70s kaiju films, one that I can't help but make the comparison with the latter Showa era Gamera films in all their painful child-centric antics. It's the kind of kaiju film that wouldn't appeal to anyone over the age of 6, despite being bright, colourful and laden with sing-along musical numbers, strained slapstick, crazy contraptions and abundant juvenile whimsy, there's certainly a crowd for this type of rubbish, unfortunately, I am not one of them. However, I can give credit to a lot of the special effects sequences, mainly the miniatures and pyrotechnics, both of which are top-notch, though they are few and far between the otherwise horrifically ugly kaiju designs (and I thought Minilla was the ugliest mf). The usually reliable director Toshihiro Iijima delivers some exceptionally heavy-handed social commentary, far from the more subtle approaches to his work on Ultraman, while Toru Fuyuki delivers a score that would make you think he fell asleep in the recording booth, the acting is no better and plays like a half-arsed classic sitcom. Daigoro vs. Goliath can be perfectly summed up as an experience in the scene where Daigoro uses a giant Toilet to do his gargantuan business while the human cast looks on in a bizarre fascination, this is not a film I can easily recommend and ultimately feels like a tax write off cause Tsuburaya couldn't make the historical epic they initially wanted.

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