Tag Archives: explicit

Cult Film Review: Mermaid Legend (1984)

Cult Film Review: Mermaid Legend (1984)

Directed by Toshiharu Ikeda

Screenplay by Takuya Nishioka

Main cast: Mari Shirato, Junko Miyashita, Kentarō Shimizu, Jun Etō, etc.

Cinematography by Yonezou Maeda

Music by Toshiyuki Honda

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



I took a gamble on an unknown Japanese film at the Nickel Cinema and walked out genuinely shaken. Mermaid Legend (1984) isn’t just a cult oddity—it’s a film that mutates before your eyes, seducing you with beauty before drowning you in blood. I was stunned by how something so lyrical could also be so brutally confrontational.

The story begins almost modestly, as a coastal drama about a fisherman and his wife, Migiwa. They bicker constantly, their marriage worn thin by poverty and exhaustion, yet there’s an undeniable bond beneath the arguments. That fragile domesticity is shattered when the fisherman stands in the way of an industrial development scheme. The business developers—faceless, polite, and utterly ruthless—have him murdered, disposing of his life as casually as industrial waste.

From there, Mermaid Legend (1984) transforms again. What starts as marital realism becomes a corporate espionage murder mystery, steeped in anger at nuclear energy, environmental destruction, and the cold machinery of corporate greed. Migiwa, a powerful-lunged pearl diver, initially hides, retreating into grief and the sea itself. But this is not a film about quiet mourning. When she decides to act, she does so with mythic force.



Played by the ethereal and astonishing Mari Shirato, Migiwa becomes something halfway between woman, avenging angel, and sea spirit. Shirato’s performance is magnetic—serene, sensual, and terrifying. As her vengeful pursuit begins, the film plunges headlong into extreme violence and explicit sexuality, reclassifying itself yet again as one of the most shocking exploitation epics I’ve seen from Japan in recent years. These scenes aren’t gratuitous in the lazy sense; they’re confrontational, weaponized, daring you to look away while refusing to let you feel comfortable for a second.

What makes Mermaid Legend (1984) so intoxicating is how its elements collide. Poetic underwater cinematography turns the ocean into a womb, a grave, and a cathedral. Religious, angelic, and environmental imagery blur together, as if Migiwa is both martyr and executioner. The music is heavenly—soaring, mournful, almost sacred—creating a surreal contrast with the carnage on screen. Beauty and brutality coexist in the same frame, each intensifying the other.

And then there’s the ending. The final, elongated pier stabbing rampage is completely off the chart—relentless, bloody, and hypnotic. It plays out like a ritual rather than an action sequence, stretching time until violence becomes abstraction, then meaning, then release. By the time the last body falls, Mermaid Legend (1984) has fully shed realism and entered the realm of legend, justifying its title in blood.

This is a film that shouldn’t work, yet does—furiously, defiantly. A genre-shifting fever dream that moves from domestic drama to political thriller to erotic exploitation to mythic revenge tragedy, Mermaid Legend (1984) is both beautiful and brutal, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Seeing it by chance at the Nickel Cinema felt like discovering a secret too powerful to stay hidden.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11


CINEMA REVIEW: POOR THINGS (2023)

CINEMA REVIEW: POOR THINGS (2023)

Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos

Screenplay by Tony McNamara


Based on Poor Things: Episodes from the Early Life of Archibald McCandless M.D., Scottish Public Health Officer by Alasdair Gray

Produced by Ed Guiney, Andrew Lowe, Yorgos Lanthimos and Emma Stone

Main cast: Emma Stone, Mark Ruffalo, Willem Dafoe, Ramy Youssef, Christopher Abbott, Kathryn Hunter and Jerrod Carmichael.

Cinematography by Robbie Ryan


*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***



I have now seen all of Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos’ most recent directorial works, namely: Dogtooth (2009), Alps (2011), The Lobster (2015), The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017), and The Favourite (2018). Collectively they defy conventional film styles and tropes to deliver absurd, surreal, funny, disturbing, thought-provoking, erotic and imaginative visions of human behaviour. Also, let’s not forget the writers too; so kudos to his writing partner Efthymis Filippou, and latterly Tony McNamara, who have combined with Lanthimos to create such memorable cinematic offerings.

The director’s early lower-budget dysfunctional comedy-dramas such as Dogtooth (2009), and Alps (2011) are unforgettably strange films to experience. They feature uncomfortable depictions of family, sex, death and relationships. While offbeat, you sense they are from the mind of a filmmaker seeking to provoke thought rather than exploit. While equally dark and strange The Lobster (2015) is clearly more comedic, even though it probes strange love, fascism and violence within romantic relationships. Further, in The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017), Lanthimos and Filippou, in Godardian fashion, constantly called attention to cinema form; especially with a strangely effective form of anti-acting within the arguably more conventional revenge narrative. Whereas in The Favourite (2018), Lanthimos’ delivered a unique period satire, with the language and behaviour of the characters often crude and shocking. His visual choices are always fascinating, with his use of the fish-eye lens creating a distorted effect that made the characters seem trapped by their surroundings and circumstances.



With the success of The Favourite (2018), both critically and commercially, Lanthimos has of late been given an increased budget, reported as $35 million. His bold choice, along with screenwriter Tony McNamara is to adapt award-winning novel, Poor Things: Episodes from the Early Life of Archibald McCandless M.D., Scottish Public Health Officer by Alasdair Gray has produced by far the most originally conceived and fantastic genre-bending comedy, drama, horror, rites of passage and salacious film of many a year. If there is a more bizarre, enthralling and enjoyable film of 2024, than Poor Things (2023) then this will be a most excellent year for cinema releases.

Set in Victorian London, we are introduced to the rather eccentric household of Dr Godwin “God” Baxter, an expert but secretive surgeon whose home hides bizarre animal experiments, and the beautiful but frankly odd human specimen, Bella Baxter (Emma Stone). Entering this weird abode of pig-hens and goose-dogs, comes innocent medical student, Max McCandless (Remy Youseef). “God” asks Max to assist with the childlike Bella’s development, charting her daily physical, speech and mental growth. Now, if you think the chimeric beast experiments are disturbing then brace yourself for the events of Bella’s ‘Frankensteinesque’ happenstance. I am not going to spoil it here, but it truly is a fantastic concept as invented by the author, Alasdair Gray, to contemplate. I was teetering on the fence with the film until this stunning reveal was given, but then I was committed to this medical oddity.



The first act finds Bella developing her speech, emotions and intelligence, as if a young child growing within this woman’s body. Bella also locates her libido and begins experimenting with her lust to great pleasure. Here Lanthimos continues exploring the themes of previous films with sex not only a natural expression of humans, but also an act used to control and drive people mad. Enter Mark Ruffalo’s caddish lawyer, Duncan Wedderburn who spirits a willing and rebellious Bella on a European trip. One where she truly discovers and satisfies her continual carnal desire or “furious jumping” as she hilariously calls it. Bella’s rites of passage, frankness and rapid growth threatens Duncan’s masculine insecurities and he finds it difficult to control her. Here the hilarious screenplay shows Bella and Duncan becoming more and more fraught until she craves further independence from his cloying envy. The central theme of Bella overcoming the chains of controlling masculinity dominates right up until the extremely dark final act.

While there is a lot of sex and nudity in this film, I felt that Lanthimos balances the exploitative nature of such material by contextualising it within Bella’s fascinating character arc. Emma Stone also provides a complex performance, funny and moving, as the woman-child discovering her mind, body, soul and the world. Ruffalo is particularly over-the-top as the sneaky but pathetic reprobate, Wedderburn. While Remy Youssef’s young medical student adds some compassionate balance within the ensemble, Willem Dafoe gives his customary brilliant turn as the tragic man of science. He himself had his childhood tainted by a father determined to use Godwin Baxter as a human guinea pig.

With a spectacular production design that employs a rich palette of colours, sets, lighting and immaculately furnished rooms, Lanthimos, stamps his authorial style along with genius cinematographer Robbie and his array of lens. Such creative choices evolve a spectacularly hyper-real vision of Victoriana. Indeed, the form and style coalesce with the content and themes in Poor Things (2023) to create what could already be the favourite film of my year. The screenplay dares to provoke the audience with gender political, sociological, historical and hysterical analysis as Yorgos Lanthimos again proves himself to be one of the most original filmmakers of his generation. Owing much to the imagination of Alasdair Gray’s source book, this is a shocking and explicit Frankenstein’s monster of a film. Lastly, it had me consistently thinking and laughing throughout, testifying to the power of family, however dysfunctional that Victorian household may be.

Mark: 10 out of 11


NETFLIX FILM REVIEW: THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME (2020)

NETFLIX FILM REVIEW: THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME (2020)

Directed by: Antonio Campos

Produced by: Jake Gyllenhaal, Riva Marker, Randall Poster, Max Born

Screenplay by: Antonio Campos, Paulo Campos

Based on: The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock

Cast: Tom Holland, Bill Skarsgård, Riley Keough, Jason Clarke, Sebastian Stan, Haley Bennett, Eliza Scanlen, Mia Wasikowska, Robert Pattinson, Harry Melling, etc.

Narrated by: Donald Ray Pollock

Music by: Danny Bensi, Saunder Jurriaans

Cinematography: Lol Crawley

***MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS***



Netflix’s latest major film release is a literary adaptation of Donald Ray Pollock’s psychological thriller, The Devil All the Time (2020). One has to believe it is a pretty faithful adaptation because the novelist himself narrates the tale to us via voiceover. Set in the years after World War II, the grim events unfold in the states of Ohio and West Virginia, respectively. While the action is not located in the deep South, the story has many of the tropes synonymous with the Southern Gothic genre, notably: religious fanaticism, explicit sexuality, flawed characters, sickening violence, poverty and human alienation.

The film, directed by Antonio Campos — who helmed the under-rated character study, Christine (2016) — starts extremely purposefully. Returning soldier, Miller Jones (Bill Skarsgard), meets a waitress on his bus journey home and eventually marries her. Both Skarsgard and Hayley Bennett, portraying his wife, inhabit empathetic characters working hard to bring up their son and saving for their own place. Jones, however, is haunted by a traumatic incident in the Pacific, and strives for solace in God and family. Indeed, the corrupt force of religious mania spreads like a cancer throughout The Devil All the Time (2020), becoming a constant threat and reason for many of the characters downfall.



Just as I was connecting with Jones’ life and becoming absorbed by Bill Skarsgard’s commanding performance, tragedy strikes and the narrative takes one of several jarring switches between characters. As such the film does not really have a strong plot, meandering from one character to another witnessing all manner of horrific events fate throws at them. Because, let’s be honest, The Devil All the Time (2020), is no way close to being a feelgood film. In fact, it revels in representing the evil acts of so-called human beings. Thus, throughout I felt a constant sense of dread and anxiety. Barely had Skarsgard misery ended and we are then introduced to the tragedies of characters portrayed by Harry Melling and Mia Wasikowska. Simultaneously, Jason Clarke and Riley Keough join the fray as two violent and sex-driven thrill-seekers. Yet, they are weakly written characters who again drive the mood of the film into pitch blackness.

The film gathers some strength and momentum n the middle act when Tom Holland’s son of Miller Jones comes of age. By focussing on his story we get more drama and emotion, especially where his relationship with his step-sister (Eliza Scanlan) is concerned. Holland gives an excellent performance as the young man attempting to make his way in this filthy and ungodly world. Similarly, Robert Pattinson’s oily Preacher oozes repugnant charm in another sterling piece of acting work. Alas, Sebastian Stan’s Sheriff and Douglas Hodge’s rural gangster are given short shrift in another crime subplot which goes nowhere.

Overall, Antonio Campos delivers an extremely solid thriller from an acting and thematic standpoint. Unfortunately, the fragmented screenplay should arguably have been given a more committed plotline. Of course, it has most likely shadowed the structure of the source novel so therein lies the rub. Having said that, despite the structural shortcomings, there are many shocking and violent set-pieces to satisfy horror fans. Ultimately though, The Devil All the Time (2020) lacks redemption, catharsis and even some decent suspense. By the end we are given few characters to care about and delivered the pessimistic vision that life is a belt of misery. Even a suggestion of sugar helps the poison go down and this film offers very little in the way of sweetness or light.

Mark: 7.5 out of 11