Taking my first dip into the "Super Sentai" genre, which in layman's terms appears to mean Japanese TV shows where peeps save the world while wearing spandex, superhero costumes, and frequently hop on board a giant robot in order to cobber monsters. Choudenshi Bioman is the kind of hyper, action packed, sugar rush of a TV show (with a fiendishly catchy theme song) that you'll really wish you'd experienced as a kid, rather than arrived to the party more than thirty years too late. I doubt though that 1980s children's TV in Britain would have been ready for a show where the heroes get to say "bastard" or where villainess Farrah Cat is allowed to attack people with the dreaded nunchucks. Considering that the show has five protagonists (Red one, Green two, Blue three, Yellow four and Pink five), one villain (Dr. Man), three deputy villains (Farrah, Mason, Monster), minions of the deputy villains, five 'beastnoid' villains, and the type of camp, comic relief robot that appeared to be mandatory post-Star Wars, it is nothing short of amazing that the first episode manages to whizz through the premise in just under twenty minutes, it is that fast paced. The actor who plays deputy villain Monster has the even cooler real life name 'Strong Kongo', although I think Farrah (not to be confused with Farrah Cat) might well be my favourite of the baddies. My initial reaction to seeing a picture of Farrah- played by the late Yûko Asuka -was “there is no way I can go through life without seeing this show”, closely followed by “could this possibly fill the hole in my life that has been left since I ran out of Spectreman episodes to watch”.
The genre crossed over to the West in the 1990s with Power Rangers and arguably continues to exert its influence on Hollywood, thanks to the Pacific Rim and Transformers movies, but even on lower budgets and with 1980s practical effects, you have to agree that the Japanese managed to pull off this type of crash, bang, wallop with much more panache.
Too much, rather than a little, knowledge is a dangerous thing in The Insurrection, Rene Perez’s multi-purpose conspiracy thriller, siege movie and intended takedown of modern Hollywood. Perez’s films have never been shy when it comes to voicing opinions that go against the grain of Tinseltown. Immediately setting the likes of Death Kiss, Cabal and The Punished apart from standard Hollywood fare, but what has occasionally boiled to the surface in those films, is allowed to fully erupt in The Insurrection. It is a film whose premise- a female CEO with ties to Hollywood and the political elite, effectively marks herself for death by blowing the whistle on their machinations- allows Perez free range to voice his thoughts on the illuminati, abortion, transgenderism, gun control, racism, the dark secrets of Hollywood, social engineering, the #metoo movement and the hidden agenda behind the film Rosemary’s Baby. The Insurrection is a film that will never be accused of having nothing to say. If Perez is something of a 21st century answer to John Milius, then The Insurrection may well be his ‘Red Dawn’, capturing the director at his most outspoken and provocative, and in doing so probably earning himself many powerful enemies in Hollywood as a result. It’s arguably his most personal and heartfelt movie to date, yet it’s also the one perhaps destined to become his ‘lost’ movie. At a time when Perez’s horror film ‘Cry Havoc’ has been generating greater interest and receiving a warmer reception than his movies are usually afforded, The Insurrection has in comparison been ignored and allowed to fly under people’s radar. The Insurrection has by all accounts had a tough time of it distribution wise, with many of Perez’s regular doors of distribution being shut on him with this movie. For evidence of this film being blackballed, blocked, persecuted and suppressed, consider that another recent Perez film ‘Cabal’ currently enjoys a DVD and Blu-Ray release and is available on multiple streaming services like Amazon Prime, FandangoNow, Vimeo, Google plus, Redbox on Demand, Microsoft, Vudu and Apple. On the other hand The Insurrection is currently without any kind of physical media release, and of the streaming services, only Vimeo and Amazon Prime are currently willing to give it a home.
The irony about this situation is that Cabal and The Insurrection share so many of the same themes, concerns and personnel. They were directed by the same man, produced by the same man and share a number of cast members. They even share a great deal of plot- a woman blows the whistle on her bosses, and has to hire a cynical, tough guy to protect her- but take the material in such different directions that their storyline comparisons only become apparent in retrospect. Whereas Cabal’s elegance was with 1980s slasher films and the grindhouse era, The Insurrection is a sombre descendant of Nixon era conspiracy thrillers. They are effectively cinematic twins who have followed very different paths in life. If you’ve ever wanted proof that horror movies are allowed to get away with far more subversive content than regular movies, look no further than the contrasting fates of Cabal and The Insurrection. Cabal sets out to make the same enemies as The Insurrection, takes pot-shots at the same targets, and is equally anti-SJW, anti-woke in its worldview, yet because it is a horror movie, a genre that still isn’t taken seriously in some quarters, has escaped censure and failed to set the alarm bells ringing. The Insurrection... hasn’t been so lucky.
The Insurrection follows a disgraced Sergeant Major (Michael Pare- Streets of Fire, Eddie and the Cruisers, and of late Perez’s Once Upon a Time in Deadwood) as he is released from Shasta County Jail and not exactly welcomed back into society with open arms. Awkward phone calls to his estranged, grown up, son quickly make it clear that any reconciliation there seems unlikely. Trouble also immediately catches up with Pare’s character, when having barely taken a few steps away from the jail, he is hassled by the kooky Dakota (Rebecca Tarabocchia, given a substantially larger role here than in Cabal) who explains that her boss has used her ties to the illuminati to secure his release and pay his bail money. Things go from bad to worse when the Sergeant’s attempt to shake her off attracts the attention of an aggressive, African American guy. Initially appearing to fancy himself as Dakota’s saviour, jumping in and waiving a baseball bat around when the Sergeant roughs her up against a fence, this would be hero quickly reveals himself to be a threat, hurling accusations of racism at both the Sergeant and Dakota, and challenging Pare’s character to a fight. It’s the first, of many, times that The Insurrection steps outside of Hollywood’s comfort zone, with two white characters being irrationally and unjustly called out as bigots (Pare’s character is called a “honkey motherfucker” and “old racist peckerwood”) possibly intended as a dig at the social media era’s over-eagerness to throw around allegations of racism. Since a return to jail is now a likely possibility, the Sergeant’s hand is now forced into meeting Dakota’s boss, Joan Schafer (Wilma Elles) “the liberal queen of outrage” who has previously been moving in opulent Hollywood and Political circles (photos meant to show Schafer with Obama and the Clintons, have curiously had these real-life figures pixelated out in the film itself, although they remain intact in the film’s trailer). Formally a social justice campaigner turned movie executive, Joan now regrets her career decisions, and has decided to make amends by spilling her bosses’ darkest secrets via a series of Q&A sessions, broadcast live on the web. The Sergeant’s role in her plan is to defend her against several waves of attack, as Joan’s bosses try to silence her for good by sending scores of militia to her remote safe house. Stepping up their efforts when Pare’s character proves to be an enemy to be reckoned with.
The Insurrection is a film about whistle blowing that may constitute an act of whistle blowing in itself. Much of Joan’s insider information about the Hollywood system reportedly being borne out of Perez’s own experiences at the fringes of Hollywood. Among the more explosive allegations made by the protagonist of The Insurrection, and by association its director, are that the #metoo and #timesup movements were conjured up by Hollywood in order to deflect attention away from powerful paedophiles within the movie industry, resulting in a few heterosexual sexual predators being thrown under the bus in order to save them. That left-leaning corporations have been buying up the rights to old movie franchises -which have traditionally been aimed at males- in order to demonize masculinity and espouse feminist ideology instead. The Insurrection also accuses Hollywood of hypocritically championing women while being indifferent towards the sex trafficking taking place on its own doorstep, with Joan claiming that Tinseltown turns a blind eye to the practice of young, aspiring actresses being lured to fake auditions where they are kidnapped, abused and trafficked in Hollywood. “The Studio executives rely on having fresh vagina being imported daily” according to Joan. Tales so disturbing that they make you wonder if they didn’t help inspire the plots of Perez’s ‘Playing with Dolls’ series. For all the expletives thrown around in The Insurrection, ‘Hollywood’ is by far the dirtiest word in this film.
There is no two ways about it, The Insurrection is a film with plenty to get off its chest, but sincerely and passionately argues all of its talking points without its exposure of Hollywood’s dirty laundry coming across as mere tabloid sensationalism. Since it obviously wants to be taken far more seriously than your average Rene Perez film, The Insurrection is less inclined to go as wild and crazy as his other films of late. It may well be the most character and dialogue driven of his films, perhaps realising that such Straw Dogs/Assault on Precinct 13 type siege movies only really work when you’re emotionally invested in the characters who are under threat. The Sergeant and Joan confirm to the gender roles that have become standard in Perez’s films. The Sarge being the latest in a line of strong, no-nonsense, alpha males who throw themselves into the role of protector to female characters. The type of male character that, if this film is to believed, Hollywood is currently at war with and attempting to eradicate from movies. The Sarge might be burdened with regret and bear the scars of bad life decisions, but he is also an enigma who doesn’t reveal much or show his emotions too easily. To the degree that, like the Bronzi character in Death Kiss, he isn’t even allocated an actual character name. A seemingly deliberate decision, rather than an oversight. Pare’s character does though snag the greatest, macho line of dialogue in the film “no one deserves to die comfortably”.
The Insurrection offers a far greater window into Joan, an obvious mouthpiece for the director, what with the film’s Q&A sessions serving as a way for Perez to vent his spleen over just what’s wrong with the movie industry, and the world in general. Joan Schafer might well be Perez’s most well realised female character to date. A haunted, tragic figure, forever living in the shadow of death, having resigned herself to a violent death early on in the film, who also has to ensure the guilt that her actions are endangering the lives of those closest to her, pseudo-daughter Dakota, and pseudo-father figure Francisco (Joseph Camilleri, another Cabal cast member, who also produced both movies).
Action scenes in this film are as anti-Hollywood as its sentiments, everything feels played as realistic as possible, don’t expect to see civilians pick up guns and magically become firearm experts. When Joan takes up arms, she is hopelessly ineffectual against the professional militia as you’d imagine a real person to actually be in that situation. Shootouts between the Sarge and the militia bad guys are equally a stickler for realism, taking place in a very un-glamorous junkyard, and involving lots of futile gunplay, running about and wasted ammo, while frequently showing the Sarge being brought down by enemy fire and only saved by his bullet proof vest. A world away from the Hollywood approach, which would have dictated that every one of the Sarge’s bullets hits its target, and that the hero be an invulnerable figure. Only once does Perez allow himself to go wildly over the top with the gore, but it’s a doozy, as the Sarge squares off against a kickass sniper, played by Master John Ozuna, another Cabal cast member. A fight whose payoff also allows for a welcome screen comeback of Perez’s ‘severed eyeball’ prop, previously seen in The Obsidian Curse, his adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood and a few other of his movies. The Insurrection doesn’t totally abstain from female nudity either, throwing in a topless scene that is so random it feels like a defiant gesture against the lack of female nudity in current Hollywood movies. Since The Insurrection has broken so many of Hollywood’s rules by this point though, one more doesn’t really seem to matter.
Perez is hardly alone when it comes to being a vocal critic of modern day Hollywood, but he is, as far as I’m aware, the first to use Hollywood’s most valuable tool, movies themselves, as a weapon against it. The Insurrection might simultaneously be his most restrained film (in terms of violence and female nudity) and his most outrageous one (in terms of what it has to say). There’s no masked serial killer running around in this Rene Perez film, but if even a tenth of what Joan Schafer has to say is true, it could also be his most terrifying film as well.
