- Published on
SciFi Reflection
“Why the f**k would you bring that up?!”
That’s rather notoriously what the late (but great) actor James Caan said to the AV Club – as per Google.com – during their 2013 interview in a retrospective of his time in the screen spotlight. Though Caan had a limited track record in genre productions, apparently he took the role playing grizzled and – ahem – downright racist ‘Detective Matthew Sykes’ in the Twentieth Century Fox project – scripted by Farscape’s Rockne S. O’Bannon, no less – because he believed he was a low point in his career and needed screen work in order to both facilitate a comeback and earn a living. Regardless of the actor’s disdain for the film, Nation established itself as a well-done hybrid of SciFi and the traditional Hollywood cop/buddy flick. He and Mandy Patinkin – as immigrant Newcomer ‘Detective Sam Francisco’ trying to clean up the streets of Los Angeles, California – were indeed a pair, and the chemistry of the match-up made Nation a modest national sensation.
Now, fandom shouldn’t begrudge an actor for ultimately failing to embrace the realms of the Fantastic as much as they do.
As mentioned, Caan had some previous experience in Science Fiction and Fantasy that’s definitely deserving of mention. 1967’s Countdown – from revered director Robert Altman – may not have been the barn-burner of a genre feature the industry expected it to be, coming as it did in the middle of the famous US/Russia Space Race, but it brought a degree of reality to the screen when so much of what had come before involved bug-eyed aliens and/or low-grade special effects. 1975’s Rollerball – from equally acclaimed director Norman Jewison – delivered a satirical and harsh condemnation of corporate overreach and media violence, one that went on to gross a great $30M on a $5M budget. And there’s no doubt that the actor’s return to screens in Alien Nation helped to pave the way for 1990’s sensationally successful appearances in Dick Tracy and Misery, two of the bigger box office draws that year.
Indeed, Caan was back … in great form … so perhaps Alien Nation didn’t deserve so much of the ire he directed at it over the years. In fact, a Reddit user noted that the actor admitted surprise upon learning that the film was popular with audiences. Industry receipts alone clarify that the motion picture is classified as a modest success because – with worldwide grosses – it earned twice what it cost to produce, and that reception had the studio fast-tracking a TV follow-up that lasted a single season as well as shepherding in several telefilm sequels. The property – while clearly falling short of being one of genre’s top-tier franchises – remains a cult favorite, one that not all that long ago was still under consideration for a reboot. (Critical darling Michael Shannon was reportedly at one time attached to star as the alien detective.)
Whatever the case may be – and whether he likes it or not – fandom still holds a soft space in its heart for Caan’s work in Science Fiction.
Though he’s no longer with us, Caan was born on this day in 1940.
-- EZ
- James Caan
That’s rather notoriously what the late (but great) actor James Caan said to the AV Club – as per Google.com – during their 2013 interview in a retrospective of his time in the screen spotlight. Though Caan had a limited track record in genre productions, apparently he took the role playing grizzled and – ahem – downright racist ‘Detective Matthew Sykes’ in the Twentieth Century Fox project – scripted by Farscape’s Rockne S. O’Bannon, no less – because he believed he was a low point in his career and needed screen work in order to both facilitate a comeback and earn a living. Regardless of the actor’s disdain for the film, Nation established itself as a well-done hybrid of SciFi and the traditional Hollywood cop/buddy flick. He and Mandy Patinkin – as immigrant Newcomer ‘Detective Sam Francisco’ trying to clean up the streets of Los Angeles, California – were indeed a pair, and the chemistry of the match-up made Nation a modest national sensation.
Now, fandom shouldn’t begrudge an actor for ultimately failing to embrace the realms of the Fantastic as much as they do.
As mentioned, Caan had some previous experience in Science Fiction and Fantasy that’s definitely deserving of mention. 1967’s Countdown – from revered director Robert Altman – may not have been the barn-burner of a genre feature the industry expected it to be, coming as it did in the middle of the famous US/Russia Space Race, but it brought a degree of reality to the screen when so much of what had come before involved bug-eyed aliens and/or low-grade special effects. 1975’s Rollerball – from equally acclaimed director Norman Jewison – delivered a satirical and harsh condemnation of corporate overreach and media violence, one that went on to gross a great $30M on a $5M budget. And there’s no doubt that the actor’s return to screens in Alien Nation helped to pave the way for 1990’s sensationally successful appearances in Dick Tracy and Misery, two of the bigger box office draws that year.
Indeed, Caan was back … in great form … so perhaps Alien Nation didn’t deserve so much of the ire he directed at it over the years. In fact, a Reddit user noted that the actor admitted surprise upon learning that the film was popular with audiences. Industry receipts alone clarify that the motion picture is classified as a modest success because – with worldwide grosses – it earned twice what it cost to produce, and that reception had the studio fast-tracking a TV follow-up that lasted a single season as well as shepherding in several telefilm sequels. The property – while clearly falling short of being one of genre’s top-tier franchises – remains a cult favorite, one that not all that long ago was still under consideration for a reboot. (Critical darling Michael Shannon was reportedly at one time attached to star as the alien detective.)
Whatever the case may be – and whether he likes it or not – fandom still holds a soft space in its heart for Caan’s work in Science Fiction.
Though he’s no longer with us, Caan was born on this day in 1940.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 2023 (in the U.S.), audiences in attendance of the Phoenix Film Festival were treated to the theatrical premiere of Bad Connection. Written and directed by Jake Helgren, the film starred Dana Davis, Chris Gann, Deon Richmond, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A waitress unknowingly buys a stolen phone containing a snuff film. A deranged killer pursues her relentlessly to retrieve it. She goes on the run, trying to evade the merciless murderer determined to silence her."
-- EZ
On this day in 2023 (in the U.S.), audiences in attendance of the Phoenix Film Festival were treated to the theatrical premiere of Bad Connection. Written and directed by Jake Helgren, the film starred Dana Davis, Chris Gann, Deon Richmond, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A waitress unknowingly buys a stolen phone containing a snuff film. A deranged killer pursues her relentlessly to retrieve it. She goes on the run, trying to evade the merciless murderer determined to silence her."
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1971 (in the United Kingdom), the big city of London, England played host for an exclusive theatrical premiere engagement of Creatures The World Forgot. Directed by Don Chaffey from a story by Michael Carreras, the film starred Julie Ege, Tony Bonner, Robin John, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"In prehistoric times, two brothers fight each other for the leadership of their tribe."
-- EZ
On this day in 1971 (in the United Kingdom), the big city of London, England played host for an exclusive theatrical premiere engagement of Creatures The World Forgot. Directed by Don Chaffey from a story by Michael Carreras, the film starred Julie Ege, Tony Bonner, Robin John, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"In prehistoric times, two brothers fight each other for the leadership of their tribe."
-- EZ
- Published on
Good morning, gentle readers, and welcome to another installment of Because You Asked!
I know, I know, I know. I don’t do enough of them and thank you for forever pointing that out. My position on these little sound-offs is that – ahem – media is dead anyone, no one really reads for clarity any more, so why put in all the effort? I know, I know, I know: I’ve heard all of you suggesting that maybe my incorporating some kind of YouTube video would be good, and I’d love to. The issue there is that – once again – it takes time and money; and when you have neither sometimes the best you can do is … well … the best you can do. Right now, this is it; and I’ll keep you posted if that ever changes.
But … regarding the – ahem – recently cancellation notice for Star Trek: Starfleet Academy?
Honestly – and I do mean HONESTLY – I have no opinion of it.
Unlike Grace Randolph, I don’t believe it’s appropriate to do a review or offer a “professional” (or “semi-professional”) opinion on art if I haven’t seen it; and those of you who follow me closely both here and on social media know that I’ve refused to pay for a Paramount+ subscription, and my media requests for screeners have all gone un-replied to by the suits. That happens quite a lot, actually – not a big deal so far as I care – but as I haven’t seen so much as a single episode of the program I just don’t feel qualified to give my two cents on it. So … there’s that.
Again: I have seen snippets and followed some of the YouTubers who’ve done episode reactions, so I will say – as I’ve said before – that what suffices as authentic Star Trek from Alex Kurtzman and his merry band of conspirators just doesn’t quite look or sound or feel like the Trek I’m used to … and that’s perfectly okay. The universe is big enough to allow for different iterations to exist; and as I’m not paid to serve in any capacity on the franchise then – like all of you – I’m left with reacting to it. I’d offer that it hasn’t seemed … erm … heartless or even soulless as some have said: it just seems like it’s intended to be a kid’s show, honestly, and Trek – in that construct – doesn’t interest me. Furthermore, I don’t much watch shows that kinda/sorta cater to rampant involvement with the sexuality or preferences of the characters, so I tune out. If there’s nothing in it for me, then why watch?
But BECAUSE YOU ASKED (and that’s what this feature is about) I will offer a few words in reflection of the circumstances. That’s always fair game – it is life, after all? – and I’ll always have something to say about that.
To all of you who are angry about the cancellation and all of you who are blaming society, the internet, Paramount, and whoever else is on your personal shitlist today:
I’m right there with you.
Cancellation sucks.
It really does.
Yes, it’s like an arrow to the heart.
Pain shows that you’re alive, though, and IF YOU’RE ALIVE AND WILLING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, then do something about it.
No, I’m not talking about setting up some online petition to demand Paramount put the show back in production. Those things rarely – RARELY – if ever result in any meaningful action; and about the best one could hope from that might be a bit of viral coverage from the mainstream media (who, despite what you might think, aren’t your friends).
What I am saying is that maybe you need to take a page out of the classic Trek playbook and actually WAGE A CAMPAIGN.
You see, Star Trek historically has always been kinda/sorta up against ‘the man.’ The suits have always wanted to cancel it in one way shape or form; and that was the very first lesson learned back in the days of the Gene Roddenberry original. The only way that series got the three seasons it did was because fans undertook a massive media campaign to keep it both in production and on-the-air. They didn’t around taking swipes at one side or the other on Twitter (didn’t exist), and they didn’t pen exhaustive posts on Facebook (didn’t exist) or BlueSky (didn’t exist) or anywhere else. They went right to the source – Paramount and Desilu and the network – and made them feel their pain.
No, it wasn’t terrorism, but it was coordinated, and it was continuous, and it was an unrelenting expression of passion for what was being taken away from them. Eventually, the suits relented … and you get the point. If you build it – meaning a campaign – then people will come.
The problem – so far as I see it – is that your – ahem – membership might not exactly be as vast and wide as you think it is. Paramount’s official statement on the show’s cancellation reflects the fact that Academy – despite how much you loved it – just wasn’t performing on any relevant BUSINESS metric, and entertainment – whether you like it or not – is a business. It must make money somehow. It has to achieve something that resembles a profit. I know, I know, I know: “viewing stats today aren’t like viewing stats were back then …” So long as you want to persist with a losing argument, then keep at it.
Me?
I’d rather encourage you to do what those classic Trek fans did.
Start a campaign.
Start telling your own stories in that universe.
Start fanfiction outlets specifically around these characters and the places they went.
If you can do this and prove that there is a market for it, then I’m telling you just as Paramount and its subsidiaries did back in the day that you will be rewarded. But you have to establish that there’s gold in them there hills … and just like Star Trek (1966-1969) couldn’t do on its own the fans will now have to respond to their own marching orders.
Again: it can be done.
Again: it will take MASSIVE effort.
But if it means as much to you as you’re saying it does online, then this should be easy peasie.
-- EZ
I know, I know, I know. I don’t do enough of them and thank you for forever pointing that out. My position on these little sound-offs is that – ahem – media is dead anyone, no one really reads for clarity any more, so why put in all the effort? I know, I know, I know: I’ve heard all of you suggesting that maybe my incorporating some kind of YouTube video would be good, and I’d love to. The issue there is that – once again – it takes time and money; and when you have neither sometimes the best you can do is … well … the best you can do. Right now, this is it; and I’ll keep you posted if that ever changes.
But … regarding the – ahem – recently cancellation notice for Star Trek: Starfleet Academy?
Honestly – and I do mean HONESTLY – I have no opinion of it.
Unlike Grace Randolph, I don’t believe it’s appropriate to do a review or offer a “professional” (or “semi-professional”) opinion on art if I haven’t seen it; and those of you who follow me closely both here and on social media know that I’ve refused to pay for a Paramount+ subscription, and my media requests for screeners have all gone un-replied to by the suits. That happens quite a lot, actually – not a big deal so far as I care – but as I haven’t seen so much as a single episode of the program I just don’t feel qualified to give my two cents on it. So … there’s that.
Again: I have seen snippets and followed some of the YouTubers who’ve done episode reactions, so I will say – as I’ve said before – that what suffices as authentic Star Trek from Alex Kurtzman and his merry band of conspirators just doesn’t quite look or sound or feel like the Trek I’m used to … and that’s perfectly okay. The universe is big enough to allow for different iterations to exist; and as I’m not paid to serve in any capacity on the franchise then – like all of you – I’m left with reacting to it. I’d offer that it hasn’t seemed … erm … heartless or even soulless as some have said: it just seems like it’s intended to be a kid’s show, honestly, and Trek – in that construct – doesn’t interest me. Furthermore, I don’t much watch shows that kinda/sorta cater to rampant involvement with the sexuality or preferences of the characters, so I tune out. If there’s nothing in it for me, then why watch?
But BECAUSE YOU ASKED (and that’s what this feature is about) I will offer a few words in reflection of the circumstances. That’s always fair game – it is life, after all? – and I’ll always have something to say about that.
To all of you who are angry about the cancellation and all of you who are blaming society, the internet, Paramount, and whoever else is on your personal shitlist today:
I’m right there with you.
Cancellation sucks.
It really does.
Yes, it’s like an arrow to the heart.
Pain shows that you’re alive, though, and IF YOU’RE ALIVE AND WILLING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, then do something about it.
No, I’m not talking about setting up some online petition to demand Paramount put the show back in production. Those things rarely – RARELY – if ever result in any meaningful action; and about the best one could hope from that might be a bit of viral coverage from the mainstream media (who, despite what you might think, aren’t your friends).
What I am saying is that maybe you need to take a page out of the classic Trek playbook and actually WAGE A CAMPAIGN.
You see, Star Trek historically has always been kinda/sorta up against ‘the man.’ The suits have always wanted to cancel it in one way shape or form; and that was the very first lesson learned back in the days of the Gene Roddenberry original. The only way that series got the three seasons it did was because fans undertook a massive media campaign to keep it both in production and on-the-air. They didn’t around taking swipes at one side or the other on Twitter (didn’t exist), and they didn’t pen exhaustive posts on Facebook (didn’t exist) or BlueSky (didn’t exist) or anywhere else. They went right to the source – Paramount and Desilu and the network – and made them feel their pain.
No, it wasn’t terrorism, but it was coordinated, and it was continuous, and it was an unrelenting expression of passion for what was being taken away from them. Eventually, the suits relented … and you get the point. If you build it – meaning a campaign – then people will come.
The problem – so far as I see it – is that your – ahem – membership might not exactly be as vast and wide as you think it is. Paramount’s official statement on the show’s cancellation reflects the fact that Academy – despite how much you loved it – just wasn’t performing on any relevant BUSINESS metric, and entertainment – whether you like it or not – is a business. It must make money somehow. It has to achieve something that resembles a profit. I know, I know, I know: “viewing stats today aren’t like viewing stats were back then …” So long as you want to persist with a losing argument, then keep at it.
Me?
I’d rather encourage you to do what those classic Trek fans did.
Start a campaign.
Start telling your own stories in that universe.
Start fanfiction outlets specifically around these characters and the places they went.
If you can do this and prove that there is a market for it, then I’m telling you just as Paramount and its subsidiaries did back in the day that you will be rewarded. But you have to establish that there’s gold in them there hills … and just like Star Trek (1966-1969) couldn’t do on its own the fans will now have to respond to their own marching orders.
Again: it can be done.
Again: it will take MASSIVE effort.
But if it means as much to you as you’re saying it does online, then this should be easy peasie.
-- EZ
- Published on
scifi reflection
Regarding actress Jean Rogers:
“Flash Gordon had a tremendous impact on me. It was probably the most erotic serial of the 1930’s in a very simple fashion. I had a big crush on Jean Rogers – she had that kind of pre-Code platinum blonde look.”
Born on this day back in 1916 in Belmont, Massachusetts under the name of Eleanor Dorothy Lovegren, actress Jean Rogers rose to ‘fame’ but perhaps not so much ‘fortune’ in the role of Dale Arden, damsel-in-distress and galactic love interest aboard 1936’s “Flash Gordon” serial and its popular 1938 sequel, “Flash Gordon’s Trip To Mars.” About her appearance in one of filmdom’s groundbreaking space adventures, Google.com reports that the lady was an instant hit with fans who – to this day – still recognize her as the quintessential embodiment of the character. In fact, a Reddit post goes a bit further with contributors insisting that Rogers set the standard for “beauty and class” in what would become the growing presence of Science Fiction and Fantasy on the silver screen. In a 1994 article for Filmfax Magazine, writer and Rogers’ interviewer Jim Sulski wrote: “For a young man, she was, literally, the stuff dreams are made of.”
In the same Filmfax profile, Rogers reflected upon her time in the spotlight those two film serials cast upon her. “I never thought that the popularity of it would come back like it has,” she told Sulski when they met. “It was my favorite serial and it was quite an experience, although Buster (Crabbe) and I both thought the whole thing was nuts. At the time, who could think of Mars and outer space and all that.”
According to the actress, she was under contract to Universal Pictures at the time, meaning that rather than audition for the role the studio suits simply assigned her to the project based on what they thought both the serial and she needed. After all, this was early in her professional career, so bringing Dale Arden to life for a generation of viewers could give her some much-needed experience in front of the camera. Allegedly, her success grew into Universal desirous of making this former beauty queen into ‘the Queen of the Screen Serials,’ and it was on this point wherein Rogers parted ways with the idea of reprising the role in Gordon’s third big-screen outing – “Flash Gordon Conquers The Universe” (1940) – instead insisting that what she now needed was roles in major motion pictures.
While she enjoyed modest screen presence across a variety of genres after leaving the Flash Gordon Screen Universe behind, Rogers eventually retired from acting in 1951. Still, her enduring presence as one of the first actresses to boldly go where few men had gone before definitely remains a landmark in genre entertainment. Brains and beauty go hand-in-hand, and rarely did it get depicted as vividly as it did in the 1936 and 1938 Gordon serials. As much as their acclaim is owed to Buster Crabbe’s heroic charisma, Jean Rogers paved the way for what would be a benchmark few ladies could follow.
Though she’s no longer with us, Rogers was born on this day in 1916.
-- EZ
“Flash Gordon had a tremendous impact on me. It was probably the most erotic serial of the 1930’s in a very simple fashion. I had a big crush on Jean Rogers – she had that kind of pre-Code platinum blonde look.”
- Hugh Hefner (Source: “The Serious Side Of Hugh Hefner,” TheCliffEdge.com website)
Born on this day back in 1916 in Belmont, Massachusetts under the name of Eleanor Dorothy Lovegren, actress Jean Rogers rose to ‘fame’ but perhaps not so much ‘fortune’ in the role of Dale Arden, damsel-in-distress and galactic love interest aboard 1936’s “Flash Gordon” serial and its popular 1938 sequel, “Flash Gordon’s Trip To Mars.” About her appearance in one of filmdom’s groundbreaking space adventures, Google.com reports that the lady was an instant hit with fans who – to this day – still recognize her as the quintessential embodiment of the character. In fact, a Reddit post goes a bit further with contributors insisting that Rogers set the standard for “beauty and class” in what would become the growing presence of Science Fiction and Fantasy on the silver screen. In a 1994 article for Filmfax Magazine, writer and Rogers’ interviewer Jim Sulski wrote: “For a young man, she was, literally, the stuff dreams are made of.”
In the same Filmfax profile, Rogers reflected upon her time in the spotlight those two film serials cast upon her. “I never thought that the popularity of it would come back like it has,” she told Sulski when they met. “It was my favorite serial and it was quite an experience, although Buster (Crabbe) and I both thought the whole thing was nuts. At the time, who could think of Mars and outer space and all that.”
According to the actress, she was under contract to Universal Pictures at the time, meaning that rather than audition for the role the studio suits simply assigned her to the project based on what they thought both the serial and she needed. After all, this was early in her professional career, so bringing Dale Arden to life for a generation of viewers could give her some much-needed experience in front of the camera. Allegedly, her success grew into Universal desirous of making this former beauty queen into ‘the Queen of the Screen Serials,’ and it was on this point wherein Rogers parted ways with the idea of reprising the role in Gordon’s third big-screen outing – “Flash Gordon Conquers The Universe” (1940) – instead insisting that what she now needed was roles in major motion pictures.
While she enjoyed modest screen presence across a variety of genres after leaving the Flash Gordon Screen Universe behind, Rogers eventually retired from acting in 1951. Still, her enduring presence as one of the first actresses to boldly go where few men had gone before definitely remains a landmark in genre entertainment. Brains and beauty go hand-in-hand, and rarely did it get depicted as vividly as it did in the 1936 and 1938 Gordon serials. As much as their acclaim is owed to Buster Crabbe’s heroic charisma, Jean Rogers paved the way for what would be a benchmark few ladies could follow.
Though she’s no longer with us, Rogers was born on this day in 1916.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1999 (in Greece), Fugitive Mind enjoyed it first exhibition ever when it launched via a home video release. Directed by Fred Olen Ray from a story by Tripp Reed and Sean McGinly, the film starred Michael Dudikoff, Heather Langenkamp, Michele Greene, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A man finds out that he was brainwashed to kill an important government official."
-- EZ
On this day in 1999 (in Greece), Fugitive Mind enjoyed it first exhibition ever when it launched via a home video release. Directed by Fred Olen Ray from a story by Tripp Reed and Sean McGinly, the film starred Michael Dudikoff, Heather Langenkamp, Michele Greene, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A man finds out that he was brainwashed to kill an important government official."
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 1989 (in the U.S.), Cutting Class enjoyed a limited theatrical release. Directed by Rospo Pallenberg from a story by Steve Slavkin, the film starred Donovan Leitch Jr., Jill Schoelen, Brad Pitt, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A teenage girl befriends a suspected high school slasher."
ExtraExtra Alert:
In 2024, I received an all-new home video release of Cutting Class (1989) from a distributor in exchange for review coverage on SciFiHistory.Net. Interested readers can find my review right here.
-- EZ
On this day in 1989 (in the U.S.), Cutting Class enjoyed a limited theatrical release. Directed by Rospo Pallenberg from a story by Steve Slavkin, the film starred Donovan Leitch Jr., Jill Schoelen, Brad Pitt, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"A teenage girl befriends a suspected high school slasher."
ExtraExtra Alert:
In 2024, I received an all-new home video release of Cutting Class (1989) from a distributor in exchange for review coverage on SciFiHistory.Net. Interested readers can find my review right here.
-- EZ
- Published on
site update
So many movies ... so little time ...
On this day in 2023 (in the U.S.), adventure was down to a certain kind of monkey business with the release of Ape VS Mecha Ape via the Information Superhighway. Written and directed by Marc Gottlieb, the film starred Tom Arnold, Anna Telfer, Lisa Ellee, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Recognizing the power of its captive giant Ape, the military makes its own battle-ready A.I., Mecha Ape. But its first test goes horribly wrong, leaving the military no choice but to release the imprisoned giant ape to stop the robot."
-- EZ
On this day in 2023 (in the U.S.), adventure was down to a certain kind of monkey business with the release of Ape VS Mecha Ape via the Information Superhighway. Written and directed by Marc Gottlieb, the film starred Tom Arnold, Anna Telfer, Lisa Ellee, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"Recognizing the power of its captive giant Ape, the military makes its own battle-ready A.I., Mecha Ape. But its first test goes horribly wrong, leaving the military no choice but to release the imprisoned giant ape to stop the robot."
-- EZ
- Published on
Generally speaking, I don’t like reviewing issued DVD sets as sets.
What I mean is that when it comes to viewing and reviewing films for SciFiHistory.Net, I exercise a modicum of caution by evaluating the pictures in separate reviews. To me, that’s always been the best way to do it as such a practice allows for observations on each’s individual merits – their strengths and weaknesses – as well as what might not have so successfully been delivered in the process. Multiple reviews might also leave room for the occasional ‘cross-traffic’ reflection – i.e. comparing or contrasting what makes separate productions more alike (or vice versa) than was intended – and I’ve received little negative feedback in adhering to such a policy.
However, I’ll be breaking this long-established rule today as Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy – 13 Assassins (1963), The Great Killing (1964), and 11 Samurai (1967) – is probably best considered as a completed whole. This isn’t because they’re tied-up consecutively in any away or sequels to one another; rather, it’s because thematically there just isn’t all that much which distinguishes them substantially enough to warrant any fuller extrapolation. In fact, it’s downright befuddling (just a bit) how one studio actually greenlit three flicks so structurally similar to become part of a growing roster of content. Perhaps the popularity of samurai films in Japan throughout the 1960’s made this an easy decision for Toei Company, or perhaps management felt director Eiichi Kudô was a bankable enough commodity to look the other way. Whatever that truth may be, I can only speculate, but I suspect it’s likely a combination of influences as life (and business) prove that true in almost every circumstance.
Now, don’t take this conglomeration review as suggesting that these films have no differences because that’s entirely false. While they have the same narrative structure and much of the same social undercurrent, one or two of the titles simply work better than the third does; and I’ll try to explain why I think that is below. The overall craftsmanship is solid – even though I’ve read some suggestion that these were likely considered lesser and/or B-Movie efforts by many – but results vary (as they always do), and I firmly believe one feels a bit more weighed down with its politics than was absolutely necessary.
(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 …)
When speaking with others, I’ve often found it difficult to define what makes for a good samurai picture.
Because the traditional samurai story is most often compared to the great American Western, I’ve settled more often than not with pointing out that while there can be a great variety of premises and plotlines the typical adventure usually winds down to a battle of varying influences. Whereas the Western can be categorized as the struggle of good versus evil, the samurai flick dabbles just outside of such simplicity by, instead, giving its characters their own “codes of conduct” instead of adopting the polarity of white hats versus the black ones. There’s usually a bit more substance in managing how these moral strictures intersect both with daily life and living within such codes; and yet I think I’ve seen more ‘loners’ on their own personal ‘missions of mercy’ in samurai pictures than I’ve ever seen in Westerns.
The point here is that – from my own observations – I’ve always found chanbara (sword-fighting films) somewhat more flexible than Westerns. Of course, there are many exceptions to this rule – all one need do is thrown in any Clint Eastwood title – but I’d still insist that the overwhelming majority of oaters concentrate more on universally agreed upon laws in pursuit of their action and drama. But samurais – because they’re usually outcasts and/or fallen heroes and/or antiheroes still pursuing justice based on what could be outdated moralities – bob and weave a bit more through dilemmas that aren’t so easily defined. In fact, even something like murder can be sanctioned by these warriors if such a consequence has been deemed proper by a society or government in transition.
See what I mean? This isn’t always easy stuff … which is precisely why reviewing such art can grow infinitely more fascinating to knuckleheads like me.
There’s even another layer that gets entered into the equation with regards to Eiichi Kudo’s pictures here – each regarded as a classic for its era (italics mine) – because these installments were conceived and shot at a time of great social unrest in Japan. Though I’m no expert on such matters, I’ve read that following the nation’s collapse after World War II the artistic community eventually turned its sights on critiquing the management of their nation. Those in power through war times were never quite punished for what hardships they foisted on their nation; and – when perhaps the people believed it was time to put their collective suffering behind them – the political powers that be wanted little more than to continue the status quo. This created a friction between the emerging generation and the one that came before (i.e. the one still in power), and stories explored in this era began cynically questioning not only why things were they way they were but criticizing those structures that promoted cultural conformity.
So … like Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek used the battleground of the future to actually talk about the present, Eiichi Kudo employed the distant past and these tales of samurai warriors – long thought heroic but now recast as pawns of the State – to address Japan’s modern problems. The allegories targeted such topics as government corruption and violence, and Kudo brought them to life visually in more of a chaotic frenzy than the somewhat stylized and elegant swordfights that had become the genre norm. In these three films, the director explored the depravations of the powerful by having it questioned by “heroes” willing to engage in less-than-honorable deeds at the behest of their broken culture; and never does the dirty organization acknowledge the truth. If absolute power corrupts absolutely, then no one working within the system maintains his (or her) nobility regardless of what he (or she) does. It’s just not possible.
What I mean is that when it comes to viewing and reviewing films for SciFiHistory.Net, I exercise a modicum of caution by evaluating the pictures in separate reviews. To me, that’s always been the best way to do it as such a practice allows for observations on each’s individual merits – their strengths and weaknesses – as well as what might not have so successfully been delivered in the process. Multiple reviews might also leave room for the occasional ‘cross-traffic’ reflection – i.e. comparing or contrasting what makes separate productions more alike (or vice versa) than was intended – and I’ve received little negative feedback in adhering to such a policy.
However, I’ll be breaking this long-established rule today as Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy – 13 Assassins (1963), The Great Killing (1964), and 11 Samurai (1967) – is probably best considered as a completed whole. This isn’t because they’re tied-up consecutively in any away or sequels to one another; rather, it’s because thematically there just isn’t all that much which distinguishes them substantially enough to warrant any fuller extrapolation. In fact, it’s downright befuddling (just a bit) how one studio actually greenlit three flicks so structurally similar to become part of a growing roster of content. Perhaps the popularity of samurai films in Japan throughout the 1960’s made this an easy decision for Toei Company, or perhaps management felt director Eiichi Kudô was a bankable enough commodity to look the other way. Whatever that truth may be, I can only speculate, but I suspect it’s likely a combination of influences as life (and business) prove that true in almost every circumstance.
Now, don’t take this conglomeration review as suggesting that these films have no differences because that’s entirely false. While they have the same narrative structure and much of the same social undercurrent, one or two of the titles simply work better than the third does; and I’ll try to explain why I think that is below. The overall craftsmanship is solid – even though I’ve read some suggestion that these were likely considered lesser and/or B-Movie efforts by many – but results vary (as they always do), and I firmly believe one feels a bit more weighed down with its politics than was absolutely necessary.
(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 …)
When speaking with others, I’ve often found it difficult to define what makes for a good samurai picture.
Because the traditional samurai story is most often compared to the great American Western, I’ve settled more often than not with pointing out that while there can be a great variety of premises and plotlines the typical adventure usually winds down to a battle of varying influences. Whereas the Western can be categorized as the struggle of good versus evil, the samurai flick dabbles just outside of such simplicity by, instead, giving its characters their own “codes of conduct” instead of adopting the polarity of white hats versus the black ones. There’s usually a bit more substance in managing how these moral strictures intersect both with daily life and living within such codes; and yet I think I’ve seen more ‘loners’ on their own personal ‘missions of mercy’ in samurai pictures than I’ve ever seen in Westerns.
The point here is that – from my own observations – I’ve always found chanbara (sword-fighting films) somewhat more flexible than Westerns. Of course, there are many exceptions to this rule – all one need do is thrown in any Clint Eastwood title – but I’d still insist that the overwhelming majority of oaters concentrate more on universally agreed upon laws in pursuit of their action and drama. But samurais – because they’re usually outcasts and/or fallen heroes and/or antiheroes still pursuing justice based on what could be outdated moralities – bob and weave a bit more through dilemmas that aren’t so easily defined. In fact, even something like murder can be sanctioned by these warriors if such a consequence has been deemed proper by a society or government in transition.
See what I mean? This isn’t always easy stuff … which is precisely why reviewing such art can grow infinitely more fascinating to knuckleheads like me.
There’s even another layer that gets entered into the equation with regards to Eiichi Kudo’s pictures here – each regarded as a classic for its era (italics mine) – because these installments were conceived and shot at a time of great social unrest in Japan. Though I’m no expert on such matters, I’ve read that following the nation’s collapse after World War II the artistic community eventually turned its sights on critiquing the management of their nation. Those in power through war times were never quite punished for what hardships they foisted on their nation; and – when perhaps the people believed it was time to put their collective suffering behind them – the political powers that be wanted little more than to continue the status quo. This created a friction between the emerging generation and the one that came before (i.e. the one still in power), and stories explored in this era began cynically questioning not only why things were they way they were but criticizing those structures that promoted cultural conformity.
So … like Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek used the battleground of the future to actually talk about the present, Eiichi Kudo employed the distant past and these tales of samurai warriors – long thought heroic but now recast as pawns of the State – to address Japan’s modern problems. The allegories targeted such topics as government corruption and violence, and Kudo brought them to life visually in more of a chaotic frenzy than the somewhat stylized and elegant swordfights that had become the genre norm. In these three films, the director explored the depravations of the powerful by having it questioned by “heroes” willing to engage in less-than-honorable deeds at the behest of their broken culture; and never does the dirty organization acknowledge the truth. If absolute power corrupts absolutely, then no one working within the system maintains his (or her) nobility regardless of what he (or she) does. It’s just not possible.
13 Assassins (1963)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A group of samurai plan to assassinate a sadistic feudal lord.”
As art forms evolve, some of the old continues to cling to some of the new, until such a time when ‘the new’ can fully stand on its own two feet; and – though some in film intelligentsia might disagree with this statement – 13 Assassins still looks and feels a great deal like the samurai films of old. Yes, the story from Kaneo Ikegami clearly hints at the cultural impasse highlighted above; and yet the overall tone of the film suggests that there’s a small chance at retaining one’s nobility even in the most trying of circumstances. Granted, that may mean that a warrior has to inevitably ‘take one for the team’ in order to retain some sense of duty and honor; but is there any really privilege in one’s death preserving a broken system?
Ikegami’s script posits that a high ranking and deeply-entrenched official – Lord Matsudaira – has grown so corrupt in his governing ways that the only acceptable and honorable solution is to have the man murdered. In order for this to happen, those serving the state must be exiled from state control, giving them the freedom to take Matsudaira’s fate into their own hands. So – if you’re following this predicament closely – there’s a systemic breakdown that can only be righted by breaking down the system even further, stripping these once revered knights of the government (or clan) of their “honor” so that they may finally achieve an “honorable” solution.
Actor Chiezô Kataoka had built a career in notable roles throughout period dramas across an incredible six decades in Japan. I can’t say that I know his body of work and reputation well enough to fully evaluate what the reaction might’ve been for taking on the role of such a somewhat disgraced samurai in 13 Assassins, but I can’t help but wonder if an apt comparison might be a how American audiences struggled with John Wayne’s work in The Shootist (1976)? In The Duke’s last picture, he played an aging gunslinger who wants nothing more out of life than to go out with guns a’blazin’ (to a degree). Though morally his character of J.B. Books still abides by the tried-and-true ‘an eye for an eye,’ his dwindling health makes it easy to see how such a character might cut a few corners in order to go out onscreen like the man he was. Similarly, I wonder if Japanese audiences might’ve been taken aback in seeing Kataoka inhabiting a character whose motivations are a bit less than just.
Still, if one were to watch 13 Assassins alongside, say, 1954’s Seven Samurai and be completely unaware of the political influences of the time, then one might emerge not fully seeing how Assassins kinda/sorta embraced a new depiction of the classic screen swordsman. They have similar narrative structures – both lead to a massive showdown between the opposing forces in their respective stories against insurmountable odds – but with one feeling decidedly dark and downbeat as opposed to the other. There’s a great deal more chaos to Assassins, but that fact could be handily dismissed as aesthetics chosen by a different hand at the wheel.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A group of samurai plan to assassinate a sadistic feudal lord.”
As art forms evolve, some of the old continues to cling to some of the new, until such a time when ‘the new’ can fully stand on its own two feet; and – though some in film intelligentsia might disagree with this statement – 13 Assassins still looks and feels a great deal like the samurai films of old. Yes, the story from Kaneo Ikegami clearly hints at the cultural impasse highlighted above; and yet the overall tone of the film suggests that there’s a small chance at retaining one’s nobility even in the most trying of circumstances. Granted, that may mean that a warrior has to inevitably ‘take one for the team’ in order to retain some sense of duty and honor; but is there any really privilege in one’s death preserving a broken system?
Ikegami’s script posits that a high ranking and deeply-entrenched official – Lord Matsudaira – has grown so corrupt in his governing ways that the only acceptable and honorable solution is to have the man murdered. In order for this to happen, those serving the state must be exiled from state control, giving them the freedom to take Matsudaira’s fate into their own hands. So – if you’re following this predicament closely – there’s a systemic breakdown that can only be righted by breaking down the system even further, stripping these once revered knights of the government (or clan) of their “honor” so that they may finally achieve an “honorable” solution.
Actor Chiezô Kataoka had built a career in notable roles throughout period dramas across an incredible six decades in Japan. I can’t say that I know his body of work and reputation well enough to fully evaluate what the reaction might’ve been for taking on the role of such a somewhat disgraced samurai in 13 Assassins, but I can’t help but wonder if an apt comparison might be a how American audiences struggled with John Wayne’s work in The Shootist (1976)? In The Duke’s last picture, he played an aging gunslinger who wants nothing more out of life than to go out with guns a’blazin’ (to a degree). Though morally his character of J.B. Books still abides by the tried-and-true ‘an eye for an eye,’ his dwindling health makes it easy to see how such a character might cut a few corners in order to go out onscreen like the man he was. Similarly, I wonder if Japanese audiences might’ve been taken aback in seeing Kataoka inhabiting a character whose motivations are a bit less than just.
Still, if one were to watch 13 Assassins alongside, say, 1954’s Seven Samurai and be completely unaware of the political influences of the time, then one might emerge not fully seeing how Assassins kinda/sorta embraced a new depiction of the classic screen swordsman. They have similar narrative structures – both lead to a massive showdown between the opposing forces in their respective stories against insurmountable odds – but with one feeling decidedly dark and downbeat as opposed to the other. There’s a great deal more chaos to Assassins, but that fact could be handily dismissed as aesthetics chosen by a different hand at the wheel.
The Great Killing (1964)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A Shogunate Elder connives to rule Japan by making his puppet, the Shogun's brother Tsunashige, the next Shogun. The best strategist in Japan, Yamaga, leads a plot to stop the Elder, but his cabal is betrayed and most of the conspirators are captured and tortured.”
Now, I’ve read that Kudo himself considered The Great Killing his masterpiece in this trilogy; and – while I’ll respectfully disagree – I think I can better understand why or, at least, can put his assessment in terms worth considering. Chiefly, Killing represents what I suspect is a more obvious attempt to break away from the norms established in early chanbara storytelling. There’s little to no laudability in any of its characters even though, yes, audiences are presented with one samurai – Jinbo (Kôtarô Satomi) – whose motivation links chiefly to atoning for the unnecessary death of his wife. Yet, he gets depicted as somewhat dragging his feet morally in the second half, having to be convinced to join the rebels in their campaign; and this somewhat muddies the waters as to what the man truly stands for in any evaluation.
But the Japanese status quo is clearly front-and-center throughout Killing. Kudo’s cinematography is even more frenzied at times with the film highlighting some amazing fascination with handheld-style photography. It’s arguably rawer than Assassins, and some might suggest stylistically that it moves more like a documentary than it does a narrative film. The story might also remind today’s audiences of HBO’s serialized adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s Game Of Thrones in that there’s a great deal of behind-the-scenes politicking that leads the action through various developments. Inevitably, Killing suggests that one need not be ruler in order to rule; and Kaneo Ikegami’s script explores how such a political construct cannot serve society in any conceivable way.
Because the story truly embraces the lawlessness resulting from organization disorder, Killing isn’t an easy two-hour viewing. In fact, I found it somewhat oppressive at times, the kind of tale that perhaps went too far in its indictments to leave me with any relatable characters in the finale. That and the fact that, structurally, it operated much too similarly to Assassins – both plots revolve around rebels controlling the inevitable battlefield by coopting landscapes to their design – that I didn’t see it with the freshness it perhaps is owed. Why (oh why) would a director attempt something so patently similar to what he’d just achieved in a previous outing with the possible exception of doubling down on the dastardly doings on politicians? It just felt like a do-over; and, thus, I struggled in finding all that much to say about it.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A Shogunate Elder connives to rule Japan by making his puppet, the Shogun's brother Tsunashige, the next Shogun. The best strategist in Japan, Yamaga, leads a plot to stop the Elder, but his cabal is betrayed and most of the conspirators are captured and tortured.”
Now, I’ve read that Kudo himself considered The Great Killing his masterpiece in this trilogy; and – while I’ll respectfully disagree – I think I can better understand why or, at least, can put his assessment in terms worth considering. Chiefly, Killing represents what I suspect is a more obvious attempt to break away from the norms established in early chanbara storytelling. There’s little to no laudability in any of its characters even though, yes, audiences are presented with one samurai – Jinbo (Kôtarô Satomi) – whose motivation links chiefly to atoning for the unnecessary death of his wife. Yet, he gets depicted as somewhat dragging his feet morally in the second half, having to be convinced to join the rebels in their campaign; and this somewhat muddies the waters as to what the man truly stands for in any evaluation.
But the Japanese status quo is clearly front-and-center throughout Killing. Kudo’s cinematography is even more frenzied at times with the film highlighting some amazing fascination with handheld-style photography. It’s arguably rawer than Assassins, and some might suggest stylistically that it moves more like a documentary than it does a narrative film. The story might also remind today’s audiences of HBO’s serialized adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s Game Of Thrones in that there’s a great deal of behind-the-scenes politicking that leads the action through various developments. Inevitably, Killing suggests that one need not be ruler in order to rule; and Kaneo Ikegami’s script explores how such a political construct cannot serve society in any conceivable way.
Because the story truly embraces the lawlessness resulting from organization disorder, Killing isn’t an easy two-hour viewing. In fact, I found it somewhat oppressive at times, the kind of tale that perhaps went too far in its indictments to leave me with any relatable characters in the finale. That and the fact that, structurally, it operated much too similarly to Assassins – both plots revolve around rebels controlling the inevitable battlefield by coopting landscapes to their design – that I didn’t see it with the freshness it perhaps is owed. Why (oh why) would a director attempt something so patently similar to what he’d just achieved in a previous outing with the possible exception of doubling down on the dastardly doings on politicians? It just felt like a do-over; and, thus, I struggled in finding all that much to say about it.
Eleven Samurai (1967)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“The lord of the Oshi fief is killed by his trespassing neighbor, Nariatsu. But when the Oshi clan is blamed for the incident, eleven of their best warriors decide to trade their lives for justice.”
As artistic expression evolves, the storyteller eventually finds a comfortable middle-ground, one which allows enough space for newer, bolder ideas to find comfort standing aside the ideals that have been long-established in a particular genre. The past – or what came before – never quite completely disappearances from the landscape so much as it finds a kind of peaceful co-existence: it softens its requirements so that a kinda/sorta tranquility can emerge on the horizon … and this is where Eleven Samurai fits not exactly perfectly but elegantly as the third and final picture in Kudo’s trilogy.
It’s been said that “change is the only constant in the universe,” and – so far as storytelling matters – this implied that even samurai would have to grow if they were to continue drawing the interest of audiences. But Hayato (Isao Natsuyagi) is a long way from the sword-toting warriors of yesterday, so much so that even on close inspection one might notice only vague similarities. These and those who stand with him retain a fractured commitment to the honorable system that produced them as soldiers to the state (clan); but the reality that they’re either constantly misinformed or constantly let down by management gives them no other choice but to take matters into their own hands in the big finish.
Unlike the two pictures that came before, Samurai – as written by Takeo Kunihiro, Norifumi Suzuki, and Kei Tasaka – invests a bit more in plot progression, giving Hayato and his band of rebels that chance to grow increasingly disenfranchised with the hierarchy they cling to please. As such, I think there’s a much more relatable story here, and the picture that comes to close is perhaps the easiest to understand by even those who don’t normally partake of such entertainment. If anything, audiences might even grow increasingly frustrated with Hayato’s unwillingness to act swiftly early on – when goals could’ve been achieved with less bloodshed – but that would’ve detracted from Kudo’s insistence that these institutions by design were failures and would only produce failures if left to their own devices and machinations.
While I’m not one to usually pick favorites, I’ll concede and give an enthusiastic thumbs up to Eleven Samurai with a very close follow-up to 13 Assassins. As I tried to be clear, I didn’t dislike The Great Killing in any measure: it just felt a bit too overly focused on beating a political drum – something I’m always on the watch for – so I struggled with getting into its anti-Establishment vibe. It’s good, but it feels a bit too sensationalized and not as nuanced as the other entries into what remains a still great and theatrical experience.
Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy (2026) is a product from Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are exceptional. Kudo had a knack for balancing some vivid wide-screen images alongside the frenetic herky-jerky nature of guerilla-like combat; and this is a solid presentation worth discovery. As for the special features? Each film gets its own commentary track – along with a deep-dive exploration on the director’s career as it relates to these pictures – so there’s plenty to explore. I’ve only listened to two of the commentaries so far; and – while they’re good – they’re a bit dry at times with the narrators choosing to focus a bit more on history than on the flicks themselves. Sometimes, even a nerd like me can find that a bit dry.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy 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
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“The lord of the Oshi fief is killed by his trespassing neighbor, Nariatsu. But when the Oshi clan is blamed for the incident, eleven of their best warriors decide to trade their lives for justice.”
As artistic expression evolves, the storyteller eventually finds a comfortable middle-ground, one which allows enough space for newer, bolder ideas to find comfort standing aside the ideals that have been long-established in a particular genre. The past – or what came before – never quite completely disappearances from the landscape so much as it finds a kind of peaceful co-existence: it softens its requirements so that a kinda/sorta tranquility can emerge on the horizon … and this is where Eleven Samurai fits not exactly perfectly but elegantly as the third and final picture in Kudo’s trilogy.
It’s been said that “change is the only constant in the universe,” and – so far as storytelling matters – this implied that even samurai would have to grow if they were to continue drawing the interest of audiences. But Hayato (Isao Natsuyagi) is a long way from the sword-toting warriors of yesterday, so much so that even on close inspection one might notice only vague similarities. These and those who stand with him retain a fractured commitment to the honorable system that produced them as soldiers to the state (clan); but the reality that they’re either constantly misinformed or constantly let down by management gives them no other choice but to take matters into their own hands in the big finish.
Unlike the two pictures that came before, Samurai – as written by Takeo Kunihiro, Norifumi Suzuki, and Kei Tasaka – invests a bit more in plot progression, giving Hayato and his band of rebels that chance to grow increasingly disenfranchised with the hierarchy they cling to please. As such, I think there’s a much more relatable story here, and the picture that comes to close is perhaps the easiest to understand by even those who don’t normally partake of such entertainment. If anything, audiences might even grow increasingly frustrated with Hayato’s unwillingness to act swiftly early on – when goals could’ve been achieved with less bloodshed – but that would’ve detracted from Kudo’s insistence that these institutions by design were failures and would only produce failures if left to their own devices and machinations.
While I’m not one to usually pick favorites, I’ll concede and give an enthusiastic thumbs up to Eleven Samurai with a very close follow-up to 13 Assassins. As I tried to be clear, I didn’t dislike The Great Killing in any measure: it just felt a bit too overly focused on beating a political drum – something I’m always on the watch for – so I struggled with getting into its anti-Establishment vibe. It’s good, but it feels a bit too sensationalized and not as nuanced as the other entries into what remains a still great and theatrical experience.
Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy (2026) is a product from Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are exceptional. Kudo had a knack for balancing some vivid wide-screen images alongside the frenetic herky-jerky nature of guerilla-like combat; and this is a solid presentation worth discovery. As for the special features? Each film gets its own commentary track – along with a deep-dive exploration on the director’s career as it relates to these pictures – so there’s plenty to explore. I’ve only listened to two of the commentaries so far; and – while they’re good – they’re a bit dry at times with the narrators choosing to focus a bit more on history than on the flicks themselves. Sometimes, even a nerd like me can find that a bit dry.
Highly Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of Eiichi Kudo’s Samurai Revolution Trilogy 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
- Published on
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On this day in 2013 (in the U.S.), television audiences were treated to the broadcast premiere of Chupacabra Vs The Alamo. Directed by Terry Ingram from a story by Peter Sullivan and Jeffrey Schenck, the film starred Erik Estrada, Julia Benson, Jorge Vargas, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"San Antonio, Texas. The bodies of various drug cartel members are turning up mangled and drained of blood. Tough DEA agent Carlos Seguin discovers that the grisly murders are being committed by a pack of chupacabras, which are lethal predatory creatures of local legend. Carlos, his feisty new partner Tracy Taylor, wayward estranged son Tommy, and several others make a desperate last stand against the bloodthirsty beasts at the famous fort The Alamo."
-- EZ
On this day in 2013 (in the U.S.), television audiences were treated to the broadcast premiere of Chupacabra Vs The Alamo. Directed by Terry Ingram from a story by Peter Sullivan and Jeffrey Schenck, the film starred Erik Estrada, Julia Benson, Jorge Vargas, and others.
According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"San Antonio, Texas. The bodies of various drug cartel members are turning up mangled and drained of blood. Tough DEA agent Carlos Seguin discovers that the grisly murders are being committed by a pack of chupacabras, which are lethal predatory creatures of local legend. Carlos, his feisty new partner Tracy Taylor, wayward estranged son Tommy, and several others make a desperate last stand against the bloodthirsty beasts at the famous fort The Alamo."
-- EZ