Shock Wave 2 (2020)

In the first 15 minutes of this Asian actioner, a suicide bomber takes out a government office; two apartment residents are tied to synchronized, booby-trapped explosives; a jewelry store robber threatens hostages with live grenades; and Hong Kong International Airport is absolutely decimated, melting travelers and all.

Shock Wave 2, you have my full attention.

The country cowers in the face of danger as trust-fund terrorist Ma Sai Kwan (Kwan-Ho Tse, Nude Fear) masterminds Resurrection Day, a large-scale nuclear attack against Hong Kong. Sounds like a job for Explosive Ordinance Disposal Bureau Officer Poon Shing Fung (Andy Lau, The Great Wall) … except he no longer works for the police, having been booted from the force after losing a leg in the line of duty.

After a explosion rips through a hotel, Fung is not only found unconscious in the rubble, but accused of planting the C-4. Is he working undercover or has he gone rogue? Awaking from his coma with a concussion and post-trauma amnesia, Fung has no answers; he literally can’t remember, but he’s determined to find out and, if needed, clear his name.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a one-legged, wheelchair-bound Lau escape a hospital siege in his PJs — a blazingly choreographed sequence that gives Shock Wave 2 hard Fugitive vibes, but this time, the protagonist possesses the prosthetic. It pops off an alarming amount of times, too — not all for kicks, but because returning director Herman Yau (The Untold Story) injects the sequel with the message of disability not equalling dispensability.

Make no mistake: This is no sermon wrapped in Trojan-horse coating. It’s a monster of an action film that draws influence from America’s enormously popular mad-bomber blockbusters of the genre’s 1990s peak, primarily Speed and Die Hard with a Vengeance (with the EODB’s bubble-headed uniforms inspired by the science thrillers Outbreak and Sphere). While we have Die Hard sequels on the brain, it’s worth noting that while the forever-fantastic Lau also played the lead in 2017’s original Shock Wave, his character was different, as if Bruce Willis played cop John McClane just once, then was back as, oh, cop Lance Bloodstone or cop Chad Runyon. Either way, yippee-ki-yay. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

What Happens Next Will Scare You (2020)

It’s Friday night at the offices of the cash-strapped Click Clique website, where the employees have been summoned to a pitch meeting. For Halloween, with layoffs looming, they’ll run a clickbait listicle on the 13 most frightening viral videos, so the staffers take turns passing the wireless keyboard around the conference table to queue up their ideas, and What Happens Next Will Scare You.

In this unique anthology of caught-on-camera moments, “influencer” claptrap and other streaming bits of ephemera, those clips include a ghost ruining a little girl’s birthday party, a DUI traffic stop gone very wrong, a vinyl recording of Native American death song, a clown’s video dating profile, a cryptozoological interruption of a local-yokel fishing show and something that may be the worst fetish ever.

Other videos are longer and more complex, for reasons eventually apparent. In this category fall an Italian Catholic priest reviewing the rites of exorcism, a 911 call from a panicked funeral home director reporting resurrected corpses, a speculative paranormal show on a stuffed teddy bear named Scraps and, in a four-parter broken up across the running time, a mean-girl teen vlogger detailing her encounters with a “troll bitch” at school.

Because What Happens Next comes from Chris LaMartina, director of the immortal WNUF Halloween Special, it’s an incredibly creative mix of horror and comedy. As with WNUF, “story” is less important than structure, and early details gain meaning as the movie progresses. Transitions are often ingenious, and the more attention you pay, the greater your rewards. That refers not only to spotting direct ties to the WNUF world — performers and characters — but the grains of throwaway background gags, such as a screen thumbnail labeled “2 Screwdrivers. 1 Urethra.” —Rod Lott

Get it at WNUF Big Cartel.

The Castle on Sunset: Life, Death, Love, Art, and Scandal at Hollywood’s Chateau Marmont

To many, the Chateau Marmont is the hotel where John Belushi died from a drug overdose in 1982. While this tragic event is true, it is only one that define this Sunset Strip monument and the surrounding area.

Author Shawn Levy (Dolce Vita Confidential) recalls and details all these events in The Castle on Sunset: Life, Death, Love, Art, and Scandal at Hollywood’s Chateau Marmont, a chronicle of the hotel from its inception to the current day. It is a history as lively and engaging as that of any movie, TV or music celebrity.

In the late 1920s, Fred Horowitz, a downtown Los Angeles lawyer who had begun to speculate in property and construction, envisioned a structure at the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and the road that led north into Laurel Canyon. Inspired by the Italian Chateau d’Amboise in the Loire valley, Horowitz built a castle-like building to serve as residential apartments. He named it Chateau Marmont after its official city address. Not long after completion, the structure changed to a hotel.

Individuals and couples from the growing movie industry and other creative arts were attracted to the locale, not only because it was close to Hollywood work locations, but also due to the quirky suites and bungalows different from one another. It also developed a reputation for tolerance – where, for example, gay performers could indulge in their sexual preference without fear of unwanted publicity.

Eventually, the location of the hotel became known the world over as the “Sunset Strip,” and the Marmont itself became the short- or long-term home for a seemingly endless array of actors, directors, screenwriters and other Hollywood employees.

At lease one classic movie was developed at the hotel. In his bungalow, director Nicholas Ray enlisted the then little-known actor named James Dean along with co-star Natalie Wood and, with script in hand, conducted readings for what would become Rebel Without a Cause.

Levy traces the Sunset Strip’s changing scene over the years, how the evolving crowd of youngsters who flocked there affected the surrounding area, and how the Chateau Marmont weathered these changes while maintaining its reputation for privacy and tolerance. He focuses on the various hotel owners, but enhances the history with numerous episodes of its residents and their sometimes-outrageous behavior.

Levy’s prose style is lively and engaging. The beginning of each section features a drawing or photograph of the hotel from that period, and includes a section of photos of the various owners, residents and the surrounding areas. Having previously written about such celebrities as Jerry Lewis, Paul Newman, Robert De Niro and the members of the Rat Pack, Levy makes the history of the hotel as dynamic and involving as any of his books’ earlier subjects.

Highly recommended. Not many hotels are worthy of their own biography. But, as The Castle on Sunset so aptly demonstrates, few in the world are like the Chateau Marmont. —Alan Cranis

Get it at Amazon.

Queen of the Blues (1979)

Before Rinse Dream turned the sex club in an atomic nightmare, director Willy Roe — with skin queen Mary Millington in her last film — turned it into a kitschy daydream, erections not included.

In London’s lily-white Blues Club — apparently the top spot for the hair-filled nudity in Mayfair — the so-called queen of the joint, literally and figuratively, is Millington, who writhes around on stage, moving her pubic mound up and down for all the patrons seemingly live there to see. In between, the rampant backstage cattiness of nude infighting truly makes Queen of the Blues a film to watch.

The main plot, if you can call it that, is about gangsters demanding protection money from the owner, although it’s probably around five minutes of actual film, as so much of this is dedicated to the sexy strippers, with a preamble by a terrible comedian who tempts me to push the fast-forward button.

A just a little over an hour — a mercifully short running time I definitely miss in film — Mary and her stripper friends soon attempt revenge on the gangsters. The sad thing is that Millington, by then the prime porn star of England, looks tired and, soon enough, would be found dead. Her publisher, however, was able to farm her buxom body into two more features, both of which are terrible.

Also, in case you’re wondering, there is no actual blues music to be heard here, but plenty of horrific dance tunes. I guess Queen of the Disco wouldn’t work, though. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

They’re Outside (2020)

In indie horror’s digital DIY era of today, everyone who wants to make a horror movie can and does. This floods the market with dreck — and because even dreck has a minute’s worth of good parts to craft an appealing-enough trailer and inspire an eyeball-grabbing cover — the market is rewarded with rental dollars from viewers left wanting. They’re Outside offers the opposite experience: File the trailer and poster art under “no great shakes,” but the movie itself is that increasingly elusive, rough-’round-the-edges gem.

Combining folk horror with found footage, the UK film follows pompous YouTube psychologist Max Spencer (Tom Wheatley, Piglet’s Big Movie) and camera-operating girlfriend (Nicole Miners) as they shoot an episode on agoraphobia. This primarily entails traveling to the middle of the woods, where former nursing student Sarah Sanders (Christine Randall, Evil Bong 3: The Wrath of Bong) has lived in a little house — and only inside it — for years and years. She’s so terrified to take one step past the threshold, Max assigns himself a 10-day challenge to change that.

Why so scared, Sarah? It all has to do with “Green Eyes” – not the Civil War legend, but folklore nonetheless. As a prologue explains, Green Eyes is rumored to have abducted a child, resulting in a parental mob burning his home, Freddy Krueger-style. As the story goes, he lives in the woods and is identifiable by his wooden mask, cape of leaves and, yes, vacant emerald orbs. Look, glowing eyes in the dark of night is the cheapest kind of scare to make … and when done correctly, as co-directors Sam Casserly and Airell Anthony Hayles have here, ridiculously effective.

Ideally, They’re Outside’s opening card wouldn’t dole out the fate of each main character, but that’s the way of the found-footage film; ultimately, knowing the end does little to hamper enjoyment of the trip there, thanks to Wheatley and Randall’s respective grasps on performing priggish and peevish. For a first feature, Casserly and Hayles do more things right than most, from using subliminal imagery for an extra jolt of creeps to casting Nicholas Vince, Hellraiser’s chattering Cenobite, to deliver the backstory in film-within-a-film exposition. It would be easy to overpraise the movie — and I may have — but these days, “just fine” can be all we ask. —Rod Lott

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