Lone Wolf and Cub: Original Films (1972-74)

Lone Wolf and Cub: Original Films (1972-74)

Dirs. Kenji Misumi [Films 1,2,3,5] / Buichi Saitô [Film 4] / Yoshiyuki Kuroda [Film 6]

Sometimes referred to as the 'Baby Cart' series, the six Lone Wolf and Cub films tell the story of a skilled ronin-for-hire named Ogami Ittō, played by Tomisaburo Wakayama. When not dishing out vicious and bloody samurai action to the people that deserve it, Ittō wheels his young son Daigoro (Akihiro Tomikawa) from place to place in an iconic wooden baby cart.

Characterised by extreme violence, minimal dialogue, and highly stylised framing that closely resembles the manga they're based on, the films have a well-deserved place in Chanbara history.

The three-disc Criterion collection (pictured) contains the six original films on Blu-ray, restored at 2K from the OCNs. [1]

Discs 01 and 02 have three films apiece, while Disc 03 contains bonus features. Thoughts on each individual film can be found below the cut. Disc 03 also contains the English language dubbed Shogun Assassin (1980), which I'll cover at the end, for completeness sake. [2]

Sonatine (1993)

Sonatine (1993)

Dir. Takeshi Kitano

Another great Takeshi Kitano film, again written, directed, edited by, and starring the Japanese auteur. He plays a mid-level Yakuza member named Murakawa who isn't afraid to speak out against his peers, when he speaks at all, that is. He communicates only when he feels it necessary, distanced from the bravado and bluster associated with the role.

Under orders from his superior, he dutifully but begrudgingly joins a small group that's sent to Okinawa to aid a dispute between clan allies. Whilst there, they end up with some free time on their hands. What do city Yakuza do at a beach town when they get bored?  Not what you'd expect, perhaps.

Violence and absurd hilarity trade places in some typically Kitano moments and the emotional heart of the film surfaces and hits hard. It's not a comedy, don't misunderstand, but there are some subjectively piss-inducing funny events. Music is again by Joe Hisaishi and does an equally fine job at characterising.

Neverwhere (1996)

Neverwhere (1996)

Dir. Dewi Humphreys | 6 episodes, approx 30 minutes each.

Richard Mayhew (Gary Bakewell) is a nice-guy Scotsman who lives and works in London. His fiancée is an asshole. His friends are assholes. If Richard could meet the criteria that he believes constitutes success, then in time he'd become just another city asshole, too.

But instead he meets Door (Laura Fraser), a young woman in need of the kind of help that he in his privileged position is able to offer.

Richard becomes aware of London Below, an underworld with its own laws, both societal and physical, that coexist with the London Above.

The two worlds can interact from time to time, but must inevitably return to their own individual aspects. If Richard is to help himself, then he must continue to help Door, and that means stepping into an unknown world of underground passageways, weird happenings, and (not very menacing) cut-throat assassins.

40 Years of Scream!: The Archival Collection (2024)

40 Years of Scream!: The Archival Collection (2024)

Authors: Various (inc. Alan Grant / Alan Moore / Gerry Finley-Day / John Wagner / Simon Furman | Artists: Various (inc. Brendan McCarthy / Cam Kennedy / Eric Bradbury / Jesus Redondo / José Ortiz / Mike Western) | Page Count: 464

'A torturous approval system was imposed, where pages thought editorially sound had to pass four further levels of oversight...'

Rebellion, current owners of 2000 AD and its associated media, would publish the instructions from a toilet roll if they thought they could make money from it, and then within a year or two probably republish it as part of a themed anthology, perhaps with the ingredients of some liquid hand soap to bulk out the page count, and some adverts for other upcoming collections.

On the flip side, they're rescuing some classic-era works from virtual obscurity via their Treasury of British Comics imprint and giving them a new, vibrant life on higher quality paper stock than most ever would've been given back in the day.

Masters of the Universe: The Motion Picture [Comic Adap] (1987)

Masters of the Universe: TMP (1987)

Adaptation: Ralph Macchio (from a screenplay by David Odell) | Illustrators: George Tuska (Pencil) / Art Nichols (Ink) / Evelyn Stein (Colour) | Page Count: 46

"Treachery. Suddenly Skeletor's men were everywhere. Someone must have let them through the defences."

A comic book adaptation of the MotU live action movie (1987) that's illustrated in a style comparable with the minicomics. The basic story is the largely the same, but visually it's a million times better than the live action atrocity is. The only exception is Beast Man, who, for some reason, resembles the onscreen version.

I wrote 'largely the same' because there's a few notable differences between the two. I don't know if it was author Ralph Macchio's own doing or if he was working from a screenplay that got further edited in the final cut, but the comic has some interesting scenes that the movie lacks, most of which function as much-needed characterisation and/or attempt to better connect or even remedy the levels of stupid in the story. [1]

Strings (2004)

Strings (2004)

Dir. Anders Rønnow Klarlund

There's a theory among wordsmiths that all stories that can be told have already been told and all we can do now is find new ways of telling.

The story in Strings isn't unique, but the telling is interesting. It's a fantasy movie about a world divided, acted out by puppets with visible strings. They're visible for a reason: they're a part of the world. If your Head-String is cut you die.

The puppeteers manage to elicit a lot of believable emotion out of the sculpted characters; they're less wooden than many Hollywood actors.

The imagination and sense of wonder on display is magical. Unfortunately, I only had the English language version available, otherwise I might've enjoyed it even more than I already did.

Primal: From the Cradle to the Grave (1992)

Primal: From the Cradle to the Grave (1992)

Authors: Clive Barker / Daniel G. Chichester / Erik Saltzgaber

Illustrator: John Van Fleet | Page Count: 64

'Tiny bones are cast aside, sweet suck of marrow still within. Half-masticated gristle spit out to make way for new treats.'

Fortunately, I chose to read Primal on the strength of Clive Barker's involvement and didn't read the blurb on the back until after I'd finished the book in its entirety. I recommend the same approach to anyone who may be interested in reading it because the blurb is spoilery.

In case that sounds like a recommendation, I'll jump ahead and sum up my thoughts now: it was deeply disappointing and isn't something I plan to revisit.

Barker's influence is felt chiefly at the book's beginning, in its basic themes and initial mysteries, and in how it incorporates notions of sexual desire mixed with esoteric experimentation, exploring how a hungering lust for new  experiences can open doorways to darker realms.