Golden Queen's Commando (1982)

I honestly cannot remember if the first eyepatch-sporting character I ever encountered and became fascinated with was Snake Plissken or Nick Fury (and even though I love Fury, the edge for me goes to Plissken as far as which I favor more).  Unlike with, say, pirates (where it’s somewhat of a symbol of shame and a life of debauchery), an eyepatch on an antihero (and when it isn’t used on a villain to augment their inhumanity it is a very distinctly antiheroic visual motif) garners a sense of respect.  It’s a symbol that the character has led a hard life, survived a terrific ordeal, and now has a badge of honor to prove their fortitude.  

The same applies to eyepatch-wearing women characters, though for some reason (perhaps just the tendency of the male psyche to have some slight pity on women who are pronouncedly imperfect, right or wrong, wanted or unwanted) here it also implies a sense of victimhood, and to my mind this is even more badass, the respect even more hard-won.  Here are some quick examples off the top of my head: Ana de Mendoza (Olivia de Havilland) from That Lady (the first onscreen example?), Frigga (Christina Lindberg) from Thriller - En Grym Film (arguably the most popular/instantly recognizable example), Patch (Monica Gayle) from Switchblade Sisters, Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra) from Doomsday, Elle Driver (Darryl Hannah) from the Kill Bill films, and Molotov Cocktease (voiced by Mia Barron) from Venture Bros.  All of these characters have some masculine traits, yet they still somehow maintain a strong core of femininity.  If nothing else, they all take charge and do things their own way, because being passive only leads to pain, as the back story (implicit or explicit) behind the patch suggests.  I can now happily add to this very short, very incomplete list Black Fox (played by Brigitte Linn, here credited as Venus Lin), the distaff Major Reisman of Yen-Ping Chu’s Golden Queen’s Commando (aka Hong Fen Bing Tuan aka Seven Black Heroines aka Amazon Commandos aka Jackie Chan’s Crime Force).

Six women (Amazon [Theresa Tsui], Black Cat [Elsa Yeung], Brandy [Hilda Liu], Quick Silver [Sylvia Peng], Sugar Plum [Sophia Ching], and Dynamite [Sally Yeh]) are sentenced to a very claustrophobic prison camp, circa 1944 (by way of 1982, naturally).  The aforementioned Black Fox shows up and embroils the women in a plot to destroy a heavily fortified secret chemical lab.

Since the above synopsis doesn’t completely do justice to these ladies, allow me to expand a bit on their individuality (as the film itself does with rather extensive introductions for each of them).  Amazon appears at a death match where some guy has just torn the throat out of his opponent with a set of spiked knuckles.  Wearing nothing but an animal print bikini and sporting several (I can only guess they’re supposed to be) tribal tattoos, she of course kills the fighter.  Amazon doesn’t say a single word the entire film, but she’s the brute strength of the team.  Black Cat is a gunslinger who may or may not be extremely religious (she wears a giant cross around her neck and sports a “trick” Bible), has David Bowie’s hairdo from Labyrinth and Dale Bozzio’s makeup sense (both of which were extremely popular during the Forties, as I understand it).  She gets caught cheating at poker and winds up shooting the other player.  Brandy is a lady samurai who begs for the money to buy wine.  Once she gets it, along with some unwanted groping and humiliation from some typically piggish drunken soldiers, she transforms into an acrobatic martial arts master and kills the men who tormented her.  Quick Silver is a thief with the fashion stylings of a 1930s gangster who we assume can break any safe and/or pick any lock.  Ever the kleptomaniac, she gets caught trying to steal the necklace right off of a slumbering French consul.  Sugar Plum is a hooker of the Southern Belle variety.  She gets shorted money after playing out an overly elaborate fantasy for some clown of a client and proves that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  She also sports a couple of facial tattoos, one of a heart, one of a bow and arrow (a Cupid reference?).  Dynamite is a bandit (I think) who routinely wears (you guessed it) dynamite on her person to avoid being shot.  When a deal she had in place goes sour, she nonchalantly blows up the house with the men who screwed her over still in it.  She also sports a tied off denim shirt and jorts.  Aside from her distinctive eyepatch, Black Fox dons a fur hat and vest that makes her vaguely resemble a Cossack.  How’s that for an assortment?

This film is purely a vehicle for women to kick ass, and they do it very well.  They are up against either evil, evil men or complete buffoons.  The Commandant of the prison camp (Hsiu-Shen Liang), aside from being in league with the Nazis, is both a rather charming sadist and a James-Bond-esque, cat-stroking villain.  After a prisoner is fried by the electrified fence/wall encircling the camp, the Commandant asserts that they are all one “big, happy family.”  He then demonstrates that his tower guards are expert marksmen, and that if they fail in killing escapees, they also will die.  All of the bad guys in Golden Queen’s Commando are smug, and they are all equally well-versed in the art of the heartless cackle.  

Conversely, the Warlord (Bat-Liu Hui) who captures the women is a clod (as well as all of his men, one of whom is, of course, named Fatty).  The women challenge him to a tournament to compete for their freedom.  Said competition includes (but is not limited to) a spaghetti-eating contest (guess who the male contestant is), a drunken sharpshooting contest, and a blindfolded marksmanship contest.  This last bit really nails home the point of just how inept the Warlord and his men are.  The balloons being used as targets are rigged to explode and inevitably do so at just the right moment to embarrass them.  But he unites with the commandos, and he becomes the sole witness to their bravery and sacrifice.  His perspective on them turns, and it’s he, as a sort of audience surrogate, who comes to understand the innate bond the disparate women formed (despite their differences, tensions, et cetera).

Chu’s movie is flawed, to be sure.  The mission portion of the film is extensively just the women fleeing their captors, and the plotting gets muddled around the midpoint before speeding up to fly through its climax, giving the final set piece short shrift.  That said, it also spends the entire first half of its runtime establishing the characters and dealing with situations in the prison camp, and this is key in getting us to follow characters that are simultaneously cartoonishly broad and strangely sympathetic.  The seven women are distinct (the possible exception being Amazon, who, in fairness, is just kind of there).  Quick Silver is scared, unsure of herself.  Sugar Plum is a crass opportunist.  Black Cat is an equal to Black Fox (cat and dog, get it?), and challenges her to a duel to prove her worthiness as leader (and also to see who’s better).  Brandy is an alcoholic who routinely puts herself in harm’s way to feed her addiction.  Dynamite is a cold pragmatist who still flirts with danger (how else to explain her fetishization of explosives?).  Black Fox is supposedly the aloof mastermind, but she still openly displays true concern for her teammates.  

Nevertheless, this is an action film, and it plays well in that regard.  There is a comfortable mixture of explosions, gunplay, and martial arts, and they flow together admirably.  Visually, Golden Queen’s Commando is quite stylish, making solid use of lighting, composition, slow motion (especially the shots of the pursuers on horseback, which give a distinct, otherworldly sense that they’re riding forth straight out of Hell), and editing that’s much more cohesive then you get with some Asian genre cinema.  In the end, the film is a comic book come to life, a jumbo box of your favorite candy with no repercussions, and weird sex with one of the more fascinating people you’ve ever met, all rolled into one.

MVT:  The women take it away in this one.  I wanted more and more of all of them (and not just because they’re all attractive).

Make or Break:  All of the girls’ introductions are great little mini-set pieces punctuated by freeze frames with title cards and stats of what they each did and their punishments.  Good fun.

Score:  7.5/10

Last American Virgin, The (1982)

Can a weak final act sink an otherwise terrific film? I pondered this question after my viewing of “The Last American Virgin.” After some thought, I came to the conclusion that no, a weak final act can’t sink a great film. It may hold it back from its full potential, but it won’t tarnish the journey toward the breaking point.

“The Last American Virgin” is a raunchy teen sex comedy in the tradition of “Porky’s.” What sets it apart from that film is its frank honesty. While “Porky’s” may be a funnier film, it’s not as poignant and in touch with the teenage spirit. It’s more a fantasy built from real parts than a pure representation of its subject matter. “The Last American Virgin” is the opposite: an honest look into the lives of teenagers in love and lust with fantastical scenarios sprinkled in throughout.

The film follows the travails of three friends: Gary (Lawrence Monoson), David (Joe Rubbo), and Rick (Steve Antin). The three are at that dangerous crossroads of life, where raging hormones and bad decisions collide. All three long for sex, with Rick the only truly successful one. He’s rugged, good-looking, and a ladies man at heart. David may be overweight, but that never plays into his predicament. He’s rather confident in himself, which wins over the hearts of some, but his anxiety gets the better of him in certain situations. And then there’s Gary, the main protagonist of the film. He’s the prototypical nice guy; the friend who will loan Rick the keys to his grandmother’s house so he can get laid. He too lets his anxiety get in the way, but for a different reason.

Gary wants love. He doesn’t know it until he meets Karen (Diane Franklin), the new girl in school. It’s love at first sight, which only exists in movies and with teenagers. I’m guilty of believing in it and I’m sure you are too. I’m sure you’re also guilty of concocting a plan in which to talk to your newfound crush, one much more complicated than simply saying hello. Gary pops the tires on Karen’s bike and conveniently drives by in his pizza delivery van to give her a lift to school. It’s cheesy, innocent, and completely true of the teenage persuasion.

Wouldn’t you know it, Karen falls for Rick instead. And thus begins Gary’s descent into self-loathing. Opportunities arise for him to lose his virginity, his initial goal in life, but he rejects them because they’re not Karen. He doesn’t quite know this is why, as he still tries valiantly to have sex. Karen’s friend, Rose (Kimmy Robertson), shows interest in him, but he rejects her initially. He only accepts her due to lust, and even then he struggles to go all the way. He almost loses it to a promiscuous older woman he delivers pizza to, but he lets both Rick and Gary get an opportunity. When his time arrives, her squeeze comes home to cock-block him. Subconsciously, he cock-blocked himself as he voluntarily lets his friends go first. Then there’s the prostitute, who he does actually lose his virginity to, but it goes so quick and is incredibly awkward that it’s unfair to truly count it. He does contract crabs, though, which is shoehorned in for some cheap gags, but they all elicit laughter, so it’s all good.

The title actually refers to Karen and not Gary, as Rick’s conquest is to be with whom he views as the last American virgin. Metaphorically, it refers to every teenager going through puberty, most specifically the males. Both genders long for sex; it’s only natural. Women want it to be special and rightfully so. Most men, however, view it as a burden. A burning desire that weighs them down. They hear of their friends and classmates losing their virginities and feel left out. They don’t care how they get it, just that they get it.

Truth be told, most men lie about losing their virginities. While some do in fact lose it in loveless fashion, most still pine for their first time to be special, even if they don’t know it. That’s what makes Gary so endearing and this film so honest. Writer/director Boaz Davidson observes teenage lust and puppy love from an adult perspective. He’s looking back on his own self and coming to realize what directed him. He’s smart enough to not allow Gary to realize why and even allows him to have his heart broken.

Then comes the final act. It goes against the honesty and innocent tone of the film, despite Davidson’s best intentions. I won’t reveal the twist that the film crumbles underneath, but I will state that it’s reminiscent of an after-school special. It’s of a real situation certain teenagers face, but isn’t handled seriously. Peppy hits from the time still croon over the soundtrack and a cheeky montage contains an otherwise heartbreaking scenario. To call it sickening would be wrong, as it’s not meant to be. Davidson is truly approaching it with heart, but it isn’t befitting of the situation. It almost sinks the film. Almost.

The actual final shot of the film, which has also drawn the ire of many, is actually quite good. If it weren’t for the after-school special that preceded it, I’d go so far to call it excellent. It’s depressingly honest and, while a complete one-eighty of the film’s tone, complements the story. It just doesn’t resonate as much as it should because the final act as a whole doesn’t complement the story.

It’d be wrong of me to say “The Last American Virgin” was tanked because of its final act because it most certainly wasn’t. Three-fourths of the film is clever, charming, and very funny! Davidson is able to incorporate the standard sex romp humor in with his ingenuous direction. A scene in which the three friends substitute Sweet’n Low in for cocaine to please potential partners is in line with raunchy comedies, but truthful in how the teenage mind thinks. It’s both funny and genuine, which is what most of the film is built upon.

MVT: Boaz Davidson. His script and direction, outside of the final act, is as intelligent as the film is raunchy. He’s not content with churning out a simple teenage sex romp, but determined to showcase the innocence and reality of it all. He may get in over his head, but his intentions are in the right place.

Make or Break: I can’t quite pinpoint what made the film, as it’s the combination of sequences that reflect the true beauty of the film. If I had to choose, it’d be when Gary first discovers that Karen is with Rick, as it sets in motion the true moral of the story: sex is better when in love and love is what most truly desire.

Final Score: 8.5/10

Sorceress (1982)

The Corsican Brothers is a story by Alexandre Dumas which first saw print in 1844.  In it, the brothers de Franchi, Louis and Lucien, are former conjoined twins who still share a bond that allows (you could argue suffers) them to feel each other’s pain.  If this sounds familiar, it should.  The idea has been adapted to numerous ends over the years.  Of course, there is the eponymous 1941 film starring Douglas Fairbanks Jr (and it should be stated, cinematic adaptations of the novella go back as far as 1898 according to my research), as well as the comedic reworking from Cheech & Chong (of these two, this is the one I’ve watched, for better or worse).  Then there are the maleficent twins Tomax and Xamot from the G.I. Joe cartoons, comics, et cetera.  Even the classic children’s educational show The Electric Company got into the act, though the brothers were renamed Miguel and Ramon and taught us how to form words using sounds like “ow.”  Outside of the obvious comic appeal of the concept, the conceit is intriguing.  It shows us, quite dramatically, that the bonds of family, of blood, are stronger than anything else, and this connection can never be severed, despite our possible desire to do so.  Jack Hill’s (aka Brian Stuart, a pseudonym used after a falling out between the director and Roger Corman, the film’s producer; if memory serves, it’s the name of Corman’s nephew, but don’t quote me on that) Sorceress also deals with the core of The Corsican Brothers, though one would be hard-pressed to say that it handles it even half as carefully or intelligently as Messrs. Chong and Marin.

On a sultry, fog-shrouded night, Traigon (Roberto Ballesteros) and his cronies hunt down Traigon’s wife, who has fled with their newborn twin daughters.  Unable to tell which of the two is the first born (this is crucial for Traigon’s sacrificial plans, though not nearly as crucial as you’d think, as we will learn later), the nefarious sorcerer is thwarted by aged magician and martial artist Krona (Martin LaSalle), who spirits the girls away, gives them some ill-defined superpowers, and spouts some prophetic gunk about them being “the two who are one.”  Fast forward to Mara and Mira’s (Lynette and Leigh Harris, respectively) voluptuous young adulthood, where they inevitably find themselves on the path to slay Traigon and stop his plan along with a small group of disparate allies (Baldar, a Viking [Bruno Rey], Pando, a satyr [David Millbern], and Erlick, a barbarian [Roberto Nelson]).

I know I made a big deal about the Corsican Brothers angle, but aside from the constant reference to “the two who are one” (a phrase which characters spout as if it had been drilled into their heads from birth but without any other context than that it’s important; it’s not), there is only one allusion to the psychic/sensual bond that the sisters share.  Of course, it takes place when one of the twins is having sex, and it gives the filmmakers the impetus to have the other sibling writhe on the ground in orgasmic ecstasy (it should be stated that screenwriter Jim Wynorski’s fingerprints are all over this film, this being one of the larger marks left on it).  So, why make the girls be cosmically/mystically conjoined?  Outside of the standard prophecy angle of the Sword and Sorcery genre, the answer is novelty.  More precisely, it’s the novelty of having two beautiful twins who aren’t afraid to doff their clothes in this milieu.  There is nothing going on in this story that in any way expands on this idea of bonding (at least not that I could see).  Fair play, since the film was a financial hit for Corman and New World Pictures, so the absolute minimum you can say is that one, it is distinguished from other efforts in this genre in this regard, and two, the producers certainly knew their target demographic.

To no one’s surprise, I’m about to labor a point, so bear with me.  There is a heavy religious angle at work in Sorceress, and it all starts at the opening.  The twins are being spirited away from religious zealots who would kill them, shades of the story of Moses (no floating them off down a river, however).  Krona is a Judeo-Christian God parallel with his long beard and mane of hair, his simple attire, and his invulnerability to things like fire.  Krona gives the twins to a couple of lowly goat herders to raise, and these two form a correlation to Joseph and Mary, the lowly carpenter and his wife who reared Jesus to adulthood at the request of God.  Naturally, this being a Sword and Sorcery film, Traigon’s religion is considered evil, calling as it does for the sacrifice of a human being in order to attain some nefarious end.  This also circles back around to more Christian references (are you tired of them yet?).  The face of Kalghara (Germaine Simiens), Traigon’s bad deity, is half serpentine, a Satan reference.  The good deity, Vital (Vitara?  I couldn’t tell completely), is a winged, lion-esque creature.  In combination with the sacrificial element of the film, he and the twins symbolize the duology of Jesus, who was referred to at one point as both the “conquering Lion” and “the Lamb who was slain.”  These are not exactly straight lines I’m drawing between this picture and its biblical references (and I would be shocked as all hell if they were overtly intended, but I believe this is likely one of those times when themes and motifs appear unconsciously in a piece of work for any number of reasons).  After all, the film has to satisfy its generic requirements.  But they seemed pretty obvious to me (and I haven’t opened a Bible in decades).  Nevertheless, I don’t recall horny satyrs or horny ape creatures in the Bible, so I could be wrong about all of it.    

Sorceress has enough interesting things going on, at least from a visual angle to make it worth seeing.  Unfortunately, it’s also pretty slapdash in a lot of ways, and there are dollops of broad humor that make a pie in the face look like a Lenny Bruce monologue (an ape gets shot in the ass with an arrow, a troop of zombies molest a gaggle of vestal virgins to a “what can you do?” aside from Baldar).  This is the type of film wherein every character will believe absolutely anything they’re told.  Mara and Mira believe they are boys, despite the obvious physical differences (even if they had never seen a man in their entire lives, did they never notice or question the differences between their parents?), and don’t know quite what to make of Pando’s engorged penis (okay, that was actually kind of funny).  Worse, the other characters believe the twins are boys up until they disrobe in front of them.  No one is that naïve.  No one.  Traigon’s whole scheme calls for the virginal sacrifice of the first born of the twins but after she’s been impregnated (huh?!).  One of Traigon’s soldiers commands the girls be taken alive and then commands their deaths not even a minute later.  

Still and all, there are things to enjoy, as well (one could argue that the things I just mentioned are some of them).  You get a medieval set of nunchucks.  You get a decent amount of female nudity (and even some male butt).  But more than that, you get a movie that feels like a rollicking, carefree adventure, not so much because you’re glued to your seat following its progression in peaks and valleys, but because you can enjoy the gleefully madcap, thrown-in-a-blender nuttiness that occurs constantly throughout it.  Yes, Sorceress is a mud puddle of a film, but it’s a mud puddle that’s kind of fun to slop around in from time to time.

MVT:  John Carl Buechler’s creature and makeup effects are imaginative and skillfully done.

Make or Break:  Honestly, for this film I have to go with the skinnydipping scene.  It has a little nudity, a little creature effects work, and a little juvenile humor that just about works.  Something for everyone.

Score: 6/10