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Friday's best pop song ever
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Adding crackle to the pop
This past Wednesday's Pop Offensive was our first on the FM dial. That's right, if you were looking for a reason to move to the Lake Merritt area of Oakland, CA, I can't think of a better one than that it will put you withing the narrow range of KGPC's 100 watt transmitter. Of course, Jeff Heyman and myself, being true professionals, were unfazed by this potential bump in our Q factor, and continued on as usual, rolling out an unpredictable selection of melodic and dance-able music from around the world, be it pop, punk, electro-polka, or vomitous Eurovision treacle.
Of course, we will continue to archive the episodes in streaming form for you late comers, as we have with this one. To hear it, simply go to the Pop Offensive Archive at 9thfloorradio.com and push "play". If your ears need written confirmation of what they are hearing, you can read the full playlist for the episode, which has just been posted on our Facebook page.
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Star Crash: accident report.
Regret missing last Tuesday's 4DK Monthly Movie Shout Down of Star Crash? Well, here's some good news: Thanks to the transcript linked below, you will be able to effectively HALT THE FLOW OF TIME and experience the event anew. It's science.
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Welcome to Cairowood
You know, I'm about a lot more than luring people into Bollywood's seductive embrace--though, of course, I am about that. Take, for example, my latest piece for Teleport City, in which I provide a handy introduction to the glamorous pleasures of Egyptian Cinema's golden age. These films offer all the attractions of classic Hollywood, with the welcome addition of lots and lots of belly dancing. It's called "Welcome to Cairowood" and you can Check it out here.
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Friday's best pop song ever
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2016 Part 1 (Ghana, 2011)
In 1912, cartoonist Windsor McCay used the available technology to make Gertie the Dinosaur, a short film in which a live action McCay appeared to be interacting with a cartoon dinosaur. In 1945, using a related but much more sophisticated technique, MGM gave us Gene Kelly dancing with a cartoon mouse in Anchors Aweigh. Finally, in 2011, 2016 director Ninja used the technology available to him to integrate ColecoVision quality computer animated aliens into footage of various people bickering on their front porches.

As you might recall, I introduced Ninja to 4DK’s readers with my review of his/her B 14, an earlier film in which the producer-director-writer-cinematographer-editor employed no end of bargain basement movie magic to tell a tale involving a child crime lord, a voodoo powered android that shoots endless lengths of chain out of his palms, and a lot of CG blood spatter. Those who are fond of that film will find much cause for reminiscence in 2016, as it contains most of the same cast and locations.
2016 lacks the breakneck pacing of B 14, in part because Ninja chooses to give his alien invasion tale the simmering build-up of a 1970s disaster movie—or, come to think of it, Independence Day. In that tradition, we are first given a portent of the disaster to come, in a scene in which a scientist seated at a table full of computer monitors in front of a white sheet catches sight of the alien mother ship orbiting just above earth’s atmosphere. We are then given a glimpse inside the spaceship, where a trio of alien creatures eyes a hologram of the Earth covetously. These appear to have been lifted from a bootleg Alien vs. Predator handheld video game and mashed-up into one franchise-bridging hybrid—a Predatalien, if you will.
Then it is time to meet the large cast of characters whose lives will be effected by the disaster. This is accomplished in a series of vignettes featuring various pairs of people having animated conversations either on the front porches of their houses or on the stoops outside their apartments. Much soda pop is consumed. My take away from this is that (a) Ninja was not equipped to shoot indoors and (b) it’s hot in Ghana.
Unfortunately, the version of 2016 that I watched was not subtitled. I’m confident that, if it had been, 2016 would have revealed itself to be, if not a more complex film than it otherwise appeared, at least a more convoluted one, as there is a lot of chatter going on throughout. In any case, this is just my interpretation, but it seemed to me that all of those conversations during its first act were fractious in tone. It also seemed that the pending alien visitation was the subject of most of them, and that a lot of incredulity was being expressed over the idea that visitors from outer space would choose Ghana as their touchdown point. Meanwhile, the scientist, Mr. Oppong (played by B 14’s Ebenezer Donkor) has been sounding the alarm about the maybe invasion and meeting with a lot of skeptical pushback from the populace, who just want to be left to sit in the sun and drink their pop.
Whatever was being discussed, what was unmistakable was the frequency of references to Ghana in these conversations. And this was something I loved about 2016: unlike other productions, which try to make vague their provenance in order to have more international appeal, it seems determined to never let you forget that it is a film made by Ghanaians in Ghana about Ghana. It even seems to take a peculiar sort of patriotic pride in the idea that Ghana would be the target of an alien attack. Whether intended or not, this puts in unflattering contrast the chauvinism of those many American films that take for granted that any life form who would take the trouble of traveling billions of light years to Earth would first stop off in New York or Washington.
Anyway, Mr. Oppong’s “I told you so” moment comes when the aliens contact him directly to communicate their plans. This is followed by the film’s one English language sequence, in which a somnolent TV newsreader relays the Aliens’ intentions in the most blasé manner possible. The aliens, she tells us, have “shown interest in Ghana” and, after some investigation, have determined that it is “the most peaceful land on Earth.” Because of this, they have decided that they will “migrate here by 2016.” Of course, they must first wipe out the country’s entire population. “The destruction,” she concludes, “can be any moment from now.”
I have to say that this plan shows a shrewd understanding on the aliens’ part of the ignorance and indifference with which most of the world at large regards virtually anything that happens in Africa. Seriously, if the entire population of Ghana was replaced by insectoid space aliens, could you imagine anyone at your office job being aware of it, even if George Clooney had made a documentary about it?
With this revelation out of the way, all the carnage promised by 2016’s trailer is soon to follow. It will be noted, however, that the aliens take a very intimate, one-at-a-time approach to exterminating the populace, in that almost all of these scenes involve a single alien stalking a single fleeing victim through the deserted streets. These sequences momentarily give 2016 the feel of a Friday the 13th style slasher movie, albeit one shot entirely in the blazing sunlight. It is also these sequences that deliver both of the trailer’s most notorious money shots, by which I of course refer to the toddler who gets kicked into the stratosphere and the lady who gets squashed by a very poorly rendered airborne sports car.
In saying that 2016 is more deliberately paced than B 14, I in no way mean to imply that it is a less entertaining film. The sheer lunacy of its action and special effects sequences is enough to maintain an air of excited anticipation throughout its more talky bits. And those bits themselves contain much to keep us entertained, such as the impressive assortment of bootleg tee shirts worn by the cast and the odd mundane details that Ninja chooses to focus on. The only way you could be disappointed by it is to expect it to live up to its trailer, a feat that no film could accomplish.
Like many African exploitation films, 2016 became an instant franchise at the moment of it being shorn into two halves. Thus Part 1 ends with a cliffhanger in which the aliens deliver to Mr. Oppong some kind of ultimatum. What is it? I have no idea (no subtitles, remember?) Nonetheless I am going to ask that you remain in suspense until I get around to watching Part 2. Stay tuned!
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2016 Part 2 (Ghana, 2011)
I approached 2016 Part 2 with a lot of excitement. Really. That’s because all of the highlights from the mind blowing 2016 trailer were in Part 1, which meant that Part 2 was mostly uncharted territory. I mean, I won’t go so far as to say that 2016 Part 2 was cloaked in mystery, but it at least had a light cardigan of mystery draped casually over its shoulders. Who could imagine what it might contain?
In my review of Part 1, I related to you that that film ended with our hero, Mr. Oppong, receiving some kind of ultimatum from the aliens. That, it turns out, was wrong. It was an assumption on my part, based on untranslated dialog—and, as we all know, “assume” makes an “ass” out of someone named “Ume”. What was actually happening is that Mr. Oppong was eavesdropping on the aliens without their knowledge and just happened to hear their next plan of attack. BTW, I am here and only here going to entertain the conceit that 2016 Part 2 is a separate film from Part 1 by saying that Ebenezer Donkor here returns as Mr. Oppong, even though it is clearly one movie that has been arbitrarily cut in half in order to sell more VCDs.
Soon we are gifted with another dispatch from Ghana’s least invested TV news anchor, who distractedly gives us the English version of the Aliens’ master plan. It seems that the aliens have somehow managed to turn the cell phones of everyone in Ghana into bombs. “By tomorrow at 12:00,” she tells us, “every phone is going to explode.” Then, in strict adherence to the journalistic code, she advises her audience to “pass this message on”. She further advises them to turn their cell phones off, ensuring that every person over 60 who never turns their cell phone on will mistakenly turn it on and be blown to smithereens as a result.
Sincerely, though, you’d think that such a simple plan of action might be easy enough to follow through on, but in 2016 Part 2 it only gives the characters further reason to bicker at each other while consuming endless bottles of soda. These people clearly didn’t get the same memo about Ghana being “the most peaceful land on Earth” that the aliens did, as they are seemingly incapable of communicating other than with balled fists and bared teeth. Only one little kid (Joseph Osei, here, unlike in B 14, playing what appears to be an actual child) shows some industry, attempting to hack into his phone and disarm it. Even Oppong’s teenage daughter, Cara (Prescilla Anabel, who is also credited with doing the film’s makeup and something called “Welfare”) can only carry this news so far down the road before stopping to have a screaming match with somebody.
All of this takes up most of the film’s first twenty minutes, during which we see very little of the aliens. In fact, 2016 Part 2 is very stingy with its aliens throughout, only pausing occasionally for one of them to stroll rigidly into frame to chuck a horribly rendered CG motorcycle at someone or decapitate them with an also horribly rendered boomerang. In most cases, their presence is only indicated by shots of people running away while looking fearfully over their shoulder at nothing. It is hard for me to believe that the effects sequences in this movie would be so costly that cutting back on them would be a budgetary decision, but that might just be my First World privilege talking.
Likewise, 2016 Part 2 does little to add upon the creative carnage of its predecessor, but for one thing: Apparently the aliens have taken the time between parts 1 and 2 to learn kung fu. This means that, if you felt the films in the Alien and Predator franchises were lacking for not having scenes of their titular creatures delivering flying kicks to the faces of unsuspecting humans, you will now feel that a grave injustice has been righted.
Anyway, now that the aliens have truly revealed themselves as typical low budget action film villains, the solution to the problem they present is obvious. All that’s needed is the creation of a Terminator-like cyborg to fight them, a task that Mr. Oppong completes in record time. This stoic killing machine (Ntul Andrew, in a role in every way identical to the one he played in B 14) is then set loose to casually stroll along the same quiet suburban streets that all of 2016’s action takes place in and dismember any alien he comes across.
There then follows more bickering, lots of it, and mostly between women, which gives this portion of the film the feeling of a Bravo reality show sponsored by Orange Crush. There is also a prayer circle with people speaking in tongues. Finally, in a scene lasting literally less than 10 seconds, the cyborg leaps into space and somehow blows up the alien mother ship, which prompts the statement/question: “So wait… You mean you could’ve done that all along?”
Because I loved both 2016 Part 1 and B 14, I really wanted to at least like 2016 Part 2, but, sadly, the film’s ceaseless Housewives of Kumasi style caterwauling—minus the mitigation of people angrily spraying soda pop on one another--erased every last scrap of charity in my heart. You’d think that filming a movie in one go and then cutting it in half would be an ideal way to avoid the dreaded sequel slump, but, perhaps honoring tradition, 2016 Part 2 beats the odds and delivers the very type of bitter disappointment that we have long ago become accustomed to. Given that, my only advice is to ignore its existence completely.
As a public service to those of you who plan to download 2016 Part 1, and would like to walk away from it with a sense of closure, I suggest you append to it the following title card, which I offer free of charge:
(Spoiler)
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Friday's best pop song ever
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Friday's best pop song ever
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Zan-e Khoon Asham, aka Female Vampire (Iran, 1967)
It is impossible to discuss Zan-e Khoon Asham without making at least passing reference to last year’s festival favorite A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night. Both are Iranian films, one made in 1967 and the other in 2014, which make lady vampires their subject matter. Making any parallels beyond that, however, is somewhat problematic. While Girl is an artistic film rich with formal beauty and layered metaphor, Zan-e Khoon Asham, at least in a narrative sense, is clearly something different-- while its aesthetic ambitions are rendered difficult to gauge due to the available print of it looking like it was videotaped off the screen of a television that was submerged in a dirty swimming pool.
The film begins with big city hotshot Jahangir (played by Mostafa Oskooyi, the film’s director) arriving from Tehran in the city of Nishapur, where he spends the night with old friend Bahram (Mehdi Fat’hi) in the orchard of Mashti, a kindly old farmer. It is here that Jahangir first lays eyes on and gets royally sprung by Mashti’s teenage daughter Golnar (Mahindokht). Bahram tells him that she is bad news; her brother was said to have been taken by a jinn and she herself is suspected to be possessed as a result. Jahangir then helpfully explains to Bahram the western notion of the vampire. Yeah, like that, he basically replies.
Still, it seems that no amount of dire portents can quell Jahangir’s horniness, and so he arranges a late night tryst with Golnar at the tomb of Omar Khayyam where, if I am interpreting the suggestively evasive camera maneuvers correctly, he takes her virginity. The next morning he breezily takes off back for Tehran, promising the naïve Golnar that he will marry her upon his return. This despite her protestations that she might be pregnant.
If it has not already been made blindingly clear that Jahangir is a cad of the first order, it will be when he returns to Tehran and engages with a colleague in a dialogue about the place of an ugly woman in society that is straight out of In the Company of Men. He then makes short work of seducing Parvin (Homayoondokht), the new wife of another associate. Before long it is quite obvious that he has no intention of returning to Golnar, much less in marrying her. This is not lost on Golnar, and a castigating letter soon arrives from Bahram telling Jahangir that the heartbroken girl has wandered out into the wilderness and been found dead. Oh, and there’s also something about two bite marks on her neck.
No sooner does the sun set in the sky than Jahangir is confronted by the vampirized Golnar, who warns him that she will kill any woman that he falls in love with. Then Parvin vanishes and Jahangir, as the prime suspect in her disappearance, is forced to flee from the police. Once apprehended, he is thrown into a darkened cell, where he is soon cornered by, not only Golnar, but Parvin, who has also turned into a vengeful bloodsucker. The scene, it has to be said, is quite chilling, although it is hard to say how much of that is due to cinematographer Maziar Parto’s shadowy compositions and how much is due to Zan-e Khoon Asham’s current distressed state. The film, after all, is something of a ghost in itself, which makes watching it tantamount to a kind of occular haunting.
If the film’s titles are to be believed, Zan-e Khoon Asham was the first feature produced by Iran’s Theater Anahita. This sounds about right, because, like many maiden efforts of nascent film industries, it often seems more invested in the simple act of visual documentation than of storytelling, bursting at the seams with ancillary distractions like musical numbers, recitations of classical poetry and one very long wedding sequence. Because of this, the film is helped by its ravaged condition as much as it is hurt by it. That murkiness and erosion serves as a constant reminder to us of its rarity, and thus helps to justify our interest despite its digressions.
That said, I’m afraid I’m going to have to spoil Zan-e Khoon Asham’s ending, as to review the film without discussing it would be irresponsible. In short, it is a narrative cop-out of almost admirable audacity. You see, it turns out that Golnar and Parvin are not really vampires at all, but just pretending to be vampires in order to teach Jahangir a much needed lesson. Of course, for them to pull off this ruse has also required the participation of virtually all of Jahangir’s friends and associates, as well as many of the random people that he has encountered since returning to Tehran.
As insulting as this preposterous reveal is, even more so is the filmmakers’ assumption that Jahangir being pranked in this manner is enough of a karmic payback for us to forgive his transgressions and accept him taking Golnar, the young girl he ruthlessly exploited and abandoned, into his arms for a climactic smooch as some kind of happy ending. By no means is Jahangir an asshole, they seem to be saying, but rather a lovable rogue. And this brings to mind another parallel between this film and A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, as well as a key difference: Both films address the treatment of women in Iranian society. Girl, however, does so in the form of commentary, while Zan-e Khoon Asham merely serves as evidence.
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Friday's best pop song ever
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Ana Antar, aka I Am Antar (Lebanon/?, 1966)
During the 1960s, Lebanon rivaled Egypt as one of the biggest producers of popular cinema in the Middle East, matching it both in terms of output and technical acumen. At the time, the Lebanese film industry was dominated by a resolutely commercial, crowd-pleasing aesthetic, one that gave rise to colorful pan-Arabic co-productions like Frank “Dawn of the Mummy” Agrama’s Essabet El Nissae. Also representative of this trend is 1966’s Ana Antar, which includes among its star attractions a Syrian comedy duo and a Lebanese pop singer/sex symbol. Indeed, I momentarily entertained the notion that Ana Antar was another of Agrama’s directorial efforts, until I learned that it was helmed by another Egyptian, Joseph Maalouf, who also directed the Ismail Yassin vehicle The Adventures of Ismail Yassin.
Like Essabet El Nissae, Ana Antar is a lighthearted crime caper with a distinct swinging sixties vibe owing in large part to its seductive pallet of rich Eastman Color hues. In it, Nihad Quali and Doreid Lahham play investigators charged with solving a series of jewelry robberies that, unknown to them, are being committed by a nightclub singer who is under the hypnotic control of her unscrupulous psychiatrist. “Doreid & Nihad”, as they were called, rose to prominence on Syrian television in the early 60s before going on to star together in a series of 21 successful theatrical features, usually with Quali playing the straight man to Lahham’s antic character Ghawar. As was often the case, they are also credited with writing the screenplay and dialogue for Ana Antar, with Maalouf taking credit for the story.
In their day, Doreid & Nihad were compared to Laurel and Hardy, which, looking at them now, seems a little dubious. While Nihad, rotund and mustached, could arguably pass for a Middle Eastern version of Oliver Hardy, Doreid looks a lot less like Stan Laurel than he does Groucho Marx, while at the same time exhibiting the jittery hipster mannerisms of a young Woody Allen. Here he plays renowned private investigator Antar, who is recruited by harried insurance investigator Hosni (Nihad) to help him put a stop to the jewelry robberies that are costing his superiors a lot of money.
I can’t say for sure that Antar is ironically named after the revered 6th century poet and warrior Antarah ibn Shaddad, though I suspect he is. What I am sure of is that he is intended as a vehicle for spoofing all of the secret agent tropes of his day. It’s all here: the shoe phone, the contact lens that doubles as a camera, the swank bachelor pad laden with booby traps, the exotic yet dangerously impractical weapons (among them a gun that shoots backwards), the oily self-regard, all signaling to us once again that the 60s were a time when no barrier of geography, language or culture could stand up to the contagious influence of James Bond. It also bears mention that Antar has a girlfriend, Salwah, played by the charming Egyptian actress Hala El Shawarby, who serves as both a loyal helpmate and a comic foil.
Ana Antar’s credits play over an arresting expository sequence that clues us in to something that Antar, Hosni, and Salwah are yet to learn. Shot with a distinctly Bava-esque lighting scheme, these scenes show a pretty young nightclub singer, Halo, being hypnotized by her psychiatrist, Dr. Sabri. She leaves his office in a trance and is next seen methodically lifting a set of diamond encrusted jewelry from a posh home. These she returns to Sabri, who adds them to what is obviously a growing collection. The caddish Sabri is played by Shafiq Hashim, a Lebanese actor and musician who, at the time, was married to the world famous belly dancer Nadia Gamal (who is not related to or to be confused with world famous belly dancer and actress Samia Gamal). Halo, meanwhile, is played by popular Lebanese singer and actress Randa, who is afforded four musical numbers throughout the film.
Antar and Hosni’s investigation eventually leads them to the nightclub where Halo is performing, whereupon Hosni’s boss, Abu Nour (Khaled Kharanouh), immediately falls for her—as he well should, given he is exactly the kind of blandly handsome romantic lead that always gets shoehorned into comic vehicles like this. Meanwhile, we learn that the receptionist in Abu Nour’s office, Suad (Dadnd Jabour), is working for Dr. Sabri and has been keeping him informed on the progress of the investigation. Being a maniacal control freak in the classic B movie villain mode, he sets out to throw them off his scent by any means possible. All of this, of course, still leaves time for Antar and Hosni to get involved in a series of absurdist comic vignettes, including a bit where an eccentric woman serves them an invisible meal which they then, in an abundance of courtesy, elaborately mime eating.
Sadly, the version of Ana Antar that I watched lacked English subtitles, so I am in no way equipped to judge just how funny Doreid & Nihad’s dialog is. However, their cadence and body language alone is enough to tell me that Doreid is meant to be the wise-cracking operator of the two, while Nihad is the oafish one who is most likely to be on the receiving end of the movie’s many slapstick humiliations. At one point, after being brutally beaten by a pair of Sabri’s gunsels, he stumbles back to Antar’s apartment, only to be subjected to the gauntlet of crude booby traps meant to ward off intruders. (Yes, there is a boxing glove on a spring and bucket of water propped over the door. Yes, I laughed.)
In many ways, Ana Antar’s combination of glamour and goofiness, along with its good natured desire to entertain by whatever means necessary, reminds me of the Mexican spy spoofs of its era--which is in every way a compliment, given that those films, being so open hearted and almost reckless in their inclusiveness, are, to me, the definition of “world pop cinema”. As with Cazadores de Espias or Las Sicodelicas, Ana Antar’s makers, while putting their comedic foot forward, do not renege on their covenant with the audience to also make a film that fully functions as a thriller. Thus the film gradually works its way around to a satisfyingly action-packed climax, starting with Halo leaving behind a telltale red scarf at the scene of one of her robberies. This prompts Antar to make a visit to her psychiatrist’s office, which unwittingly put him at the mercy of Dr. Sabri, who hypnotizes him in an effort to turn him against his friends. Much chasing and shooting follows. And also lots of things that are a very bright shade of red.
Despite understanding exactly none of its dialog, it is easy for me to praise Ana Antar, because it looks amazing. I took me twice as long to watch as it should have because I was tempted to make screen captures of every individual shot. Of course, if you are going to make a film that combines mid-century design with saturated colors and a lot of pop art-inspired, modernist camera compositions—and that also includes lots of nightclub scenes and go-go dancing, it is literally guaranteed that it will be a film close to my heart. I am just that shallow.
Seriously, though, that the makers of Ana Antar, despite working with a limited number of minimal sets and an obviously modest budget, managed to create of film of such visual allure speaks very well of their industry as a whole—and guarantees that I will be ardently seeking out more films of its type in the future.
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Friday's best pop song ever
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Kung Fu Wonder Child (Taiwan, 1986)
I know. It’s unbelievable that, in seven years of writing for 4DK, I have until now failed to review Kung Fu Wonder Child. The fact is that it was such an obvious choice that writing about it began to feel like a fait accompli. I myself was surprised to find that I hadn’t covered it.
I discovered this oversight during preparation for an upcoming episode of the Taiwan Noir podcast in which Kenny B and I provide an overview of the Peach Kid series. Kung Fu Wonder Child is generally considered to be a spiritual sibling of the Peach Kid films because, like them, it (a) stars gender-bending actress Lam Siu-Law in its titular male role, (b) it is very 80s (glam metal hairdos, perky synth-pop soundtrack), and (c) it is very silly. It also, like them, is representative of two prevailing trends in Chinese martial arts cinema at the time, one being the increasing reliance on flashy special effects spurred by the success of Tsui Hark’s Zu: Warriors of Magic Mountain, and the other the prevalence of kung fu comedies that combined martial arts action with broad slapstick involving lots of people (and animals) peeing, farting and shitting on one another.
The threat in KFWC comes from a rogue holy man (Lee Hoi Hing) who, ensconced within his creepy graveyard lair, is accumulating all kinds of arcane magics toward unknown nefarious ends. When the priest suspects a gifted young village boy, Hsiu Chuen (Lam), of stealing some of his tricks, he dispatches his ghoulish minions to take care of him. Meanwhile, Hsiu Chuen encounters Hai Chiu Hse (Yukari Oshima), a girl whose father and sister are being held captive by the priest. Joined by Hsiu Chuen’s grandfather Hua Won (Jack Lung Sai-Ga) and the requisite pair of bumbling disciples, they set off to confront the evildoer. All in all, it’s a simple plot that nonetheless allows for the introduction of a lot of peripheral characters, among them a guy named Master Crazy, because that is the kind of movie that this is.
The above scenario also allows the opportunity for a lot of fun spook show elements—not all of which have much utility to the plot, such as a pair of orphaned vampire babies who appear to have briefly popped in from one of the Hello Dracula movies. This also means that there is an abundance of cartoon lighting--perhaps as much as there is urine--shooting out of everybody at everybody. The evil priest, in particular, seems to be using his palm rays to slow roast his captives in a pair of over-sized urns. And while I earlier credited Zu with inspiring the effects-dependent fantasy kung fu boom, there is no escaping the Hollywood origins of the face-hugging beastie that attacks Lam Siu Law or the light saber that the evil priest produces during the climactic fight. A giant flying worm that looks like it is made from the world's largest pipe-cleaner, however, is all Kung Fu Wonder Child's own.
About the time that I was first getting into writing about cult movies, Kung Fu Wonder Child, along with films like Kung Fu Zombie and Taoism Drunkard, was considered to be the gold standard of batshit crazy martial arts cinema. And it can’t be said that it doesn’t have the pedigree: It’s writer, Cheung San-Yee, in addition to also writing the loopy Polly Shang Kwan epic Little Hero, had earlier directed the mind-suplexing Thrilling Sword, and its director, Lee Tso-Nam, could also claim Magic Warriors as parts of his filmography.
Nonetheless, re-watching Kung Fu Wonder Child now only reminds me of oh how much I have seen since my first viewing of it. For example, having recently revisited the first Peach Kid film, Child of Peach, which is both furiously paced and expertly realized, I must report that KFWC pales ever-so-slightly in comparison. Part of this is due to its relative sidelining of the always charming Lam Siu-Law; ascendant ass-kicker Yukari Oshima (who would become a figurehead of the “girls with guns” subgenre with films like Angel) is a damsel in little need of rescue, and so leaves Hsiu Chen with little to do in the way of chivalrous derring do. There is also a sense of childish indulgence to Child of Peach’s toilet humor that makes KFWC’s more adolescent, mean-spirited approach seem somewhat tiresome by comparison.
All of which is not to say that Kung Fu Wonder Child does not deliver its share of dazzling visual hocus pocus. Indeed, its most noteworthy achievement is a climactic composite sequence involving a cell animated dragon that is executed with admirable precision. There are also a lot of goopy practical effects employing pulsating bladders that rival the work of Cronenberg in their visceral repulsiveness. The fact that the film seems relatively normal in comparison to some of the films I've seen since testifies only to the cornucopia of riches that the broader category of Taiwanese fantasy films offers. Because, believe me, Kung Fu Wonder Child is not a normal film by any standard. That it focuses on Yukarim Oshima fighting vampires and cartoon dragons to the detriment of its titular flying, fire-breathing, monster-battling child is not a criticism that I can level against it with a straight face. Truly, there are no losers here.
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Tomorrow Night: Let the Pop Offensive Haunted House give you the creeps!
Let me make one thing clear. I don't dislike children; I dislike their parents. After all, kids don't ruin everything, their parents do. Take Halloween for example: Do you think that kids, if left to their own devices, would use the holiday as an excuse to turn themselves into walking advertisements for Pixar, Disney, and DreamWorks? Hells no. They would be out there trying to scare the shit out of one another. AS GOD INTENDED!
In that spirit, Jeff Heyman and I have endeavored to make tomorrow night's Pop Offensive a Halloween episode that is anything but family friendly. What we came up with is a witches' brew of death obsessed trash rock, hillbilly murder ballads, off-putting art brut oddities, grisly industrial nightmares, and morbid novelty tunes to put you in state of deep unease appropriate to the occasion. In other words, if you want to hear "Monster Mash", you'd best turn elsewhere.
To listen to what will surely be an episode of Pop Offensive like no other, stream us live from the 9th Floor Radio website starting at 7pm Pacific tomorrow night, October 29th. If you miss it--or if you simply want to save it to listen to as you go about your Halloween activities--you will be able to stream an archived version of the show here.
Oh, and if you live within a stone's throw of the Laney College campus in Oakland, you can try to pick up our ghostly 100 watt signal at 96.9 on the FM dial. But if you hear ominous voices in the static urging you to commit horrific acts, you didn't hear it from us.
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Tonight! The POP OFFENSIVE HAUNTED HOUSE will eff you up!
Look, you know it and I know it: if you don't listen to the Pop Offensive Haunted House--streaming live from 9thfloorradio.com tonight at 7pm PT--all of your friends are going to call you a baby. And they'll be right. So waah waah waah, you big baby. Why don't you just run on home to your mommy? Baaaaaby.
Of course, I apologize. Because I don't need to bully you into listening. Because another thing we both know is that the Pop Offensive Haunted House is going to be awesome. How could it not, with all the scarifying songs about murder, madness and mayhem that Jeff Heyman and I have lined up for you? The only thing more scary is the thought of missing it. SO DON'T.
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Friday's best pop song ever
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Happy Halloween from 4DK and Pop Offensive
If you've listened to Pop Offensive more than once, you know that it tends to be pretty upbeat in tone. This past Thursday's episode, however, was something else entirely. It was our Halloween episode, which we programmed with an interest toward creating a slow burning sense of dread and unease. And now it's available for streaming from the Pop Offensive Archives
This is good new for your, because, if I may say so myself, the Pop Offensive Haunted House is the ideal musical accompaniment to your Halloween activities, whether you are cowering at home or dragging it up on the town. I mean, where else will you find a mix that combines Johnny Cash, Throbbing Gristle, Charles Manson, Kylie Minougue, The Misfits, Donovan, and Ennio Morricone?
That's right, people. We Pop Offensive'd Halloween.
So please avail yourselves, and consider this digitally preserved episode a Halloween gift from Jeff and me to you. If you need something to read while listening, the full playlist for the episode has just been posted on the Pop Offensive Facebook page.
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Next Tuesday! The 4Dk Monthly Movie Shout Down returns with METEOR!
Yes, it's true. The 4DK Monthly Movie Shout Down will be back next Tuesday and our feature for the evening will be Meteor.
Now, you might be asking yourself what a film starring Sean Connery, Natalie Wood, Karl Malden, Henry Fonda and Martin Landau is doing as the subject of a Movie Shout Down. But what you should really be asking yourself is what Sean Connery, Natalie Wood, Karl Malden, Henry Fonda and Martin Landau are doing in Meteor. The film is AIP's contributions to the 1970s disaster movie craze and features shouty acting, dubious science, and astonishingly awful special effects on an almost globally catastrophic scale. In other words, it is exactly the kind of fast paced and silly entertainment that the Shout Down Crew thrives upon.
Meteor is scheduled to impact at 6pm PT next Tuesday, November 10th. All you have to do to join in is log into Twitter and, using the hashtag #4DKMSD, comment along as we watch the film via the YouTube link that will be provided here. See you then!
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Friday's best pop song ever
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