(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Enabled by a mysterious futuristic machine, Max, a young woman, dives inside the mind of her dying girlfriend, trying to find the essential memory that could save her life, all the while being hunted by a man they presumed to be dead.”
 
Often times, independent filmmakers will seize upon the Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror constructs in which to tell that a story that – frankly – isn’t all that SciFi, Fantasy, or Horror related.
 
As a longtime admitted fan of the indie film, I don’t offer that observation as a complaint at all.  The truth is storytelling can be about as complex a process as one wishes to make it; and each of us has come across a good, smaller, quieter, and gentler film that’s ‘colored outside the lines’ in order to make some elements of the central tale remotely possible.  In using these narrative mechanisms or tropes, the storyteller swings open the doors of what’s plausible in this new universe … but that doesn’t mean the end result is going to be embraced any more strongly than it would without the deployment of the central gimmick.
 
For what it’s worth, that’s my initial two cents regarding Psychonaut (2024), an indie flick that’s chiefly billed as a SciFi/Thriller.  While I’ll easily concede the story is packed with a lot of thrills (some of which don’t exactly make perfect sense), writer and director Thijs Meuwese truly only uses a kinda/sorta cosmic MacGuffin in order to put one or two of his characters literally inside the mind of one another – let’s call it a Consciousness Swap Machine – for the purpose of exploring what’s basically a dark-themed melodrama about family (and extended family) in a world wherein memories can be visually relived in order to resolve trauma.
 
While I’d rather not spend a great deal of time dissecting the premise – take it with a grain of salt and it all works just fine – I will say that, initially, the tale Meuwese spins here revolves around Max (played by Julia Batelaan), a troubled young woman who can’t quite seem to make any of her relationships work healthily.  She’s torn between her love for her same sex partner Dylan (Yasmin Blake) and an overbearing mother/scientist Samantha (Fiona Dourif), and the three all share this journey into what we’re led to believe is Dylan’s subconscious (when she’s injured in the opening).  Thankfully, mom’s a genius who just happens to keep this cutting-edge technology at home in her suburban mansion; so this allows science to share the screen time with some equally intimate moments of girls behaving badly … or, at least, poorly … at times.
 
Now, had the director and his cast and crew actually committed a bit more to the science aspect here, then Psychonaut could’ve had the potential to be a bit more than the Lesbian melodrama it turns out to be; but that would make it a vastly different film.  My issue with what remains in here is that because the mechanics of this mind-hopping tech remains a bit vague, I think the entire story fails to resonate as strongly since we’re warned by Samantha that some of the visions could be unreliable.  Her point is that these are memories; and, as such, they could be imperfect as they can be shaped by both the pain experienced in the moment as well as lingering after-effects as time goes by.  “The wound is real,” she cautions, and encourages her daughter to focus on that.  But as the perspective kinda/sorta keeps shifting – even up to the point wherein the participants aren’t even certain whose memories are taking center stage – it all devolves into some scripted ‘race against time’ though I’ve no idea who, why, or what they’re specifically fleeing.  It all feels a bit unreliable to me, so perhaps I’m not the target demographic here.
 
Regardless, kudos to Meuwese for packing these scenes with some of the most imaginative frame composition I’ve seen in some time.  There are dissolves and visual exchanges that, astonishingly, I’m at a loss to understand how they were staged.  The inventiveness is truly dialed up to eleven here; and perhaps if that same level of focus had been applied to the drama bits and pieces, I might’ve felt more strongly about these ladies (and the one nefarious dude who just won’t die) caught up in the high-tech nightmare.  The human element occasionally reared its head, but it was never as strong as was the presentation.
 
Psychonaut (2024) was produced by The Dutch Angle Project, Falcon Grove Productions, Branded Cinema, and Get Off The Road.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Glass House Distribution.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are quite good throughout: there’s an undercurrent of playfulness at many times with the cinematography, but don’t let that intimidate you whatsoever.  It’s all quite good.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc presents the feature both in color and in black-and-white along with a commentary track and a behind-the-scenes bit regarding a festival presentation.  It’s a good assortment.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
At times, Psychonaut feels like an experimental film, something that was thrown together on-the-fly without as much time and preparation paid to the central dramatic story.  While that might work fine for some, I felt constantly distracted from the weaknesses of the plot by some sterling camerawork.  Without a bit more definitive context, parts of Psychonaut felt like a tale being told by an unreliable narrator – something I personally loathe – so I wasn’t as drawn in as I wanted to be into the private lives of Max, Samantha, and Dylan.  Still, kudos for trying to do something different and missing the mark a bit because the film is about as visually arresting as I think was humanly possible.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Branded Cinema (via Allien Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Psychonaut (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

On this day in 2023 (in the U.S.), Natty Knocks enjoyed a limited theatrical release.  Directed by Dwight H. Little from a story by Benjamin Olson, the film starred Charlotte Fountain-Jardim, Danielle Harris, Thomas Robie, and others. 

​According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"A small-town babysitter and the kids she is looking after struggle to survive a serial killer on Halloween Eve."

-- EZ
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In 1870, a gang robs a train and steals a ceremonial Japanese sword meant as a gift for the U.S. President, prompting a manhunt to retrieve it.”
 
The chief problem with any genre film as that once you’ve seen a good number of them then you come to realize that so many efforts are little more than ‘variations on a theme.’
 
In other words, what has long been said about storytelling – that there are basically only seven different types of them – is even doubly true because within any certain genre there are likely only three or four or five formulaic approaches to them.  If one formula proved exceeding popular with audiences, then those viewers are likely to be forced do endure dozens if not hundreds of combinations of the same formula where the only thing that differs is a central thematic variable.  For example, Die Hard (1988) was such a critical and commercial success that over the next several years the cineplexes were flooded with narrative variations.  1992’s Under Siege was dubbed “Die Hard on a boat.”  1992’s Passenger 57 became “Die Hard on a plane.”  1994’s Speed was christened “Die Hard on a bus.”  While a great many bits and pieces of these films were basically interchangeable, they all adhered to the same basic blueprint, thus ensuring a reasonable good time was had by all.
 
For a time, Westerns avoided such trappings largely by reinventing themselves (to a small degree) in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s to focus more on anti-heroes instead of the white-hat wearing sheriffs, marshals, and other do-gooders.  This granted storytellers the opportunity to explore what many saw as darker thematic territory – the kind wherein such polar principes of Good and Bad weren’t so easily distinguished – but the boon never quite lasted as long as it could because screenwriters again found themselves going back to what had worked before but only tweaking the concepts by muddying the waters as they washed over things like justice, injustice, and whatever comes in between.  While some in the audiences found this fresh, the truth is they were mostly given something they’d paid good money to see before lacquered over with the current cultural sensitivities to give it a slightly different patina.
 
For as good as Red Sun (1971) is – and it is very good – I’d argue that fundamentally it isn’t all that different from, say, Seven Samurai (1954) or The Magnificent Seven (1960) – a film that produced a handful of like-minded sequels – even though the screenplay from Denne Bart Petitclerc, William Roberts, and Lawrence Roman invests a bit more time in expanding on a character’s background.  Essentially, a pair of mismatched warriors – professional scoundrel Link Stuart (played by Charles Bronson) and aging samurai Kuroda Jubei (Toshirō Mifune) – inherit the task of recovering a stolen royal sword in a loosely-established race against time.   Terence Young directs what feels mostly like a buddy cop film set in the Wild West (another film formula shamelessly pilfered!), and he successfully keeps the action moving brisk enough that what few quibbles could surface just can’t quite find strong enough traction in the brief, fleeting sequences of downtime.
 
Having seen more than my fair share of Westerns, I can assure you that a great deal of what’s chucked in here has definitely been seen before.  That’s not a complaint because the truth is there are traits required to make any genre film part of the wider genre, and Young along with his cast and crew both understood the assignment and delivered something that fits well within the parameters.  As I suggested above, Red Sun also feels very much like it was intended to be the next iteration of Seven Samurai’s construct, that being a story needing an assembly of heroes to accomplish the script’s big need.  Bronson’s Link is, clearly, not a 100% bad guy – he squarely lands in bona fide anti-hero country – but the script does raise its stakes in the final reel when he and Kuroda have to temper their expectations and join up with Gauche (Alain Delon) – the thief they’ve been pursuing the entire film – in order to face down an even greater threat likely to destroy them all.
 
So again it isn’t hard to see why Red Sun very much fits the bill for being a feature production that varies an element or two in order to give the completed adventure a flavor somewhat all of its own.  On that level, it’s very solid with Bronson doing what he’d done for so very long in Westerns while leaving plenty of room for discussions of duty, honor, and service from a decidedly samurai perspective with Kuroda filling in those blanks.  Interestingly enough, the samurai lifestyle was very quickly passing into history in the period in which Red Sun takes place; and this reality – the sanctioned dispenser of state-sponsored morality being usurped by societal advancements – gives the film a stronger resonance than most in the audiences will likely appreciate.  “Once a cop, always a cop” rings quite differently when the cops of a certain era – i.e. samurais – are simply being replaced by new social modes.  What are these trained men of honor supposed to do now?  Simply vanish into the ether?
 
Stylistically, Red Sun truly delivers its underlying message in the manner with which Young outfitted his big three characters.
 
Though he’s undeniably positioned as the main hero/anti-hero, Link never looks ‘cleaned up’ even after he’s managed to take a bath in the local swimming hole.  He often appears a bit disheveled with his clothing, dressed in wrinkled Earth tones that long ago saw their better days for wear and tear.  His hat, his boots, and his slacks remain functional but are almost strategically blemished with dust and soot; and his mildly tattered jacket hints at something he very well may’ve taken off some trapper, hoodlum, or Native American Indian after filling them full of lead for whatever misdeed they performed (or tried to perform) on him.  Far from looking like the professional gunfighter, his look is far more ‘casual Friday’ though Human Resources would still likely be offended by his messiness.
 
In contrast, Kuroda – for the most part – manages to keep his travelling samurai attire mostly dirt-free.  This gets lessened as the tale stretches on, what with their various tumbles, but he still keeps an air of respectability about his ceremonial appearance.  There’s a pride and obvious care taken in the way he handles himself and things attached in any way to his person; and though he never comes off with any manner of stuffiness it’s very clear that he’s a soldier (of a type) married to a moral code, one that includes both how he looks and what care he takes in a public personae.  In this regard, Kuroda and Link couldn’t be further apart.
 
Remarkably, Young doesn’t let the subtext stop there.  Gauche – a thief and gunfighter – dresses as though he’s the ultimate refined gentleman of the Old West. His shirts look creased.  His jacket and vest always look freshly pressed even when he’s in the midst of carrying out some singular act of evil.  His suit is black as night; and, on his gun hand, he wears a skin-tight black glove with the trigger finger removed so that he can press his skin up to the gun metal at any time in almost some act of macabre intimacy.  In the days of yore, somehow dust and dirt miraculously refuses to cling to this man and anything he wears, making the statement that there’s nothing even in nature itself to weigh the fellow down.
 
The fact that Young keeps these costume motifs going across Red Sun’s nearly two-hour running time means that this was a deliberate artistic choice.  In an era wherein the clothes didn’t so much ‘fit the man’ as they were functional, this trio established themselves not only in what they did but also how they looked.  It’s a genius choice that pays off all the way down to the film’s closing moments; and perhaps it was this one little thing that elevated the flick from being so routine to being so special.
 
Red Sun (1971) was produced by Les Films Corona, Oceania Produzioni Internazionali Cinematografiche, and Lightning International.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that Red Sun looks and sounds mostly fabulous throughout: there was one sequence wherein the dialogue was a bit muddled, but I suspect that’s a weakness of the source material as opposed to any upgrade performed here.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  There’s a nice and chatty commentary track here – not a great deal of film-specific information – along with some newly-produced interview segments that make this one a great collection, especially for Western enthusiasts who haven’t seen the film but are thinking of a blind buy.
 
Strongly Recommended.
 
Now, I’m going to admit right up front that – as a young’un – Bronson was always one of my favorite Western stars; but I’d never had the good fortune of seeing this internationally-produced effort, a reality I’m glad I’ve rectified.  Red Sun (1971) is more than a bit derivative in structure and set-up, but there’s a great camaraderie between Bronson and Mifune here that gives this one a bit of extra life.  Beyond everything else, director Young proves categorically that clothes make the man; so viewers are encouraged to notice how so much of their behaviors truly match the respective characterizations.  A wonderful discovery of a somewhat forgotten Western … what more could one ask for?
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Red Sun (1971) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

On this day in 1951 (in the U.S.), the big city of San Francisco, California played host for the exclusive theatrical premiere engagement of Lost Continent.  Directed by Sam Newfield from a story by Richard H. Landau, Carroll Young, and Orville H. Hampton, the film starred Cesar Romero, Hillary Brooke, Chick Chandler, and others. 

​According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"Major Joe Nolan heads a rescue mission in the South Pacific to recover a downed atomic rocket. The crew crash lands on a mysterious island, and spends much time rock-climbing."

-- EZ

Whenever a tale is being told, it’s incumbent upon the storytellers to ensure that the audiences has all the requisite pieces to fully appreciate the characters, the plot, and the breadth of the fictional universe.
 
This isn’t as easy a task as it would seem.  For example, characters can vary in ages, ranging from the very young to the very seasoned.  Naturally, locations can be numerous or few depending upon the circumstances being detailed across the running time; and that’s not even including the fact that these places meshed together under one narrative roof should make sense.  (You don’t place some arctic wasteland alongside the Sahara Desert, certainly not unless you’ve got scientifically some good reason!)  Of course, there’s a great deal more that impacts how any particular story gets expanded upon: are the director and screenwriter trying to capture a sense of reality, or does the finished product rely heavily on fantasy with which to weave its spell?  There are seriously an incredible number of factors that play into how the completed whole will be perceived, so it’s safe to suggest that only the very accomplished talents truly ‘get it right’ and are rewarded with the kind of commercial or critical acclaim they deserve.  In other words, the film could still be a bit of a stinker, and yet it benefits immeasurably from – minimally – being assembled correctly.
 
That said, Starbright (2026) is – most definitely – not one such endeavor. 
 
This wholly misshapen and muddy odyssey springs in part from the mind of director Francesco Lucente, a screenwriter-turned-director who has a respectable number of short films under his belt but not all that many features.  Initially, I’m inclined to suspect that such limited experience explains precisely how this bloated and confusing ‘real-world Fantasy’ took shape as it did as Lucente and cited screenwriters Joseph Bitonti and Olimpia Lucente (nepotism?) seemingly crammed whatever each of them believed were grand ideas into its turgid 150 minutes and simply hoped for the best.  What they produced is a bit insulting to audiences with some elements and side stories making zero sense, so much so that I’m aghast this one ever saw the light of day much less the darkness of a cinema.
 
Buckle up, kids.  This one is a bit painful.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A modern fairy tale that meets an action crime thriller.”
 
Now, I don’t mean to offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities here, but that there?  That synopsis above?  That isn’t a plot.  That’s an idea.  That’s not a plot.  Often times, the best stories start with an idea; and I suspect that whoever involved with Starbright’s team thought that little nugget of information was enough to whet the appetite of moviegoers in search of the next big thing and stuck with it as the flick’s description.  For posterity’s sake, I’m going to bend my own rules here a bit and, instead, provide an edited version of what Starbright’s marketing peeps designed for the production packaging.  Enjoy.
 
“During an eclipse, Aisling makes a wish on a falling star that will either change or destroy her life.  Archangel Rafael entrusts the star’s life force to Aisling, but it’s light draws dangerous villains who hunt her.”
 
There’s more, but I’ll leave it at that for no other reason than to convey that the above is an actual plot.  It establishes a character or two; and it promises that there’s a journey of sorts that viewers can expect from the whole shebang.  If you look closely, then you’ll likely even see that the originally stated idea of a fairy tale meeting an action crime thriller has taken root; and this is the film director Lucente inevitably delivers.  Hats off to all involved on, at the very least, making the effort.
 
Still, this is where the problems begin … and, surprisingly, they never end.
 
When viewers aren’t given insufficient context to understand characters, they’ll likely fill in a few of the holes all on their own.  While I’m not saying this is right or wrong, I am attesting that it’s a human trait: we seek answers, and when they’re lacking then we typically concoct them ourselves based on the available evidence.  Aisling (played by the luminous Alexandra Dowling) is clearly a young woman not only in appearance but also her general age group can be assumed off the way in which her adoptive grandparents – Bud (Ted Levine) and Teresa (Becky Ann Baker) – treat her.  Furthermore, viewers can make assumptions about her age by witnessing how Aisling speaks, how she behaves, how she decorates her room, etc.  Thus, Starbright offers enough clues to have me believe she’s been conceived here as the mostly typical adolescent, say fourteen to seventeen years of age.  Since she still believes in the magical power of wishes, fallen stars, and guardian angels, I’d even argue she’s a young teenager, at best, probably fourteen or fifteen.
 
(FYI: actress Dowling’s age at the time of filming was in the mid-30’s.  I only mention this because I was astounded that she looked so young!  We should all be so lucky!)
 
It isn’t long, however, that cracks in such a determination begin to show.  In a late-night video chat, Aisling speaks with a former childhood friend; and their brief exchange suggests that the companion has gone off on her own to see the world, bringing to mind that perhaps they’ve been separated by college or work life.  Indeed, grandma Teresa intrudes on the call; and it’s at this point that the perception of Aisling’s age dramatically changes.  Why, grandpa and grandma would never stand in the way of their granddaughter going out and trying to make something of herself in the wide, wide world beyond, don’t you know?  These developments would have me accept that our lead character is now, arguably, closer to nineteen or twenty years of age or maybe even a bit more.  This textual shift is only challenged when – only moments later – Aisling’s a young girl again, clutching a stuffed animal and wishing privately on a falling star out the window.
 
At this point, there are those who might argue that I’m nitpicking; and – in all seriousness – I’d be prone to agree … except for the fact that this inability to nail down the narrative specifics of Starbright pervades the film’s exhaustive running time.  Is she a child or is she a young adult?  Minor inconveniences about who people are as well as where these people are remain rampant throughout to the point wherein almost everything presented winds up nonsensical.  The setting is painted initially as some small town, presumably in the middle of nowhere America, and yet high-powered business meetings take place seemingly in the dead of night.  Even worse, it’s nothing more than a backwater city whose nearby county prison somehow has an entire fleet of cop cars (?) and two helicopters (???) under its roof.  Complicated reality and fantasy even further, there’s also a nearby four-star resort – reachable apparently only by ferry – complete with casino and an underground magical cavern infected with Tinkerbell-style water nymphs that are all commonplace and entirely conventional to everyone but Aisling.
 
Nothing – and I do mean N-O-T-H-I-N-G – in Starbright makes any sense.
 
Convicts find a discarded bit of plumbing (an old pipe) in an empty cornfield, and somehow this discovery – sans any conceivable explanation – makes them instantly believe in magic.  Rafael (screen veteran John Rhys-Davies) plays an archangel whose powers are limited to only when they’re needed in the script.  Joshua (Diego Boneta) – Aisling’s eventual love interest – wants to sell the aforementioned four-star resort (along with its casino, magical underground caverns, and assortment of literal flying watery Tinkerbells), but he storms out of the meeting demanding that the buyers reach his asking price … despite the fact that they offered him 25% more than he was asking!  While some of these inconsistences could be chalked up to minor plot holes left when scenes were left on the editing room floor, there’s no excusing the fact that Peter (Gbenga Akinnagbe) – the film’s resident hardened criminal and escaped convict who has set his sights on stealing Aisling’s magical starlight (yes, you read that) – takes a gunshot to the chest AT POINT BLANK RANGE only to be up and running to Aisling’s defense in the next shot in some fully unexplained turn of events.
 
Now …
 
Because all of this is grounded in Fantasy, the real-world elements of crime and business and hardship and heartache just don’t blend here in any conceivable or relatable way.  Nothing within Starbright feels authentic much less plausible, and everything resonates very much like it was the result entirely of a screenwriter’s imagination.  The competing genres never coexist in a way that becomes acceptable here, and the film suffers as a consequence.  When even Fantasy itself has to have some retainable and understood rules, Lucente and his cast and crew throw everything out and go their own way.  Come the ending, all that remains is some pretty solid cinematography … though not even that can save Starbright from being starstruck with its own sheer narrative lunacy.
 
A magicless debacle.
 
Starbright (2026) was produced by Lucente Filmed Entertainment.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at MVD Visual Entertainment.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds look pretty fabulous in here.  Long.  Definitely in need of trimming.  A lot.  But still great.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  This release is a two-disc set, complete with the film’s soundtrack, a making-of documentary, teasers, trailers, deleted scenes, and bloopers.  It’s a good collection.  I just wish it came with a worthwhile film.
 
Sorry, folks, but this one is Hard To Recommend.
 
On one hand, I don’t know where to begin.  On the other hand, I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.  Having seen my fair share of cinematic failures throughout the years, I struggle with the idea of whether or not there could be a serviceable cut of Starbright (2026) somewhere in there.  Dowling is fetching.  The effects and camerawork are mostly solid.  And it isn’t as if I, too, don’t want to believe in magic, love conquering all, and all that sh#t.  Still, the central problem remains that so little of what occurs lacks sufficient context for me to grasp the entirety of what was intended; so why bother with cobbling a smaller quilt from an already existing one?  Sure, it would be smaller … but who wants a smaller quilt from an uninteresting and befuddling one in the first place?
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Ruby Max Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Starbright (2026) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson must protect a Swiss inventor of an advanced bomb sight from falling into German hands.”
 
Confession time: I’ve never been all that fond of the Sherlock Holmes character as deployed by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
 
Now, don’t misunderstand me: I’ll concede as anyone should that the Holmes creation is definitely inspired and properly deserves the measure of praise and attention it’s received over the years.  However, as one who happens to like both detective fiction and the process of deduction, I’ve often been frustrated with Holmes in literature because he both sees and knows things the reader cannot.  If Conan Doyle had presented all the particulars involving a crime committed in such a way that the audience had access to them, then they, too, could’ve properly matched wits with some of those great adversaries of old.  But when the details are deliberately withheld (chiefly for the sole purpose of making the investigator into the Übermensch he becomes in those stories), it feels like we were somewhat cheated out of proving our own worth, our own mettle, and that’s disappointing.
 
None of that has kept me from enjoying the occasional Holmes-centric mysteries, and that brings me to Universal Pictures’ 1942 war-time outing: Sherlock Holmes And The Secret Weapon uses the backdrop of the Allies versus the Axis Powers by employing Sherlock (played by Basil Rathbone) to extract Dr. Franz Tobel (William Post Jr.) from Switzerland to London where the British planes can best utilize the man’s cutting-edge bomb-sighting technology to change the tide of the war.  The film opens with a disguised Holmes deep in neutral territory cleverly misdirecting agents of the Gestapo away from Dr. Tobel, allowing himself and the doctor to even steal their automobile and flee for their safety.  Once they reach England safely, the dear detective leaves Tobel under the watch of his faithful servant, Dr. John Watson (Nigel Bruce), a mistake that inevitably leads to the scientist being kidnapped by the villainous Dr. Moriarty (Lionel Atwill) who has aligned himself with Germany.  The story – a screenplay credited to Edward T. Lowe Jr., Scott Darling, and Edmund L. Hartmann (only loosely based on a Conan Doyle short) – then transforms into a loose race-against-time between the big two enemies as they battle to control the sought technology.
 
The Secret Weapon was directed by the late Roy William Neill, and any search of Google.com will confirm that he was long associated with the Universal Pictures use of the Holmes franchise, spearheading an incredible eleven theatrical outings for the detective.  There’s also a great mention of his rather tactical use of light, dark, and shadows; but, sadly, there isn’t all that much to marvel about here.  In fact, a great deal of Weapon is rather plainly assembled: it really wasn’t until the last reel – a dockyard showdown between the good guys and bad – when things came alive, and most of that is really owed more to the fact that there was finally a need to inject some action into the theatrical thriller.  Perhaps this adventure was rushed into production quickly in order to capitalize on its wartime themes, leaving Neill with little time to put any signature touches to work.  It isn’t horrible cinematography: it’s just painfully plain.
 
Additionally, The Secret Weapon really lacks any compelling central relationship to give the procedure a bit of chemistry.  The exchanges between Holmes and Watson – these could and likely should be considered the narrative backbone of any Conan Doyle project – are disappointingly dull: though Rathbone sinks his teeth into some of his work while in disguise, he’s surprisingly unaffected with Bruce’s contributions, and there’s little repartee between them.  Post’s work as Dr. Tobel benefits mostly from the actor’s vocal abilities – he sounds very much like a once-prominent radio Thespian now transforming into film – but his delivery (while good) rarely works in unison with anyone around him.  The latter half of the film also benefits from giving Inspector Lestrade (Dennis Hoey) more to do alongside Watson: though it isn’t much, there’s finally some onscreen banter between two characters that, at least, is invigorating.  A bit more would have been needed to make Weapon something special.
 
Still, The Secret Weapon also fails to truly capitalize on Holmes’ already establishing larger-than-life personae.  As the center of this fictional universe, he and his powers of deduction should be held in an almost rapturous fascination by audiences; but there’s really no big reveal here – no spilled beans – that puts his singular brain to the ultimate test.  Granted, he struggles in attempting to decipher the text left behind by Dr. Tobel in the event of his disappearance; but it’s a wayward suggestion from Watson that arguably cracks the case (the identity of a last scientist sought was written backwards) and not Holmes’ keen intellect.  Similarly, Moriarty accidentally spills water on his version of the last clue with it face down on the table, so – in one way of thinking – neither of the two most brilliant minds were up to the task here. 
 
Perhaps they’re both just ordinary men after all?
 
Sherlock Holmes And The Secret Weapon (1942) was produced by Universal Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Leomark Studios.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are mostly very good: frankly, I found a fair amount of the dialogue a bit muddled in spots, making it sometimes difficult to understand what was being said.  The deficiency didn’t hurt greatly, but it was a bit of a nuisance.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Alas, this was as bare bones as one gets with nothing but the feature attraction available to consumers.
 
Mildly Recommended.
 
While I’ve never been much of an devotee of the expansive Holmes library of films, Sherlock Holmes And The Secret Weapon (1942) works less as detective fiction and more as if producers sought to capitalize on the character’s popularity: they presumed they could position the world’s most famous detective by positioning smack dab in the middle of war-themed spy thriller as if he were some watered-down version of James Bond, another literary creation that wouldn’t see life for a decade or so later.  In that capacity, Holmes – as a character – didn’t quite work for me even though I felt Rathbone did a particularly good job with what the script required of him.  Interestingly enough, audiences of the day had no problem with the association as Google.com reports that the modestly-budgeted thriller performed quite well, paving the way for Rathbone’s growing allegiance to a franchise that produced a whopping 14 different releases.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Leomark Studios (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Sherlock Holmes And The Secret Weapon (1942) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

On this day in 2022 (in the U.S.), Eradication enjoyed its initial release over the Information Superhighway.  Written (in part) and directed by Daniel Byers, the film starred Harry Aspinwall, Awni Abdi-Bahri, Christian Masters, and others. 

​According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"An unknown disease wipes out most of the population and a man is isolated for study. Fearing for his wife's safety, he breaks quarantine."

-- EZ

On this day in 2014 (in the U.S.), Hercules Reborn was reborn for a new era of viewers with its release on home video.  Directed by Nick Lyon from a story by Jim Hemphill and Jose Montesinos, the film starred John Hennigan, Christina Wolfe, Christian Oliver, and others. 

​According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"When a young man's bride is kidnapped by an evil king, he turns to Hercules for help. The fallen hero has been living in exile, banished for killing his family, but the young man's courage inspires Hercules. Together, they fight to rescue the bride and reclaim the honor of Hercules."

-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In the wake of Pearl Harbor, a young lieutenant leaves his expectant wife to volunteer for a secret bombing mission which will take the war to the Japanese homeland.”
 
For the uninformed, it isn’t as if this daring World War II aerial raid conducted by Lt. Col. James Doolittle hasn’t had a fair amount of exposure in the modern era.
 
Michael Bay’s bid budget spectacle Pearl Harbor (2001) focused chiefly on the event that forced the United States of America into the war; and because the storyteller didn’t want to end on a sour note he kept going well after the Japanese destruction of the Pacific Fleet through the famous raid, essentially underscoring that the fight was really only beginning.  Similarly, 2019’s Midway from director Roland Emmerich saw the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the Doolittle offensive as the opening catalyst to spin his web about the pivotal battle that would take place in the Pacific theater six months later.  But as both films use the efforts of Doolittle and his men to kinda/sorta prop up thematically what they were saying about war, audiences might be best served to actually pick up a copy of Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo to get a more detailed and melodramatic accounting.
 
Directed by Mervyn LeRoy from a story by Dalton Trumbo, Ted W. Lawson, and Bob Considine, Thirty Seconds tells the story mostly through the eyes of the young captain Lawson (played by Van Johnson) who volunteers alongside other officers for the secret mission that evolves into the American first strike against the growing Japanese empire.  The film goes to great lengths to capture the level of secrecy surrounding the whole affair – from pilot and aircraft selection, through training and preparation, and all the way through engagement and aftermath – packing in a great deal of drama into its 138-minute run time.  While it’s easy to point out some sequences drag on a bit longer than necessary, there’s no denying the fact that Thirty Seconds tries to recapture the ambition of men and women answering the call to patriotic duty as well as the risks they faced – including life and limb – along the way.  In the process, it’s sometimes sensational and occasionally grim, but there’s no denying that lives were changed in more ways than one.
 
Surprisingly, the film actually sets most of its players in motion with scenes that feel perhaps a bit too jovial.  Clearly, war has broken out; and Washington D.C. tasks Lt. Col. Doolittle (Spencer Tracy) with assembling a small fleet with which to carry out his attack.  When we’re slowly introduced to the cast of young bucks, there isn’t the same sense of dread and consternation over America’s fate that permeates so much of the aforementioned Pearl Harbor and Midway.  In fact, these men are jokesters making merry at every turn; and there’s rarely a display of the gung-ho patriotism that seems requisite for so many other wartime pictures.  If a viewer simply happened across one of the flick’s earliest sequences, then he or she might not even suspect that these fifty states were every in crisis.  The only two who seems to take it all with the requisite seriousness are Doolittle and Lawson; and, tonally, I wasn’t all that enamored with the basic set-up and character introductions.
 
Thankfully, a lot of that ‘human interest’ stuff falls away once the picture gets down to the brass tacks.  The training sequences are quite good – as is the delivery of our brave flyers and their crews into the Pacific – and the final third of Thirty Seconds explores the lengths to which the survivors had to go to protect themselves from capture in friendly Chinese territories.  Director LeRoy definitely contrasts the ‘safe at home’ life of the first half with the ‘dangers abroad’ second; but there is a good deal of general romantic mushiness to fill in the gaps that could have been truncated just a bit.  It’s a bit too smarmy and conventional – the kind of love movie censors allowed from those days – and I’m never a big fan of that.
 
Lastly, I think it’s deserving to mention that Thirty Seconds took home top honors at the 1945 Academy Awards in the category of ‘Best Special Effects.’  As one who spends a great deal of time studying films from the realms of the Fantastic, I can still see and appreciate what the technical experts accomplished in telling this dynamic aerial adventure the way they did, and I can’t think of another film from the bygone era of filmmaking whose visuals are as stunning as what director Mervyn LeRoy was blessed to assemble here.  In fact, Thirty Seconds might be one of the better films of old to point folks to who argue that effects work just wasn’t all that important in storytelling back then as there’s no way this project could possibly exist without some incredible visual trickery.
 
Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo (1944) was produced by Loew’s Incorporated.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at the Warner Archive.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that this film both looks and sounds phenomenal: given the fact that it’s all based on a true story is yet one more reason to witness what gets rendered to full theatrical glory here as much of it is awe-inspiring.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Sadly, there’s really not anything film-specific on the disc, but there are some shorts drawn from the same historical era that make for suitable diversions.
 
Highly Recommended.
 
Though I mean this with no disrespect, Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo (1944) is one of those flicks that in my estimation falls just a bit short of theatrical perfection and this is only because its last third invests so much in the aftermath of these pilots and their crews downed in enemy territory … and, well, it just gets really depressing.  Yes, it finds a way to wind everything up on an uplifting note – love conquers all, you know – but it’s still the kind of experience I’m personally less inclined to watch over and over and over the way I do a solid handful of classics.  None of this dismisses the reality that it’s arguably one of the greatest war stories ever told; on that front, it deserves to be seen by all.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo (1944) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ