Tag Archives: Run Run Shaw

Ai Nu the Most Beautiful Woman to Capture the hearts of both Men and Women’s but EVIL Has Other Plans for Her. “Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan” and “Lust for Love of a Chinese Courtesan” reviewed! (Imprint Asia / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Order the #34 and #35 of a “Chinese Courtesan” from Imprint Asia’s Boxset!

Taken against her will while living off the streets, Ai Nu’s kidnappers take her and other snatched girls to the Four Seasons Brothel where the once homeless young girl is greeted by the elegant Chun-yi, the brothel head mistress whose cold and ruthless, but Chun-yi, despite letting Ai Nu be whip beaten and raped by her prestigious paying clients, falls for Ai Nu’s beauty.  The two women form a close, sexual relationship while Chun-yi continues to sell Ai Nu’s body to the wealthiest bidder.  All the while, Ai Nu plans her revenge, slow and steady to get back to those who exploited her.  That’s the harrowing and melodramatic exploitation premise, streaked with reality-defying Kung-Fu, from a Shaw Brothers production and its reenvisioned remake that diverges itself from the original story with additional elements that influence what type of revenge Ai Nu is plotting and provides alternate emotional context to the principal characters. 

“The Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan” and “Lust for Love of a Chinese Courtesan” are the 1972 original and the 1984 remake violent martial arts and brothel underbelly love, rape-revenge narratives brought together by Via Vision’s Imprint Asia sublabel.  These films pushed the moral fiber envelope with prostitution decadence, scandalous lesbian themes, and sexual violence displayed on Hong Kong’s cinematic screen.  “Haunted Tales’” Yuen Chor, credited as Chu Yuan, helmed the Kang-Chin Chiu (“Finger of Doom”) script of “The Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan” with Chor returning over a decade later to sit back in the director’s seal for the remake, “Lust for Love of a Chinese Courtesan” in which he wrote the script that keeps most of the core similarities that mildly varies yet significantly differs the emotive motivations that affect the finale and character outcomes.  Both films are a production of Shaw Brothers with Runme Shaw producing “Intimate Confessions” and Mona Fong, wife of Runme’s brother Run Run Shaw, produced the “Lust for Love” sequel of the “Chinese Courtesan.” 

Power, under an affluential and admired ruling thumb backed by the wielding of Kung-fu arrogance, is what Chun-yi of “Intimate Confessions” embodied and, eventually, is what blinded her to her undoing.  In her debut role, Betty Pei Ti creates an unforgettable impression that cements Chun-yi as a fierce and fixated force being a corruptor of young women and a criminal kingpin with her deadly mitts in just about every provincial authority and lawmaking body.  The “Police Woman” and “Succubare” actress seizes one-half control of the story with her beauty, acting command, and dynamic and complicated relationship with on screen actress Lily Ho as Ai Nu, a homeless young woman with equally fierce fight in her but not backed by any kind of authority or station.  Ho, a veteran actress with stardom success as the titular character from Chih-Hung Kuei and Akinori Matsuo’s female fatale picture “The Lady Professional” the year prior, brings a vulnerable ferocity to Ai Nu.  Like a scared cat back into a corner, Lily Ho claws the character through a no-win-scenario of survival in a tough role that involves multiple men thrusting themselves onto her but like a switch, Ho’s able to turn off Ai Nu from being an erratic rebel to save her life to actually saving her life by calmly weaponizing love.  Kuan-Chen Hu portrays the Ai Nu character a little bit different in the 1982 version.  Not as feisty and more brittle, Hu’s uno card reversal on the brothel mistress turns into a ménage à trois of greed in it’s underlaying of revenge.  Chun-yi, too, has varying traits to the “Intimate Confessions” counterpart as On-On Yu (“Black Magic with Buddha”) gives the brothel mistress, who goes by Lady Chun, a softer harshness when it comes to delicate and delegating dastardly business and personal affairs.  Lady Chun also doesn’t have a martial arts bone in her body unlike Betty Pei Ti’s fighters-of-death Chun-yi who is a more of a typical well-rounded, boss-level antagonist, but what Lady Chun does come with more is contextual backstory, a woman who rose from power but sees much of herself in Ai Nu and makes promises of reciprocal care with fellow orphan and childhood friend, and skillful hired sword assassin, Hsiao Yeh (Kuo-Chu Chang, “Killer Rose”).  On-On Yu’s version can be cruel but be cruel while exacting a tender heart to her fixation on Ai Nu, adding a deeper and different complexion to what we’ve seen Chor produce before more than decade before.  The cast of each film round out with kidnapping scoundrels, crooked officials, and one lone decent constable within a supporting cast that includes Yueh Hua, Lin Tung, Wen-Chung Ku, Fan Mei-Sheng, Chung-Shan Wan, Shen Chan, Alex Man, Miao Ching, and Kuo Hua Chang.

Watching the two films back-to-back can throw one for a loop as the remake is not a carbon copy of the original, but there is a lingering familiarity that can’t be shook as it hooks itself to “Intimate Confessions’” key plot and forcibly exclaims its remake existence.  Like many things that have a sense of duality, there are also stark and contrasting differences between them.  If personally favoring sadist measures, rougher sexual confiscating, and a confident villainous vixen, the original “Intimate Confessions” will be more to your like.  If personally favoring a slow-and-steady wins the race melodrama, brewed and stewed in romance and storytelling, with more wuxia fighting and swordplay, the “Lust for Love” checks the boxes.  Compositionally, Chor’s vivid backlighting through a hazer fog with different spectrum colors is evident in both films but “Intimate Confessions” has profound designed objects and background combinations that work with the choreography that tells the mood of the story:  the windy and hazy night of Ai Nu and the good natured constables first meet that tells of a foreboding fate, the the bright and joyous revelry of exciting patrons of on the verge of copulating with exploited, kidnapped young women, or the darker streaked toned of betrayal and death in the finale showdown between principal players.  “Lust for Love” also has a tone about it that’s more in tune with the melodrama with expensive looking sets accompanied by a delicate palette of gold, white, and softer reds and yellows.  Plenty of third act loving making from the love triangle showcase told through a sequence of surrealism and teeing up fantasy desires heightened by the glisten outdoor tub water sloshing side-to-side in their passion, on the dewy moss the half-naked roll in, and in the gold rimmed adorned bedrooms where lesbianic lovers flirt.  Chor first ventures the rough rape-revenge thriller only to chuck the indelicacies of the original film and replace with swirling succulence of sex and self-indulgence, a contrasting brilliance formed and reshaped only a dozen years apart.

Imprint Asia knows all about courtesans, or at least about the Yuen Chor courtesans, in “Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan” and “Lust for Love of a Chinese Courtesan” with a new 2-disc Blu-ray boxset from Australia.  The 1080p high-definition transfers are pulled from the original 35mm negatives and are AVC encoded onto a BD50s and presented in their original aspect rations of 2.40:1 (“Intimate Confessions”) and 2.35:1 (“Lust for Love”), compressed by spherical anamorphic, widescreen lens with the noticeable curvature in the image.  Both presentations offer an ideal image experience with neither damage showing signs of damage or age, palpable textiles of the silk-spun and cotton blend garbs that sheen as expected and absorb a gratifying amount of reflected light within its respective fabric.  Grain appears light yet organic with skin tones and textures with an organic display, unlike in the Shaw-Shock Volume 2 set where skin coloring appeared orange in quite a few scenes.  The spherical lends offers depth despite its slightly warped edging as if looking in a corner convex mirror.  The audio formats include a Mandarin LPCM 2.0 Mono mix with burned-in English subtitles.  There’s also a Cantonese language option of the same spec but the English subtitles are optional.  Subtitles synchronization is on point with the ADR track that’s retains a clear and discernable dialogue albeit the gurgling quality of recording interference present through. The over exaggerated transcript on top of its equal over exaggerated performances, especially with the googly-eyed and giddy older village officials looking to score handsomely with the courtesans, is present in every inch of a less-than-seductive prostitution rendezvous.  Soundtracks boast a melodramatic and action pack score with an extremely westernized design only fiddling slightly with traditional Chinese melodies and with Fu-Liang Chou adding some harsh guitar during the spicier segments of Ai Nu’s lesbian grooming.  Chin-Young Shing and Chen-Hou Su provide a more classic and harmonically sound for “Lust for Love” to exact more passion and heart and less depravity.  Special features or “Intimate Confessions” include a new audio commentary by author Stefan Hammond and Asian film expert Arne Venema, a new informational and highlight discussion from film historian Paul Fonoroff, an archived featurette directed by Frederic Ambroisine Intimate Confessions of 3 Shaw Girls takes the female perspective and review from journalistic critics and actresses including one actress for the films, an archived interview featurette with critic and scholar Dr. Sze Man Hung, critic Kwan King-Chung, and filmmaker Clarence Fok, and rounds out with the original theatrical trailer and DVD trailer.  “Lust for Love,” in comparison, is more barebones in bonus content with an audio commentary by film historian Samm Deighan and the DVD trailer.  The physical presentation is similar to Shaw-Shock Volume 2 but just a slightly be slimmer with a jagged tooth topped, rigid slip box with a line split down the middle of the front cover depicting illustrations of characters for each film in either a contrasting blue or pink background.  The backside has a compilation of melded together pictures from both films.  Inside, two clear case Amaray, complete with their own original one sheet as cover arts with a reverse side having pulled a scene from their respective film, sit snug inside the slip box.  The boxset has a total run of 3 hours and 6 minutes, is not rated, and is region free.

Last Rites: Yuen Chor’s dichotomy of the two films is an odd and rare accomplishment of the filmmaker’s re-envisioning of his own work but “Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan” and “Lust for Love of a Chinese Courtesan” have idiosyncratic merit despite the same underlining premise and now it’s showcased in a brilliant boxset from Imprint Asia for you to decide Ai Nu’s revenge and motivations in the fray of brothel captivity.

Order the #34 and #35 of a “Chinese Courtesan” from Imprint Asia’s Boxset!

A Prince’s EVIL Plan to Gain the Throne Meets High-Flying, Kung Fu Rebel Resistance. “The Lady Assassin” reviewed! (88 Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

“The Lady Assassin” LE Blu-ray Now Available!

Emperor Ching’s health is rapidly declining and before his death, he challenges his 14 princes to find the best candidate to rule of his kingdom.  Ultimately, the 4th and 14th princes are vying for the throne but embark on different moral paths that set them starkly apart.  Fourth Prince Yung Cheng will lower himself to any ignoble scheme worth gaining him the throne while the 14th Prince, who might be weaker in strength, would be a better, more compassionate, ruler for the people.  When Yung Cheng plots an assassination against the 14th Prince, his plans are foiled by the prince’s skilled bodyguard Tsang Jing, the greedy Prince takes an alternate route to the throne by conning Han loyalists, who feel the Manchu clans have treated them unfairly by abusively restricting their power and fortune, into a plot to steal the Emperor’s royal decree of announcing the new Emperor and forging his name into the document.  By this very deception, Yung Cheng is announced Emperor and turns his back on the Han loyalists who joined forces with Tsang Jing and Han rebel Si Nang to end his dishonest rule over both the Hans and the Manchus.

The eclectic Shaw Brothers produced fantastical fights, high-flying stunts, and a story interweaved with deception, death, and melodramatics in the immersive period of dynastical China with the film “The Lady Assassin.”   Filmed in Hong Kong, the film is written-and-directed by acclaimed action filmmaker Chin-Ku Lu at the height of his career.  “The Black Dragon” and “Holy Virgin vs. The Evil Dead” director delivers a deluging epic of sensationalized kung fu interspersed with a usurping back-and-forth story of cutthroat politics and deceit and the minority that attempts to dethrone villainy with punitive justice, the only kind of justice ancient China knew to dish.  Mong Fong (“Killer Constable,” “The Mad Monk”) produced the feature with Run Run Shaw serving as executive producer.

One would think the title being “The Lady Assassin” would focus on a solo female kung-fu killer aimed to strike ruthlessly in a clandestine caper, but most of the story’s principal shoulders have an equal share burden amongst a deep protagonist cast of characters.  Leanne Liu plays the titular assassin Si Niang, a Han rebel whose father (Ku Feng, “Erotic Ghost Story,” “Vengeance of a Snowgirl”) is head dissident number one against the Manchu leaders, and the “Bastard Swordsman” and “Hong Kong Playboys” actress doesn’t become introduced into the story until about midway through as much of the Prince-on-Prince, good-vs-evil, tale is spearheaded by those vying throne-seekers with much emphasis on their guards, assassins, and the skilled in Kung Fu company they keep.  Tony Liu (“Fists of Fury”) and Mok Siu-Chung (“Nightmare Zone”) are respectively the evil scheming 4th Prince and the good-natured but weaker 14th Prince seeking the throne of their dying Emporor father (Ching Miao, “The Devil’s Mirror”) and the two give into their roles very efficiently, delineating a clear line where they stand in the grand scheme of the plot with the 4th Prince proactively trying to destroy any chance others may have at the throne with the 4th keeps in the shadows and avoids conflict; the latter heavily emphasized by a lot of do-nothing from the 4th Prince’s character.  A great deal of the first two acts relies heavily on Tsang Jing’s honorable service to the people who showed him kindness.  “Zu Warriors from the Magic Mountain” actor Norman Chui imposes impeccable fighting ability and timing but is strangely engrossed by his character’s life to serve those who he owes and we’re not talking a purse debt or for saving his life but rather a loyalty aspect for kindness, morality, and justice that contrasts against Min Geng Yiu, played by Jason Pai Piao, who initially is introduced as an upstanding citizen fighting against unethical behavior until his hypocrisy lands him greedily in the arms of a deceiving 4th Prince, twisting You to accomplish his bidding while he always subverts his lord with his own deceptive plans of power.  Backstabbings and desperate mesasures, along with stellar, high-flying, hand-to-hand and sword fighting, zip “The Lady Assassin” into another level of martial arts mania with a rounded out cast of Cheung King-Yu, Yeung Jing-Jing, Yuen Tak, Kwan Fung, Sun Chien, and Johnny Wang Lung-wei. 

Kung Fu films, especially in the 1970s through well into the 1990s, are a dime a dozen so what makes Chin-Ku Lu ‘s “The Lady Assassin” different from the rest?  One area to note is fight and stunt choreography that smooths the edges around the other contemporaries slower, less theatrical, routines with vigorous and diverse long sequences containing large quantities of combatants.  Usually, most fight sequences are limited to 1-on-1, 2-on-2, and maybe 3-on-3 or 3 or 4-on1 at most, but hordes of swords, staffs, and topographical anomalous landscapes, constructed on a stage of course, are seamlessly dynamic and meritoriously fast paced and thrilling, produced by the stunt work team of Yak Yuen, Kin-Kwan Poon, and Yung Chung.  The other area to note, and one that goes hand-in-hand with the stunt choreography in order for it to work, is Shao Kuang Liu’s editing, taking footage and just going to town with a series of cut and tapes and still coherently fashioning a continuous fight and flight, complete with pulley wires, despite its rapid strikes that might have some accelerated motion of the film.  What’s inherently captivating for “The Lady Assassin” can also be a tiring visual as the fights flare up brief plot points in between, the fights can feel a bit long in the tooth come the third act; however, the final showdown, a last ditch effort between the last of the Han rebels versus the 14th Print and his crazy-faced, hired gun Japanese martial artist levels up the violence that halves fighters horizontal and vertical.  The story’s an effort to keep up with as the continuous double crossing and changes of heart nearly blend together and too many assumed interpretations toward the fate of characters off screen can work the thinker double time, compounding the ambiguous clarifications profoundly. 

88 Films continues to restore-to-rejuvenize the Shaw Brothers extensive catalogue of Hong Kong produced eclectic films with the UK company’s latest high-definition scan of “The Lady Assassin” from the original negative and release the 45th title on a part of their 88 Asia line  Cleanly saturated and rich in beautiful coloring, the AVC encoded, 1080p, BD50, presented in the original widescreen aspect ratio 2.35:1, is a marvel to watch. The original print has been kept well-preserved with barely a flaw to note albeit a less than a handful rough tape cut or damage framed moments that are so insignificant that if you blink, you’ll miss them.  The vivid and vibrant mise-en-scene is a convergence of stark contrasts and itemized delineation that creates space and depth while also visually stunning, even with what I like to call peacock fighting, or showing off fighting.  Of course, there’s also tiger fighting, praying mantis fighting, etc.  The gain is naturally pleasing without being too thick or smoothed over.  Skin tones and gleams are natural and absolute with a sense of popping right off the screen.  The Cantonese 2.0 mono is post-production ADR but syncs well with not an egregious division between mouth movements and dialogue.  Dialogue is overall clean and clean with faint hissing here and there.  Chopsocky audio layers have clean hand and foot, leg and arm whacks and full-bodied swish and swing of sword and glaive swipes.  There’s not lucrative range with much else, specifically the ambient environment as all the audio design is done in post, with a few only a handful of moments, such as Tsang and Si Nang fishing or a few interiors fights implementing room objects require foley.  The soundscape is epically charged but not terribly memorable and there are quite a few fights that go without a score to provide the action effects more prominence.  The newly translated English subtitles are errorfree, do sync well, and keeps with the pace.  Special features include an interview with Kin-Kwan Poon conducted by Fred Ambroisine From Child Actor to Fight Coordinator as well as the film’s trailer and gallery stills. 88 Films’ houses the Blu-ray in a limited-edition glint of golden cardboard slipcover of new art featuring the titular assassin. The same image is primary Amaray cover art with the original poster art on the reverse side. In the insert, a thick, dual-sided folded poster of both cover illustrations rounds out the tangible elements. The Blu-ray is encoded with A and B region playback, is unrated, and has a runtime of 86 minutes.

Last Rites: A spectacle of soaring Kung Fu with a spruced-up restoration that makes “The Lady Assassin” that much deadlier in all its dynasty melodrama and game of thrones strife. One of the best Shaw Brothers offerings from the early 1980s!

“The Lady Assassin” LE Blu-ray Now Available!

Disguise as the Dead to Defeat EVIL! “The Shadow Boxing” reviewed! (88 Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Corpse Herding Isn’t Easy in “The Shadow Boxing.” Purchase Your Copy Here!

Corpse herder Fan Chun-Yuen has studied Master Chen for years, learning the ritual incantations and mastering the nuances of getting the dead home to their loved ones for proper burial.  What should have been a routine corpse herding goes astray when the last arrival of a corpse, a bald man, seemingly has issues following the simple incantations and master Chen’s leg is broken during a misunderstanding over gambling winnings at one of their resting pitstops.  Being left with no choice, Fan Chun-Yuen must herd the rest of the hopping corpses, publicly feared as hopping vampires, to their terminus with the aid of aspiring corpse herder and an undeterred woman Ah-Fei.  At the same time, criminal overlord Zhou, a casino owner, and a corrupt military leader are in search of a moral sub-lieutenant who can foil their plans and who has seemingly evaded all military checkpoints in route to Zhou, leaving the corpse herding understudies in the middle of a danger. 

The jiāngshī, or hopping vampire, is the Chinese version of the living dead, whether be a vampire, zombie, or a ghost in the country’s folklore.  In Chia-Liang Liu’s 1979 comedy-actioner “The Shadow Boxing,” the horror element of the jiāngshī is reduced to no more than a few false scares on the Chinese cultural collectiveness of superstitious fears.  Originally known as “Mao shan jiang shi quan” and also known as “The Spiritual Boxer II,” the film is considered a quasi-sequel to also Liu’s 1975 “The Spiritual Boxer” but only in association to the director and one of the principal actors and not a direct, character-connecting sequel by any other means.  The late “Human Lanterns” and “Demon of the Lute” writer Kuang Ni pens the script with Kung-fu comedy in mind amongst seedy corruption aimed to thwart tradition and principles, shot in Hong Kong by Celestial Entertainment on the Shaw Brothers studio lot, and produced by younger Shaw brother, Run Run or Shao Renleng. 

The actor who carries over from “The Spiritual Boxer” is “Dirty Ho” star Yue Wong in the role of corpse herding apprentice with a bad memory, Fan Chun-Yuen.  Wong’s character is a likeable learner who has the skills to be great at his vocation but lacks the confidence without being tethered to his master, played as drunkard and obsessive gambler by Chia-Liang’s brother, Chia-Young Liu, a longtime stunt man (“Once Upon A Time in China,” “The Savage Killers”) and actor (“The Return of the One Armed Swordsman,” “Five Fingers of Death”).  Fan Chun-Yuen tries to keep his sifu on a straighten arrow and focus on the task on hand and Wong and Chia-Liang invest that dynamic wholeheartedly while maintaining their sense of strength outside military force and criminal brutality to be masters under the flags of good and just.  Between them, a level of trust and reliance is displayed through their fighting casino goons and military soldiers where Wong needs his master to shout commands of the vampire style due to his bad memory.  There’s almost zero context on why that is but adds a melted layer of slip-in, slip-out comedy to make it unusually entertaining.  An understudy of the understudy and borderline love interest comes from Cecilia Wong (“The Hunter, the Butterfly and the Crocodile”) as Ah-Fei, a friend of Fan Chun Yuen who doesn’t want an arranged marriage but has an underscoring coyness with Fan Chun but their misadventures delivering the beloved bodies to grieving relatives proves to be difficult and much of their shenanigans to try and make their “mastery” believable in order to deliver the goods gets in the way of that amorous connection.  Also in the way are the corruptive forces hellbent to track down Chang Chieh (another Liu brother in Gordon Liu, “Kill Bill”) before he foils their transgressions, coinciding with performances from Lung Chan, Han Chiang, Wu-liang Chang, and Norman Chu.

“The Shadow Boxing” finely blends the chop-socky action with mystical folklore and comedy that’s not overly slapstick or buffoonery.  A serious layer runs through the middle of story and while the line chart fluctuates between peaks of let-loose Wing Chun and then violent sway the other direction with fleeting spikes of death and ghoulish shades, there’s never a tiresome tone of stagnating acts as Kuang Ni’s script develops and progresses upon the micro and macro dynamics of good versus evil characters, especially how Ni slyly introduces audiences to the last and bald corpse and it’s diverging acts of not exactly following incantational direction, in a mistakenly, humorous way.  The off feeling is there of baldie being of some importance but not until more third-party clues come to light halfway through the runtime and it’s by then the lightbulb begins to flutter and anticipatory wait for exposure begins.  If looking at “The Shadow Boxing” on a more comprehensive scale in the martial arts genre, the pace of fighting emulates too much on the lines of choreography counting.  Slow and herky-jerky, there’s not a smooth transition of moves in either of the individualized faceoffs or in the group skirmishes that doesn’t reflect well upon the stunt department as martial arts is the centerpiece of the action.  Every other aspect of creating tension and levity with the action works perfectly only to be lopsided by the sudden starts, stops, starts of checklist kick and punches. 

88 Films’ North American label lands the new high-definition release of “The Shadow Boxing” with an AVC encoded, 1080p, BD50.  The transfer is processed from the original negative and presented in the original Cinemascope aspect ratio of a 2.35:1.  The anamorphic lens used compresses the image, creating a spherical or rounded out sides on tighter shots, a known issue for the lenses of those times.  The 35mm negative has won the test of time with a near spotless print that 88 Films sharpens the color palette and defines the broader details with texture lacing, decoding the image at an average of 33Mbps.  There are times the details appear too texturally chiseled with the Shaw Brothers’ set backgrounds exposed as obviously painted backdrops, see the final showdown fight.  A single audio, uncompressed output of a LPCM Mandarin 2.0 mono is offered on the release.  The track comprises enough overlapping range of effects to sturdy the sound design almost as if it was an innate recording.  The instilled post effects have the traditional Chinese martial arts flare of whacks and thunks but added with greatly synchronous care whereas the dialogue, though clean and present at the front, has the expected timing issues with an intensity level that doesn’t quite match at times.  English subtitles are optionally available.  Surprisingly, this is one of the few 88 Films releases without special features other than the original trailer.  Instead, the label elevates the physical release with a limited-edition stunning monochromatic and illustrated cover art by Mark Bell with subtle tactile elements on the cardboard O-slipcover.  The same image is showcased as the primary clear Amaray cover art but with slightly more color added to it while the reverse sleeve features the original Hong Kong poster art.  The LE also comes with 4 collectable artcards, though they’re more still image cards than art.  The not rated, 101-minute runtime 88 Films release is encoded for only two of the three regions with an A and B playback.

Last Rites: Hong Kong cinema has been fast, loose, and either furiously funny or folklorically fist over hard-hitting fist and Chia-Liang Liu’s “The Shadow Boxing” takes into account both now on a format pedestal with a new Blu-ray release from 88 Films!

Corpse Herding Isn’t Easy in “The Shadow Boxing.” Purchase Your Copy Here!