What to watch at home in July | Little White Lies

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What to watch at home in July

05 Jul 2023

Words by Anton Bitel

Collage of images from classic films: man with bandanna, woman with pensive expression, woman in pink dress, man shouting, man with stern expression.
Collage of images from classic films: man with bandanna, woman with pensive expression, woman in pink dress, man shouting, man with stern expression.
Two Alt­man gems, a killer shark and an assas­sin-for-hire are among the best films hit­ting stream­ing and phys­i­cal media this month.

Anton Bitel pro­vides a look at six titles head­ing to stream­ing and phys­i­cal media releas­es this month that you should add to the top of your shop­ping list.

Two men, one with a tattoo, shouting angrily at each other on a boat.

The Black Demon, dir. Adri­an Grün­berg, 2023

Don’t try to under­stand it,” says Cha­to (Julio Cesar Cedil­lo). Just accept it’s real and alive.” 

The expe­ri­enced local rig­ger is talk­ing to com­pa­ny man Paul (Josh Lucas), who has come, along with his Mex­i­can wife and their two chil­dren, to inspect a creaky, leaky oil rig off the Baja coast, only to dis­cov­er that they are iso­lat­ed and beset by a gigan­tic mega­lodon, with the clock ticking.

This shark is not just The Meg, but also super­nat­u­ral­ly serv­ing the toothy vengeance of the Aztec god Tlāloc, as well as embody­ing the imper­illed ecol­o­gy. For while the selachi­an ser­i­al killer is known local­ly as el demo­nio negro’, oil is the oth­er black demon here, dredg­ing up humanity’s insa­tiably self-destruc­tive cor­rupt­ibil­i­ty – and it is a human who, as one char­ac­ter explic­it­ly states, is the real mon­ster’ (and also pos­si­bly the film’s belat­ed hero).

So Adri­an Grünberg’s sharky schlock brings nature’s revenge against cor­po­rate rapac­i­ty and cap­i­tal­ist dis­dain for the envi­ron­ment. In this upfront alle­go­ry, the out­sized crea­ture is also a Godzil­la-like Big Sym­bol™, and Paul’s per­son­al redemp­tion can come only with ulti­mate sac­ri­fice’, as he over­comes his own super­sti­tion and cyn­i­cism to face the demon just beneath the surface. 

The Black Demon is released on DVD and Blu-ray, 17 July via Sig­na­ture Entertainment

Two individuals, a woman in a red dress and a man in a black coat, standing against a white background.

Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl, dir Kat­suhi­to Ishii, 1999

With films like The Taste of Tea and Funky For­est, film­mak­er Kat­suhi­to Ishii estab­lished a unique style in which a plas­tic world, part real, part imag­ined, is con­jured through mul­ti­me­dia inter­ven­tions and strange CG dis­rup­tions. Yet this did not emerge from a vac­u­um. For ear­li­er works like Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl reveal the strong inspi­ra­tion of Quentin Taran­ti­no on Ishii’s karmic, criss­cross­ing approach to ensem­ble narratives.

Good-natured punk Same­ha­da (Ishii reg­u­lar Tadanobu Asano) is on the run from the yakuza gang he has just robbed. Shy hote­lier Toshiko (Shie Kohi­na­ta) is flee­ing her con­trol­ling, per­vert­ed uncle Michio (Youhachi Shi­ma­da). When Same­ha­da and Toshiko’s sep­a­rate paths of flight vio­lent­ly inter­sect, they form a pecu­liar alliance, with­out quite remem­ber­ing that they have met before. Mean­while, they are pur­sued by a rogues’ gallery of improb­a­bly fash­ion­able gang­sters, and by the child­like, nerdish, mono­browed hit­man Yama­da (Tat­suya Gashuin) hired to recov­er Toshiko.

Full of car­toon­ish, some­times cool char­ac­ters who dis­cuss food or their col­lec­tions of clas­sic enam­el posters as much as the mat­ters at hand, this is a vibrant Taran­ti­no-esque clus­ter­fuck whose fugi­tive unpre­dictabil­i­ty plays out Toshiko’s self-sum­ma­tion: I ran away – I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl is released as part of the lim­it­ed edi­tion 3‑disc 6‑film digi­pack Blu-ray set Kat­suhi­to Ishii Col­lec­tion, 17 July via Third Win­dow Films

Young woman with curly hair and a serious expression, looking out of a car window.

Thieves Like Us, dir. Robert Alt­man, 1974

In 1930s Mis­sis­sip­pi, three con­victs – bank rob­bers Chi­ca­maw (John Schick) and T‑Dub (Bert Rem­sen), and younger mur­der­er Bowie (Kei­th Car­ra­dine) – escape their prison and quick­ly return to crime. As their ini­tial­ly blood­less heists turn vio­lent, and as rob­bery and even mur­der become addic­tions, Bowie is con­flict­ed between two Amer­i­can dreams, and the illu­sion of choice that they rep­re­sent: mak­ing mon­ey fast with the boys, or set­tling down to a respectable fam­i­ly life with his lover Keechie (Shel­ley Duvall).

I should have robbed peo­ple with my brain instead of with a gun,” says T‑Dub, regret­ting his fail­ure when he was younger to fol­low the path of a lawyer or banker. Orphaned, impov­er­ished Bowie nev­er had that option, while Chi­ca­maw is ruled by alco­holism and anger. Accord­ing­ly direc­tor Robert Alt­man, revis­it­ing ter­ri­to­ries already famil­iar from his crit­i­cal­ly acclaimed revi­sion­ist west­ern McCabe & Mrs Miller, here uses the past – this time the Great Depres­sion – as a prism to America’s present, while find­ing warts-and-all sym­pa­thy for the nation’s mar­gin­alised outlaws. 

Adapt­ed from the same Edward Ander­son nov­el that inspired Nicholas Ray’s noir They Live By Night, this uses audi­ble radio dra­mas and news as an iro­nis­ing cho­rus to its inevitably trag­ic events. 

Thieves Like Us is released on Blu-ray, 17 July via Radi­ance

Two men in military-style clothing crouching behind a wooden structure, one holding a gun and looking serious, the other smiling and appearing more relaxed.

O.C. and Stig­gs, dir. Robert Alt­man, 1987

Before Bill and Ted, before Beav­is and Butthead, Robert Alt­man brought us these two tight teenage friends, very much prod­ucts – and dis­rup­tors – of their times. 

Over a long sum­mer in Phoenix, Ari­zona, O.C (Daniel H. Jenk­ins) Stig­gs (Neill Bar­ry) engage in an obses­sive­ly vin­dic­tive cam­paign of esca­lat­ing pranks against Ran­dall Schwab (Paul Doo­ley), the well-heeled if vul­gar insur­ance man whose com­pa­ny has reduced O.C.’s ex-cop grand­fa­ther (Ray Wal­ston) to poverty. 

This is also, of course, a resis­tance, some­times armed, to the pre­vail­ing ide­ol­o­gy, as the two young men (the future!) join forces with those left behind by the Rea­gan era: African-Amer­i­cans (and actu­al Africans), the home­less, Viet­nam vet­er­ans (Den­nis Hop­per repris­es his rôle from Apoc­a­lypse Now), although curi­ous­ly not gays. For these boys, despite their homoso­cial bond­ing, are overt­ly homo­pho­bic – and misog­y­nists to boot. 

Yet even as O.C. and Stig­gs bring down their neigh­bour­hood cap­i­tal­ist, they them­selves end up ben­e­fi­cia­ries of Reaganomics, in an ensem­ble film that uses lay­ers of dialec­tic to expose the con­tra­dic­tions of the age. The prob­lem, though, is that most of its jokes mis­fire. As Michelle (Cyn­thia Nixon) puts it to O.C., I don’t care how fun­ny you think you are, some­times you’re not.”

O.C. and Stig­gs is released on Blu-ray, 17 July via Radi­ance

Close-up of a middle-aged man with glasses, beard, and a serious expression.

The Iron Pre­fect (Il prefet­to di fer­ro) dir. Pasquale Squitieri, 1977

The basic plot of Pasquale Squitieri’s his­toric dra­ma is laid out in the bal­lad which opens it, promis­ing that real-life Pre­fect Cesare Mori, sent to Paler­mo by Mus­soli­ni to elim­i­nate the local Mafia, finds out that he is the unwit­ting ser­vant” of Fas­cist pow­er play. 

An Ital­ian Eliot Ness, Mori (Giu­liano Gem­ma) is upright and incor­rupt­ible, though com­pro­mised by the pre­vail­ing order of his times. A hands-on crime fight­er, he proves all too good at his job, fear­less­ly bring­ing down, one after the oth­er, the crim­i­nal ech­e­lons that have insin­u­at­ed them­selves into every aspect of Sicil­ian soci­ety – until, that is, his inves­ti­ga­tions lead all the way to Mussolini’s own under­lings, and he finds his actions no longer welcome.

So as well as being a tense poliziottesco avant la let­tre, this dis­sects the lim­its of jus­tice in an unjust world – and while it might be set in the sec­ond half of the 1920s, its polit­i­cal and eth­i­cal pre­oc­cu­pa­tions were just as rel­e­vant dur­ing the chaot­ic Years of Lead when the film was made. Here Mori is cer­tain­ly the hero, but there is more than one vil­lain, and the Mafia prove not just the Fas­cists’ ene­mies but their rivals in criminality.

The Iron Pre­fect is released on Blu-ray, 17 July via Radi­ance

A man in a suit and tie, wielding a rifle, stands in a desert landscape against a bright blue sky.

Gol­go 13, dir. Jun­ya Sato, 1973

First appear­ing on the print­ed page in 1968, assas­sin-for-hire Duke Togo, aka Gol­go 13, is the pro­tag­o­nist of a long-run­ning Japan­ese man­ga by Takao Saito, and has crossed media var­i­ous­ly to ani­mé (both fea­ture-length and TV series), video games and radio dra­mas. Ken Takaku­ra plays Gol­go in this, his first live-action out­ing, direct­ed by Jun­ya Sato. 

Women are just lubri­cat­ing oil to your killing machine, aren’t they?” says Cather­ine Mor­ton (Pouri Banayi), assigned to be Golgo’s guide in Tehran and to play the part” of his wife (an arrange­ment pleas­ing her more than him) as this cold, lacon­ic killer hunts down the elu­sive leader (Ahmad Ghadakchi­an) of an inter­na­tion­al crime syn­di­cate that smug­gles guns, drugs and – more recent­ly – abduct­ed women out of Iran.

So with its sex and vio­lence, its chas­es and fights, and its exot­ic’ loca­tions, this is close­ly akin to a James Bond film – although view­ers may be sur­prised by the way that the desert duels, Chu­ji Kinoshita’s score of horns and jew’s harp and Golgo’s (mul­ti­ple) depar­tures into the sun­set also make this East­ern-look­ing man of mys­tery resem­ble the (anti-)hero of a West­ern. Mean­while, there is plen­ty of tight, taut, car­toon­ish action. 

Gol­go 13 is released on Spe­cial Edi­tion Blu-ray, 17 July via Eure­ka!

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