You may find it hard to believe that I found a spaghetti western that I didn’t like, but that’s the case with Return Of Shanghai Joe, a sequel that has none of the fun of the original movie.
Archive for July, 2015
When our very own Keith Allison reviewed Enzo Castellari’s Shark Hunter, he offered the following summation of the film’s opening sequence:
We meet the titular shark hunter, Franco Nero, looking like he just stumbled out of the jungle and fell into a puddle of crazed hippie biker, while perched on a rock overlooking the ocean. Suddenly a shark catches his eye, causing him to leap up, run down the beach while accompanied by the sounds of Guido and Maurizio DeAngelis prog rock, and struggle to haul the thrashing beast to shore. He then retires to his open air beach bungalow to make love to his beautiful Mexican senorita, then goes to a bar where he beats the crap out of half a dozen thugs. Happy that Franco has whooped ass on the goon squad, a local takes him out for a bit of parasailing. I know, I know. You’re thinking to yourself that while hauling in a fishing line hooked to a man-eating shark is tough, and making love on the beach to a sexy gal is tough, and beating up half a dozen hired bruisers is tough, there’s not much that’s tough about parasailing. That’s what sunburned fat Americans do when they visit resorts, right? What’s so tough about that? Well, nothing. But while Franco does admittedly get a kick out of the parasailing, what makes this tough parasailing is that, while in mid-air, he spies a shark in the water below, let’s out a primal whoop of excitement, cuts himself loose from the parachute harness, plunges into the water, and immediately starts punching the shark in the face…
…a description that provoked some of our more cynical blog-visitors into accusing Keith of making that up.
Well, you know that old line about truth and fiction; and so it turns out that Franco Nero isn’t the only person out there who likes punching sharks…
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But while about half of the inevitable meme-response to the incident was devoted to portraying Mick Fanning as an EXTREEEEME action hero, it turned out that, much to my delight, the other half was busy portraying the shark as a victim of a (more or less) unprovoked assault:
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And while the urge to argue with any and all comers over the fact that this was NOT (i) a shark attack, or (ii) a giant shark, is almost overwhelming, at the end of the day I accept that what I really need to do is put all of my energies into being very, very, very, very, very, very, very thankful that we didn’t get—a different kind of encounter—being broadcast all around the world on live television…and not just for the shark’s sake. (I haven’t forgotten Mick Fanning, honest!)
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Seen today, the sex education slash exploitation movie Because Of Eve is filled with moments that will make you laugh… when the movie doesn’t try to turn your stomach.
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…in which the ancient civilisation of Murania is destroyed, and its technological secrets and scientific wonders lost forever.
Not to worry, though—Gene Autry makes it back to Radio Ranch in time for his two o’clock broadcast, and that’s all that really matters…
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The made-for-television movie Gargoyles is watchable, but at the same time you’ll see potential that was not quite realized.
Ya snooze, ya lose.
For ages I’ve been toying with the idea of taking a look at some of the serials of the 30s and 40s…and while toying was was still as far as I’d gotten, Ken nicked in with his hilarious take on The Green Archer for our Edgar Wallace Roundtable.
Ah, well…
Plenty of early serials called themselves “science fiction”, but a closer look reveals that they were rather action-adventure stories built around the struggle for possession of a “scientific” doo-hickey like a death-ray or a new poison gas, or the repeated kidnapping and rescue of a scientist with a “formula” (who usually spent all his onscreen time protesting that he only intended his death-ray / poison gas to be used for peaceful purposes).
However, they got there eventually…even if the definition of “science” remained just a trifle flexible…
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…in which a lost civilisation located many thousands of feet below the surface of the earth finds its secrets under threat from a trio of unscrupulous scientists seeking to make their fortunes by locating the rich radium deposits which fuel the civilisation’s many marvellous scientific advances.
None of which is nearly so important as that fact that if a singing cowboy doesn’t perform at exactly two o’clock each day, he will break his radio contract, and he and his partner will lose their ranch…
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