First, Teleport City has finally managed to expand itself somewhat and add a couple new writers. That’s our hoopla. And to celebrate, new reviews from the new blood:

Mr. India
The film boasts alternately maudlin and jingoistic appeals to patriotism, a small army of aggressively cute children who are shamelessly exploited for cheap pathos whenever the script requires, broad physical comedy of the slide-whistle and bass drum variety, and a corny super hero plot that doesn’t even get going until halfway through the film’s three hour running time–all elements that would seem lab-tested to make Mr. India hard to love by anyone with a sensible thought in their head. Nonetheless, as much as I tried to distance myself by taking in Mr. India as an inept freak show loaded with overheated propaganda, there came that fateful moment during the second hour, right after one of those child-fueled moments of cheap pathos, when I felt a familiar lump growing in my throat. And with that lump came a strangled, tear-choked voice, urging the hero on to avenge the terrible wrong that had been done: “You get those bastards, Mr. India!”

Plus, Jet Set Cinema looks at Shaw Brothers spyjinks: Temptress of a Thousand Faces

And Shrimp Chips tear into: Karamurat Seyh Gaffara Karsi and  Rome Armed to the Teeth.



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