From: Analyzing the symbols in the cave

I tried lightening and increasing the contrast on some frames to see if that helped clarify things.
It doesn't, at least not much.

I love symbols, and From has a bevy. Not only do Victor and Miranda paint up a storm of pictures, the evil creatures paint their narratives in their caves. At least, Victor assumes it was the monsters who painted them. 

Some of the pictograms are easy to decipher, others... not so much.

This is my take on what they might depict.

Let's take it as a given that the tableau goes from left to right. 

The far left side of the mural, showing the river. Has this been supplanted by the the road?

At far left, we see a river with three boats carrying 2-3 people each (8 in total). There is forest on either side of the river, and 3 large conical objects that might be stones, all in white. They may reference the red stone circle (prior to it becoming red). Below this is a large red structure that looks a little like an Inukshuk, but has rays going from either side of the top: this is the lighthouse. 

At the right end of the river is a massive tree, taller than any of the others, and in black, rather than white; possibly the tree the children poured their hopes into, for all the good it did them. Above are two red curves cupping an empty centre, matched at bottom by two similar curves, but this pair is ringed by trees. Possibly cave entrances/exits. Could be Faraway Tree exits, too, but then, why would one have trees around it, but not have a tree motif incorporated around the curves?

The boats (canoes?) are the only mode of locomotion depicted in the entire tableau, which suggests this was the original way to enter the Hell Bubble. The river has since been replaced by the road we know so well.

At the end of season 3, it groes cold and snows, after decades of warm, stable weather. That there is a landlocked lighthouse, and no longer any river (or sea) nearby, suggests that the changing of the weather might extend to the geography itself. The buildings may be replaced, and new buildings may appear. 

We already know this is a curated space (Tabitha was let go to snag Victor's dad and bring him back, Boyd was brought in to organize the survivors, the priest to give them hope, animals appeared out of the forest to provide sustenance, etc), and the geography has changed before, so why not again?

I don't think the monsters painted the mural. This was painted long before the 1950s, likely back in the days of fur traders and Courier de bois. The drawings look more like tribal pictograms than what an educated person from the 20th century would scribble. 

That raises the question: are the monsters the originals, or new iterations? If they were created centuries ago, is their Fifties garb an affectation? Do they 'reskin' themselves to unsettle more modern inhabitants of the town? 

The circle with three roots, the iconic symbol Jade sees in his dreams, and that Miranda paints, is next. Beneath it are 7 white rectangular sacrificial slabs, one for each of the seven children. Below the slabs are 2 figures slightly to the left, and 8 figures to the right. Note there are also 2 more figures in the upper left, just above the circle symbol, which are easy to miss. They may represent the archetypes Miranda and Christopher, in their 'original; past life, fleeing from the sacrifice. They may also be the two below who are to the left, perhaps suggesting they were trying to undermine the sacrifice. 

There are 8 white figures in the canoes, and 10 figures beneath the circle (albeit 2 are slightly separated from the 8). The number of figures varies across the tableau, so it's hard to say if this has any significance. 

Next we have, at bottom, a tree, out of which fly four crows or ravens; beside it, towering over everything, is the Big Bad: a crude, menacing shape that seems to have 4 legs and two stubby arms. It's blood red and outlined in black. This is the demonic being to which the children were sacrificed. Did it also create the pocket universe? Or was it trapped here by another power? Not sure. But the pocket universe could be akin to a spider's web, designed to trap prey, so the Big Bad can feed off their fear and pain. 

To the upper right of the Big Bad is a black square, out of which fly 11 white birds. Not sure if the colour use here is significant or not. 11 does not match the number of any of the previous figure sets. These are likely the crows that appear at the fallen tree on the entrance road.

Below the box are two figures, holding hands. They are off on their own here. Likely MIranda and Christopher ancestors, continuing their flight. 

To the right of the Big Bad: crops, red figures, and infinity

To the right of them is a forest at top, with a white house, and beneath it rows of crops, surrounded by red figures, some of which appear to hold spears. These could be aboriginals, or they could be red because they are the monsters. There are 14 figures in total. Why are they surrounding the crops? Are they farming, or are they raiding? Not sure. The white house could be one of the abandoned houses by the second food source, the one with the freaky warding heads on sticks. But there are 3 houses there, not one. So I am not sure. 

I think the mural was painted long before the modern town was plunked down, like decorations in a fishtank. This seems to represent the original tragedy, which occurred hundreds of years ago. The big problem with this reading is the garb of the monsters: if they are immortal, you'd think they'd be wearing pioneer garb, but they aren't. If the Big Bad grants immortality to people who sacrifice to him, what happened to the earlier generations of monsters, the ones from centuries ago? Did they make a different compact? And yet, it is explicitly stated that the children were sacrificed so their parents could live forever, so the monsters are the original sinners. Their costumes then make no sense, unless they are projections or something. 

In the far upper right are two figures painted in white, holding hands. Again, Miranda and Christopher. Beneath them is an infinity sign with a sidweays line through it surrounded by 'glow' lines. I suspect this represents Miranda and Christopher being tied together as the two sides of infinity, jointly recycling through this ancient trauma/crime. 

The lighting is honestly terrible, and my fidgeting in my phone app hasn't helped much. It's hard to make out detail, and I may have missed things. 

Finally we have the talisman stones (below). It depicts two people overlapping, with what could be a large belly, possibly pregnant. On the left side is dawn, on the right side, sunset. Around them is a ring of trees. The figures protect people in houses/structures from attack, so it could be the spirit of life/birth, or it may just be the merging of Miranda's and Christopher's spirits. Note the monsters twisted pregnancy into birthing Smiley, so it could be a larger thematic element.

From: The New Lost

Yet another Mystery Box in a Bottle show in the same vein as Lost, Dark, 1899, Yellowjackets, and their great grandaddy, the kids show Land of the Lost.

All throw mysteries about like confetti, but not all deliver satisfying answers.

Part of the fun of watching a show like this is trying to put the puzzle pieces together and gain a deeper understanding of what the show is about. Lost famously dropped the ball at the finish line, 1899 got cancelled after one season, while Yellowjackets burned through my goodwill even faster; Dark is the only one that stuck the landing.

Will From?

I have no idea, but it’s a highly addictive, bingeable show: I went through all three seasons over Christmas break. 

It’s about a town from which there is, seemingly, no escape. The road goes in, and as you leave, you find yourself entering again. It’s impossible, a mind bending mystery for both the audience and characters to ponder. 

Yet another Mystery Box in a Bottle show in the same vein as Lost, Dark, 1899, Yellowjackets, and their great grandaddy, Land of the Lost.

Not being able to leave unfortunately is the least of the drafted inhabitants problems: of higher concern are the smiling, easy going fifties archetypes who stroll about town at night, issuing bland platitudes and inquiries… until they get close to you, and then they morph into lamprey mouthed horrors and rip your face off. Okay, okay, they actually leave faces intact, they just disembowel their prey, sometimes after playing with it, like a cat with a mouse. A deep rooted sadism lies behind their cheery demeanour. 

Residents avoid being torn to bits at night by putting a small rune stone (otherwise known as talisman stones) by their door: so long as its hanging, the ‘vampires’ cannot get in. How very convenient! A show about unwashed, smelly, dishevelled, desperate people hiding in dirty bolt holes would be unappealing. The vampires don’t even try to force the windows, even though they have superhuman strength and are practically invulnerable: they shrug off bullets like raindrops. 

The town is presided over by Boyd Stevens, a 30-year army veteran who’s got a lot of experience at managing chaos, having set up and managed bases in the world’s worst trouble spots. Boyd sets the place in order: he’s the one who finds the stones that allow people to live in the houses, rather than trying to hide in random nooks and crannies, with nothing but hope and crossed fingers to protect them. 

So as insane as the circumstances of the town when the show starts, it’s a step up from what it’d been. We enter the story 96 days after the last ‘incident’ (ie. horrible death), with two vehicles: one carrying a tech founder, Jade, and his minion, and the other a camper van carrying the Matthews clan: Jim, Tabitha, Julie (16?) and Ethan (6?). They almost crash into each other, naturally: this show thrives on drama and danger as well as mystery. 

Victor knows this best: he's been in town since he was 8, when his mom and sister, and all the other residents, got butchered in the streets. Victor, now middle aged, is really weird. Go figure.

The Town

The town is very small: one main street, with a church, several houses, a diner, a motel sign beside an empty swimming pool (other than the crashed truck in it), a gas station, a post office that serves as a police station, and a barn without a farm house. It’s an odd mix of buildings. 

They’re augmented by Colony House, up on a hill outside town, and a small high school that serves as a hospital. Season 2 adds an automated lighthouse and ruins that revert to a building when entered by Boyd or Julie. Season 3 introduces 3 abandoned long cabins further out, surrounded by spooky wards.

The church is the oldest looking structure in town, possibly hundreds of years old, going by the look of it, probably the same era as the abandoned log cabins. The diner and post office look the most modern; the decrepit gas station is maybe 1930s. Colony House looks like turn of the century architecture, while the high school is probably from the 50’s or 60’s. 

The town can be viewed on Google maps, but it’s not quite the same as the in universe one. You can see a model of town differs from the real world, eliminating roads and adding rugged terrain behind the gas station. Or is the model a giveaway that this is all an experiment presided over by Kenny?

At first I thought this might all be some kind of virtual simulation, like Harsh Realm (oh yeah, spoilers), but season 3 has disabused me of this now quaint notion. The show’s firmly set in the supernatural, which means no logical explanations are necessary. Fantasy can do anything, but that said, it’s far more satisfying when the fantasy world follows rules we can make sense of.

So let’s join Dale and dive into the mystery pool!

SPOILERVILLE AHEAD

What we know:

We learned at the end of season three that the vampires (Yes, I’m going to call the creatures vampires) sacrificed children to a demonic being in exchange for immortality. Like a classic genie, the demon gave them what they asked for, but not quite what they wanted. 

Jade and Tabitha are reincarnations of a married couple that died trying to liberate the children from their purgatory, the last time two cars came in on the same day, some 50 years earlier. I had been betting on Tabitha actually being Eloise, but she has a mom (introduced in season 3, on the phone), and as yet there is no indication she was adopted.

According to Victor, when the seven children laid on the stones to be sacrificed, 'they poured their hopes into the roots above that formed the symbol, and the roots became the (Farway) tree." The Boy in White tells (Christopher) he has to go through the tree, but Christopher wouldn’t listen, that jerk. So Victor tells his mom, and she goes off and gets promptly killed by Smiley the Joker fan. Cue 50 years later, when Tabitha and Jade arrive, reincarnated, to do the whole cycle all over again. 

...yet mysteries still abound: 

1) The number of people in town seems larger than the number of houses available. Is there another street somewhere? Doesn’t seem to be. The extras seem to change from show to show, too. This may simply be an issue with sloppy or difficult production issues.

2) Boyd and Kenny both carry badges, but there was originally no police station in town: it was post office. So where did they get the badges? Where did they get their guns? Where did they find the keys to the buildings?

3) Why is there a motel sign without a motel? Were the buildings pulled at random?

4) Why don’t the creatures set fires and burn the town residents out of their homes? One good fire would take down the rickety wooden Colony House. There’s no fire department. The creatures are clever and will lay traps. They seem to understand technology. They also seem somewhat robotic, like they are running on limited scripts, which limit their initiative. They could smash the greenhouse, kill all the animals, burn the crops, but they don't. Do they need the humans as a food source? They went 96 days without any fresh meat, though, so it doesn't seem to be a sustenance issue. So why do they kill people? Shits and giggles? Are they simply sadistic? They live such incredibly empty, barren lives, wandering around town tapping on windows and making banal comments, trying to lure people outside so they can eat them. What a seriously crappy immortality. 

5) All the vampires wear 1950’s and 1960’s themed clothing: milkman, cheerleader, librarian, nurse, mechanic, sixties twiggy, cowboy, jock. Yet there’s no postman in the set, no diner cooks, no waitresses, farmers, priests, high school teachers, or police officers. There’s no medical building in town, yet there's a nurse. So… are the town buildings a mish mash lifted from different eras and plopped down together in a pocket universe? Did the post office workers not go along with the immortality thing? Did the nurse work out of town? Would it have been common to commute in rural mid-century America? Why don’t the buildings match the vampires roles? Do the vamps have names? One called herself Jasmine. What about the others? Why not label them? How many are there? I have so many questions.

6) Father Khatri arrived first. He gave the few desperate residents hope. Boyd came next: he provides order and some measure of normality. Jade and Jim follow: one a tech guru, the other an engineer, who can empower the residents in all new ways. Were they chosen for that purpose? Is there a deliberate selection process? If so, why did the gods that be get angry when they started to experiment? Or were they chosen by different entities (The Boy in White?), ones at odds with the powers that be? 

7) Speaking of which, who’s the Boy in White? He looks like he walked off a cricket field, and not at all like a child who escaped being sacrificed. Is he a good spirit in opposition to Yellow Suit?

8) The old white guy in the cheap yellow suit seems to be the dark power behind the whole place, and he’s as worn and rough as the boy in white is clean and sparkly. Yellow Suit looks like he just stumbled out of a dive bar after a week long drinking binge, with an attitude born of a hangover from hell. This bodes well for next season: they’ll very likely toss out a few crumbs relating to his nature, now that he’s appeared in the flesh. Who is he? And more importantly, why is he orchestrating all of this? It seems like a lot of work for someone who can't be bothered to have his suit cleaned. Just saying.

9) Jade had a vision of an angry Civil War soldier, along with a bunch of dismembered troops hanging from a tree in bits. He also saw an early English colonist (circa 1660) nailed to a tree, and, later, drinking blood out of a skull, because that's just what you do when you're an apparition. This area has been messed up for a long, long time. 

10) What was lurking around the log cabins at night? It wasn’t the vampires, so what? Mystery goats? Giant spiders? Ghosts? Production staff? Fans exploring the site? Moose? There are a lot of moose in Nova Scotia.

11) What’s with the spiders? Boyd goes through a forest wrapped in webs trying to reach the lighthouse, rather like on Guam, which is overrun with the eight legs. 

12) What the heck is with the whole music box subplot, and the ballerina? That has to be the whackiest, random thing in the show so far. It was more goofy than spooky. And why did it bring 3 new people into the not-ruin, and subject them to yelling? 

13) Who the hell is Martin the Marine, the guy tied up in the ancient ruin (in its intact state, which can only be accessed by collapsing screaming and having an epileptic fit, apparently). What’s with his magic worm infested blood that kills creatures and births cicadas? 

14) Why is Randall the only one to keep seeing the cicadas? 

15) Who's maintaining the magic lighthouse, and why was there a toy ambulance on the stairway along with playing cards? Is it because that's what will bring Tabitha back to From in the following season? It's a portent, right? Why does getting pushed out of the lighthouse teleport you to a park in Maine, even though it's clearly Nova Scotia?

16) Why is the place shifting to winter from fall so suddenly, after being stuck in summer for 50 years? It wasn't winter outside Fromville... is it now winter there? Is this going to be more of a giveaway that something's not right, when newcomers arrive and find themselves switching from summer to winter, all of a sudden? Mind you, instantaneous temperature shifts can be very hazardous to one's health...

17) Why do the lamps and telephones have no wires, just wire wrappings? Why do these empty tubes go straight down into the earth, to the caves inhabited by the monsters? Why are the electrical outlets useless?

18) They have running water... where do the pipes go? Are the stoves and ovens electrical or gas?

19) What do they do for soap? Shampoo? Toothpaste? Cleaning dishes? Laundry? Why are there no laundry lines outside, or drying clothes inside?

20) Why doesn't every house have a garden? 

21) Animals simply appeared in the woods, a few cows and a bunch of goats, but where did they come from? There are only 2 cows, which is not sufficient as a breeding population, and it's been 50 plus years since the massacre of the town when Victor was a child. Those would be some very old cows, inbred younguns, or out-of-towners. It's like the place is being stocked occasionally, like pouring food into a fish tank. Something introduced the animals. Who? Or what? And why? Are they trying to establish some kind of (semi) functional equilibrium between the vampires and the towns people? 

22) Why are some people seeing ghosts of dead characters? Khatri and the bartender, for example?

The whole thing with the music and the bottle trees, into which the children poured their hopes, is pretty… bonkers. Jade worked out the tune from the notes in the bottles, then played the music on Victor's violin, which summoned both the children and the Man in Yellow. So.. the bottle tree mystery is kind of sort of solved, but I don’t feel particularly satisfied. Maybe an apertif would help? If this is the kind of answer we can expect for the rest of the show’s mysteries, I’ll be nonplussed. 

That said, I have enjoyed the acting, the mysteries, and the drama so far, so maybe this is all about the journey, and not the destination. 

From: The Drinking Game

Every time someone says to another character, 'it's not your fault' or 'everyone's just doing their best', take a swig. You'll be drunk in no time.

Triple review: The Founder, Worth, and Irena’s Vow

All three are based on a true story, are well made, and worth a watch... if you’re in the right mood. 

Let’s tackle The Founder first: it starts out as a Happy Commercial for McDonald’s, then careens into oncoming traffic, crashes into a ditch, and explodes, leaving black skid marks all over the road in its wake.

The film follows the story of down-on-his-luck (ain’t they all?) salesman Ray Kroc who's selling milkshake mixers in the idealized 1950’s. Or trying to. His travels often leave him eating in his car at roadside diners and burger joints, where the service is slow and the food equally meh. 

Then, a ray of light: McDonalds calls and orders 8 of his milkshake mixers. Impossible! No one orders eight mixers. Kroc immediately sets off to see with his own eyes the magical restaurant that needs 8 mixers. When he gets there, Ray's stunned: no one comes out to his car to take his order. He has to get out (innovation!) and go up to the window on foot. Remember, this is revolutionary stuff: the 1950's were practically the Stone Age. Kroc orders and BAM his food is right there. I mean, BOOM: Food. Instantly. No delay. And what's more, no plates. No dishes. No cutlery.

Ray’s baffled by awesomeness. 

This is the Temple Mount of American Fast Food. It couldn’t be more revelatory if crepuscular rays streaked out from between parting clouds and bathed Ray in light.

From there everything goes downhill spiritually as it goes up financially. Ray, it turns out, is not the paragon of entrepreneurial virtue we might have thought. Indeed, Ray’s an avaricious dick, the kind of guy who thinks Monopoly is a guide and not a warning. 

The rest, as they say, is spoilers. 

Worth also stars Michael Keaton, this time behind a Brooklyn accent and pair of spectacles. He plays a by-the-book star lawyer who takes on, pro bono, the seemingly thankless task of working out compensation for the victims of 9/11. 

It's even more gnarly than you think.

This is the guy who has divvy out money to grieving relatives according to a financial compensation formula. Putting a dollar amount on someone’s life, anyones life, is problematic enough, but when the amounts are less for some than for others, people get... irked. Spouses of formerly high flying execs (sorry) get far more than the building janitors. 

And there are all sorts of legal issues around same sex couples. 

The whole thing is a nasty business, a moral and legal landmine that Keaton’s character cheerfully steps on. The rest of the picture is essentially about him trying to get off that landmine.

It’s a morbidly fascinating look behind the curtain of the legal aftermath of 9/11. Thankfully, there is a ‘happy’ ending of sorts (circumstances permitting: no one is coming back from the dead here).

Irena’s Vow follows a young Polish nurse from 1939 to 1945, as she tries to survive the horrific Nazi occupation. She’s initially fortunate in getting work as a server at a restaurant for Nazi officers. She’s then hired to be the housekeeper of a German Major’s house. Thanks to her job, she learns what the Nazis have planned for the jewish ‘tailors’ who had been working in the basement of the restaurant, and decides to intercede: she offers them a place to hide… in the Major’s house.

Talk about hiding under the nose of the enemy. 

Sounds outlandish, right? Something a fiction writer would cook up. And to be honest, I kind of balked at it... but the film is actually based on a true story. Truth, as they say, is stranger than fiction. 

This is one gutsy lady.

Irena’s played by Québecois actress Sophie Nélisse, and she’s absolutely riveting. Her performance carries the movie. The only real criticism I have of her character is that she’s, well, pretty much flawless. And the real woman the film is based on may very well have been: she did save a dozen lives at great personal risk. But with our jaded modern mindset, throwing in a character flaw might have made her a little more relatable.

This is a low budget film, but it knows its limits, and never oversteps. Everything looks right for the period. There are a few staging choices that seem a little on the nose, and one awkward scene is even more awkward thanks to the direction and dialogue, but otherwise this is a solid film. 

I started watching it on Netflix, just to see if it was a decent movie or a low budget Canadian throwaway. I only intended to watch a few minutes, but half the movie went by before I even realized it. 

There are plenty of mega budget films (*cough* Multiverse of Madness *cough*) that can’t say the same. 

The Founder is the tale of an avaricious, driven anti-hero, while Worth is about a man who transcends his own limitations to become a better person. Irena’s Vow is about a paragon of virtue who risks her life for the sake of others, because it's the right thing to do. 

As people, they couldn’t be more different. 

Guess which one our extrinsic centred society rewarded most.

Go on, guess.

All I can say is, in a world overrun with wannabe Ray Krocs, I am grateful for the Irenas.

Everyone's a critic

Normally, people just say to ignore the critics. That's what professionals do, after all. And many people out there are unbothered by criticism and blithely dismiss it. 

Life would certainly be easier if that was so easy. I don't think they're wrong, but I do sometimes wonder just how intense the criticism they have faced has been. 

Creatives working on major franchises, and especially (as one friend put it) 'nerd franchises', are prone to especially intense, detailed, and vociferous criticism. I don't think that's really much different than what is faced by sports team coaches and players, though. 

They have to get a thick skin, ASAP. 

Professional level athletes and particularly coaches are known for being pugnacious, tough and ornery. It's not a field for shrinking violets.

The creative arts, however, is a little more introspective and idiosyncratic. Good writers aren't always like Hemmingway, and massive waves of criticism can wear their creative energies away.

Such seems to have been the case with Stephen Moffat, the showrunner of Doctor Who. Doctor Who, for those of you not in the know, is one of the biggest shows on the BBC, a nerdy cultural juggernaut that specializes in terrifying children and driving them for safety behind the couch. 

You don't get to that position without having some serious credentials and creative chops. 

And yet, Moffat has said (according to Doctor Who News & Update on Facebook, and on FlickLuster):

"The amount of hate you get could down three passenger jets. I mean, seriously, it doesn't stop... I was vilified endlessly. I was labelled a 'homophobe', a 'misandrist', 'misanthrope', 'sexist', a 'misogynist' and 'racist'. I was against so many people, I could only be described as an 'omni-bigot', because I was treating everyone equally."

When Moffat chose Chris Chibnall as his successor, he joked with him "how would you like me to ruin your life?" Fully aware that "absolutely everything you say or do will be wrong."

Yeah. Doesn't sound appealing.

The common public response is: tough, grow a pair. Entirely devoid of empathy. I'm not so sure that's the best answer, as many talented people who might do a fabulous job will simply not want the hassle and headache. And those who do (*cough* Chibnall *cough) won't be the best option. 

You see what I did there? I snuck in some fan snark. Guilty as the next person. 

This is one reason why I have trepidation about criticizing creative work, even the seemingly god-like show runners of the world's largest franchises. 

I get the passion. I really, really do. 

But we could all do with a little more civility and chill.

Is that a Ben & Jerry's flavour?

Collier's epic review of Star Trek: Picard

Back in The Before Time, in The Long Long Ago, Red Letter Media made a set of feature length Mr. Plinkett Reviews of the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy. 

They were incisive, entertaining, and above all, novel. 

Now? Epic reviews are multiplying at an exponential rate. Soon as fresh content comes out, vast swarms of YouTube reviewers descend upon it and tear it to pieces.

It used to be just Siskel & Ebert. Today there are a LOTS of smart, media savvy citizen reviewers. 

One such is Angela Collier, who's made a long (3 hours, 47 minutes) video on Star Trek: Picard, and why she didn't like it, from the perspective of a TNG fan. This one stood out.

I don't intend to review the review (it could be trimmed down a little), that'd be too meta; I'll just say she makes some great points:

I also hate Section 31. It undermines Roddenberry's vision of the future. 

R-ratings aren't just for blood, sex, and gore

James Mangold on making Logan:

"For Mangold, allowing Logan to be R-rated was important, not so much for violent content, but for style: "For me, what was most interesting in getting the studio to okay an R-rating was something entirely different. They suddenly let go of the expectation that this film is going to play for children, and when they let go of that, you are free in a myriad of ways. The scenes can be longer. Ideas being explored in dialogue or otherwise can be more sophisticated. Storytelling pace can be more poetic, and less built like attention-span-deficit theater."

When you put it like that, it becomes obvious why so much cinema is the way it is. 

Retro-review: The Pink Panther Strikes Again

This is 1970s Austin Powers long before Austin Powers: a deranged Inspector Dreyfuss escapes from the mental institution and creates a terrifyingly powerful criminal organization with one goal: to kill Clouseau! 

He doesn't go about it directly, oh no, he decides to use his organization to blackmail the rest of the entire world into killing Clouseau, because that's easier than... actually trying to kill the unkillable Clouseau. 

Peter Sellers is in top form here, and plays the oblivious fool Clouseau with fine understatement, bumbling from one success to another, despite the odds.

He's a one man wrecking machine, and to be honest, I have sympathy for poor old by-the-book Inspector Dreyfuss. He's like Grimes from the Simpsons: a regular joe who does everything right and still winds up trailing far behind a fool (in Grimes' case, Homer Simpson). 

What might kill an ordinary man, or an army, is nothing to Homer or Clouseau. 

Dreyfuss picks an old castle for his lair, which isn't quite as iconic as a volcano, but his disintegration laser is right out of the most absurd James Bond flicks. And Inspector Clouseau's attempts to break inside the fortress are side splitting. 

This flick marked the apex of The Pink Panther series of films. They never again came even close to this, which is a real shame. The Oktoberfest sequences, and toothache climax, are sublimely funny when you're 8. 

I also really liked the guy who played President Gerald Ford: "Who won the game?!?"

Peter Sellers made one more appearance as Clouseau (in Revenge of the Pink Panther) before passing, and while he's still fabulous, the movie just didn't split my sides like Strikes Again did. 

The Boys season 4 review

The show's still got it, but the paint job is wearing thin. 

Franchises are repetitive by their very nature, but work best when the audience isn't constantly being made aware of this. 

I'd tune in to watch the X-Files, for example, with a vague expectation of what I was in for: a spooky occurrence, Mulder and Scully getting dispatched to investigate, Mulder insisting it's aliens while Scully desperately rationalizes, jeopardy followed by our heroes either overcome the foe or escaping by the skin of their teeth, with Mulder largely confirmed in his beliefs... yet still with room for doubt. The same as every week, just different. Swapped in details, same format. 

Same goes for The Boys, although it is far less episodic and more season (and multi-season) story arcs. In season 4, the show cycles through the usual corrupt hero tropes, just with different heroes than previous seasons. 

Nothing moves forward.

Don't get me wrong: I still enjoyed the show, I like the satirical bent of it all, and it's very sharp edged humour at times. The gross out stuff grated a bit, though; they've dived into that sordid pit over and over, and it's kind of getting old. Having said that, it seems to be baked into the DNA of The Boys, and the dungeon of the faux-Batman stuff... I still can't believe they put that on television. 

For all the glorious blood spattered exploded brains and sex act juvenilia, it felt like padding, like they were dragging their feet, and honestly, I think they were, in order to have that cliffhanger finale.

Fortunately, in the last couple episodes of the season, everything speeds up and events cascade. 

NOW things feel like they're moving forward again. I suspect they wanted to save the really bonkers stuff for the final season. 

Kripke was the showrunner on Supernatural and told a well realized story arc that concluded with season five. Then he left, and the show was kept on life support as a Zombie Franchise for 10 more seasons because money. But this bodes well for The Boys: Kripke very likely DOES have an ending in mind, and I expect it to be both disgusting and spectacular.

Which is exactly what you'd expect, and want, for The Boys.  

I have faith!

Delicious in Dungeon is bonkers fun

Delicious in Dungeon is a Japanese Anime based on a Manga (by Ryoko Kui) about a group of Western style Dungeons & Dragons adventurers going down into a dungeon and cooking the monsters. Of course, they do this while trying to rescue a friend who's being slowly digested, after a TPK, in the belly of a Red Dragon.

It's a fantasy adventure comedy cooking show. 

I'm not kidding.

If that style of weird is up your alley, Delicious in Dungeon may be for you!

It's (dryly) very funny, the monsters are clever, and the cooking angle is a hoot. The colourful characters are over the top in a good way. One of them, I suspect, was originally a cat. 

The main group consists of a fighter who's monster cuisine obsessed, a young female wizard-elf, a... gnome? I think? And a dwarf who joins them on the way.

It cuts to a second group of less fortunate adventurers from time to time, and their paths intersect more and more. 

The show doesn't shy away from depicting violence, or blood and guts, or internal organs, or seasoning and grilling. It makes me wonder what basilisk or animated armour tastes like.

The 'Dungeon Master' is a sly lil' elf character who manages the entire place (of course he does!). Thought went into plotting out the dungeon ecology. 

The show plays with D&D tropes like deathless characters: players repeatedly head down into the dungeon, death after death, until they find success. Here, it's not so much a game mechanic as it is an aspect of this dungeon: death is not permanent, thanks to magic and curses and some such. It's a mix of tongue in cheek meta-commentary, contextual humour, and straight up adventure, with some mystery thrown in on the side.

Which is just what I'd expect from a fantasy adventure comedy cooking show.

Wouldn't you?

Furiosa is fantastic

Furiosa is an action-packed, splatterfest roller coaster ride. 

Sure, it rehashes action sequences from earlier entries, such as the climactic attack on the tanker truck in the classic Road Warrior, but it adds turbo powered rocket engines, insane stunt work and mind-blowing virtuoso direction.

This is a sumptuous post-apocalypse wasteland of saturated colours, sweeping vistas, quick cuts and ultra-violence. 

It's gob smacking good, and while it is on the long side (what movie isn't these days?), I was never bored or taken out of the story. The film just keeps pummelling you with bat-shit insane characters, incredible action, and post-apoc concepts, you're too stunned to complain. 

Unlike Fury Road, this isn't just a run on action sequence: we get more world building and background in this outing than we have since... well, Road Warrior. 

Chris Hemsworth is excellent as the appropriately scenery chewing Dementus, an unhinged, megalomaniacal leader of a biker gang horde. He squares off against the more calculating Immorten Joe, his accountant, and the fanatical War Boys. Naturally Furiosa is caught in the middle. 

Cars crash, people are impaled, shot, beheaded, diced and run over, and lots of stuff explodes. 

What's not to like? 

Anya Taylor-Joy is very good as Furiosa. She doesn't have many lines, and her character isn't as flamboyant as Dementus, but she makes what she's given work. She's essentially the new Mad Max: the strong but silent type. In her case, it's more strength of spirit.

I love that in this post-apocalypse there's a grouchy accountant with the nipples on his suit ripped out and a gas mask over his crotch. What the hell? The costume design is over the top fabulous, like a fashion runway got mixed up with post-apocalypse survivors and a down-on-its-luck carnival show. 

Highly recommended. See it in IMAX if you can, it's worth the extra cash. 

Civil War review

I quite enjoyed it. 

Well. 

As much as you can 'enjoy' a such harrowing film. 

It focuses on a group of journalists travelling to interview a third-term President (who has obviously chucking out term limits) before 'The Western Powers' of California and Texas topple him. 

It doesn't go into the causes of the conflict. It doesn't spend a lot of time with the families of the journalists.

It doesn't have to.

It's a road trip through hell, told over a couple of days. It gives, for my money, just enough detail about the characters to keep us engaged. How much would I expect to know a person after a short road trip? These are not simple archetypes spouting glib one-liners. They feel more nuanced.

Could they have discussed more personal things? Talked about their childhoods and their dysfunctional families, their personal politics and values, messy relationship history and favourite TV shows? Sure. But it might also have added bloat to a very pared down screenplay.

The cast is all excellent. There was nothing that took me out of the film, although it slumps a little in the middle act (a common problem with a lot of films) but then barrels to a very kinetic ending. 

The journey in Civil War is the thing: not just the physical one to Washington, D.C, but the personal. The young, aspiring war photographer matures over the course of the film under the wing of a cynical old one. They helpfully have her presentation and wardrobe change over the course of the film, in case we missed the point. 

That worked for me. 

The other half is a bit like Heart of Darkness or Apocalypse Now as they travel through an increasingly bizarre and nightmarish America at war with itself. Here Alex Garland could have gone even further, but then, he may not have wanted to make something as surreal as Apocalypse. 

Meaningless destruction and suffering, whatever the cause(s) of the civil war, is the point. That, in my opinion, is why the causes are not elaborated upon. You could also argue that there are a few so-called 'dog whistles' embedded in the script that give you some hints. 

Ultimately, it's open enough for viewers to read what they want into it. 

To me, the film is a powerful warning of what NOT to do. 

The cost of a second American Civil War would be enormous, and Xi and Putin salivate at the thought of it. Foreign troll farms deliberately try to escalate arguments online and sow division with disinformation and incendiary material, with the ultimate goal of turning Americans against themselves. 

Let's hope America does not fall for it.

Dune II review: epically awesome and awesomely epic

This is one of those rare films that simply must be seen in IMAX.

It's a breathtaking, epic spectacle. 

The art direction alone is worth the price of admission, IMHO.

Visually on par with Lawrence of Arabia and other classics, this is a hyper-serious take on the ttale of a messiah created by a bunch of space nuns, trapped in a neo-feudal nightmare galaxy of murder, intrigue, betrayal and fanaticism. 

If anyone was going to make gigantic mile long sand worms believable, it's Denis Villeneuve. 

Dune II is faster paced and more of a roller coaster than the first installment (which proceeded at a rather stately pace) and it kept me hooked from beginning to end, despite being familiar with the books. 

It's a stunning triumph, a visual feast, and the most impressive film I think I've seen in a very long time. In terms of visual impact, it's up there with the original Star Wars, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Matrix, or The Lord of the Rings. It's a little less emotionally affecting than the modern classic LOTR, but still highly enjoyable, immersive, and easily the visual equal. 

Herbert was concerned with how people can be manipulated to believe collective myths (such as ideologies). Ideologies are enormously powerful, capable of uniting millions of separate individuals into a gestalt organism that can accomplish great, or terrible, things. Nation states, empires, religions, political ideologies are essentially collective organisms, and human history is littered with their deeds. 

Dune I and II effectively convey the wastefulness and paranoia of a feudal universe, where every royal is constantly on guard, wary of assassins, while the masses are little more than cannon fodder. Chaff for the gestalt grinders. 

The Bene Gesserit genetic experiment to create the ultimate human leader is a crucible through which the Atreides, Harkonen and Corrino must pass. These machinations drive the entire plot, and most of the foreground players are merely pawns of it, causing untold bloodshed and suffering while they play their parts. Why exactly are they trying to create this ultimate ruler? I don’t remember the book providing an answer, but it might be to escape the feudal trap. 

Paul is initially sympathetic, but as he grows in power he finds his actions constrained by the role he must play. The film also states flat out that horrible crimes lie in his future, and the death of billions. 

The script is smart and faithfully brings to screen Frank Herbert's sci-fi classic. There are a few on the nose lines, which might have been mandated (it's a complicated scenario Denis Villeneuve has to set up, executives might have insisted on more clarification); the only other quibble I have is that there were some changes to the story, additions and omissions, that I didn't really understand the reason for, and after awhile the sheer weight and scale of the film can feel a little crushing. Everything here is BIG; even door openings are epic. 

The acting is top notch. It's not a character film, it's an epic, and it doesn't delve as much into Paul's inner world (for example) as it might, but you'd need 9 hours to bring all the inner life from the books to film. As it is, you get all the information and character context you need to understand what's going on. 

The music is immersive, powerful and compelling; as usual from Hans Zimmer, it also made me wonder if I came out with hearing damage. 

Denis Villeneuve has crafted an epic sci-fi art film in a class of its own. He has an undeniable eye for scale, like Gareth Edwards, and he merges that with top tier material; the production design here–the ships, the costumes, the sets—are as close to perfect as fallible humanity is likely to get. I can't find anything to criticize. They're unique, unlike anything else in sci-fi. 

I can't recommend this film highly enough. Don't wait for it on streaming, see this in the theatre, in IMAX if possible. Take ear plugs as a precaution, it will be LOUD.

I can't wait for Dune: Messiah. 

Oh yes: the movie is too long. But all movies these days feel too long to me. 

(Sort of) Russian literature review: Day of the Oprichnik & War with Russia: An Urgent Warning

Day of the Oprichnik 

by Vladimir Sorokin

This was sold to me as a kvass soaked satire of Putin's Russia. I can see some parallels, in the mixture of religion and fascism with an Imperial Czarist face. But it's really more of a parody of General Pyotr Nikolayevich Krasnov (ataman of the Don Cossack Host) 1927 utopian novel Behind the Thistle, in which he posits the return of the Czar.

Everything positive that Krasnov posits is revealed as dysfunctional by Sorokin. The infallible, imperious leader is a petty Machiavellian tyrant. The Oporichniks (based on Ivan the Terrible's secret police) are brutal thugs who rape and murder in the name of both Czar and God. They observe religious rituals and trifles while committing horrific crimes with a clean if twisted conscience. They engage in extensive drug use and sodomy that the church would imprison others for. The book is a litany of hypocrisy, of entitled elites exploiting and oppressing the people in the most amoral fashion while marinating in their own self-aggrandizing piety. 

Technology in this nightmare state is skewed and warped to serve the system, with some extreme high tech and the rest... not so much. Only what is of use to the regime, what keeps it in power, is leveraged. 

It's a good dystopian book, but it's an ugly read, despite the poetic leanings of Sorokin. The florid prose is like dressing on roadkill. 

War with Russia: An Urgent Warning from Senior Military Command 

by General Sir Richard Shirreff 

I picked this book up in the wake of all the articles and hand-wringing about a possible Russian attack on the Baltic States after Russia defeats Ukraine. The author, Sir Richard, is a former Deputy Supreme Allied Commander Europe of NATO and showed up on a news video I saw which touched on his book, and its prediction of a Russian invasion of Ukraine (followed by an attack on the Baltics). 

Given the current state of the world, that peaked my interest. The Baltics are NATO members, so Article Five would presumably be invoked should the Russians attack, setting off WWIII. 

Surely an insane scenario, yet one being seriously considered now by people in the know. I wanted to understand why.

War with Russia is filled with more military jargon and acronyms than you can shake a stick at. Yes, the author knows his stuff. No, I did not need to know the calibre and specifications of every weapon. 

This sort of thing is to be expected of a book in the Tom Clancy vein (military gear porn!), with loosely sketched characters, mostly out of central military casting. It does include a variety of political figures, and pointed behind-the-scenes machinations, some of which are no doubt culled from the author's personal experiences. Impractical defense spends, budget cuts, fickle leaders in pursuit of approval ratings, and military decisions driven by photo op opportunity all get a spill of ink. 

The plot unfolds briskly, the action scenes have verisimilitude, and the story is disturbingly believable.

And that's the real point: the narrative trappings are just the sugar coating on the policy paper pill. 

An attack on the Baltic states actually is possible. It is unlikely and would be a huge gamble, but then, Putin looks like more of a poker player, than a chess player, by the day.

Shirreff's posits a lightning strike by Russian combined arms into the Baltics, with paratroopers being dropped in from Narva and supported by armoured columns. The Russian plan is to  present the West with a fait accompli: occupy the Baltics, formally annex them, and declare any attack on Russian territory will result in a nuclear response.

The Baltics are small and their armed forces are tiny; they don't have the ability to stop a determined Russian attack. They can make the occupation unpleasant, but by then it will be too late. 

As the Ukrainians have discovered, it's extremely difficult to root out entrenched Russian troops. The US would not have total air superiority here, unlike in Desert Storm. Invading the Baltics would be enormously costly, and Western European governments might not want to spend lives on a (seemingly) lost cause against a foe that thinks nothing of its own combat casualties.

NATO also requires members unanimously agree to activate Article Five; with Hungary practically a Russian vassal, that's not likely. The larger NATO has gotten, the more unwieldy, slow and bureaucratic it has become. Worse, anything they discuss winds up on Putin's desk within a few hours. 

Putin also ascribes to something called 'Nuclear De-escalation'. The term is not what it seems: if NATO were to launch a major ground attack on the Baltics, or Kaliningrad, Putin would drop a nuke on Warsaw or Berlin. This would so shock Western governments that they would completely back off, and the conflict would turn to negotiated settlement on Russian terms. That's the idea, at any rate. 

Peachy.

Only an inveterate gambler would dare to pull a stunt like this. 

Is Putin that guy?

I'm not sure, and neither it seems are the pundits. Some assert this attack is inevitable, others insist it's delusional nonsense. 

Either way, the doomsday clock is closer to striking than ever before: we're now 90 seconds away, 'at a moment of historic danger'. 

Rather sobering.