The Batman (2004-2008) – Review

Let’s get this out of the way. 2004’s The Batman was not trying to be Batman: The Animated Series. It’s sleeker, younger, louder, and that’s kind of the point. This animated take on the Dark Knight aimed to reinvent the Caped Crusader for a new generation, and while it stumbles in a few places, it ultimately carved out its own identity with flair, fun, and a surprising amount of heart.

This animated series begins as a telling of “Batman Year Three” with a young Bruce Wayne (Rino Romano) still figuring out just who and what is Batman and whether or not there is a connection between his actions and the birth of the supervillain. As this takes place during his early years of crime-fighting, he is still considered a vigilante by the police, and that dynamic added a nice layer to the show’s storytelling.

Over five seasons, The Batman evolves from a crime-fighting origin tale into a broader superhero saga, balancing sleek action sequences, character growth, and occasional psychological depth. While aimed at a younger audience, the show retains the dark undertones and detective elements that define the Batman mythos, offering a unique take that stands apart from previous animated versions. Not to say it doesn’t also have some fun, lighter moments.

 

“Cookie breaks are an important part of crime fighting.”

Produced by Jeff Matsuda and Duane Capizzi, The Batman immediately stood out with its hyper-stylized character designs and sleek, angular animation, but while the animation was fluid and energetic—especially during fight scenes—it often sacrificed atmosphere and subtlety for spectacle. But this is a minor quibble, and even if, as some claim, the series started off a bit safe, by Season 3, it found its rhythm, and Season 4 is arguably its strongest. That’s when the writing matures, the action gets sharper, and the Bat-family dynamics shine. The final season even led to the release of The Batman vs. Dracula, which is a surprisingly solid movie-length special that turns up the gothic horror dial to eleven.

 

“Did I pack garlic in my Bat Utility Belt?”

Stray Observations:

• The first season’s opening theme was composed by The Edge of U2, and it’s a moody, guitar-heavy riff that feels part spy-thriller, part haunted techno club. Sadly, by Season 3, WB swapped it out for a more generic rock intro.
• In a twist from tradition, Barbara Gordon suits up before Dick Grayson makes his debut. And honestly? She kind of steals the show in the early seasons.
• Batman’s ultra-sleek Batwave device was basically an early prototype of a smartwatch mixed with an iPhone and a pager. Bruce Wayne was clearly living in 2025 before the rest of us.
• If there was ever an excuse for Batman to go full Mortal Kombat mode, it was the frequent use of robots, androids, and mechs. You could almost hear the animators going, “Let’s not worry about the Bat-morality clause this week.”
• The Batmobile is a Beast. It’s a futuristic, growling hot rod that looks like it should be racing in Fast & Furious: Gotham Drift. 

 

“It’s all about Family.”

Visually, The Batman is like Gotham filtered through a techno-samurai lens. Gone is the film noir aesthetic of BTS as it is replaced here by a style more in the realm of anime, as art director Jeff Matsuda’s character designs are more angular and stylized, the city pulses with futuristic colours, and Batman himself feels like a blend of ninja and detective. Some of the villain redesigns are bold—the Joker’s dreadlocks and bare feet threw fans into fits—but most of them grow on you. This Joker (Kevin Michael Richardson) is manic and acrobatic, a true physical threat, not just a cackling madman in a purple suit.

 

Monster or Madman, you be the judge.

But it’s not just the Joker; Matsuda takes a lot of the character designs to the extreme, as does the show’s action set pieces, and fans of the classic villains will be shocked to see that nearly every villain — from Penguin to Riddler — could suddenly throw hands like they trained with the League of Shadows. Even Killer Croc had unexpected martial arts flair. Gotham’s criminal underworld was apparently full of black belts. The one element that really stands out in this series is the relationship between Bruce and Alfred Pennyworth (Alastair Duncan), as it was through this relationship that we got to truly understand the Bruce Wayne/Batman persona.

 

“Are we interrupting your brooding time, sir?”

As for Batman himself, this isn’t the brooding philosopher-detective of the early ‘90s. This Bruce Wayne is younger, still early in his vigilante career, balancing billionaire playboy duties with rooftop fisticuffs, but most notable is that this Batman is competent but fallible.  Romano brings a lighter, more earnest take to Batman that fits the show’s tone, even if it lacks Kevin Conroy’s gravelly gravitas. And while this series leans more into action and gadgetry than noir atmosphere or moral complexity, it’s not brainless. Early episodes leaned into more self-contained stories with gadgets and detective work, while later seasons expanded the cast and arcs. There’s character growth, especially as the seasons unfold and allies like Batgirl (Danielle Judovits) and Robin (Evan Sabara) join the fight, giving the show a “Batman and family” vibe that pays off emotionally. And yes, The Batman eventually brings in Gordon himself, after a long wait.

 

“Hello, is this the Killing Joke?”

In conclusion, The Batman might not have the philosophical heft of its predecessors, but it offers a vibrant, kinetic take on the Dark Knight mythos that’s underrated in the Bat-pantheon. Think of it as Batman’s anime-adjacent younger cousin, less brooding, more flipping off buildings, and just cool enough to earn your respect.

Sisters in Leather (1969) – Review

This gloriously low-budget, high-kink flick zooms right out of the 1960s underground scene like a Harley with no brakes and even less plot. Clocking in at just over an hour (mercifully?), it plays like a fever dream someone had after watching Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! while half-asleep on a shag rug.

Directed by Zoltan G. Spencer, a name often associated with fringe erotica of the era, Sisters in Leather is a steamy, rebellious little time capsule that blends biker culture, lesbian erotica, and a dash of pulp drama. The story — such as it is — centres around a group of tough, leather-clad lesbian bikers who kidnap a suburban housewife and indoctrinate her into their wild, sensual world. The plot kicks off when Joe (Dick Ossum), an unfaithful husband, is photographed making-out with an underage girl by a local lesbian biker gang. But the motives of this gang extend beyond mere extortion; they abduct Joe’s unsuspecting wife, Mary (Kathy Williams), introducing her to their world through a picnic and uninhibited motorcycle escapades. 

 

Who knew picnicking was a big thing with this set?

As gangs go the “Leather Sisters” aren’t all that impressive, consisting of only three members; Butch (Bambi Allen), Dolly (Karen Thomas), and Billie (Bonnie Clark), but somehow, they are enough to entangled Mary in their lifestyle. I guess some women are just suckers for leather and picnics. Joe, desperate to reclaim his wife, enlists a group of male bikers to confront the trio and rescue her from their influence. That’s it. That’s pretty much the plot. The film presents itself as a feminist biker movie, but ultimately plays out more like a misogynistic fantasy masquerading as empowerment. The climax features a confrontation with a male biker gang, descending into a chaotic mix of sexual violence and manipulation, which results in the women abandoning their previous identities. The implication is that all it took was aggressive male attention to “correct” them—an idea that reinforces deeply problematic and regressive gender stereotypes.

 

“Can you guys help me turn some lesbians straight tonight?”

Stray Observations:

• If your idea of a good make-out spot is an abandoned construction site, in broad daylight while in an open convertible, you deserve to be blackmailed by a lesbian biker gang.
• Characters speak like they’re reading erotic poetry translated from French and run through Google Translate. “If you don’t want my love, don’t expect my sympathy.” Okay, ma’am.
• Mary goes from a cheated-on wife to a sapphic lover in the span of about three seconds. One has to assume she already had these tendencies.
• The gang chose the same abandoned construction site to hold their “seduction picnic” for Mary, and I started to wonder if that was the only place in town to hang out.
• There is zero police presence in this movie. A roving gang of seductive biker women are going around upending polite society, and… no one calls the cops? Not even a concerned HOA member?

 

Is this an early version of Sin City?

From a filmmaking standpoint, it’s rough around the edges. The cinematography is gritty and occasionally out of focus, the editing is choppy, and the dialogue is mostly perfunctory or entirely absent. But what Sisters in Leather lacks in polish, it makes up for in sheer audacity. It was designed to shock — and in 1969, it probably did just that. Today, it plays more like kitsch: a relic from a time when just showing women in control of their own sexuality was considered outrageous. The film flirts with ideas of female empowerment, subverting traditional gender roles, and upending 1960s suburbia. But let’s be honest: it’s mostly an excuse to showcase taboo themes under the guise of counterculture commentary. There’s some genuine energy in its rebellious tone, but it’s often buried beneath the layers of softcore staging and campy direction. 

 

Isn’t there a good reason you wear leather on a motorcycle?

There’s a certain feminist undercurrent running through it (intentionally or not), as the women in the film reject traditional roles and assert dominance over their world, though any such message is entangled with the male-gaze, voyeuristic framing typical of the genre. That the film ends with the lesbian bikers being “turned straight” is the most disturbing aspect, but like many sexploitation films of its era, Sisters in Leather leans heavily on suggestion and titillation rather than any actual narrative substance. In fact, there’s very little narrative. The cinematography is utilitarian at best, with long, lingering shots that often feel like they’re padding out a runtime rather than contributing to a scene. Dialogue is minimal, and when it’s present, it’s stilted—more about creating atmosphere than developing characters. It’s the kind of movie that straddles the line between exploitation and subversion, and whether you see it as empowering or exploitative probably depends on your lens.

 

“How’s this for empowerment? I have a nightstick.”

Ultimately, Sisters in Leather is not high art, nor does it try to be. It’s a sleazy, provocative, oddly fascinating slice of ’60s underground cinema. If you’re a fan of cult films, exploitation flicks, or just curious about the wilder corners of vintage queer representation in film, it might be worth a look. Just don’t expect coherence — or clothes that stay on for very long.

Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989) – Review

Have you ever watched a Godzilla movie and thought, “You know what this franchise needs? A kaiju that’s part Godzilla, part rosebush, and part nightmare fuel!” Well, buckle up, because Godzilla vs. Biollante delivers exactly that, and it’s glorious.

The plot? Oh, it’s gloriously bonkers. In the aftermath of The Return of Godzilla, Japan is still picking up the pieces from Big G’s last rampage. The government, realizing that Godzilla’s still out there just waiting to cause more property damage, sets out to find new ways to stop him. Enter G-cells: Godzilla’s regenerative DNA, which scientists are way too eager to experiment with. Because when has playing with radioactive monster DNA ever gone wrong? Others hope to use Godzilla’s cells to genetically modify plants so that they can turn a desert fertile. Enter Dr. Genshiro Shiragami’s (Kōji Takahashi), who was working on that noble application, but before you can say “tragic backstory,” his daughter, Erika (Yasuko Sawaguchi), is killed when industrial saboteurs bomb the institute’s laboratory, ruining the cells and killing Erika. 

 

Tragic Backstory Achievement…Unlocked.

Flash forward five years and Shiragami, who has refused to work with Godzilla’s cells ever since the death of his daughter, has suddenly agreed to work on the project because it looks like Godzilla is waking up, having fallen into a volcano at the end of The Return of Godzilla, and they need him to create “Anti-Nuclear Energy Bacteria” (ANEB), hoping it can serve as a weapon against Godzilla. Shiragami only agrees to join the project if he’s first given seven days to study Godzilla’s cells, alone in his own lab. So instead of, you know, grieving like a normal person, Shiragami had merged her DNA with a rose (okay, odd choice) and now he’s able to splice in some of those G-cells (oh no), creating something totally new: Biollante, a massive, mutated plant kaiju with Erika’s essence.

 

Could this be Audrey II’s cousin?

Before Japan can even process this botanic horror show, Godzilla wakes up from his volcanic nap, thanks to some careless submarine activity. The government panics and launches the Anti-Nuclear Energy Bacteria (ANEB), a biological weapon designed to infect and kill Godzilla from the inside. But deploying it isn’t so easy, especially with corporate spies, mercenaries, and psychic teenagers running around. Speaking of psychics, Miki Saegusa (Megumi Odaka), a young woman with ESP who has been running around trying to warn the Government that Godzilla is waking up, and she senses that Biollante is alive and suffering, which is the last thing you want from a skyscraper-sized monster. 

 

“Looks like someone paid for the Godzilla channel.”

Godzilla, as expected, shows up, and the military scrambles to stop him, deploying new anti-Godzilla technology, including the Super X2, a more advanced version of the original aerial weapon. However, Godzilla easily withstands their assault, forcing Japan to prepare for an all-out battle. Godzilla senses the presence of another kaiju, Biollante, now grown into an enormous, plant-based colossus rooted in Lake Ashino. The two monsters clash, with Biollante lashing out using its long, vine-like tendrils, equipped with razor-sharp teeth. Despite its resilience, Biollante proves no match for Godzilla’s atomic breath, and the creature is seemingly destroyed, dissolving into golden spores that ascend into the sky, but this is Godzilla, where monsters don’t stay dead for long.

 

“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight.”

After wrecking Osaka (because why not?), the humans desperately try to infect Godzilla with the ANEB, but his nuclear-powered metabolism keeps burning it off. Scientists struggle to deliver the bacteria effectively, as Godzilla shrugs off conventional attacks and continues his rampage. While they work on overheating him to force the bacteria to work, Biollante returns, having evolved into an even more terrifying final form: a massive, glowing, rose-dragon hybrid with a gaping, crocodile-like mouth full of fangs and golden spores floating around it like some unholy dandelion from hell.

 

“You’re one ugly motherfucker.”

This time, the battle is brutal. Biollante wraps Godzilla in its thorny tendrils, spews acid sap in his face, and drags him around like a ragdoll. But Godzilla, being the ultimate kaiju brawler, blasts his atomic breath down Biollante’s throat, sending spores into the sky. As they drift upward, a ghostly vision of Erika appears, implying that she’s finally at peace (somehow). With Biollante gone, Godzilla—weakened but not beaten—lumbers back into the ocean, because, at the end of the day, no amount of military tech or science experiments can actually stop him. The humans celebrate their small victories, but deep down, they know Godzilla will always return.

 

“Screw this, I’m going to go and find King Ghidorah.”

Stray Observations:

• Using Godzilla’s cells to genetically modify plants, in the hope of transforming deserts into fertile land, is classic mad science. No notes.
• This was the first Godzilla film to use computer-generated imagery (CGI). Specifically for some computer-generated schematics.
• Dr. Genshiro Shiragami has a strange claim that Godzilla and Biollante are identical, “Made from the same cells. It’s just one is an animal and the other one is a plant.” Which kind of means they’re not identical. Are we sure of his scientific credentials?
• This is the first film where Godzilla demonstrates a surprising new weapon, the Full-Body Radiation. First, a short burst of radioactive breath flashes in Godzilla’s mouth, and then, a powerful pulse of bright, circulating energy is emitted from his torso.
• Miki Saegusa makes her first appearance, kicking off her recurring role as the franchise’s go-to psychic. Does she ever stop Godzilla from destroying things? Not really. But she feels that he’s about to do it, which is kind of helpful… maybe?
• The Super X2, the upgraded version of the first film’s Super X, has a cool heat-resistant mirror to deflect Godzilla’s atomic breath. Turns out, that only works until Godzilla decides to breathe a little harder.

 

“Why do we even bother?”

Written and directed by Kazuki Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante stands as one of the most unique and ambitious entries in the long-running Godzilla franchise. Released as the second film in the Heisei era of Godzilla films, this instalment took the series in an unexpected direction by blending traditional kaiju action with elements of genetic engineering, horror, and psychological themes. With its complex narrative, impressive practical effects, and one of the most original kaiju adversaries ever conceived, Godzilla vs. Biollante remains a standout film that deserves greater recognition. Koichi Kawakita’s groundbreaking use of animatronics and intricate puppetry brought Biollante to life in an unsettlingly realistic way. The film’s visual effects, while adhering to the traditional suitmation techniques of Godzilla films, pushed the boundaries of what was possible in the genre at the time. 

 

This film offers some nice city rampaging.

Unlike many previous Godzilla films that focused primarily on nuclear allegory, Godzilla vs. Biollante explores the dangers of genetic manipulation. Dr. Shiragami, the film’s central scientist, seeks to preserve the memory of his late daughter by fusing her DNA with plant and monster cells, ultimately creating a monstrous being beyond his control. The film raises ethical questions about the unintended consequences of playing with nature—an issue that became particularly relevant during the late 20th century, as genetic research gained traction. But where the film does make a little misstep is the amount of time spent on the espionage subplot, when kaiju are destroying cities, I couldn’t care less about spies running around stealing stuff.

 

This guy does not have atomic breath, thus he is irrelevant.

Biollante also stands apart from most other kaiju in the Godzilla universe. Rather than being an ancient creature or an alien invader, Biollante is a creation of human experimentation gone horribly wrong. Her grotesque, ever-mutating form—from a giant rose to a nightmarish, tentacle-laden behemoth—adds an eerie, horror-like quality to the film. Unlike traditional villains, Biollante is portrayed as tragic, making her conflict with Godzilla feel more layered and emotionally complex than the typical kaiju showdown.

 

“Hey, this isn’t some of that creepy hentai shit, is it?”

Godzilla’s Role: Anti-Hero or Pure Menace? In this instalment, Godzilla is depicted as a force of destruction, yet his presence also serves as a counterbalance to Biollante’s unchecked growth. Unlike earlier portrayals of Godzilla as either a protector or a mindless villain, here he is a more ambiguous figure—an unpredictable force of nature. His battles with Biollante are not just about territorial dominance but also reflect the film’s overarching theme of humanity’s inability to control its own scientific advancements.

 

These guys are all about themes and symbolism.

In conclusion, Godzilla vs. Biollante is one of the strangest, most creative Godzilla movies ever made, blending sci-fi horror, bioengineering gone wrong, corporate espionage, and kaiju beatdowns into one unforgettable film. Whether you love it for its weirdness, its deeper themes about the dangers of genetic manipulation, or just because you want to watch a giant lizard fight a plant monster, it’s an absolute must-see for kaiju fans. If you like your kaiju fights with a side of mad science and existential dread, this one’s a must-watch.

BMX Bandits (1983) – Review

Before she graced red carpets and collected Oscars, Nicole Kidman was outrunning goons on a BMX bike, while sporting a glorious cloud of curly red hair and a whole lot of attitude. Does that sound like a great film to you? If so, then strap on your helmet, pump up those tires, and crank the synth soundtrack to eleven, because BMX Bandits is the cinematic equivalent of a sugar rush on two wheels!

Welcome to the sunny suburbs of Sydney, Australia, where the beach is bumpin’, the slang is thick, and the BMX bikes are fast. Real fast. This is where we meet our heroes: three teen misfits united by their love for dirt tracks, wheelies, and sticking it to the man. The plot of BMX Bandits is fairly simple: three teenagers, PJ (Angelo D’Angelo), Goose (James Lugton), and Judy (Nicole Kidman), stumble upon a stash of high-tech walkie-talkies, but not the cheap toy kind. These are military-grade, long-range radio communicators, capable of disrupting police channels. Unbeknownst to them, these radios were stolen and stashed by a gang of bank robbers planning a big payroll robbery.

“Who wants to be Mister Pink?”

Naturally, our teen heroes decide the best thing to do is sell the walkie-talkies at the local mall for quick cash, which naturally leads to the robbers coming after them and kicking off a high-stakes cat-and-mouse chase that turns the city into a BMX playground. These crooks, led by two hilariously bumbling henchmen named Whitey (David Argue) and Moustache (John Ley), who are basically Dollar Store Wet Bandits if even more incompetent. They try to catch the kids with disguises, ambushes, and even boats, but are constantly undone by flying pizzas, fire extinguishers, and the simple fact that they don’t know what the hell they are doing. There’s also the Big Boss (Bryan Marshall) behind it all, who’s a bit more serious and a lot grumpier, but he’s stuck depending on two guys who couldn’t outsmart a traffic cone. 

Seriously, what chance could these ’80s villains have against three spunky teens?

From here on out, the film becomes a high-octane BMX-powered game of cat and mouse. The crooks chase the kids. The kids ride bikes off ramps, through shopping malls, cemeteries, down stairwells, and into the harbour. Eventually concluding with our trio of teen heroes laying a trap to catch the crooks and earn enough reward money to build a BMX park for the local kids. And I must say, I love it when a plan comes together. It’s safe to say that BMX Bandits is a perfect blend of teen adventure, slapstick comedy, and real stunt riding into a colourful, fast-paced thrill ride. It’s equal parts a time capsule of early ’80s youth culture and a celebration of independence, creativity, and good old-fashioned BMX heroics.

It’s all good, clean fun.

Stray Observations:

• The masks the bank robbers chose to wear offered zero peripheral visibility, which is not ideal for holding up a bank where you have to keep an eye on customers and staff.
• In a harbour full of random boats and watercraft, our two idiot robbers immediately assume, correctly, that our trio of kids found and took the hidden walkie-talkies. Even when they passed them, they were nowhere near the drop point.
• Judy, P.J., and Goose sell the walkie-talkies to other kids in the area, but we see them selling only one handset to each person. Who buys only one walkie-talky?
• We get the classic “Not another drop” gag when a wino spots the two goons in monster masks climbing out of the cemetery.
• None of the leads perform their own bike stunts, made even more obvious by the use of a male stuntman in a wig to double for Nicole Kidman.
• That two idiots in a car could keep track of three kids riding BMX bikes is probably the least credible moment in this film, in a film loaded with incredulity. 

Our trio even took their bikes through a water park!

Brian Trenchard-Smith’s BMX Bandits isn’t so much a movie as it is a stunt reel to show off some very cool action sequences, with 80 percent of the movie being chase scenes, but it works. It’s also more than just a lighthearted Australian teen adventure; it’s a cinematic snapshot of a cultural moment that takes you on a fun ride through a unique era. Released in 1983, this vibrant film rides on the popularity of BMX biking, capturing the energy and optimism of youth while showcasing early signs of what would become an international star: Nicole Kidman. Though modest in its narrative ambitions, BMX Bandits is a film that thrives on its sense of movement, its connection to subculture, and its vivid aesthetic, all of which contribute to its lasting cult appeal.

Colourful bikes versus colourful criminals.

Nicole Kidman, only fifteen at the time of filming, gives an early glimpse of her natural screen presence. While her character is not dramatically complex, Kidman brings charm and charisma that hint at her future range. In retrospect, her role in BMX Bandits is a fascinating artifact—a look at a future Oscar winner in a genre that seems worlds away from her later work in films like The Hours or Moulin Rouge. Her role as Judy also deserves recognition. Although the script does not offer deep character development, Judy is no damsel in distress. She is courageous, quick-thinking, and an equal partner in the group’s escapades. In a genre and era that often sidelined female characters in action-driven stories, Judy’s prominence is both refreshing and progressive. This is “Girl Power” done correctly.

“I’m sorry, but only one of us is going to end up famous.”

Visually, the film is a neon-soaked celebration of early ‘80s style. With bright colours, oversized clothing, and a synth-heavy soundtrack, BMX Bandits doesn’t just depict a time period—it embodies it. Its tone is whimsical, occasionally slapstick, and consciously fun. The villains are exaggerated and harmless, serving more as comic foils than true threats. This tonal choice ensures the film remains family-friendly, but it also limits the emotional depth or stakes that might be found in more grounded youth dramas. The setting of Sydney plays an essential role in the film’s aesthetic. Far from the gritty or grim locales often seen in urban crime dramas, BMX Bandits turns the city into a kinetic playground. Shopping malls, harbours, water parks, and suburban streets all become part of an extended chase scene that feels joyful rather than dangerous.

Warning: This film may cause a spontaneous desire to build a ramp and do a back flip off your driveway.

In conclusion, BMX Bandits remains an enjoyable film because it is unapologetically fun. It doesn’t aim for gravitas but rather delivers a fast-paced, visually engaging, and culturally rich experience. It might not challenge viewers intellectually, but it doesn’t need to. It’s a love letter to bike-riding freedom, bright colours, and youthful mischief, a film that invites audiences to hop on and enjoy the ride. And hey, if for nothing else, it’s a great look at how great Kidman was at just fifteen years of age.

S&M Hunter (1986) – Review

Imagine a movie so gleefully absurd, so deeply committed to its bizarre premise, that it transcends good taste and logic to become something strangely mesmerizing. That’s S&M Hunter, a Japanese pinku-exploitation film that blends bondage, comedy, action, and the kind of fever-dream storytelling that only 1980s Japan could deliver.

The plot (because there is one, sort of) kicks off with the Dungeon Master (Yutaka Ikejima) showing prospective client Saeki (Bunmei Tobayama) around The Pleasure Dungeon, and asking such important questions as “Would you like sadism, masochism, costume play, or a scat job?” You know, standard questionnaire stuff. Saeki chooses sadism and is quickly introduced to Maria (Naomi Sugishita), a submissive dressed as a nun, but after a frenzied whipping that leaves the woman unconscious, the Dungeon Master is surprised that Saeki isn’t interested in having sex with her. Turns out the reason he came to this club was because he really hates women, and this seemed like the best place to vent his rage.

 

I guess there are worse therapies out there.

But why does Saeki hate women so much? Well, it turns out that Saeki is gay and a sukeban gang called “The Bombers” had kidnapped his boyfriend Jack (Akira Fukuda) in an attempt to “convert” him to their ways, as in make him like girls. Feeling for the man’s plight, the Dungeon Master offers the services of a mysterious figure known only as S&M Hunter (Shirô Shimomoto), a legendary bondage master who uses his expertise to train women to be slaves in the most… creative ways possible. His mission? To infiltrate the gang’s lair, unleash his erotic justice, and turn the tables using the sacred art of shibari (Japanese rope bondage). Yes, really. Armed with ropes, a confident smirk, and a poetic monologue about the beauty of restraint, our hero enters the fray, setting up a series of absurdly theatrical battles against his depraved foes.

 

It’s the eye patch that really sells his credibility.

Written and directed by Shuji Kataoka, S&M Hunter operates on pure grindhouse energy. It’s part superhero parody, part softcore sleaze, and 100% unhinged. Japanese exploitation cinema, particularly in the 1970s and 80s, saw the rise of pinku films—low-budget, erotically charged movies that often pushed the boundaries of storytelling, aesthetics, and societal taboo. It’s a film that also leans into its absurd humour, with exaggerated sound effects, dramatic zooms, and a script that delivers lines like “Cut one more rope and you will send her to the Ecstasy of Hell” and my personal favourite “All the masochists need me, I’m a charitable sadist.” All said without a hint of irony.

 

Is this the Cult of the Spider-Woman?

The lead performance by Shirô Shimomoto as S&M Hunter is a highlight as he plays the role with a mix of deadly seriousness and campy self-awareness, never breaking character, no matter how ludicrous the situation becomes, turning what should be an utterly laughable character into a weirdly charismatic antihero. His lines are delivered with such conviction that you almost believe this is a legitimate action movie—until you remember he’s defeating his enemies with rope tricks. Then there are the film’s antagonists, a gang of leather-clad, hyper-aggressive women who are cartoonishly evil but also very beautiful. The two key players in the gang are Meg (Hiromi Saotome), a professed man-hater who has a dark history with the S&M Hunter, and the gang’s leader, the imposing Machi (Ayu Kiyokawa), who not only fails to turn Jack into a heterosexual love but falls in love with the S&M Hunter and his rope skills.

 

Let’s just say, this is not a great moment for feminism.

For all its absurdity, S&M Hunter is surprisingly competent; despite being a low-budget production, it features stylish lighting and creative framing, especially during the bondage sequences. Visually, the entry employs many of the stylistic conventions of Japanese exploitation cinema: grainy cinematography, bold colours, and extreme close-ups that exaggerate the emotions of its eccentric characters. However, unlike the grim and often violent tone of some pinku films, S&M Hunter maintains an air of playfulness, never allowing its subject matter to become genuinely disturbing. The action sequences, featuring whips cracking like gunshots and elaborate bondage take-downs, are both hilariously over-the-top and strangely well-choreographed. It’s as if the filmmakers really wanted to make a visually interesting movie… but also had a quota of whips and ropes to meet. And hey, why not throw in some Nazi regalia as well?

 

I give you Japan’s answer to Ilsa: She Wolf of the SS.

It should be noted that while S&M Hunter is unmistakably a pinku film, it departs from the genre’s typical emphasis on lurid titillation. Instead, it embraces a tongue-in-cheek tone, parodying the tropes of exploitation cinema while still indulging in their excesses. Unlike more traditional pinku eiga that often dwell in gritty realism or melodrama, S&M Hunter revels in its own absurdity, making the film as much a comedy as it is an erotic thriller. The action sequences, exaggerated performances, and bizarre dialogue enhance its surreal nature, making it a film that both celebrates and mocks its genre. It is not your conventional love story, to say the least.

 

These people enjoy sunsets in a rather different fashion.

Of course, S&M Hunter is not a movie for the easily offended. It’s an exploitation film through and through, revelling in its own kink-fuelled chaos. The gender politics are… well, let’s just say “of its time,” and the film’s themes will undoubtedly raise eyebrows. The film leans heavily into that element of exploitation, with all the nudity, violence, and dubious consent tropes that come with the territory. And while it has a plot in the loosest sense, S&M Hunter is really just a series of elaborate set pieces connected by sheer willpower and kinky monologues. But as a piece of underground cult cinema, it’s a fascinating watch—equal parts hilarious, shocking, and oddly impressive in its commitment to the bit.

 

This is a movie that has it all, and then some.

In conclusion, if you enjoy films that abandon logic in favour of sheer entertainment, this is for you. Every scene plays out like a fever dream of leather, ropes, and bizarre one-liners. This is the kind of movie that defies conventional ratings, and if you’re looking for a wild, completely off-the-rails Japanese exploitation flick that feels like 1966’s Batman got lost in a seedy Tokyo back alley, S&M Hunter is a must-see. Just be prepared for whips, ropes, and a whole lot of “what did I just watch?” moments.