(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:
“Sea captain Russel Marsh was possessed by an ancient entity for 93 years, committing horrific acts for a cult. Now free, he seeks to travel back in time to undo his dark deeds, while the cult vows to eliminate him.”
 
For those of us who know the name H.P. Lovecraft, the mere mention of his name might conjure up a great many … erm … impressions.
 
For example, bring up this purveyor of ‘Cosmic Horror’ to children of the 1980’s; and one will likely hear stories about those of us who seemingly watched B-Movies like Re-Animator (1985), From Beyond (1986), and The Curse (1987), two of which are owed to the cinematic genius of late director Stuart Gordon.  As one who saw these flicks back in the day, I can assure you that – even though I find elements of them elusive if not downright bonkers – the fact alone that there was nothing quite like them guaranteed a measure of notoriety amongst viewers.  No, I’m not talking about scream queen Barbara Crampton being threatened with dastardly cunnilingus by a man reduced to being little more than a head but rather the almost pervasive invasion of critters and creatures unlike anything to flicker in shadow and light before.  These features dealt with Body Horror, alien intellectual, and existential dread in a way that transcended the ordinary; and this gave the pictures the ability to cement themselves in our respective psyches, making some of their sequences unforgettable.
 
Google.com reports that it was the 1990’s that truly saw Lovecraft’s breakthrough from B-pictures to near-mainstream as (perhaps) they ever got.  Personally, I think that’s a bit of bunk because – from what I recall – these other films only tapped into Lovecraftian ideas to use as a foundation to spin their own webs, rarely authentically adapting the author’s work and instead marching off in their own directions.  John Carpenter’s In The Mouth Of Madness (1994) is often mistakenly cited as being Lovecraft; but – in reality – what the film does reasonably and respectably well is take that cosmic aesthetic and apply it liberally to a tale of an insurance investigator probing the growing mystery surrounding a Lovecraft-like novelist.  Again, it’s close but no cigar so far as this critic is concerned, and yet I understand most folks confusion in chalking it up to the creator of Cthulhu Mythos.
 
It’s into such similar territory that audiences go with 2024’s H.P. Lovecraft’s The Old Ones. 

​Instead of adapting any single adventure from the inspired originator, writer/director Chad Perrin has chosen to pluck and choose the various bits and pieces from other tales and weaves them together in something meant to represent Lovecraft to modern audiences.  Even Google.com suggests that there are obvious influences culled from The Shadow Over Innsmouth, The Call Of Cthulhu, and From Beyond, all of this centered around the character of Russel Marsh (played by Robert Miano), a 1930’s sea captain once possessed by the spirit of an Old One.  When the film begins, Marsh is shown floating downriver, apparently now freed from the spectral clutches of this oppressive, ethereal consciousness; and he’s eventually pulled from the water by the father-and-son team of Dan (Scott Vogel) and Gideon Gordon (Benjamin Philip).  But membership within the Old Ones isn’t shaken off easily: after Dan is cut down by the monster pursuing the old boat captain, Russel has no other choice but to take Gideon under his wing as they flee from the supernatural forces that would do them harm.
 
At this point, The Old Ones turns into a bit of a road picture, the kind wherein viewers are whisked away on one journey whilst occasionally flashing back to the villains pursuing our two leads.  Admirably, Miano uses his grandfatherly like presence to school young Gideon about the reality lurking just beyond our reach; and – even though Perrin’s script is bit weighed down with hints of rituals, incantations, and other poorly-explained fringe ideas – the two make even the silliest bits palatable.  Think of Walsh like an elderly Indiana Jones – not the Hollywood version but maybe a Temu one – and it’s obvious what was intended here but never quite metastasizes.   Philip is a young; and he definitely needed more to his work.  A greater sense of disbelief over what he found himself in the middle of would’ve been a big improvement over some otherwise lukewarm confusion.
 
Still, The Old Ones’ biggest failure is that everything needed to firmly grasp what’s taking place happens ‘on the fly.’  We’re given only snapshots of a veritable catalogue; and, sadly, these pictures aren’t quite worth 1,000 words (as the old saying goes).  Consequently, viewers are kinda/sorta left to make of some bits what they will – i.e. Russel and Gordon reach a wheelchair-bound mechanical mystic in the big finale, and after watching these sequences twice I’ve still little concept of what truly transpired.  The same could be postulated in a sequence that builds up to the finale when our adventurous duo finally match wits with Nyarlathotep – part prophet, part portal – a character whose backdrop is obviously intended to be ‘bigger than life’ and yet we’re given sparingly little explanation for his exile in the middle of an American junkyard.  Context be damned, someone needed to help it all make sense.
 
Now, not all of what I’ve said is meant to be a complaint because like those 80’s Lovecraftian chillers I’ll concede that The Old Ones might also fit the bill of something just odd enough for me and my fraternity brothers to watch this one twice hoping to figure out just what we missed.  It has a satisfactory B-Movie feel to most of it, even though some of the early cinematography is plagued with competing light levels.  Effects work – practical and optical – are on par with the latest ‘meh,’ and yet they probably achieve the intent for which they were designed.  But I can’t ignore that fact that a great deal of what’s in the film left me wanting a bit more.  While not a bad thing, it still underscores that something big or small was missing from the affair, even though I’ll flummoxed over what it could’ve been.
 
H.P. Lovecraft’s The Old Ones (2024) was produced by Crappy World Films and Laurelwood Pictures.  A quick search of Google.com confirms that the film is available for digital rental or purchase on a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the sights and sounds range from acceptable to good, though I felt most of the visual deficiencies disappear from the second half.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features to consider.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended … but you’d better appreciate schlock because that’s what so much of it is.  On that level, it’s fun, but not much else.
 
Here’s the thing: with a little more time, a little more money, and a bit more narrative investment, passable schlock like H.P. Lovecraft’s The Old Ones (2024) could easily be transformed from bargain basement fare to – at best – something that could easily compete alongside the SciFi Channel Saturday Night Movies of yesteryear.  (Yes, they’re still around sparingly, it would seem, but you get the point.)  Without that added elbow grease, spit, and polish?  Well … there’s nothing much disappointing in them as they are just undercooked.  The ideas are haphazard.  The performances are muddled.  The entire fair feels uncentered.  As they are, they’re so-bad-they’re-good-enough to make this old dog ponder more of what’s missing than what remains … an odd state of existence between ‘peak cinema’ and ‘peak trash.’
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Breaking Glass Pictures provided me with complimentary streaming access to H.P. Lovecraft’s The Old Ones (2024) 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:
“When a fame hungry couple moves to an ideal LA home, their new dream life spirals into nightmare as an ancient scarecrow begins stalking them - feeding on their lies, testing truth, and turning their fandom into witnesses of its judgment.”
 
As I often opine when I’m tasked with reviewing another one of those ‘found footage films,’ I admit to being one of the last hold-outs who still finds these things somewhat enjoyable, mostly in that old-school creepy odd way.  Granted, a great many of them aren’t, in fact, legitimate ‘found footage’ – which is the case here with Strawstalker (2026) – but that’s okay.  It only uses the construct in modern ways, but it’s clearly been edited together.  But … so long as the cast and crew show up and actually try to do something interesting with the format I’m generally accepting of it.  Writer/director George Henry Horton really pushed me to my limits here.  What few good ideas are tossed in here, frankly, get obscured by the fact that this footage winds up being a bland presentation which only circumstantial explains what the Hell all the fuss is about.
 
Again: I like found footage.  Just wanna be clear.
 
Now, Henry and Haley are a pair of young influencers who’ve moved into what one might assume is their first ‘dream home’ (or maybe it’s only a ‘dream home away from home,’ as it’s never quite clear).  This quaint suburban California nest comes completely furnished, even with an elaborate tiki bar in the backyard and what looks to be a modified lap pool ready and willing to sweep all of their cares away.  But it would seem that the house and its neighbors hold a dark secret, one involving the lifeless body of an ugly scarecrow the lovebirds find nesting between the trees.  As scarecrows go, this one is pretty anemic – a Spirit Halloween knock-off, if ever there were such a thing – but viewers eventually learn that the critter is a kinda/sorta demon who demands a sacrifice.
 
What for? 
 
Well, there’s something said by someone along the way who would seem to be the community organizer for Evil (maybe the president of the HOA?) that implies an abhorrence of technology.  But why would a scarecrow – even one manifested from pure hatred – be opposed to, say, even a fax machine?  Apologies, but I’m not following …
 
In any event …
 
Storyteller Horton and the gang give it an admirable whirl, though I’m not sure even Scooby and the gang would have much great to say about this.  Chiefly, my issues with Scarestalker is that more often than not the streaming celebrity lifestyle – that’s the framework for their ‘found footage’ here mostly – never quite amounts to more than the usual herky-jerky cinematography with a handful of patently predictable jump scares.  About the time that two beat cops show up for no reason other than to warn these fame-seekers that they need to be careful about what they do in this neighborhood (???), I’d lost interest in even trying to figure out what ol’ Big Bad ScareFace and his vile homeowners association were all hoping would come to pass.  It would seem that a sacrifice isn’t going to be enough this time, and I’ll be damned if I could explain why.
 
Additionally, Strawstalker suffers from its celebrity construct by having the live-streamers constantly making sure they’re recording even when their respective lives are at stake.  Being as old as I am – and having watched enough Horror to choke an exorcist – I know good and well that when Jason or Freddy or Michael or whoever is coming at me that it’s go time, whether I’ve the proper running shoes on or not.  But this generation?  Why, I was honestly expecting them to stop to ascertain whether they had the best angle showing or even the right filters engaged for their audiences: do their mortal souls really mean nothing to them any longer?  Ah, kids these days …
 
Regardless, here’s the damndest thing …
 
Because I both like Horror and like ‘found footage’ I managed to suppress a yawn here and there in order to finish Strawstalker.  Whether this matters or not, I’d like to add that even though it fails to reach the bar for what’s acceptable in this sub-genre that there’s still enough background in it to make for a purely conventional delivery.  In other words: lose the ‘found footage’ – or minimize it to a great degree – and actually tell the story of these two as people instead of celebrities fawning over one another in pursuit of fortune.  They could still be influencers (or whatever it is they are as, again, it’s a bit unclear), but with that found footage perspective constrained a bit there would’ve been a greater chance to learn who they are (especially when the cameras are off) and what predicament they’ve found themselves in.  That may’ve been interesting.  This?  Not so much.
 
Strawstalker (2026) was produced by Dark Atlantic.  A quick search of Google.com indicates that the flick is presently available for streaming on Prime Video.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are good.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this presentation via streaming, there were no special features to consider.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
It’s not really ‘found footage,’ not in the classic definition of the sub-genre.  It’s more of an expose on the California Society Of Maniacal Streamers, cobbled together from several different cameras.  In fact, the story is hacked so much together that, maybe, it would’ve been more entertaining entirely as some kind of traditional yarn, something not using the ‘found footage’ or, instead, sparingly inserting it, kinda/sorta in a way that Woody Allen broke the fourth wall back in the days of Annie Hall.  It has that aesthetic – the narrator keeps hijacking the footage to offer his perspective on things; and Strawstalker might’ve been a vivid Allenesque twist had the screenwriter gone another way.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Dark Atlantic provided me with complimentary streaming access to Strawstalker (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

On this day in 2008 (in the U.S.), blood was likely drawn over the home video release of Alucard from Darkstone Entertainment.  Directed by John Johnson from a story by Spenser Tomson, the film starred Jay Barber, William G. Smith, Karthik Srinivasan, and others. 

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

"Jonathan Harker, a young lawyer, has been sent to the furthest reaches of Transylvania to help an old count with his move to the more populated Nilbog."

-- EZ

On this day in 2016 (in the U.S.), Girl In Woods enjoyed its broadcast unveiling when it was released for streaming over the Information Superhighway.  Written and directed by Jeremy Benson, the film starred Juliet Reeves London, Charisma Carpenter, Jeremy London, and others. 

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

"After a tragic accident Grace is lost and alone in the Smoky Mountains. Grace's struggle for survival is made more complicated by her troubled past. Battling the demons in her mind may be the only way to come out alive."

-- 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:
“A mysterious circus comes to a western town bearing wonders and characters that entertain the inhabitants and teach valuable lessons.”
 
For those of you who don’t know the name, George Pal might best be considered either the George Lucas or Steven Spielberg of an earlier generation.  Either as a big-time director or producer, the man had his hands in some of the silver screen’s foundational Science Fiction and Fantasy projects.  A quick glance at his professional profile will prove his association with such efforts as Destination Moon (1950), When Worlds Collide (1951), The War Of The Worlds (1953), Conquest Of Space (1955), and The Time Machine (1960).  I think it’s safe to suggest that – ahem – the quality of his output lessened somewhat in the passage from one decade to the next (not an insult, just an observation) when he turned his eyes from the heavens back down to the Earth.  1961’s Atlantis: The Lost Continent is an interesting take on the mythical end to a fabled land but not much else.  1962’s The Wonderful World Of The Brothers Grimm is said to be ambitious but also a bit ‘long in the tooth’ with its biographical details.  And as for 1964’s 7 Faces Of Dr. Lao?  Well, that’s what brings us all here today.
 
Succinctly, one need understand that 7 Faces is the theatrical product of an earlier time wherein not a big hubbub was made over a white man playing roles of foreign descent.  Basically, Tony Randall inhabits not one … not two … not three … and you can see where this is going.  He embodies an incredible seven different characters – each with their own personality and proclivities – but perhaps it’s the Dr. Lao of the title which might be most concerning.  This world-weary traveler has been everywhere and done everything; and, in practice, he weaves a bit of Chinese mysticism – that of his homeland – throughout a great many observations.  Randall is most definitely not of Chinese descent, but he capably and respectfully uses his craft – along with a great degree of whimsy – to flesh out this harmless charlatan who seeks to right wrongs where he sees them in practice.
 
Based on the novel The Circus Of Dr. Lao by Charles G. Finney, screenwriter Charles Beaumont (of The Twilight Zone fame) adapted the tale for director Pal who – much like Lao serves as the ringmaster of a traveling spectacle – presides over these festivities.  Arriving in the backwater berg of Abalone, Arizona, the good doctor decides this dwindling populace could use a bit of entertainment; and he books an advert in editor Edward Cunningham’s newspaper (played by John Ericson) to promote a two-nights-only gig.  In the meantime, Lao goes about investigating which of the sleepy town’s residents could use a bit of a magical pick-me-up.
 
Lo and behold, Abalone is in desperate need of some wizardry.  Cunningham himself is pining over the fetching, young widow Angela Benedict (the heavenly Barbara Eden); and – wouldn’t you know it – her young son Mike (Kevin Tate) could equally use a man around the house to rear the child into eventual manhood.  Wealthy and scheming land baron Clint Star (Arthur O’Donnell) has set his sights on buying up everyone’s property at swell prices because he’s secretly learned that the railroad is coming to town next year, a development that’ll increase his fortunes ten-fold if he can seal the deal right out from under the citizens’ feet.  This being the Old West, there are naturally a few rough’n’tumble types who could also benefits from Lao’s wisdom; so it’s safe to say that the would-be magician has his hands full.
 
Bearing in mind this was all most definitely intended to be family-friendly, the antics through 7 Faces are all goofy and a bit slapstick, though Pal arguably tries to up the stakes a bit here and there with some modest visual effects.  Lao can snap fire from his fingertips; and with little more than a wave of his hand he can freeze men and women in their tracks.  He’ll vanish in a puff of smoke only to reappear (almost instantly) in the guise of one of his other creations, be it the fortune teller Apollonius of Tyana (a rather good performance), Merlin the Magician, or even Medusa, the snake-headed temptress from Greek mythology.  Additionally, he dances and plays the pan flute as Pan – the God of Joy – though its actor Cunningham’s face he takes as the merry prancer in order to seduce Mrs. Benedict so she’ll give in to her heartfelt desires. 
 
Might I just add: no one gets the vapors like Barbara Eden.  Let’s hope every man can bring that out of their respective soulmates.
 
Lastly, I’ve read that William Tuttle received an honorary Oscar for his make-up work that literally transformed Randall across the various roles.  As one around these days who still appreciates what practical effects work – including prosthetics and the like – can do on screen, I’d strongly recommend those interested in such fare take a gander at 7 Faces.  Granted, not all of them measure up, but what Tuttle and his actor accomplished here was undoubtedly deserving of the praise.  I’d imagine that even audiences of the day were a bit won over with that delightful exhibition.
 
7 Faces Of Dr. Lao (1964) was produced by George Pal Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at the Warner Archive Collection.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds – an all-new 4K restoration from the original camera negative – likely are about as good as this one is ever going to get.  There are some rather quaint optical effects – along with a few practical ones – and they look about as good as George Pal Productions were doing in the 1960’s.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Alas, there are no specific to this picture itself, but the disc does boast a few shorts produced during the era which basically fill a bit of time.  There’s also a theatrical trailer, so be thankful for small favors, as they say.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
At best, 7 Faces Of Dr. Lao (1964) might be properly categorized as a kid-friendly oddity, its script never really seizing any big opportunities to say anything other than … well … Old West land barons were bad.  Still, didn’t we know that already?  Otherwise, the film does about everything it possibly can with its (mostly) wholesome charm.  Contemporary audiences might – ahem – take issue with Randall’s dated and somewhat stereotypical depiction of a Chinese mystic wandering from town-to-town in pursuit of soothsaying; so it’s best to keep in mind that the mid-60’s were a different time and a different place.  No one intended any offense and maybe even all of it was meant to be honorous of Eastern culture.  
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of 7 Faces Of Dr. Lao (1964) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Ach, folks.  Just ... ach.  This one hurts.

Growing up when I did, I had the unabashed joy of watching a great many television programs that basically sprang to life trying to capture the luster of some big screen property that turned out to be a blockbuster.  For example, 1977's Star Wars paved the way for TV's original incarnation of Battlestar Galactica and even the somewhat campy Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, much in the same way that 1983's epic actioner Blue Thunder served as a inspiration for CBS's small screen counterpart Airwolf.  Naturally, these Boob Tube alternatives couldn't quite compete with what storytellers were doing at the cineplex -- the constraints of broadcast budgets being what they were -- and, yet, a good number of copycats still managed to find life and small(ish) audiences well within the glow of the conventional television set.

Now, I know that the bulk of the readership has likely never even heard of Tales Of The Gold Monkey (1982-1983), but -- for the uninitiated -- the adventure serial was intended to cash in on the box office success of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg's Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981).  Similarly, Gold Monkey's creator -- the great Donald P. Bellisario -- couldn't match the theatrical clout and intensity behind one of the silver screen's greatest flicks ever (I said what I said); but the showrunner still managed to give those of us who turned in something to look at ... and, yes, that included series regular Sarah Stickney White (as played by the lovely Caitlin O'Heaney0.  She was the small screen equivalent of Indiana Jones' gal-pal Marion Ravenwood; and -- in her capacity as a nightclub singer / American secret agent -- White did what she could to keep tabs on those dastardly forces conspiring against these United States in those fertile years building up to World War II.

Like so many shows that critics dub as knock-offs, Gold Monkey lasted only a single season; but what a fun-filled season it was!  I know, I know, I know ... my sentiments are largely driven by some nostalgia for the days gone by; but Ms. O'Heaney left an impression on me that lasted a few years.  Hers was a talent that I honestly expected might go on to bigger and better things, so I kept my out for her to spring up here or there in some other genre-properties.  While there were a few, nothing quite matched the magic of my initial introduction to her gifts; so I'll just have to consider myself thankful for that.

Sigh.

Word reached the World Wide Web this morning of the lady's passing, and my heart aches over this one.  She truly meant so much to this young viewer, and I'll live forever under her spell.

Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Caitlin O'Heaney.

May she rest in peace.

​-- 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 …)
 
Readers, it isn’t often that I finish a feature production and find myself struggling with what to make of it.  More often than not when such a phenomenon does happen – especially when it involves foreign films – my confusion almost always is tied to a lack of understanding of how a particular story may resonate with the fabric of that nation’s history.  Being American – and being fond of American history – I haven’t experienced much enlightenment from abroad with the sole exception of loving their movies (and the occasional television show): an even casual grasp of what any country’s struggles have been tends to smooth out those lumps I may’ve found in a muddled narrative, and that’s definitely the case with 1979’s G.I. Samurai.
 
Directed by Kôsei Saitô from a story by Ryô Hanmura and Toshio Kamata, the tale involves several units of the Japanese Self Defense Force (SDF) who find themselves – for no discernible reason – thrown through a temporal rift back to the Warring States Period, a volatile time wherein the nation endured a great number of civil wars and the like.  Essentially, all of these various clans were jockeying for control of the country; and these modern-day troops under command of ranking officer Yoshiaki Iba (played by Sonny Chiba) are forced to decide whether or not they’ll isolate themselves from society-at-large so as not to negatively impact the unfolding history or to align themselves with the somewhat reigning clan behind Lord Koizumi (Asao Koike).   Koizumi’s ranking warlord – Nagao Kagetora (Isao Natsuyagi) – seems to be a loose cannon, and yet Iba senses an unexplained kinship with the man, so much so that the decision requires very little debate.  When it eventually appears that they’ve no way back to the present day, Iba conscripts those men wishing to stay in the past and fight under the Koizumi banner; and, together, they go about making wartime history.
 
This similar set-up was used in Hollywood only a few months later: 1980’s The Final Countdown saw the USS Nimitz – a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier – thrown back in time to only hours before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, an event that precipitated America’s involvement in World War II.  In this film, the ‘should we or shouldn’t we’ affect to change history remains central to everything that develops; and the boat commanders spend a reasonable amount of time debating the various positions.  Knowing that they can save lives – one of their key tenets to their military service – weighs on their consciences throughout.  Sadly, the film takes the easy way out when – in transit to stop the Japanese fleet – the Nimitz somewhat magically finds the portal again; and the fighters undoubtedly accept that they were never intended to alter past transgressions whatsoever.  Reality isn’t an easy pill to swallow, but they remain soldiers following more of a cosmic responsibility than they do their Constitutional oaths.
 
What’s needed to better understand how this morality works in G.I. Samurai is the fact that these Japanese soldiers aren’t exactly ‘tasked’ with what was perceived as a working military.  Simplifying the great deal of history, I’ll offer briefly that the Japanese nation was prohibited as a consequence of their actions in World War II from having and maintaining an active national military.  Instead, they were eventually allowed to create a national defense force, one that largely required some national catastrophe to be put into service much less see any action.  How must it weigh on the psychology of a trained soldier to know that, functionally, he’ll never see anything effectively resembling combat?  Oh, he’ll be on hand when weather-related calamities unfold; and should a real-life Godzilla ever rise from the ocean depths and march on Tokyo he might get to use all of those nifty weapons in their national arsenal.  But otherwise?  He likely doesn’t feel much like a soldier, certainly not one who might have to rid the world of some treacherous adversary.
 
So it’s in this context that G.I. Samurai both works and resonates with the audience, especially the younger Japanese men and women who were a generation removed from World War II.  Their parents had seen the effects that the resulting treaties have dealt on their nation and people, but their descendants only knew what schools were allowed to teach about the past.  Certainly, they shouldn’t be penalized for the actions that took place decades ago, and they’d largely only seen a slow return to greatness of Japan on the world stage.  Why should they continue paying a price they saw as being paid-in-full?  Wasn’t it time to allow the country to do what it wanted and no longer feel a somewhat imperial oppression from the U.S. and the Allied powers?
 
Set against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why G.I. Samurai meant so much to its generation.  The story gradually finds its footing as Iba and his ‘good guys’ cull out the negative influences within their own ranks; and a viewer might even hear the celebration when one of the enlisted men is thrilled that he’ll finally be getting his chance to participate in the making of history.  On that level, G.I. Samurai has the same aesthetic and patriotic DNA one might found in American films like The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Devil’s Brigade (1968), or Kelly’s Heroes (1970).  Thematically, where it ends up is probably vastly closer to a feature like, say, Oliver Stone’s Platoon; but – for a brief time – these men relish the chance to take a stand for something even if they’re not entirely certain what they’re standing for in the moment.  Think of it as … masculine desperation.
 
Still, some of the cinematography and the storytelling techniques are obviously a bit dated.  I’m not sure how much money was invested in its special effects, but I can assure you that timeslip of the opening leaves a bit to the imagination.  Precisely what the men are seeing and experiencing is never clearly defined – there’s a hint it might be tied to some astrological event – so take that rather protracted sequence as little more than a contrivance required to get to the story.  There’s also some occasional flashes back to the present – Samurai has a handful of side-stories involving these recruits – but they, too, don’t feel as if they were all that necessary to what director Saitô has to say about men and the wars they’ll fight.  Lastly, there’s also a curious reliance on a contemporary soundtrack – I’m understanding that the studio make a big effort to include pop tracks of the day – and I’m not sure that was the best way to go.  War is hell, either way, but that doesn’t mean its soundtrack must be, too.
 
G.I. Samurai (1979) was produced by Kadokawa Haruki Jimusho and the Toei Company.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that Arrow has spared no expense in delivering perhaps the best sights and sounds available here: with effects work that can be a bit of a detriment in that not a great deal of money was spent to render the – ahem – magical time travel sequence.  (Just grin and bear it.)  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  This being Arrow I’ve got nothing but praise in that respect as there are some new and archival interviews I’d insist are downright mandatory in understanding why Samurai was a box office hit; in fact, the newly-produced audio commentary truly explains the socio-cultural reality of Japan (of the day) and extrapolates (to a degree) on why the film likely struck a chord with young folks who embraced it.  Methinks the hosts have a solid grasp on how even an imperfect film can still perfectly represent a generation; and that alone makes this a picture worth viewing.
 
Recommended.
 
Even though I’ll admit to experiencing a bit of a struggle in coming up with all that much to say about G.I. Samurai (1979), it’s still the kind of flick that deserves to be seen.  Of course, how widely the story – and some uninspired effects, a kinda/sorta hackneyed if not downright goofy set-up, and some cheesy humor – is going to be appreciated will likely depend on the seriousness (or not) the viewer attaches to soldiers finding themselves back in time and actively deciding ‘history be damned, we’re going to fight for ourselves!’  Performances are quite good – Shiba oozes enough toxic masculinity all by himself that ardent feminists are warned to stay away, and Natsuyagi is downright brilliant as the war leader you’d both be a fool (and not) to trust.  Still, it’s occasionally uneven – a bit long in battle sequences – never quite figuring out what it wanted so much to saw about bloodshed as it did the men who partook of all the festivities.
 
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 G.I. Samurai (1979) 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 1983 (in Italy), Conquest delivered a dose of theatrical Fantasy to the cinemas.  Directed by Lucio Fulci from a story by Giovanni Di Clemente, Gino Capone, José Antonio de la Loma, and Carlos Vasallo, the film starred Jorge Rivero, Andrea Occhipinti, Violeta Cela, and others. 

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

"A young man, armed with a magical bow and arrows, embarks on a mystical journey through a mystical land to rid it of all evil and joins forces with an outlaw to take down an evil witch bent on claiming the magic bow for evil."

-- EZ
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