Recommendations :: A Two-Punch Action Combo from Arrow Video :: Nico Mastorakis's Hired to Kill (1990) and Gordon Hessler's Pray for Death (1985)

A wild mash-up of The Magnificent Seven (1960) and The Dirty Dozen with a significant feminine twist, Hired to Kill (1990) finds a wet-work specialist named Ryan (Brian Thompson) hired by a shady organization that operates outside the CIA’s purview to rescue an imprisoned revolutionary in some banana republic when the puppet government they set up proves even more corrupt than the one they helped overthrow in the first place. And the only way to do this and fool Fakeastan’s chief of security (Oliver Reed and what’s left of his liver) is to send Ryan into this island nation undercover as a fashion designer with a half-dozen sexy female “models” he rounds up out of several prisons and asylums, former operatives gone bad, an ex-Mossad assassin, and an ex-partner among them, for a staged photo-shoot. And after he whips these new recruits into shape via several training montages, Hired to Kill then spends the middle portion of the film gawking at all that eye-candy before things go completely bonkers when Ryan and his howling commandos finally raid the prison and all hell breaks loose – and breaks loose quite spectacularly.

When I reviewed Nightmare at Noon (1988) awhile back, I went into the history of Nico Mastorakis and his Omega Entertainment and lamented over how you just don’t see these kinds of high octane independent actioneers anymore. Oh sure, they try to but no amount of digital blood splatter and lame stunts can hold a candle to what you used to find in the action aisle at the old Video Kingdom. Apparently, Mastorakis was only supposed to be the writer and producer on Hired to Kill but the initial director, Peter Rader, got *ahem* distracted by one of the starlets and was soon shown the door when the production started to lag. The stone-faced Thompson does fine in a rare good-guy role (-- and there's once scene with Reed where he must maintain his cover that is worth the price of the disc alone), but the film really works due to the overcompensating efforts of Michelle Moffett, Barbara Niven, Jordana Capra, Kendall Conrad, Kim Lonsdale, Jude Mussetter, and Penelope Reed as our kick‘n’ass strike-team; all part of a tight and snappy, no-nonsense package that knows what the audience wants to see – blood, boobs, and things going boom, and knows when to get out after 90 or so minutes.

Arrow Video’s new release of Hired to Kill looks fantastic. It also includes a moderated audio commentary with the film’s editor, Barry Zetlin, which covers most of his career where he worked with the likes of Charles Band, Roger Corman, and the Go-Go Boys at Cannon Films. There’s also two interviews, one with Mastorakis and another with star Thompson, who talk about making the film, the nepotism that got Thompson the role in the first place, and both confirm that Reed was bombed out of his skull for the whole shoot; and each address the tragic helicopter accident that claimed the life of stuntman, Clint Carpenter, during filming. Also included is a digital copy of the shooting script, plus liner notes by critic James Oliver. Again, a great package for a highly entertaining slice of 1990s action pie that I heartily recommend. 

Buy Hired to Kill at Amazon.

Buy Hired to Kill at Arrow Video.

At the urging of his homesick wife, Akira Saito (Sho Kosugi) moves his family to America to open a new restaurant. Unfortunately for the Saitos, they are kinda sold a false bill of goods by a doddering old fart who (over)sells them on some property in a seedy neighborhood. And turns out this previous owner is so oblivious he has no idea his derelict property is also being used as a dropsite between some mobsters and a couple of corrupt detectives who were supposed to leave a stolen necklace there but decided to pull a double-cross. And so, when the chief goon goes to retrieve the jewels, a sadistic creep by the name of Limehouse (James Booth, who also wrote the script), but can't find them, of course they think the new owners must be the ones who stole them and are determined to get them back no matter who gets hurt. They start by kidnapping the youngest son and don't believe Saito's claims of not knowing what they're talking about. (Both kids were played by Kosugi’s real children.) The cops, of course, prove worthless, but what these crooks don’t realize is their intended victim just also happens to be a deadly ninja – who apparently learned all his lethal skills from Sam from Quincy (Robert Ito), who has no qualms about taking the law into his own hands when he's finally pushed to far.

Now, to say the plot of Pray for Death (1985) is kinda convoluted would probably be the understatement of the year. Actually, the plot is pretty simple; it’s the execution where things went staggeringly awry. (Though I will say that Maurice Binder, 007-esque knock-off opening sequence was truly amazing. As was the bait and switch ninja TV show that opens the film.) The 1980s saw an inexplicable dry-fart explosion of ninja movies and you couldn’t see one of these things without tripping over Sho Kosugi, who first appeared as the bad guy in Enter the Ninja (1981), then the good guy in Revenge of the Ninja (1983), and then the one-eyed sort of good guy in the nigh inexplicable Ninja III: The Domination (1984), all for Cannon Films. And one would almost swear, what with the cast, the loopy leaps of plot logic, and that the all too familiar plot is essentially Death Wish II (1983) with ninjas that Pray for Death was another Go-Go Boys turd-burger but you’d be wrong. No, Pray for Death along with Rage of Honor (1987) were two films featuring Kosugi and directed by Gordon Hessler for Trans World Entertainment. Most of the problems with this film can be laid at the feet of the script. There is some juice toward the end with a running fight through a mannequin factory (-- why a mannequin factory? Basically because why not...), and a final confrontation that involves a chainsaw but this might prove too little too late for some viewers.

Again, Arrow Video spared nothing when it comes to bonus features on the special edition Bluray of Pray for Death. Here, you’ve got the option of watching the theatrical cut or the unrated version. (I thought I clicked on the unrated version but what I saw was relatively clean and bloodless so that’s me shrugging right now.) There’s also two interviews with Kosugi, a recent conversation and a vintage archive interview with a ninjitsu demonstration from the film’s premiere back in 1985. Personally, I think watching Kosugi work, a true martial artist, is always worth the time and find most ninja movies to be a total hoot. The action that follows in Pray for Death is plentiful, sure, but the execution is exceedingly sloppy with characters that are required to be “that” stupid to make the plot work. Thus, as an action film Pray for Death fails rather miserably; but as an unintended comedy there’s plenty to enjoy. And just how in the hell many henchman did the bad guy have anyway?!

Buy Pray for Death at Amazon.

Buy Pray for Death at Arrow Video.  

Movie Poster Spotlight :: Foreign Jobs :: A Set of Italian Photobustas for Star Wars (1977)

The first person who says "Don't you mean A New Hope?" gets tossed in the Sarlacc pit with Lame-O-Fett. Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever, I totally blew the deadline for May the 4th on this one. But to make up for it, here, have four promotional posters courtesy of Coca-Cola and Burger King issued way back in 1977. I had the ones with droids and Vader, and just like my collector glasses, I wish like hell I knew where they all went.

Other Points of Interest:

First run ads for Star Wars at the Morgue.

Second run ads for Star Wars at the Morgue. 

Star Wars (1977) Lucasfilm :: 20th Century Fox / EP: George Lucas / P: Gary Kurtz, Rick McCallum/ D: George Lucas / W: George Lucas / C: Gilbert Taylor / E: Richard Chew / M: John Williams / S: Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Alec Guinness, Anthony Daniels, Peter Mayhew, Peter Cushing

On the Big Screen :: A Day at the Movies: The King, a Trickster, a Prince, and Oh, Captain My Captain.

About a week ago I had a scheduled day off with nothing to do. There were also an obscene amount of new movies out that I really wanted to see. And since my hometown has only one first run theater, and since this multiplex is the absolute worst when it comes to turnover and making room for new films -- unless you wanted to see Zootopia again (-- absolutely loved it but already saw it three times), or Miracles from Heaven (-- now in it’s sixth, no, seventh week), I hatched a plan for a 160-mile round-trip to spend a day at the movies in a better theater with a sketched out, theoretical, bona fide quadruple feature:

It really could have, too.

Wait. Could have, you ask? Well, see, when the fateful day arrived and I prepared to skedaddle, with the threat of rain all day in the forecast I decided to grab my mail first and bring it in since there is nothing worse than a porous mailbox full of soggy envelopes; and inside I found a statement from my insurance provider, running down what they would cover and what they wouldn’t cover for an *ahem* incident suffered earlier this month when what I thought was a blood blister on my ankle turned out to be a varicose vein that I stupidly picked open, which, to my incredulous surprise, caused a highly pressurized stream of blood to spray all over myself and my bedroom floor. (Seriously, it was like Sam Peckinpah’s Salad Days in there.) And since it really wouldn’t stop, and the blood loss began to mount as well as a sense of panic as the minutes tic’d past, I got to scratch “Make a 911 call” off my bucket-list of things to do. After the EMTs arrived, and I sprayed more blood around my house to unlock the door to let them in, they staunch’d the blood fountain while I arranged transportation to the emergency room. Of course by the time I got there it had FINALLY stopped bleeding. And of course I sat there for about an hour waiting for a doctor to examine it and explain what the hell just happened, but I did have a great conversation with the nurse in the interim. Here’s a transcript:

And when the doctor finally arrived, she said, “Yeah, that’s pretty terrible” but there wasn’t much they could do, feeling it didn’t need to be cauterized, then, “Keep it covered and moisturized, and good luck to you.” They didn’t even bother to re-bandage it. And that was the extent of my visit to the ER, which saw me leaving caked with blood from my hands to my elbows, with one leg covered in spatter, the other solid crimson with essentially all my clothes ruined. (I recall giving a young, wide-eyed toddler a thumb’s up as I left through the automatic door.) Now, several weeks later, I look at what I will have to cough-up to cover this glorified, drive-by consultation, and suddenly, any notion of spending the day in Lincoln was scotched due to being an adult with adult financial responsibilities. *sigh* At least I got to have friends over for a crime-scene clean-up party, so, there’s that.

Thus, I had a day off with nothing to do and nowhere to go. And as I moped around the house, trying to decide what to do with myself, I started working some creative math inside my head. Frankly, I still couldn’t really afford it but sometimes, Boils and Ghouls, ya just gotta say, Screw it, and do it, which is exactly what I did.

Now, there was one casualty as this initial delay blew my window of opportunity, thus reducing this adventure to a triple feature, meaning one of those movies would have to go. As to which one got skunked, I decided to just follow my nose and see where it led me after re-consulting the schedule after I got there. What I did know for sure was that one of those films was a dead-solid lock as the one I really wanted to see, and so, 80 miles later, this binge began with a screening of Liza Johnson’s Elvis and Nixon (2016).

According to legend, this infamous historical “incident” is all Paul Frees’ fault. Seems the legendary voice actor -- Rocky and Bullwinkle, a ton of stuff for Hannah-Barbera and Walt Disney as well as doing dub work on things ranging from Blood and Black Lace (1964) to King Kong Escapes (1967) -- was allegedly an asset for the Federal government, working undercover for the Bureau of Narcotics (later morphing into the DEA). And for this he had been issued a badge as an “undercover agent at large”, which, as the legend continues, he reluctantly showed to Elvis Presley. And Elvis being Elvis, he decided he needed one of those for his own self. And to satiate this wild hair, he went on an impromptu expedition to the gates of the White House to see the top man himself and make his pitch to the President. And while Richard Nixon was currently one of the most powerful men in the world at the time, no one said “no” to Elvis Presley.

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, and this all really did happen. Alas, this was before Nixon started secretly recording everything that happened in the Oval Office so what really transpired between these two men, who were not as disparate as you’d think, on that fateful day in December, 1970, is left to conjecture, hearsay and a precious few photographs. (I, for one, feel Elvis’ patriotic pitch was a load of crap. Just a means to an end as all he wanted was that badge.) This tale was already told once in a really good TV movie called Elvis Meets Nixon (1997), and the feature film covers a lot of the same ground, with nearly 2/3rds of the run time showing the efforts to just get into the White House. 

Spacey delivers, as we all knew he would, bringing some true character to this caricature, but the real surprise here is Shannon who is a constant revelation every time I encounter him. He may look like he’d be more suited for a bio-pic on Arch Hall Jr. but he just nails the character, especially the bits where he reflects on the false facade of his public persona and how the loss of his twin brother gave him the luck of two people to help balance out the comical spin of the film in general, making for a wonderful comedy of errors. And it was pretty hilarious. Too bad when I bought the ticket the cashier told me I was the only seat sold for the matinee, which explains why I and I alone sat in an otherwise empty theater and laughed and laughed until I could laugh no more. (I might’ve even peed a little when the Secret Service forced Presley and his entourage to disarm themselves.) Man, you all missed a really good movie.

When the film got out I consulted the big board to try and plot out the rest of the day and was confronted with a choice. I also really wanted to see Green Room, which I could’ve seen next, but that would’ve meant Purple Rain was out altogether and a long, long wait after that for a late, late screening of Everybody Wants Some. However, if I did Purple Rain next it would only be a short wait after for a second Green Room showing and then maybe, just maybe, I could still squeeze in a fourth feature at midnight.

And so, I went with Purple Rain next, which gave me some time to kill; and so I scurried back to the parking garage to snag my glasses, which I had left in the car in my haste to make the first show. (I don’t really need them except while driving at night but I kinda get instant Hi-Def if I wear them in the theater.) There was also time to grab a bite at a nearby Qdoba, a burrito bar, where I gorged on one the size of my own head. (Author's note: I have a really big head, too.) Then back to theater, where, unlike the first private screening, the theater was already pretty full and I got to see an extended featurette on Shane Black’s The Nice Guys (2015) for a second time that day, another film I cannot wait to see -- a featurette I’d get to see yet again later and didn’t mind one bit. And as the theater filled up, my row was soon packed pushing my slight social anxiety disorder into overdrive. I thought about moving to another seat for some breathing room but there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. Thus, I hunkered in. I’d already seen the King, and now a Prince. (See what I did there?)

Now, I think the first time I ever saw Prince was on Friday Night Videos, a lifeline to us rural bumpkins who had no MTV, which wrapped up one episode with “When Doves Cry”. What the hell was that? said I, anxious to watch, hear and experience it again. More videos followed, I was hooked, and soon bought the album, which would serve as the basis for Purple Rain (1984), a kind of star vehicle piece that you don’t really see any more. 

I wouldn’t say I am a huge Prince fan, and he kinda lost me when he changed his identity, but back in the Prince and the Revolution days, man, that was the sh*t. And it was easy to get swept up again when the film opened with a live (canned) version of “Let's Go Crazy”, which sets the tone for what was to follow.

Here, Prince plays “The Kid”, a musical prodigy on the precipice of “making it” but whose life is falling apart around him both personally (his abusive father has gone officially out of control) and professionally (his band is rebelling over his obsessive creative control, and a rival constantly tries to torpedo him), making it the perfect time to fall in love with a protege (Appolonia), looking to make it herself. 

I had never seen Purple Rain before, and now that I have I can say it was definitely better than Graffiti Bridge (1990), but I thought Graffiti Bridge was pretty awful, so, interpret that as you will. The film suffers ah-lot from the Kid being protected by a designated hero status as otherwise his actions would brand him a total dick. Prince is actually a pretty good actor, I think, raw, but there's something definitely there; he was just saddled with a poorly written character plugged into a rote After School Special plot; so that's all on Albert Magnoli, who wrote and directed. The real message, I guess, is breaking the cycle of violence as our *ahem* "hero" appears to be on the same self-destructive path as his father, as both like to use their love interests as punching bags or heap tons of emotional abuse when they don't get their way or aren't getting enough attention. (Highlighted by a performance of "My Darling Nicky", used as a middle-finger salute.) 

And somewhat miraculously, against all evidence shown, the Kid manages to pull this off, honoring his parents, placating the band, and saving his career in one, fateful final musical number. And so, as a movie, Purple Rain isn’t so hot -- but as a musical showcase for Prince and the Revolution it is indispensable. And before we move on, between this and Graffiti Bridge, can someone please explain to me why Morris Day hasn't gotten his own movie yet?

There was time for a quick bathroom break before seeking out the right theater for the third feature, Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room (2015), a nasty little piece of business cut and bled from the same vein as the writer and director’s earlier backwater noir, Blue Ruin (2013). 

Here, a near destitute punk band, living out of a van out on the road in the Pacific northwest, are in desperate need of a paying gig. And so desperate are they, the group – lead singer Tiger (Turner), guitarist Pat (Yelchin), bassist Sam (Shawkat) and drummer Reece (Cole) – agree to take a job from a guy who knows a guy out in the boonies. Well, turns out this gig is at a neo-Nazi skinhead bar. And despite their best efforts to get their heads caved in by the choice of baiting cover-songs, the group survives the set but then see something they shouldn’t have seen in the green room before clearing out.

Things get really exacerbated from there, with witnesses needing to be eliminated – and eliminated most gruesomely to fit a forensic cover story, meaning no bullets, only blades and trained attack dogs. Thus, there is no real mystery or suspense to Green Room. Not that this is bad thing. Instead of shocks, the film deals and trades in a ruthlessly methodical brutality (perhaps too methodical for its own good) as each band member meets their fate while the others keep on fighting to stay alive and disrupt the “scene of the crime.” (Life in horror films in a post-Hostel world, I guess.) 

Now, the main reason I wanted to see this, as are many others, I’m sure, was to see Patrick Stewart stretch his acting legs a bit as Darcy, the leader of these skinheads and owner of the bar. (Insert your own haywire holodeck joke here.) And I am happy to report that he is really, really good at being a bad guy. So calm, cool, and collected and lethally calculating as he orchestrates this massacre to fit what he needs. In fact, it is the cast that elevates the film several notches above a perfunctory plot that efficiently gets us from A to Z with plenty of grue in-between. Thus and so, to say anymore would spoil too much as it all boils down to who lives and who dies. If asked Was it worth seeing? The answer is a definitive Hell yes.

Checking the clock as the theater emptied, I saw there was just enough time to get a ticket and catch the last screening of my fourth desired feature. However, if I did that, I would still have to drive home and not get there until around 4am. Still, I had come all that way. I then saw the lone cashier was swamped by a fairly long line for, I assume, another showing of Keanu since there was like only four other people watching Green Room with me. And yet I was already here and I normally don’t go to bed until 5am anyways. Ultimately, it was that burrito I had consumed earlier that made the decision for me, which had turned into a rock inside my stomach, which meant Everybody Wants Some would have to wait, and so I decided that three films was enough and called it a day -- and a very good day it was at the cinema.