Rating: B
Dir: Richard Wolstencroft
Star: John Brumpton, Kristen Condon, Andy McPhee, Roger Ward
Not to be confused with the Scott Adkins film of the same name, the debts in this one are more personal. While Frank Vaughn (Brumpton) is nominally in the collections business, he’s now going after the priests who abused him as a child, and making them pay for their sins. In the course of this, he stumbles across a captive woman, Sarah (Condon), who was being abused for cinematic purposes by a ring of perverts. Her revenge then becomes Vaughn’s business. Which is fine, until one of the perpetrators turns out to be the little brother of mob boss Tommy Baker (McPhee). Tommy isn’t happy about the torture and murder of his sibling, meaning Frank and Sarah’s vengeance is going to get messy.
The low-budget is occasionally apparent – more gore would have been welcome, especially given the enthusiastic violence. Could have used some gratuitous nudity too: there’s a scene in a strip-club, where the employees are so fully dressed, it must be run by nuns. However, as cheap and cheerful carnage, this has a fair amount going for it in general. Top of the list would be Brumpton, the father in The Loved Ones, who has the perfect face: if you can imagine an Aussie version of Stephen McHattie with a hangover, you’ll be close. Whenever he’s on screen, your attention is fully compelled. The film is filled with that kind of character: McPhee stands out similarly, but it’s largely true down the line.
The plotting is a little more variable: for example, you need to buy into Vaughn’s wholehearted willingness to murder people, on behalf of a woman he barely met. There may also be one or two plot threads too many for the film’s own good: it adds in a neo-Nazi gang, who have teamed up with a visiting ex-terrorist from Ireland (Ward), out for revenge of his own. Amusing though it is, they feel a bit superfluous, and the film is better when it’s focused on Vaughn against Baker. The ending is probably something you’re either going to love or hate, without much room for middle ground. It’s certainly not something I saw coming, and as such deserves credit.
This is simple and direct film-making, with characterization largely evolved through action rather than dialogue. On that basis, Frank comes out better than Sarah: unsurprising in the unflinchingly macho world depicted here, where basically the only women are strippers. It leads to an old-school feel to proceedings here. I can imagine this coming out in the late seventies, perhaps starring Charles Bronson. It’s the kind of movie best enjoyed with a glass of whisky, and perhaps a cigar – whether you smoke or not is likely irrelevant. Finally, I was amused to see Wolstonecraft still sneaking a snippet of Revolting Cocks, uncredited, onto his soundtrack, thirty years after Bloodlust. Never change, Mr. W.
The film is available now through YouTube, Vimeo on Demand, Google Play, etc.