All posts by Rod Lott

Thriller

Ransom Baby (1976)

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I have a theory that any movie opening with an attractive swimming nude in the ocean can’t be bad at all. You know: Jaws, this. In his opening sequence, director Pavlos Filippou (Black Aphrodite) goes where Steven Spielberg didn’t, couldn’t and wouldn’t: ass massage! After all, this Eurocrime obscurity hails from Greece, so expect sinning, shooting and sex, sex, sex.

The potent posterior belongs to Cristina (Sasa Kastoura, The Abductors), a MILFy member of the Latin American Revolutionary Movement who uses her feminine wiles to convince George Evans to put his hands to one other good use: namely, smuggling a casino’s security plans from his employer. Cristina’s group isn’t exactly flush with cash currently, and could use some serious bank to buy weapons. With said security plans in their possession, she and her cohorts plot to break into the casino vault, conveniently when a bunch of oil tycoons are in town throwin’ around dough.

Using the ol’ short-circuited computer trick (mind you, technology of the era equalled blinking light panels) and a VW bus with an IBM sticker as getaway, the revolutionaries succeed. They learn how to hide their Benjamins in cigarettes in order to travel inconspicuously, but what if they get caught? It’s then that the title finally comes into play, as Ransom Baby suddenly turns on its head from heist film to kidnapping thriller.

For an obviously rushed production — the very nature of the genre called for it — the film holds high value in the departments of music (Yannis Spanos’ sticky jazz score), direction (Filippou owns an eye for interesting angles, notably with spiraling staircases) and story, which isn’t as simple as one may assume. The ending’s well-staged shipyard shootout plays for keeps, which may infuriate some viewers. However, in Eurocrime, it’s welcomed with open arms. —Rod Lott

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Action

The Gauntlet (1977)

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I miss the Clint Eastwood who directs and stars in The Gauntlet: the one who shoots a gun and has fistfights. The one who wasn’t interested in chasing Oscar gold with mediocre melodramas of butch boxers, county bridges and apartheid rugby. The one who’s second or third line of dialogue is simply, gruffly, “Fuck ’em.”

As cop Ben Shockley, Eastwood is given the plum assignment of escorting an escort from a Las Vegas jail to a Phoenix courthouse so she can testify in a case against a rather feared mobster. Shockley would rather be drinking, and the manly named hooker, Gus (Sondra Locke), considers her chaperone to be a “big, .45-caliber fruit.”

Before they even depart her cell, Vegas bookies are betting against Shockley even completing the assignment, eventually placing the odds at 100-to-1. As the story progresses, one can see why, as Shockley has to protect Gus the huss from a horny constable (Deliverance‘s Bill McKinney, forever may he make us squeal), a hippie biker gang, snipers in a helicopter and the titular gauntlet of Phoenix’s finest, blowing bullet holes into the bus Shockley steals on their final stretch, after crudely welding a driver’s seat capsule of armor.

While its comedic bits could be tempered, The Gauntlet is a merry, if minor movie of mayhem Eastwood sandwiched in between Dirty Harry outings. Its slightness in story is mitigated by an almost tireless pace — slowed only by a motel stop for Locke to bathe — and plenty of the ol’ boom-and-pow. By that, I mean explosions and the trading of gunfire, not some sexual euphemism. Speaking of, for a then-real-life couple, Eastwood and Locke share zero chemistry, and what’s with him putting her in all those rape scenes? That’s not a recipe for lasting relationships. —Rod Lott

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Kitchen Sink

Tokyo! (2008)

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With multiple directors tackling different stories set within one iconic world city, Tokyo! is just like New York, I Love You or Paris, je t’aime but watchable and winning. Well, for a hair more than half the time, at least, which beats the other passport-anthology films handily.

Up first is the best, Michel Gondry’s “Interior Design,” in which an aspiring filmmaker (Ryo Case) and his supportive but ignored girlfriend (Ayako Fujitani of the ’90s Gamera revival films) crash in the tiny Tokyo apartment of her pal (Ayumi Ito, Gantz II: Perfect Answer) while in town for his screening. When their transitionary lives prove too much for her to handle, the would-be director’s neglected partner undergoes an out-of-left-field change to feel useful, but I won’t spoil what. I will, however, hereby forgive Monsieur Gondry for The Green Hornet, based upon the infectious charm and creativity of this captivating short.

Why is it that most triptych flicks seem to place the weakest segment in the middle? Such is the case with “Merde.” From Leos Carax (Pola X), it concerns the titular creature (Denis Lavant) who has all of Tokyo in a tizzy. He’s a milky-eyed, manhole-dwelling mutant who steals crutches from the handicapped and throws cigarette butts at babies. The initial scenes, clearly taking a page or two from Godzilla, are funny. Then, with a court scene that feels like actual jury duty, it grows interminable. I wanted to commit seppuku.

Finally, there’s the partly successful “Shaking Tokyo” by Joon-ho Bong (The Host). The tale centers on a hermit (Teruyuki Kagawa, Sukiyaki Western Django) who hasn’t left his home in 10 years. His life is all about ordering pizza, reading magazines and falling asleep while defecating. He hates contact with people and sunlight. The idea is intriguing, both in the movie and real life; on many a frenzied day, I could go for a solitary agenda of pizza and pooping. Who’s with me? —Rod Lott

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Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Gantz II: Perfect Answer (2011)

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After a two-minute “previously on Gantz” type of intro, something one may construe as action goes down in Gantz II: Perfect Answer. It’s too little, too late, however, and followed by even more slog, until an ungodly walking running time of two hours and 21 minutes is reached. The whole of Japan should know better.

It’s a damned shame, given how frenetic the first film was a mere one year before. I suspect both Gantz chapters — birthed from a presumably never-ending manga, it bears mentioning — were shot back-to-back, as the original film ended in a cliffhanger. In hindsight, I’d rather have my questions of what would happen go unanswered, if the imperfect Perfect Answer is the lame response.

Although I give returning director Shinsuke Sato immense credit for not doing the same thing twice, I found myself pining for at least the mission-after-mission, go-get-this-goon structure to stick its head into the proceedings. In its place is a plot twist that the big, black ball called Gantz has up and changed the rules of his own game, thus pitting the black leather-costumed “contestants” against one another. Never underestimate the love of a human heart to fracture a team.

A couple of zippy sequences exist, primarily a mowdown-cum-showdown amid a crowded, speeding subway train. But the finale is sappy; the rogue’s gallery of aliens, missing; the electric charge sent down your cinematic spine, startlingly weak. So underwhelming and disappointing is this immediate follow-up, the experience is like licking the top of an old 9-volt battery to see if it has any sign of life left. —Rod Lott

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