ONE ARMED SWORDSWOMAN (1972)

 PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny* 
MYTHICITY: *good*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *psychological*

A lot of chopsockies emulated the internationally successful ONE ARMED SWORDSMAN, so frankly I wasn't expecting anything much of this five-years-later Taiwanese knockoff. I have to hold the original producers guiltless of a screwup in the English credits: "Ching-Ching Chang als [sic] ONE ARMED SWORDSWOMAN," but I was unfamiliar with any other IMDB credits for the writer-director Sheng-en Chen. Similarly, I didn't know starring diva Chang or any of the other names, so I tend to assume the whole cast was Taiwanese, even if they were attempting to mimic the look of a Hong Kong Shaw film.

SWORDSWOMAN takes the opposite tack from SWORDSMAN in the characterization department. Whereas the viewer learns a lot about the family background of the 1967 protagonist, Chang's character Pan Yi Fung starts out as a one-dimensional "knight errant," who apparently has no other goal in life but to wander about killing ruthless bandits with her sword. Her puissance is displayed in an early scene where four bandits snare her with ropes, after which Pan frees herself and slays them with one smooth move. Then a traveling stranger comes along, praising her skills, which pleases her inordinately. More bandits appear to challenge Pan, and the stranger lends his skills to help her. But the stranger doesn't happen to kill any of the bandits and instead deals Pan a wound in her arm with a poisoned sword. The traveler reveals that he's really one of the bandit gang, and that Pan will soon perish of the poison. The noble fighter tries to take many of her foes with her, but she's clearly losing strength. But then another famous kung fu knight happens along and spirits Pan away.

The heroine's apparently able to direct her rescuer to Pan's estate, where she lives with one female servant. The savior is one Chen Peng Fei, known as the Black Dragon due to his attire: all-black robes and a hat with a face-shrouding black veil. Chen tells Pan and the servant that the only way to save Pan's life is to amputate her poisoned arm. Pan agrees to the operation, after which Chen takes his leave. Three years later, Pan has re-trained herself to compensate for her missing arm, but she's also formed an intense need to see the Dragon again. The terse script does not expound on her motives, but actress Chang conveys an immense feeling of loneliness.

She meets her black-garbed ally, who unmasks before her and sweet-talks her with homilies about the loner nature of martial artists. They have offscreen sex, but in the morning, Chen sneaks away like a dog. Pan follows him, and Chen insults her by offering her a valuable pearl for services rendered. Pan is heartbroken and returns home. Strangely, her maid advises Pan that she might still be united with the man she loves, and Pan decides to look for Chen once more, in case, I don't know, he's changed his mind about being a bastard.

Now, experienced filmgoers may foresee some shenanigans, given that Pan never saw Chen without his mask the first time, and anyone can wear an all-concealing black costume. But even if a viewer suspects trickery, Pan's next experience is unsettling, for suddenly she starts running into more black-garbed men, who, when she unmasks them, are not Chen. Then she kills-- or apparently kills-- a fifth Man in Black, after she's heard a young woman call him "Chen." Jealous, she attacks and kills the man, only to be told he's blind. She's so aggrieved that she almost lets a vengeful mob murder her. But once again, the Black Dragon saves Pan and takes her back home. There he unmasks, showing her that he's not the man to whom she surrendered herself. 

For some reason Chen and Pan fake their deaths to throw off the bandit gang, but the head guy-- Lee Min-Tse, the fellow who deceived Pan-- sees through the charade. I don't know why Chen, divested of his costume, makes a solo attack on Lee and his goons in the bandit fortress, but the sortie ends with Chen retreating back to Pan's house, half-blinded by spears that eject streams of acid (!) Of course, the reason Chen must be sidelined is because Pan is the star, and to her goes the honor of confronting Lee and his gang, atop a mountain this time. Perhaps needless to say, Pan triumphs over all adversaries, though Lee does get in a mean jab about their romantic time together. And so the film ends with Pan alone amid her fallen foes, though in an earlier scene, the door's left open for a possible union of the two crusaders.

Chang provides a good range of emotions here, though everyone else is strictly Saturday-morning serial, and she does well in the battle scenes. As I commented in my SWORDSMAN review, the mundane removal of an arm doesn't generate an uncanny vibe for the "freakish flesh" trope, but Pan performs assorted superlative feats, particularly for being able to hurl twigs hard enough to pierce an enemy's throat.  

                      

FLYER AND MAGIC SWORD (1970)

 

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

When I only saw one online description of this Hong Kong-Thailand co-production, and said summary said it involves rival clans fighting over a salt mine, I suspected that the title was a fantasy-fakeout. And yes, there's no magic sword and no one even does "trampoline flying."

The hero is Wai Chin (billed as "Nai Mi," possibly to obscur,e the actor's Thai heritage), and since childhood he's been in love with Lan Choo (Fan Ling), daughter of Tien-Long (Dean Shek of ENTER THE DRAGON fame). I don't know why Tien-Long won't let them marry, but he seems totally preoccupied with the aforementioned salt mine. His rival for the mine-- which is barely seen-- is called "Wu Tang" in the streaming dub. But while Wu Tang is a bastard, Tien-Long might be worse. The film's opening scene-- and it's the film's best scene-- starts with Wu Tang and his soldiers attacking Tien-long's house. Outnumbered, Tien-Long, Lan Choo, and their retainers flee to a bolt-hole, but Wu Tang sets the house afire, so that the bolt-hole fills with smoke. Three retainers try to escape, and Tien-Long kills them-- moments before the patriarch changes his mind and allows the rest of his coterie to get out.

After that, FLYER is just a melange of combat-scenes and wistful romantic interludes between Chin and Choo. Only one "magical" implement appears, in that one of Chin's opponents wields a "boomerang claw-weapon." Most of the fighting is sword-fu, with Choo getting in hers only in the first scene, but nothing's memorable in that department. One might call this a reversal of ROMEO AND JULIET, where the two lovers survive and the patriarchal clans (no mothers are seen) destroy one another.      

STAR TREK: PICARD (SEASON TWO, 2022)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous* 
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological, psychological, sociological*

Well, the experiment cost about 8 hours I'll never get back, but after watching Season Two of PICARD, I confirmed for my own satisfaction that only the participation of showrunner Michael Chabon resulted in a superior storyline for Season One. To be sure, he claimed prior to his departure that he was heavily involved in the Season Two storyline, so that season would have remained bad had he stayed. But Alex Kurtzman and his fellow custodians of the TREK franchise are primarily responsible for plunging TREK back into the valley of mediocrity. And while the original NEXTGEN only occasionally resorted to banal political posturing, Season Two is far ghastlier in that respect than the worst of the old series-- though I suppose those who agree with Season Two's politics would feel differently.

There's no way I can give Season Two as witty a summation as someone did for STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE, which some wag re-christened "Where Nomad Has Gone Before." Nevertheless, Two really is "Where 'Mirror Mirror' and 'City on the Edge of Forever' have gone before." Some time after the events of Season One, Picard and his New Zoo Crew-- more or les including the VOYAGER alum Seven of Nine-- investigate a space-anomaly. It turns out to be a new manifestation of the Borg, which starts to assimilate the ship. A sudden transition then brings Picard into contact with another old foe, the mercurial Q (John deLancie in what I assume is a finale-narrative for the character).

Q then introduces Picard and Crew to a changed version of their enlightened Federation: a space-empire founded primarily in xenophobia. Oddly, though Wikipedia reported some anti-Trump rhetoric from Patrick Stewart during promotion of Season One, Season Two seems to be where all the real ultraliberal cant ended up. There's no attempt to explore how the super-xenophobic empire came to be, for Q reveals that he was the empire's creator by virtue of messing with time. His challenge to Picard: go back in time and make everything better.

I'm not going to dilate on all the 21st-century rambles of the Picard Crew, except to note two politically charged developments. One involves Seven of Nine's visit to the Isle of Lesbos, a state of affairs that lesbian Trekkers stumped for back during the original VOYAGER run. The other deals with a despicable subplot about anti-ICE rhetoric that anticipates the ultraliberal fanaticism about protecting illegal aliens seen in 2025. Neither development has much to do with the main plotline.

Anyway, the Crew eventually does find its "patient zero" and erases the rogue timeline. In the course of events, somehow the comedy-relief Agnes Jurati (Alison Pill) becomes the new Borg Queen of the future, but this, like Q's time-puzzle, all works out for the best. I'm not feeling too sanguine about the concluding Season Three.

Will Wheaton makes an appearance as Wesley Crusher, so this season also registers as having crossover-status.

          

CONSTANTINE-- THE SERIES (2014-15)

 

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

I won't discourse on the story behind DC's John Constantine, having already provided considerable data in my review of the 2005 CONSTANTINE. For purposes of reviewing this one-season rendition of comics' most famous exorcist, one only needs to know that the edgy Englishman is living in the U.S. for some reason (to make him more appealing to American audiences, I imagine) and that he seeks to "exorcise" his personal demons of guilt by helping other people escape from supernatural infestations. In this endeavor he gets aid from a few other kindred spirits, like Zed Martin (another comics-character, played by Angelica Celaya). A heavenly angel named Manny (Harold Perrineau) hangs around dispensing mostly useless pearls of wisdom.

All thirteen episodes of CONSTANTINE are well-constructed supernatural mysteries that the hero must solve using more wit and guile, given that his magical abilities are modest at best. The various victims of curses and possessions are given realistic characterizations and the FX and costumes are impressive, particularly in one episode's depiction of a monster called an "invunche" (derived from a 1980s SWAMP THING storyline). And Matt Ryan sells the Constantine character as few actors could have, emphasizing his impatience and sardonic humor without lessening the character's capacity for guilt and empathy. Yet there's something about all of the episodes that never escapes the shadow of the formulaic. To borrow from one of my ARCHIVE essays, the CONSTANTINE scripts are all about "what things happen" and not about "how things happen."

The writers also tried to conceal the show's episodic nature by injecting a continuing metaphysical threat, a "Rising Darkness" capable of breaking down the borders between earth and hell. But since the series was dropped, all these dire suggestions amount to window-dressing. The writers were comics-savvy enough to toss in "Easter-egg" references to DC characters like Jim Corrigan and Felix Faust, and there's a story involving a malignant "black diamond" that may have been a covert salute to Eclipso. But on the whole, CONSTANTINE's main virtue was the energetic performance of Ryan. Indeed, when Ryan reprised this role on the LEGENDS OF TOMORROW show, not even those writers' terrible scripts could rob the actor of his formidable presence. 

DAIGORO VS. GOLIATH (1972)

 

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

I consider this the first "kaiju comedy" feature film. I've heard some critics assign that distinction to KING KONG VS. GODZILLA, but though I've never seen the original Japanese cut, KKVG isn't structured like a comedy, which requires a lot more overt jokes than even an American distributor could have possibly removed.

DAIGORO was a reworking of a failed (and ostensibly serious) Godzilla project, which was to have been a collaboration between Godzilla's studio Toho and the special effects company Tsurabaya. Once the Big G was off the table, the producers shifted gears toward a comedy for small children, quite as if someone said, "Well, if we can't use Godzilla, let's do our own version of the Son of Godzilla, but make him even dorkier." Indeed, the hippo-like visage of Daigoro, a "kid kaiju" like Minilla, seems to be a joke in its own right.

Unlike Minilla, Daigoro is dependent upon human beings for parental guidance. His mother was a subterranean creature awakened by nuclear tests, and after she ravaged Japan, the military killed her. However, she left behind Baby Daigoro. One might expect the government to take charge of the infant kaiju, whether for study or weaponization-- but this would have deprived the kid-audience of the nuclear-family experience. So the government allows one private individual, an inventor named Goro, to adopt Daigoro and keep him on an island. Trouble is. Goro has to pay for the kid-monster's upkeep, and his only way of doing so is to enter Japanese contests for wacky new inventions. However, Daigoro eventually gets to prove his mettle when a more destructive giant monster, dubbed Goliath, descends to Earth and begins tearing things up.

Though most adults will get little out of the humor here, it's at least palatable if one thinks of kids seeing such jokes for the first time. It's at least lively, not repeating the same jokes the way some Gamera-flicks did, and the weird end-scene with the genial kaiju availing himself of a giant privy has to be seen to be believed. The combative action between the giant monsters wasn't much better than that of a SyFy critter-flick. There's an ecology lecture about how human misuse of the biosphere has weakened the atmosphere, thus making it easier for meteors-- and monsters named Goliath-- to descend and wreak destruction.

The one element that's not totally aimed at kids is Goro's niece Yoshiko. She's of marriageable age, but her uncle's reputation is so bad that every arranged marriage she explores falls through. This is an odd side-plot for a kids' movie, especially since it doesn't affect the main plot, though she manages some sort of hookup at the end. Maybe the writers just thought kids of both genders could identify with having to listen to the complaints of older sisters.                   

            

WOLF LAKE (2001)

 

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous* 
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *metaphysical, sociological*

Before re-screening the nine episodes of this failed series, I remembered only one or two snippets from the show, which is admittedly more than I usually retain from a series I only saw once, twenty years ago. That said, when I watched the show with my reviewer's hat on, those snippets were the only good parts of the program. 

Cop John Kanin (Lou Diamond Phillips) proposes to girlfriend Ruby Wilder (Mia Kirschner) and she accepts-- only to flee to the wilds of Seattle the next day. John tracks her to the small town of Wolf Lake, ruled by the dominant Cates family, and though Ruby avoids contact with her former fiancee, John eventually learns that (a) Ruby is a scion of the Cates family, and (b) her family expects her to marry a local guy named Tyler Creed. But only the viewers, not John, learn that the town plays host to a clan of werewolves.

This might sound like a promising soap-opera, but the characters remain flat and uninvolving despite the efforts of talented actors. Sometimes a character acts precipitately for no stated reason, like Ruby's stepmother Vivian (Sharon Lawrence) sleeping with Ruby's intended ahead of nuptials. Graham Greene has many scenes as a guy who seems to know where all the bodies are buried and keeps saying cryptic things that don't engender mystery or humor. And for a show whose title and premise offer lycanthropes, there are precious few loup-garous.

The best thing about the DVD collection is that it contains both the unaired pilot episode, whose premise was reworked for the flop series, and a brief reflection from series creator John Leekley, who wrote the pilot but was not associated with the series proper. In 1996 Leekley had created and co-written a vampire series for the Fox network, KINDRED: THE EMBRACED. Although KINDRED only lasted one episode less than LAKE's run, apparently CBS asked Leekley to repeat the same act, but with werewolves in Washington (State). The pilot does create a more evocative sense of the werewolf mythology, and though Leekley utters no overt criticisms of the official series, he does say he thought the concept required strong investment. What probably happened is that CBS didn't like Leekley's pilot and went to some other showrunners to rework the concept; showrunners who didn't really like the premise and so played down the werewolves (except for a tedious arc about an adolescent Wolf Lake girl who fears that having sex will make her turn hairy). Leekley's original concept might or might not have resulted in a better series, but the LAKE we have is definitely one big drip.

                

FAHRENHEIT 451 (2018)

 

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

In an essay related to Ray Bradbury's classic FAHRENHEIT 451, I called attention to this passage, the closest the author comes to voicing an aesthetics of good and bad literature:

The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

I then pointed out that although 451 is replete with many examples of mediocre writing-- mostly televisual in nature-- the reader never knows what sort of literature Bradbury would have found vile enough for this usually mild-mannered author to resort to the rape metaphor. But I like to think he might have considered HBO's adaptation of his novel, directed and co-written by Ramin Bahrani. to belong to the "worse than mediocre" category.    

There are two ways to *potentially* render good adaptations of established works, though neither method guarantees success.

The first to attempt to make the adaptation as faithful as possible to the original. There are many such adaptations, ranging from the excellent to the serviceable, and sometimes the approach is problematic given the difficulties of the work-- one example being Ray Bradbury's dubious cinematic adaptation of Melville's gargantuan MOBY DICK.

The second method is to make the adaptation partly unfaithful because the adaptor has different priorities than the original artist, but he still produces key aspects of the source work even if his overall theme is different, as was the case with the 1982 BLADE RUNNER with respect to the Philip K Dick novel. 

Francois Truffaut's FAHRENHEIT 451 is another example of a divergent adaptation that transcends its infidelity, and I suppose Ramin Bahrani may have had some notion of doing the same. What Bahrani and HBO produced, though, was a lame travesty of 451, quite possibly motivated by a desire to capitalize on the author's name.

Trufant's rendering might not have mirrored Bradbury's passion for the written word, but at least the French director had some notion of capturing the dissonance of a world where firemen burned books. Bahrani's only goal was to make a dull anti-totalitarian drama, in which the burning of books played a minor role. 

There's also a strong indication that Bahrani sought to change the story into one of modern race-conflict into a future setting. Not only is rebellious fireman Guy Montag played by Black actor Michael B. Jordan, he's given a White opponent in the character of Captain Beatty, played by Michael Shannon.

In the book, though Captain Beatty is Montag's pre-eminent opponent, representing the repressive government of book-burners, he's secondary to the female influences on Montag's consciousness: wife Millie, who's become totally brainwashed by the anti-book culture, and Montag's neighbor Clarisse, the elfin young girl who opens Montag's mind to new experiences. In the HBO version, Millie is replaced by a home computer, and Clarisse becomes, of all things, a police informant (!) 

In compensation, Bahrani builds up the relationship of Beatty and Montag into that of mentor and student, even surrogate father-and-son. Montag's father was a fireman too, implicitly killed by Beatty so that he could become Montag's "new daddy"-- though the symbolism is hurt by the fact that in 2018 Jordan had just passed thirty, making him a peculiar choice for the "son with a bad dad" trope. Jordan and Shannon fire up their weak characters with considerable passion, but they can't make these lousy characters seem real. Shannon, by the way, gets to play a Spike Lee White Guy by the way Beatty flagrantly uses the Big Evil Forbidden Word.

The rebels against the government, called "Eels" for some reason, aren't a bunch of pacifists memorizing books, so Bahrani transforms them into dime-a-dozen revolutionaries. I suppose there are worse adaptations than this one, but it's certainly near the bottom of the barrel.