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.

Submersion of Japan (1973) – Review

 

The disaster boom struck Hollywood hard in the 1970s, with the Airport franchise kicking off, as well as Irwin Allen’s The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno cementing him as the “Master of Disaster,” but Hollywood wasn’t the only producer of such cinematic spectacle. In 1973, Japan threw their hat in the ring with Submersion Japan.

Also known as “Japan Sinks,” this Japanese disaster film was based on the best-selling novel by Sakyo Komatsu and directed by Shiro Moritani. This entry brought us a harrowing and thought-provoking scenario of the gradual sinking of the entire Japanese archipelago due to intense seismic activity and tectonic shifts. The story kicks off with a series of catastrophic geological events that begin to unravel across Japan. A team of scientists, led by Dr. Tadokoro (Keiju Kobayashi), discovers that the tectonic plates beneath Japan are moving in such a way that they will eventually cause the entire nation to sink into the ocean. And who exactly can aid the country in its time of need?

Do these men have The Right Stuff?

Dr. Tadokoro, along with his team, conducts extensive research and studies on tectonic plate movements and seismic activity. They discover that a significant tectonic plate shift is underway, causing Japan to slowly but inexorably sink into the ocean. This shift is irreversible and, according to their calculations, could lead to the complete submersion of Japan within the next two years. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he urgently contacts government officials, including Prime Minister Yamamoto (Tetsuro Tamba). At first, the government is skeptical about the findings and reluctant to cause panic among the population. However, as more earthquakes and tsunamis strike various parts of Japan, causing massive destruction and loss of life, the government is forced to acknowledge the impending disaster.

It’s hard to ignore a country in flames.

Amidst the chaos, a love story unfolds between Onodera Toshio (Hiroshi Fujioka), a submarine pilot involved in the scientific exploration and evacuation efforts, and Reiko Abe (Ayumi Ishida), a young woman whose family has been affected by these disastrous events. It’s these two who will provide this film’s romantic subplot – and what disaster film is worth its salt if it doesn’t have a little romance – but what’s interesting about their relationship is that it’s far from overtly romantic. When Onodera tells Reiko “I don’t know if I love you or not. I also don’t know what marriage is like. You know I’ve never been married, but somehow, I feel I could get along with you,” it’s clear he’s no Don Juan.

Can this kind of love survive a major catastrophe?

Meanwhile, the Japanese population is gripped by fear and uncertainty, and the film portrays the various reactions of people from different walks of life—some refuse to believe the warnings, some descend into chaos, and others face the inevitable with stoic acceptance. As the country grapples with the looming apocalypse, the film delves into various subplots involving ordinary citizens, military personnel, and politicians, each facing the crisis in their unique ways. These personal stories help ground the film, adding emotional weight to the grand-scale disaster unfolding as they realize that evacuating 110 million people isn’t going to be all that easy.

“Is anyone using Greenland?”

Stray Observations:

• Onodera and Reiko are having a passionate “From Here to Eternity” beach love-making when interrupted by a volcanic eruption. Who knew Mother Nature could be such a cock-blocker.
• This isn’t the first disaster movie released from Japan, as I’ve always considered Gojira to be, in most respects, a disaster movie. Wide-scale destruction via a radioactive monster is only one step away from a natural disaster.
• The actor playing Prime Minister Yamamoto’s driver was stuntman Haruo Nakajima who would become best known for playing Godzilla in the original feature film series from 1954 to the early 1970s.
• Roger Corman would buy this movie for New World Pictures and cut it down from 143 minutes to 82 minutes while also stuffing in Lorne Greene as an ambassador at the United Nations.

 

“I blame this disaster on the Cylons.”

For a film made in the early 1970s, the visual effects for Submersion of Japan are a technical marvel. The special effects, supervised by Teruyoshi Nakano, are impressively executed, particularly the scenes depicting massive earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and the sinking of the islands. The practical effects and miniatures used to represent collapsing cities and infrastructure still hold up today, displaying meticulous attention to detail and a genuine effort to create a believable disaster scenario. Clearly, building all those cities for Godzilla to smash paid off.

Even Godzilla, on his best day, never destroyed the entire country.

The film’s cinematography and use of colour also played a crucial role in conveying the scale of the disaster, as the stark contrast between the serene beauty of Japan’s landscapes and the ensuing destruction is visually striking, enhancing the narrative’s emotional impact. The sense of dread and helplessness is further amplified by a haunting score composed by Masaru Sato, which combines traditional Japanese instruments with orchestral arrangements to underscore the film’s tragic and apocalyptic tone. And while Submersion of Japan might be slower-paced compared to more action-oriented disaster films, its focus on character development and the psychological impact of the catastrophe sets it apart. It’s a film that asks its audience to contemplate not just the physical destruction of a nation, but the cultural and emotional devastation that would accompany such a loss.

The triumph of the human spirit.

But beneath its disaster movie exterior, Submersion of Japan is a poignant exploration of human resilience and the lengths to which a nation will go to preserve its people and culture. The film raises thought-provoking questions about the impermanence of human achievements and the unpredictability of nature, themes particularly resonant in a country that has historically faced natural calamities such as earthquakes and tsunamis. The film also touches on geopolitical themes, as Japan’s government faces a moral and ethical dilemma regarding the mass evacuation of its citizens. We are left with such questions as “How does a densely populated nation, with deep cultural roots and limited resources, deal with an existential crisis?”

And can the population survive dodgy rear screen projections?

In conclusion, Submersion of Japan is a thought-provoking and chilling disaster film that remains relevant decades after its release. Its blend of spectacular effects, compelling storytelling, and deep themes makes it a standout film in the genre, and its exploration of humanity’s fragility in the face of overwhelming natural forces is both poignant and terrifying, making it a must-watch for fans of the genre and those interested in Japanese cinema.

Airwolf: The Movie (1984) – Review

The 80s were a golden era of television where every hero had a tragic past, every villain had a ridiculous plan, and every government agency had way too much money to spend on experimental aircraft. Enter Airwolf, the feature-length pilot that launched one of the most gloriously over-the-top TV shows of the decade. This isn’t just a movie; it’s a time capsule of everything that made 80s action great.

Before Airwolf soared onto television screens as one of the coolest action series of the 1980s, it debuted as a TV movie—a high-octane mix of espionage, techno-thriller intrigue, and airborne action. Created by Donald P. Bellisario (Magnum, P.I., Quantum Leap), this 1984 movie introduced the world to a state-of-the-art helicopter with enough firepower to take on an entire army. While it laid the foundation for the series that followed, Airwolf stands as a solid action flick that embraces the best (and cheesiest) aspects of its era. Mysterious loner hero? Check. Advanced super-vehicle? Check. Secret missions? Check. Take Knight Rider, swap the car for a helicopter, and you’ve got Airwolf.

 

This thing doesn’t even need K.I.T.T.

The story kicks off with The Firm, a mysterious intelligence agency that’s so secretive, they don’t even bother with a creative name. They’ve just developed Airwolf, and in typical ‘80s action fashion, the first thing they do is show it off in a flashy test run. But things quickly take a turn for the worse when the helicopter’s creator, Dr. Charles Henry Moffet (David Hemmings), decides he’s not just a scientist—he’s a full-blown, mustache-twirling villain. Needless to say, he turns rogue during the live demonstration of Airwolf’s capabilities, Moffet—who secretly harbours resentment toward The Firm—seizes control of the aircraft, using its weapons to massacre government personnel. He then steals Airwolf, escaping into the desert with the helicopter and a team of loyal operatives. He disappears into the Middle East, planning to sell the helicopter’s capabilities to hostile forces while conducting acts of terror.

 

This is what happens when you hire a mad scientist.

With Airwolf in enemy hands, The Firm’s director, Archangel (Alex Cord), a man who refuses to wear anything but a white suit and an eye patch, along with his beautiful Gabrielle Ademaur (Belinda Bauer) are out sent to recruit Stringfellow Hawke (Jan-Michael Vincent), a reclusive yet highly skilled helicopter pilot and one of the few people capable of handling the aircraft’s unique flight systems, in stealing Airwolf back. While initially reluctant to get involved, as he prefers to live in solitude at his cabin near a remote mountain lake, playing his cherished Stradivarius cello, he will accept the mission if the government will use its vast resources to help find out what happened to his brother who was declared missing in action fourteen years ago.

 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up alive by season four.”

But Stringfellow Hawke can’t do this alone. Enter Dominic Santini (Ernest Borgnine), the happiest, most lovable helicopter pilot/mechanic in the world! If Hawke is the moody antihero, Santini is his complete opposite—a cheerful, wisecracking, loyal old-timer who’s been flying helicopters since before Hawke was born. Using intelligence from The Firm (which mostly consists of vague satellite photos and Archangel making cryptic phone calls), Hawke and Santini track Moffet down to Libya, where the traitorous scientist has teamed up with Muammar Gaddafi and is using Airwolf to shoot down French fighters, blow up a United States destroyer, and just generally be a deranged lunatic.

 

It’s important to dress the part.

Our two heroes manage to sneak into Gaddafi’s desert compound, where they quickly discover that Gabrielle has been captured and is out being tortured by Moffet – she had replaced a murdered operative in the local nightclub but her undercover work didn’t last too long – and using some good old-fashioned covert ops trickery, Hawke and Santini manages to steal back Airwolf right out from under the noses of the Libyan security forces. 

 

“Pardon me while I whip this out.”

Cue the most insane aerial battle of the 1980s. Hawke takes to the skies in Airwolf, while the entire Libyan military is sent to stop them. What follows is a death-defying, high-speed, missile-filled dogfight over the Libyan desert, complete with barrel rolls, turbo boosts, and some very dramatic intense glaring. Hawke, being the superior pilot, outmanoeuvres the enemy at every turn. After a fierce battle, blowing up numerous helicopters and tanks, he finally gets to end Moffet’s reign of terror as he blasts him to oblivion with Airwolf’s devastating firepower. 

 

The stare of Death.

With Moffet dead and Airwolf recovered, Hawke does what any reasonable hero would do: He refuses to give the helicopter back. Yep, instead of returning Airwolf to The Firm, Hawke flies it to a hidden desert canyon known as the Valley of the Gods and stashes it away, vowing to only use it when he sees fit. The government is obviously not thrilled about this arrangement, but they don’t have a choice, so to obtain access to Airwolf, Archangel offers Hawke protection from other government agencies who might try to recover Airwolf; in return, Hawke and Santini must fly missions of national importance for The Firm.

 

“This is the beginning of a beautiful franchise.”

Stray Observations:

• The movie opens with Airwolf being tested near the famous desert location of Vasquez Rocks, if only we got to see Jan-Michael Vincent versus The Gorn.
• The original Airwolf pilot movie did borrow elements from the film Blue Thunder, particularly the character of the villain, played by Malcolm McDowell who was also British.
• The colour, make and model of the ‘Airwolf’ helicopter was a standard Bell 222 chopper which was black and modified by the attachment of some movie props. Not as cool looking as Blue Thunder but still pretty cool.
• The name of the government agency which developed the Airwolf helicopter was ”The Firm.” Sadly, there is no evidence that Gene Hackman or Tom Cruise worked for this particular firm.
• Hawke’s brooding cello solos – Nothing says “dangerous man with a past” like playing Bach alone in a cabin.
• That Airwolf theme? Pure synthesized perfection. It makes any scene feel like the most epic moment of your life. If you played it while doing laundry, you’d feel like you were saving the world.
• Airwolf can outfly jets, it has radar-cloaking capabilities and air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles. electronic countermeasures to jam enemy systems, reinforced with bulletproof plating and can withstand heavy attacks and probably make you breakfast if you ask nicely. 

 

Airwolf is the helicopter equivalent of a video game cheat code.

Unlike the later television series, the movie version features more brutal action, implied torture, and an overall grim tone. It was later edited for TV, but in its original form, it’s way more intense than you’d expect. This pilot is steeped in Cold War paranoia, betrayal, and even psychological trauma. As a standalone movie, Airwolf is a fun but flawed action flick, best enjoyed as a launchpad for the much-loved TV series. The concept of a super-powered attack helicopter, paired with spy-thriller storytelling, was enough to make it a hit, even if it never quite reaches the heights of more cinematic action fare. Fans of ’80s television and military tech will find plenty to love, but for newcomers, it’s best to watch as a curiosity piece before diving into the show.

 

Can you get 80s synth out of this thing?

On the acting side of things, Jan-Michael Vincent delivers a subdued yet effective performance, portraying Hawke as a man of few words but immense skill and as a leading man he could give Clint Eastwood a run for his money in the brooding department. Then there’s Ernest Borgnine’s Dominic Santini who provides the film with its emotional core. Borgnine, a seasoned actor, brings warmth and humour to the role, balancing out the film’s darker tones and is considered by most to be the heart of the movie. As for the villain, David Hemmings’ portrayal of Dr. Moffet, while somewhat over-the-top, serves its purpose in making him a convincingly sinister antagonist. Hemmings is deliciously slimy as the unhinged, sadistic scientist-turned-terrorist. His scenes, especially his twisted enjoyment of his own destruction, give the movie an extra layer of menace.

 

“If only I had a moustache to twirl.”

The true star of the movie? Airwolf itself. This isn’t just some fancy flying machine—it’s a heavily armed aerial death machine that can outmaneuver fighter jets and obliterate enemy bases. The aerial cinematography is top-notch, with practical stunt work that makes each dogfight feel intense. While the special effects are limited by the constraints of a television budget, the film compensates with tight cinematography and innovative camera angles that enhance the illusion of speed and firepower. The action sequences set a high standard for the series, ensuring that viewers were hooked from the beginning. Moffet’s initial theft and attack on a desert base show off Airwolf’s destructive power in brutal fashion. And when Hawke finally gets into the cockpit for the climactic showdown? It’s pure 80s action gold.

 

Bringing peace to the Middle East.

Beyond its action-packed sequences, Airwolf delves into themes that would remain central to the series. The idea of a powerful weapon being controlled by an independent operator rather than a government body raises moral and ethical questions. Hawke’s distrust of authority, his personal quest to find his brother, and his internal struggles with violence add depth to the show’s premise. These themes helped distinguish Airwolf from other action-oriented series of the time, making it more than just a showcase for explosions and aerial stunts. The pilot does attempt to toss in a little romance, sex sells you know, but even Gabrielle’s beauty has a hard time getting through Hawke’s extreme stoicism. Not that this particular relationship had much of a chance to grow.

 

“Sorry, a relationship would interfere with my brooding time.”

While the Airwolf television series went on to have a legendary run, nothing beats the sheer excitement and cinematic spectacle of this movie. It’s a high-flying, missile-firing, turbo-boosting thrill ride that delivers espionage, explosions, and enough Cold War paranoia to fuel a dozen action movies. It’s grittier and darker than the series that followed, but that works in its favour, making it stand out as more of a cinematic experience rather than just a TV show kickoff. If you love ‘80s action, spy thrillers, or just think helicopters are cool (and really, who doesn’t?), Airwolf is a must-watch.

Hercules (1958) – Review

Before there was Schwarzenegger, before Stallone, there was Steve Reeves, the original cinematic titan who made Greek mythology a muscle-bound spectacle. This isn’t just a sword-and-sandal classic; it’s the film that launched a thousand peplum (Italian muscleman) movies. Directed by Pietro Francisci, this Technicolor epic blends Greek mythology, brawny action, and just enough campy melodrama to make it an enduring cult favourite.

This film was produced in the old-school epic style, with towering pillars, marble temples, and a whole lot of oiled-up dudes in tunics. We meet Hercules (Steve Reeves), the demigod son of Zeus, as he struts into the kingdom of Iolcus, flexing with every step. He’s been summoned to train asshat Prince Iphitus (Mimmo Palmara) in the ways of combat, but let’s be honest, everyone’s too busy gawking at his biceps to pay attention to swordplay. Of course, trouble is brewing because the kingdom is in a bit of a mess. King Pelias (Ivo Garrani) has usurped the throne from his brother, the rightful ruler, and he’s got a problem: his nephew, Jason (Fabrizio Mioni), is the true heir, and a prophecy states that someday a man with one sandal will arrive to reclaim his crown. To make sure that doesn’t happen, Pelias has ordered that anyone filling that description be killed immediately. But as is the case with most prophecy, trying to change the outcome is a lesson in futility.

“What are the odds of Hercules and Jason kicking our assess?”

Of course, this film isn’t all about machismo, revenge and murder – though we do get lots of that – we also have a love story and the key factor in that comes in the form of Princess Iole (Sylva Koscina), the beautiful daughter of King Pelias, who gets a “meet cute” with Hercules as he saves her from a runaway chariot. She’s got the whole “royal damsel” thing down; flowing gowns, dramatic glances, and a tendency to get into trouble, that is, when she’s not pouting about Hercules’ actions. Iole is also important to us, as she provides most of the film’s expository dialogue, not to mention the plot’s important backstory about murder and betrayal, but their romance takes a back seat when Jason finally shows up, missing a sandal and all, and is ready to claim his birthright. Iole does not take this well.

“Sorry, my dear, quests trump love.”

Pelias, being a crafty villain, doesn’t outright refuse Jason his throne. Instead, he sends him on an impossible mission: retrieve the legendary Golden Fleece, a mystical relic said to bestow divine power. Translation? A dangerous quest designed to get Jason out of the picture, permanently. But Jason has an ace up his sleeve: Hercules! Because when you’re up against mythical monsters, treacherous waters, and conniving gods, it helps to have the strongest man in the world backing you up. So begins an epic journey as Hercules, Jason, and a crew of adventurers, including Orpheus (Gino Mattera), who strums a mean lyre, a young Ulysses (Gabriele Antonini), the treacherous Eurysteus (Arturo Dominici) and the rest of the tough-but-lovable Argonauts, set sail on the legendary Argo for adventure, love and danger, but mostly danger and the chance of being marooned.

“I knew we shouldn’t have made Gilligan the first mate.”

This film is loosely based on the legend of Jason and the Argonauts (yes, despite being called Hercules), and the plot follows the titular demigod as he aids Jason in his quest for the Golden Fleece. Needless to say, this narrative takes many liberties with Greek mythology, merging characters and events from different myths to create a more streamlined adventure. Below is a list of a few differences between the myth and what this movie provides.

Hercules’ Labours vs. Jason’s Quest

• In mythology, Hercules (Heracles in Greek) is famous for his Twelve Labours, which include slaying the Nemean Lion and capturing the Erymanthian Boar.
• In the movie, however, Hercules is not focused on these Labours. Instead, he is merged into the story of Jason and the Argonauts, accompanying Jason on his quest for the Golden Fleece—a completely different myth. And though he was a member of the crew in the myth, Hercules was not a central character.

Princess Iole

• In the film, Iole is presented as Hercules’ love interest, with a more romantic and idealized relationship that lacks the tragic elements of the myth.
• In mythology, Iole was the daughter of King Eurytus. Hercules won her in an archery contest, but Eurytus refused to let him marry her. Later, Hercules killed her brother and took her by force.

Hercules’ Personality

• In myth, Hercules is often depicted as violent, short-tempered, and even tragic due to his madness (inflicted by Hera).
• In the movie, Hercules is more of a noble, wise, and romantic hero, which fits the 1950s heroic archetype rather than the complex figure of myth.

The Amazons

• The film includes a detour with the Amazons, where Hercules and Jason encounter Queen Antea and her bevy of beautiful archers.
• In mythology, Hercules’ most famous Amazon-related task was stealing the girdle of Hippolyta, which is unrelated to Jason’s quest.

“Could you introduce me to Wonder Woman?”

Purists may find these alterations frustrating, but the film’s goal was entertainment rather than accuracy. This version blends myths and simplifies Hercules’ character to make him fit a more traditional Hollywood hero mould. It focuses more on Jason’s adventure, whereas real mythology portrays Hercules as a more tragic and independent figure. The film also removes many supernatural elements and divine influences that are central to the original myths. At one point Hercules renounces his divine powers, apparently, so he can find true love or some such nonsense, but he never seems to suffer from turning his back on his demi-god status; he’s still able to kill the Cretan Bull with one punch, and the film focuses more on the friendship between Hercules and Jason, rather than on either hero’s legendary accomplishments.

“Hercules, would you ever murder your family?”

Now, say what you will about this film’s depictions of the Greek myths, there should be no debate that if there was ever a man born to play the Greek demigod, it was Steve Reeves. With his chiselled physique, effortless charisma, and surprisingly good screen presence, Reeves embodies the role with a mix of stoicism and charm. He’s not just flexing his biceps—though there’s plenty of that—he’s also bringing a certain noble confidence to the part. Reeves wasn’t the greatest actor, but he had presence. When he enters a room, you believe he can take on armies single-handedly.

“And that’s the gospel truth.”

Stray Observations:

• The roar of the dragon guarding the Golden Fleece is actually Godzilla’s roar from 1954’s Godzilla.
• Hercules was the original influencer. Everywhere he goes, people are either asking for his help or falling in love with him. He’s basically the ancient world’s most-followed celebrity.
• The movie was originally in Italian and later dubbed into English, leading to some hilariously mismatched lip movements and overly dramatic line readings. It’s all part of the charm!
• As mentioned, Hercules asked for and was granted the removal of his super strength, yet he was able to pull down two building pillars à la Samson.
• Ray Harryhausen would release a Jason and the Argonauts movie a few years later, with greater special effects and a plot properly centred on Jason. Not that it didn’t also play fairly fast and loose with the mythology.

 

This film could have used some of this Harryhausen magic.

It should be noted that for a film made in 1958, Hercules boasts impressive production values, despite not having the technical marvels of legendary animator Ray Harryhausen.  The film was produced in Italy, and its aesthetic aligns more with European historical epics than with American sword-and-sandal films of the era. The chariot chase is thrilling, the battle scenes are well-staged (if a bit stiff), and the larger-than-life moments, like Herc casually ripping a tree out by its roots or wrestling a lion, are pure pulpy fun. The production design, while obviously low-budget, does a solid job of recreating a mythical world, with sprawling sets and elaborate (if sometimes unconvincing) costumes. Filmed in Technicolor and widescreen, the movie captures the grandeur of ancient Greece with sprawling sets, elaborate costumes, and beautifully framed shots.

It helps a lot if your film’s cinematographer is the legendary Mario Bava.

In conclusion, Hercules is not a deep or thought-provoking film, but it’s an incredibly fun one and was responsible for the Sword & Sandal boom. It’s a movie that embraces its own melodrama, leans into the larger-than-life charisma of its leading man, and delivers an entertaining mix of adventure, romance, and exaggerated mythology.