Strategic Command (1997) – Rick Jacobson.

Lethal mercenaries, headed by the menacing Carlos Gruber (Richard Norton) heist a deadly toxin, successfully hijack a 747, transporting the vice-president, and attendant news crew, resulting in marine vet. Dr. Harding (Michael Dudikoff) zooming stealthily to their aid in high-flying actioner Executive Command. The cast is appreciably weighty, alongside the redoubtable Dudikoff, there are commanding performances from the legendary Paul Whitfield, stalwart character actor Michael Cavanaugh, and a triumphantly odious turn from future heavyweight Bryan Cranston. While Strategic Command is a by-the-numbers Gung ho action thriller, it remains a competently brisk endeavour, director Jacobson maintaining these suspenseful airborne hi jinks at an agreeably zesty pace. Strategic Command, like its beleaguered 747 is a perfectly balanced actioner, wherein the heroic force of righteousness (Dudikoff) is aggressively matched by an opposing force of commensurate villainy (Norton), thereby providing incendiary grist for a suitably turbulent climax. As one might expect, heroically handsome Michael Dudikoff is no slouch in the Dudley Do Right Dept., and greatly admired martial arts steam hammer Norton proves chilling as the glacially enigmatic terrorist Carlos Gruber, and I would certainly be remiss if I didn't praise action maestros Eric & David Wurst's rousing score.

 Cross The Line aka Operator. (2015) – Olson Brothers.

Chiselled B-Movie Boss Luke Goss amiably portrays a righteous cop, courageously aided by his grumpily estranged wife (Mischa Barton), their desperate attempts to rescue their kidnapped daughter make Cross The Line a robustly entertaining DTV time killer. It isn't entirely fair to state that if you have seen one Goss DTV shoot 'em up, you've seen 'em all, while he is often cast in pedestrian roles, he remains a likeable, high-energy actor who frequently shines brighter than the film itself. Bolstered by a solid cast, Cross The Line features Mischa Barton, Michael Pare, and burly nemesis Ving Rhames oozes his signature menace. While Mr. Goss has successfully portrayed morally ambivalent characters, I believe his forte is playing gritty good guys, and stoic, straight-shooting cops, providing a credible hero for the Olson Brothers locomotive high-tech action thriller. While the stolid text doesn't offer much in the way of surprises, I credit the directors for maintaining a rigorous pace throughout, and delivering a well-executed, slam-bang jackknifing truck stunt. Energetic, and fun to watch, Cross The Line exceeded my admittedly muted expectations; as an ageing B-action hound, I'm a sucker for some surly Michael Pare action, remaining a capable, ruggedly handsome actor I'm always happy to see cast in a boisterous DTV actioner.

 Giallo in Venice (1979) – Mario Landi.

An amiably foofy haired, voraciously boiled egg-scoffing detective (Jeff Blynne) is initially frustrated by an elusive, exceedingly sadistic maniac in Mario Landi's exquisitely perverse Grindhouse splatter serenade Giallo in Venice. A boggling panorama of full-frontal nudity, an equally generous portion of sex, plus an exhilarating largess of graphic gore, Landi's riotously ribald, gore-drenched Giallo in Venice has something for everyone! If there had been some additional necrophilia, barnyard bacchanalia, and an especially gruesome Aztec fertility rite, it could be considered the greatest exploitation feature ever made! While I wouldn't claim that Landi's scurrilous, and splendidly sleazy slasher is especially edifying for the soul, maestro Berto Pisano's ferociously funky score will do much to elevate your booty's well-being!!! This gorgeously grisly giallo has its detractors, but I remain an unapologetic champion of this deliriously demented, exquisitely exploitative, fearlessly filthy femme slayer! Perhaps, referencing the killer's choice of weapon, some suggest it is little more than a sordid, cut-price giallo, but I believe that it is no mean feat producing a thrilling genre feature that engages both your intellect, and actively stimulates your loins. Experienced on HD, Giallo a Venezia proved revelatory, unashamedly lurid, with voluptuously appealing flesh-tones and livid splashes of crimson gore, this tantalizingly visceral Giallo remains a molto bene sleaze-ball Italian classic.

 Never Let Go (2015) – Howard J. Ford.

New mum Lisa(Angela Dixon) has her recuperative break in scenic Morocco shattered by the abduction of newborn baby Sophie, enduring a whirlwind of rapidly escalating misfortunes, accused of murder, hunted by the police, she finally becomes aware that nefarious agencies are at play hindering her heroic search for the missing child. Never Let Go is a slick, frequently kinetic, altogether credible female-led iteration of the much-imitated Taken, while modestly budgeted, able helmsman Howard J. Ford adroitly delivers an endorphin rush of giddily propulsive forward motion. The performances are solid, bejewelled by its exotic backdrop, with staccato bursts of dynamic action, and featuring a physically commanding presence from a breathlessly locomotive Angela Dixon, who is quite literally one especially bad ass mother! Raising the bar for apocalyptic zombie horror, co-director of acclaimed The Dead and The Dead 2 proves himself to be no slouch when it comes to orchestrating gutsy DTV action, engendering a dizzying urgency to the increasingly desperate plight of our resolute, fleet-footed, specially-skilled martial arts matriarch! While others may not share my conviction, the adrenaline-soaked Never Let Go provides compelling evidence of an anguished mother's primal instinct to protect her infant, no matter how severe the consequences!

 Jory (1972) – Jorge Fons.

'Judge Colt and his jury of six!!!'

This lively, quirkily engaging, coming-of-rage western finds an innocent young man (Robby Benson)forced into vengeful adulthood, following his father's brutal bar-room slaying in Jorge Fon's stirring, sporadically violent, seemingly overlooked 70s gem! Jory remains a lusty, thoroughly enjoyable wild west adventure, with an exceptional cast, and it would be entirely just to claim that many of Jory's finer moments are derived from Robby Benson's bright-eyed, extraordinarily adept performance. Able director Fons excitingly keeps the wheels on his dramatic, tumultuously death-laden mule train moving with alacrity, and gifted character actor John Marley is magnetic as the gruff, yet big-hearted trail boss Roy. As an avid fan of roustabout western action, Jory robustly ticks all the boxes, with compelling drama, rousing action, an enjoyably folksy text, and earthy, likeable characters one can readily sympathize with. In closing, it's interesting to note that Jory's increasingly bloody rite of passage is momentarily sweetened by his tantalizingly brief dalliance with the rancher's angelic daughter Amy, charmingly played by effervescent blonde beauty Linda Purl.

 Cathy's Curse (1977) – Eddy Matalon.

'Go on! You filthy female cow, make us laugh!!!!'

A family move into the father's (Alan Scarfe) ostentatious ancestral abode, his high-anxiety wife (Beverly Murray), still traumatized from a recent tragedy, and their only child, blonde moppet Cathy (Randi Allen), who immediately proceeds to brattishly spook-out all in sundry with her hellaciously skeevey doll in deliciously fromage-laden French Canadian creeper Cathy's Curse. Steeped with such overripe ingredients as these can have a tendency to spoil over time, happily, the lengthy maturation process has galvanized the inherent kitschy kookiness, the crudamentary FX, and mirthsome mock melodrama, making Cathy's Curse an enjoyable, creaky-creepy, supernaturally-inflected soap opera to cherish! There's some especially flavoursome dialogue, delivered over earnestly by over eager actors, providing a splendour of unplanned hilarity! Two of the most endearing characters are shambling dipso gardener Paul, who bares a distractingly uncanny likeness to Fleetwood Mac Drummer, Mick Fleetwood, and a blandly inauthentic medium, her sterile lines delivered with all the dynamism of a congealed omelette, her confrontation with a tweaked grammie Clampett is B-Movie gold! All too few film-makers can resist recycling the water into blood gag, but Cathy's Curse had the chutzpah to up the ante, by queasily throwing in an additional fistful of yucky-sucky leeches!

 Switchblade Sisters aka The Jezebels (1975) – Jack Hill.

'We are the Jezebels!!!!! get in our way, and the very next sound you'll hear will be the shrilling of Hell's Belles!!! We are red hot Switchblade mamas, our kill count is higher than Jeffrey Dahmer's!!! Remember the name, cuz' when we bust outta jail, your total annihilation shall be our very first game!!!!'