It's the 4DK Animalympics! Round 20

Rambo from Appu Raja

Skill Set: Stealth (for an elephant, I mean), gets high marks for both distance and accuracy in terms of villain-tossing

Rambo doesn't make his entrance until very late in Appu Raja, but, when he does, he ends up playing a very key role. 1980s masala movies take the dispatching of their villains very seriously. A mere bullet in the gut is never enough to settle scores with these cads -- not when so many dastardly deeds have been done, so many families torn apart, and so many virtuous Mother Indias kidnapped and abused. So how about having a giant pachyderm sneak up behind our malefactor, pick him up with his trunk, and toss him into a pen full of hungry lions? Yeah, that ought to do the trick. And note that this movie was made in 1989, so the pop culture reference embodied in our hero's name was no doubt intentional.

Dharmendra vs. drugs: Charas (India, 1976)

It had been a long time since I'd watched a really slam bang Indian action movie from the 70s, and Charas offered up pretty much everything I could ask for in that department. It's the kind of Bollywood movie where everyone has a brightly colored communications console with all kinds of superfluous flashing lights on it it in their office.

See? Even Tom Alter has one. Awesome!

And communicating with them through those consoles are folks who are using pretty much every type of object known to man as something to conceal a communication device within -- shoes, ektaras, even a delicious looking watermelon (I kid you not). On top of that we have Action Dharmendra, conspicuous lair escalation, and enough big name villainry on hand for two masalas. It's an embarrassment of riches, really. Read on!

Dharmendra and Aruna Irani play Suraj and Munni, the son and daughter of wealthy businessman Brindaban, whose work has, for reasons unexplained, necessitated that the family relocate to Uganda. When we first meet them, they are frantically preparing to flee that country and return to India due to the unrest and violence that has erupted. What they don't know is that the man Brindaban has put in charge of his affairs back in India, Kalicharan (Ajit), has sold all of his boss's legitimate business assets for the purpose of investing in his own opium smuggling operation.

Because Kalicharan is played by Ajit, we already know that he is evil. But do we know exactly how evil he is? Well, let me give you some idea. He's so evil that Amjad Khan is his second in command. That's like having The Joker for a valet! And I must say that Amjad is rocking some pretty distinctive looks here -- mostly achieved by the generous application of pomade and face oatmeal, combined with the sartorial sense of an MC for a lower tier regional beauty pageant.

I also must point out that Amjad's character Robert gets the absolute best line in the movie, when, in response to one of Dharmendra's angry proclamations about the karmic retribution that awaits him, he say, "I have never seen a man die because he committed crime!" And then, pointing his rifle at Dharmendra, "I have seen him die after being shot!"

Anyway, after learning of his boss's planned return, Kalicharan dispatches Robert to Africa with orders to kill Brindaban and his entire family. Robert acts upon this directive in record time, making the trip from Bombay to Uganda in what seems like minutes, whereupon he fatally shoots Brindaban before setting fire to the family mansion with Suraj and Munni inside. Suraj manages to escape but is unable to rescue Munni, and so assumes that she has perished. Little does he know that Munni has also escaped, only to be captured by Robert, who takes her back to his psychedelic, undersea-themed nightclub in Malta, where he keeps her strung out on drugs and forces her to do drunken item numbers for the club's white hippie patrons.

Meanwhile, Suraj returns to India, only to learn of Kalicharan's betrayal. Much righteous pointing and hurling of bellowed oaths on Dharmendra's part follows -- the kind of thing that I would once have referred to as "The Full Dharmendra" but I am now forced to merely call "Sultan Rahi Lite", though it is no less awesome for it. Soon afterward, Suraj is contacted by Interpol, who want him to come on board as an agent in their efforts to smash, not just Kalicharan, but all of the scumsucking drug runners who are tarnishing Mother India's good name. Because, as we've seen in other Bollywood movies, the police love to recruit angry, grief-stricken people for delicate undercover operations.

Alongside all of this, we are introduced to "famous actress" Sudha, played by Hema Malini, who we first see performing in an Egyptian-themed production number that is confusingly set to a song about a ballerina. Kalicharan is using a combination of bogus incriminating photographs and threats against Sudha's family to blackmail her into helping him smuggle opium into Europe by concealing packets of the stuff within her dance troupe's traveling sets. Needless to say, it is not long before the paths of Suraj and Sudha meet, with both of them falling for one another while each remaining ignorant of the other's connection to Kalicharan.

What films like Eyes Wide Shut, Gigli and Shanghai Surprise have taught us is that we can't expect an on-screen couple to have sexual chemistry just because they are a couple in real life (especially if one part of that couple is Tom Cruise, Ben Affleck, or Madonna, all of whom its hard to imagine having sexual chemistry with anyone, even if they physically tried to mix their pheromones together in a test tube and held them over a bunsen burner until they created some kind of noxious sex gas). That said, the recently wed Dharmendra and Hema Malini really bring the heat to their scenes together here. In fact, for an Indian film, Charas gets downright racy in the extent to which it goes to show us just how much these two want to jump each others' bones. Of course, Hema is determined to behave like a proper Indian woman, but she's not above letting us now just how difficult that is under the circumstances. When Dharmendra asks if she is avoiding being alone with him because she is afraid of him, she replies, "I am afraid of myself." Given this obvious attraction, when the two finally do get to have their first sort-of-but-not-really-a-kiss at the film's conclusion, it feels especially gratifying and well earned.

In addition to some appealing performances, Charas boasts some pretty impressive production values for a film of its type -- especially if you compare it to some of Dharmendra's earlier action joints from the 70s like Saazish and International Crook, which were both about as chintzy as a movie could be while still being considered a movie at all. (Could this have been the result of a post-Sholay boost in Dharam's popularity?) There are multiple vehicular chases, shot on location in both India and Malta, and rather than simply stealing the footage of the car-being-airlifted-by-a-helicopter sequence from You Only Live Twice -- like cheap old Jugnu did -- Charas actually recreates it, using both a real helicopter and what looks like a real car. And for those moments of spectacle that can't be created in full scale, we have on hand our old friend, Indian FX wiz Babhubai Mistry, to contribute some fun and fairly intricate model work. Also worth mentioning are the sets, such as the Maltese hotel that allows us to see all of both Hema and Dharmendra's rooms via views through adjoining windows, while looking out upon a detailed miniature skyline and canal.

Finally, of course, there are the lairs. And, yes, I'm talking plural, because life for the Indian opium smuggler she is quite obviously very good indeed. Once Kalicharan is forced to flee from his hideout beneath the aforementioned undersea-themed nightclub, he simply switches refuge to a super-lair that's housed beneath a castle on a private island off the coast of Malta. This is mainly represented by a pretty cavernous looking indoor set of a subterranean dock with room for a number of launches and speedboats, overlooked by a catwalk and a system of balconies from which Kalicharan's uniformed minions can fire upon the invading forces of the law lead by Interpol's man in Malta, Tom Alter. In summation, I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to say that this set blows up real good.

Some masala fans may find Charas to be a bit lacking in heart, but those seeking old fashioned thrills will, I think, find that its heart is in exactly the right place. Sure, Munni and Suraj's eventual reunion is nowhere near as moving as those seen in other lost and found dramas, but once you're treated to the scene in which the two of them desperately flee from Amjad Khan and his goons, and then turn to fight them, all while handcuffed together at the wrist, I don't think you'll care -- as that is simply one of the most gripping action scenes that I've seen in an Indian film of its era.

And that's all that I'm going to tell you about Charas for now, because this is one of those happy occasions on which I can give a film my full recommendation. Not that it's a movie for everyone, mind you. But if it's for you, I'm pretty sure you know who you are.

The terrible twos

They said it couldn't be done. They tried to cast seeds of doubt and throw obstacles in my path at every opportunity. But despite the best efforts of the communist vampire clowns that live inside my head, 4DK persevered, and today celebrates it's second birthday. At the dawn of what is sure to be the most noisome and obnoxious phase of this blog's existence, I would like to thank all of you for playing along at home. I hope you'll stay with me for more embarrassing episodes of public acting out and brazen attention seeking in the twelve months to come.

Wham bam thank you caveman

I know that I've been posting a lot of links to new pieces of mine over at Teleport City this week, and I want to correct the impression that I might be on some kind of bathtub crank fueled writing jag. The truth is that some of these reviews were written quite some time ago, and were just on hold while TC spent the month of January honoring the films of Japan's Nikkatsu Studio.

Well, Nikkatsu Month is over now, but with February comes another B-Masters Roundtable, this time with the theme "10,000 B.S.", which I think is probably self explanatory. My contribution is a review of When Women Lost Their Tails, a 1972 film that is one part knuckleheaded Italian sex comedy and one part scathing critique of the capitalist system. Read the full review here.

Friday's best pop song ever

Talking up the Telstar Man

Another of my music related pieces has just been posted over at Teleport City, this time regarding the brilliant and haunted UK pop producer Joe Meek. Check it out, won't you?

It's the 4DK Animalympics! Round 19

Charles from Doodh Ka Karz

Skill Set: Living javelin, brilliant military strategist, and bearer of a photographic memory; will basically dedicate his life to you in exchange for a fairly small amount of human breast milk

As I said before, Charles is not really the name of Doodh Ka Karz's lead cobra. But, because I feel that all anipals should be given the dignity of a proper name -- especially since, let's face it, they really are the true stars of these movies -- I bestowed this one upon him. And Charles seemed to fit, due to it denoting -- to my mind, at least -- a certain amount of sophistication. Charles is far from being your average stunt cobra, though he does indeed project himself through the air like some kind of disconcertingly slimy arrow with a small, expressionless face on it. He is instead a Cobra of both delicate sensibilities and finely honed intellect, capable of both calmly leading his cobra troops into battle and offering solace to a grieving mother. Plus, he drank some milk from Aruna Irani's tit. Holy shit! If only snakes had tear ducts, Charles would present us with a package that not even the great Moti could contend with. And ladies, I hear he's single (especially if you're nursing).

Suki Sa Suki Sa Suki Sa

Check me out. Not only did I contribute an incredibly longwinded review of a Mexican wrestling movie to Teleport City this month, but I also put on my music critic hat and wrote a not very critical review of the recent Big Beat compilation Nippon Girls: Japanese Pop, Beat & Bossa Nova 1966-70. I mean, seriously. Check me out.

Conquistador de la Luna (Mexico, 1960)

Nothing is more hilarious than people going to the Moon by accident. Whether it's Alice Kramden being sent hurtling onto the lunar surface by the force of her husband's intemperate fists (a scenario which I must point out combines that already winning concept with the innate hilariousness of domestic violence) or reluctant Egyptian astronauts raiding their rocket ship's minibar to comic effect, the idea always pays off in comic gold. By contrast, the project of going to the moon on purpose has become so boring that we don't even bother to do it anymore. Perhaps, in order to get the American public behind the space program again, we should forget about trained astronauts and instead send up some hapless NASA handymen or janitors in those rockets. I understand it's just a matter of leaning on the wrong lever.

In the case of the 1960 Mexican production Conquistador de la Luna, our chief astro-not is played by Antonio Espino, aka "Clavillazo", one of the top Mexican screen comedians of the late 50s. Here Espino plays Bartolo, an eccentric electrician whose home is rigged with all kinds of Rube Goldberg style contraptions for the purpose of performing even the least labor-intensive domestic tasks. It's a charming and amusing introduction that generates a lot of goodwill toward the somewhat rote but inoffensive space travel anti-epic that follows. In fact Conquistador so closely follows the same, Three Stooges-inspired template as the earlier reviewed Egyptian Ismail Yasin vehicle A Trip to the Moon -- made just a year earlier -- that the two films could have been separated at birth.

Once Ismail -- oops, sorry! -- I mean, Bartolo is called to the home of an irascible rocket scientist to deal with a routine electrical issue, things pretty much fall into lockstep. Our hero wanders onto the launch site of said scientist's moon-bound rocket ship, and then onto the vessel itself, where also can be found the scientist's attractive young daughter, Estela (Ana Luisa Pelufo), who is in the process of doing some kind of routine pre-launch check -- and at which point the remainder of the film flashes before our mind's eye like our lives might upon taking an unfortunate misstep off a steep cliff. The fateful lever is leaned upon, and we are soon treated to a rushed accounting of the perils peculiar to space travel as depicted in 1950s movies -- the unflattering effects of g-force on the human face, the copious yuks afforded by anti-gravity -- before the couple's transport touches down upon the Moon's surface a couple of minutes later. Interestingly, we do not get the narrowly-avoided meteor shower that other such movies have made us feel entitled to, but I imagine this is only because Conquistador director Rogelio A. Gonzales couldn't find the appropriate stock footage.

Conquistador de la Luna is the product of Producciones Sotomayor, the same outfit that was later responsible for teaming up Santo and Blue Demon for the first time -- and who are thus due the same heartfelt gratitude as the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup people. Like a lot of Mexican films of the 50s and early 60s, its set-bound sequences boast a slick look and high level of technical execution that seem to defy somewhat the constraints of what must have been a fairly tiny budget. Where that budget seems to have cut deep, however, is in the area of the film's special effects, which are largely accomplished by simply splicing in mismatched footage from a bunch of other movies. This is a fairly standard aspect of the old school Mexican approach to sci-fi, of course, as exhibited in films like the Blue Demon effort Aranas Infernales, which gave second life to Plan 9 From Outer Space's hubcap flying saucers, and the heavily Eiji Tsuburaya-indebted Santo contra Blue Demon en la Atlantida. I couldn't tick off every movie that Conquistador borrows special effects shots from -- mostly what I recognized was from either Warning From Space or Devil Girl From Mars -- but a real sci-fi buff could have a field day, perhaps even inventing some kind of drinking game around the movie. As fun as that might be, however, this cut-and-paste approach ends up undermining the good works done by the film's actual crew, giving the end product a pretty uneven feel.

That said, it's not as if Conquistador, thanks to its make-up and costuming departments, doesn't have some low rent visual thrills of its own up its sleeve. Very shortly after their arrival on the moon, Bartolo and Estela, true to form, are captured by some of its inhabitants -- in this case a band of menacing critters who look not unlike Sleestaks -- who take them to their home far beneath the lunar surface. Once this has happened, it's not long before a four-armed, female member of the Moon Sleestak community by the name of Warm has taken a shine to Bartolo.

And it seems like an equal shine has been taken to Estrela by the Sleestak's ruler, a giant disembodied brain with his own built-in sprinkler system and a giant eyeball on a tentacle-like stalk.

(The eyeball is an especially nice creation for how, in addition to undulating queasily on the end of its stalk, it constantly oozes slime. Nice touch!)

Soon the brain has Estrela dressed for marriage in a sparkly showgirl outfit and is regaling her with the details of his plan to destroy the Earth with some kind of super-weapon that will unleash all kinds of stock footage of famine and natural disasters (among which are some seriously mellow-harshing shots of dying animals). Of course, supervillain plans are made to be broken, and so Bartolo, somehow suddenly endowed with the power of invisibility (sorry, no subtitles), is soon putting paid to this scheme and returning to Earth with Estela on his arm to receive the well-earned gratitude of the Mexican people.

Conquistador de la Luna ends up being an enjoyable if utterly inessential watch, mainly because Clavillazo's comedy seems to be rooted more in being cheeky and resourceful than in being cowardly and shrill like so many of his comic peers. I think it also helped that I couldn't understand what was being said. Without such distractions I was left to take it all in a state similar to that of the ship that deposits our hero at his lunar destination: on auto pilot.

El gimp contra la robusteza!

Sure, I've reviewed Neutron vs. The Death Robots before. But never at such extraordinary length as I have over at Teleport City just now. Check out the full review here.

Friday's best pop song ever

It's the 4DK Animalympics! Round 18

Suraj from Appu Raja

Skill Set: Master of the evil laugh, harbinger of doom

I'm not entirely clear on how involved Suraj is in the creation of the elaborate death traps cooked up by demented dwarf Appu in Appu Raja, but he obviously has some role. I say this because he is always at the scene, looking down sardonically from his perch, whenever some unwitting victim is about to meet his fate at Appu's hands. Thus there is no mistaking that Suraj is a cockatoo of pure evil. I didn't mention it in my review of the film, but there's a scene in Appu Raja in which he demonstrates his ability to produce a human-like laugh so sinister sounding that it would make those of Amrish Puri, Ajit and Amjad Khan all sound like girlish titters in comparison. It's truly bone chilling.