Mothers care,
And mothers bear
The heavy weight
Of a child’s welfare.
They guard the gate;
They mind and wait
Until that child
Can negotiate
The world so wild
And be exiled
From all that Mother
Once reconciled.
_________________
MPAA rating: TV-14 (aka PG-13, mainly due to heavy themes; nothing gratuitous)
It’s a good time to be a fan of science fiction, and Netflix has been supplying a steady stream of it, with I Am Mother immediately catching my eye with its trailer. One part dystopian sci-fi, one part psychological thriller, it’s a futuristic chamber piece that keeps the audience guessing as it asks whether humans or robots are the more trustworthy.
The film starts with some unknown catastrophe that prompts a robot called Mother (voiced by Rose Byrne) to activate in an underground facility and begin the development of one of thousands of embryos stored there. We then cut to 38 years later, when a girl only referred to as Daughter (Clara Rugaard) grows into a teenager with Mother as her sole teacher and companion. (And if you recognize a discrepancy between the 38-year time skip and the teenage girl, rest assured that there’s a reason.) Daughter, however, entirely trusts and helps Mother, who has warned her of radiation outside, but the arrival of an injured woman (Hilary Swank) who warns her against her robotic guardian throws everything she’s ever known in doubt.
Those who know dystopian fiction might be able to guess the most likely explanation for what’s going on (though perhaps not all of it), but I Am Mother thrives on its atmospheric uncertainty. Mother seems to be a dutiful, even tender parent to Daughter, yet sci-fi has shown us too many times that advanced robotics are rarely sympathetic to mankind. Similarly, Swank as the unnamed woman knows more of the world and shares a common humanity with Daughter, yet she’s a survivor whose motivations are similarly hazy. There are lies and accusations of lies that can’t be proven, forcing Daughter to choose who has her best interest at heart and letting themes of truth, trust, and motherhood play out as only sci-fi can.
Both Swank and Rugaard are excellent in their roles, while Byrne makes a surprisingly good female HAL, and the effects are every bit as impressive as a big budget Hollywood version of this story might have been. In many ways, it’s a coming-of-age story, one that shatters the Bechdel test while delivering a thriller that may have familiar elements but still delivers on its thought-provoking suspense. There are plenty of Netflix movies that only got there because they wouldn’t make it as a big-screen film, but I Am Mother is not one of them.
(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to take inspiration from some random pages of the dictionary, so I landed in the M’s and tried out a Japanese tanka, which is like an extended haiku.)
Misfortune had made
A mahogany maiden
Misery’s magnet,
But one maternal mercy
Made flagging hope manifest.
__________________
Rating: TV-14
Hallmark and Lifetime seem to be the most prolific producers of made-for-TV films, and I suppose I’ve always been under the impression that they focused more on quantity rather than quality. Surely, a worthy TV film will come from HBO, not Lifetime. Yet that supposition was proved wrong by I’m Somebody’s Child: The Regina Louise Story, a film I wish would get some Emmy or Golden Globe love come awards season.
Set in the 1970s and based on a true memoir, Regina Louise’s story could have ended in obscure tragedy but for the intervention of one woman. A thirteen-year-old black girl (played by Angela Fairley) abandoned by her preoccupied parents, she finds solace at a children’s shelter, where counselor Jeanne Kerr (Ginnifer Goodwin of Zootopia) offers her the love and support she’s always craved but never known. Yet the system separates them by force, partly to preserve Regina’s black identity from a white adoptive mother, and the antisocial girl must depend on what she learned from Miss Kerr to escape a downward spiral.
I’ll go so far as to name I’m Somebody’s Child as one of my new favorite TV movies. It’s a film that will break your heart and warm it in equal measure. I can only imagine how many foster kids are out there dreaming for the kind of bond that Regina forms with Miss Kerr, and, as well-meaning powers that be spoil it, the plot’s turn into One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest territory only highlights how broken the system is, unable to recognize what an individual child really needs and deserves, namely love regardless of color.
Luckily, Regina Louise’s story is not the tragedy it could have been, ultimately redeemed to teary-eyed sweetness. It’s a beautifully acted true story, a testament to the power of adoption and the difference one person can make in the life of their unlikely someone.
Best line: (Miss Kerr) “I’m not the right race, but I am the right mother for her.”
(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for an abecedarian poem, where each line starts with a different letter of the alphabet. I took it one step further and increased the number of syllables with each successive line; the first as one syllable, and the last has twenty-six. I wish I could have made it rhyme more, but it was a fun exercise.)
A
Better
Case of cruel
Death and dream-fueled
Effort you’ll rarely
Find than the flourishing,
God-led western growth from miles
Hence to the hard-fought backyards of
Impatient, heedless Americans.
Joy at the progress through storm and disease;
Key victories that confirmed our destinies
Like blood-sprayed signs pointing home that we only would
Make the effort to clean off once we had arrived there;
New frontiers made bitter with tears as roads were paved with loss;
Once-famed pathfinders and desperadoes yielding their roles to
Pioneers that now populate our history books or else lived
Quietly, blazed their trails, and fed the good earth in anonymity;
Royals and natives losing what they believed was theirs forevermore; and
Stubborn, sweet, semi-sane civilians of fortune and sacrificial service ―
These all made the struggle west what it was and the world what it would one day become.
Underneath the present-day complaints of destructive white expansion or the rosy
Visions of mythical men taming the wild as few Americans today ever could,
We must acknowledge that they were as human as we, as prone to sin and improbable grace,
Experiencing a world unknown, a battle against oceans, forests, mountains, prairies, and selves.
You may judge them as you may someday be judged; they lived for themselves, not for history books or for the
Zealous people who write them. Legends and monsters were once mere humans before hindsight made them less or more.
_____________________
MPAA rating: R (solely for violence)
The Coen brothers certainly know how to make a western. After pulling off the unlikely feat of a worthy remake of True Grit, they brought to life a diverse collection of short stories in this Netflix anthology film (which was apparently meant to be a series at first). Whether it be wagon-training on the Oregon Trail or discussing human nature in a potentially symbolic stagecoach, the Old West has rarely been so mythologized as it is here, painting a broad canvas of cheery gunfights, dark satire, and quiet desperation.
Each of the six tales is unique and presented as installments of a short story collection; they feel authentic in that short story way, and indeed two of the segments are based off stories by Jack London and Stewart Edward White. Tim Blake Nelson is probably the most memorable character as the titular Buster Scruggs, who revels in his gun-slinging superiority while crooning tunes and conversing with the audience. The lightness of this first story is deceiving, though, and the film isn’t afraid to be downright depressing. In fact, of the six yarns, only one has what could be considered a happy ending, but even the film’s sadder moments are punctuated by insightful and poignant themes, such as the selfishness of man or the rugged unfairness of this place called the Old West.
Not all of the stories are equal, of course, the weakest being James Franco’s laconic bank robber tale, which seemed to exist solely for the sake of some last-minute, literal gallows humor. Everyone I’ve read seems to agree that the title of best (as well as longest) belongs to “The Girl Who Got Rattled,” an achingly realistic segment in which Zoe Kazan steps out of her usual roles and proves her skill as an actress.
What I loved most about The Ballad of Buster Scruggs was its script. The dialogue, antiquated, eloquent, and clean, was a joy to listen to, and it’s proof positive that you just don’t need strong profanity for an Oscar-worthy script. (Sadly, its screenplay was only nominated, along with Costume Design and the song “When a Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings.”) Unfortunately, it still earns its R-rating for the sometimes jarring gun violence (Buster Scruggs himself is the worst offender), but it’s still an uncommonly good member of a recently uncommon genre, full of gorgeous cinematography and seasoned thesps in all-too-brief roles, such as Nelson, Franco, Liam Neeson, Tom Waits, Brendan Gleeson, Tyne Daly, and Saul Rubinek. It’s a sign that the western genre is ripe for resurrection and that the Coens are perfect for the job.
Best lines: (Buster Scruggs) “There’s just gotta be a place up ahead where men ain’t low-down and poker’s played fair. If there weren’t, what are all the songs about? I’ll see y’all there. And we can sing together and shake our heads over all the meanness in the used-to-be.”
and
(The Englishman) “You know the story, but people can’t get enough of them, like little children. Because, well, they connect the stories to themselves, I suppose, and we all love hearing about ourselves, so long as the people in the stories are us, but not us. Not us in the end, especially.”
(For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt, we were to write a poem that ends with a question, so I tried to channel the underlying panic in this thriller. On a side note, I’m not really this paranoid in real life, just seen too much Criminal Minds lately. 🙂 )
Don’t you know that dangers lurk where many do not dare to dream,
And folk who look so ordinary prove much darker than they seem?
Don’t you know and don’t you care
That predators are lurking there,
Where no one thinks to be aware
Until they do not have a prayer?
I’ve seen the CSI shows, and I know the nightly news.
There are murders out on Main Street, there are allies who abuse,
There are hedons on the highway, there are fiends among our friends,
And I fear the day when bubbles pop and ignorant bliss ends.
This one may well be the day
When someone snaps and goes astray,
When thin decorum’s stripped away
And black and white are turned to gray.
Is your neighbor one of those with skeletons beneath their floors?
I know they’re out there; you do too, yet never thought to think of yours.
It’s paranoia, some will say,
While hearts of darkness have their way.
Is not the deadly viper’s nest
Where no one would have ever guessed?
_________________________
MPAA rating: PG
I watched Duel strictly out of curiosity to see Steven Spielberg’s very first film as director, even if it was a TV movie at the time. Coming four years before Jaws, Duel served as a practice round for the thrills Spielberg had yet to deliver. It’s apparently considered one of the best TV movies ever, but I think it has weaknesses and mainly serves as evidence of how Spielberg improved as a director.
Dennis Weaver plays David Mann, an ordinary salesman on his way to a business meeting, who drives into the desert and passes a large tractor-trailer. Before long, though, he realizes that this truck’s driver has it in for him, repeatedly antagonizing and threatening his life. It’s a simple premise (reused in other films like Joy Ride) that Spielberg makes the most of, finding new ways to make the truck into an enemy while always keeping the driver anonymous, a faceless and relentless enemy not unlike the shark in Jaws.
However, even 90 minutes seems to be too long for the simplicity of this plot. It certainly has its moments, especially when the truck becomes more actively villainous toward poor Mr. Mann, but I found myself getting bored over time, which is never a good thing for a thriller. There was just too much of the truck looming behind and passing and being passed, while a sweaty Weaver frantically looks over his shoulder at it, sapping the tension through sheer repetition. Plus, the conclusion is left too open-ended, offering no resolution for anything outside of the truck plot.
Even so, for a TV movie, Duel is far better than a lesser director might have made it. Right from the first shot, Spielberg does the unexpected, providing a first-person driving view from the car’s perspective as the credits start. The film overall proves his unique talent but also how much further it grew with time and practice. This ain’t Jurassic Park, but we wouldn’t have Jurassic Park or Jaws or many other such films without it.
Best line: (Mann) “Fill it with Ethel.” (Gas station attendant) “As long as Ethel doesn’t mind.”
The world’s an easy place to hate,
For it hates all too frequently.
And anger tends to escalate
The more it’s met with enmity.
One pain of heart
Can sow and start
A seed of hate
To germinate
And grow until
There’s no goodwill
For world or friend.
They all offend!
Life’s all about
The lashing out,
For no one cares
Or answers prayers;
Of that, they do not have a doubt.
But wait…
And hesitate to hate,
Just long enough to listen clear.
The world itself is quite the weight,
But others bearing it stand near
To show you how to persevere.
___________________
MPAA rating: PG
It might be easy to write off a film that borrows plot elements from other stories as freely as Next Gen does, but this Chinese-American cartoon based on a graphic novel and delivered by Netflix manages to be more than the sum of its parts. Set in a futuristic world where personable robots are a ubiquitous household accessory, young robot-hating loner Mai (Charlyne Yi) becomes unlikely friends with an experimental droid called 7723 (John Krasinski) that might be able to save both her from herself and the world from a robot takeover. That description alone will probably conjure memories of The Iron Giant, Big Hero 6, and I, Robot, and Next Gen wears those similarities on its sleeve. Yet there’s more to appreciate beyond the familiar “boy and his robot” storyline (or “girl and her robot,” in this case).
As I said, Next Gen’s biggest touchstone would have to be Big Hero 6, not only with its big friendly robot mascot but also its urban setting of Asian-Western fusion, with Chinese characters instead of Japanese. But this Netflix film has some intriguing differences as well. One of them is the extent of robot normalization, which goes beyond that of I, Robot. Almost every device in this world is semi-sentient, and while a lot of potential questions surrounding that aren’t even broached, it’s an intriguing setup. Mai’s mother (Constance Wu) is obsessed with her Q-Bot companions and their developer, the Steve Jobs-esque Justin Pin (Jason Sudeikis), and it’s not a coincidence that the robot fascination mirrors the distraction of smartphone use. It’s also worth noting that Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics apparently don’t apply, specifically the one about robots not harming humans, since a group of bullies order their robots to beat up on Mai for them.
Beyond the setting, there are some deeper than normal themes at play as well. Mai is resentful of her father’s abandonment of her and the way her mother uses robots to cope, and when she meets 7723, it’s only his weapons and the destruction they create that catch her interest. She’s quite angry and cynical for a cartoon protagonist, and interestingly, it’s 7723 that has to remind her to not lose her humanity when lashing out at the world. 7723 also has a struggle of his own; he values every minute spent with Mai, yet his memory cache is limited, forcing him to choose which memory files and systems to delete and make room for more. It’s not every cartoon that tackles existential questions reminiscent of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, so Next Gen’s themes are definitely a step above the usual “follow your heart” storyline we’ve seen all too often.
On top of that, it’s a quality production, with fluid animation and some pretty awesome action sequences. One explosive scene in particular is one continuous tracking shot with no cuts. I already love those kinds of scenes in live-action, and, although it probably doesn’t require quite as much effort to pull off, I like that the technique is being used more and more in animation. (I could also cite the opening scene of The Secret Life of Pets or Diamond’s big fight scene in the anime Land of the Lustrous.)
As self-aware as it often is, it’s a shame that Next Gen feels obligated to conform to a few clichés, like the bully inevitably deciding “Hey, sorry I beat you up. Let’s be friends.” Likewise, Mai’s mother is pushed into a “you were right, I was wrong” confession that is so fast, it felt like the screenwriter checking off a plot requirement.
I will also say that Next Gen is probably better for older kids, and not just because of its deeper themes or a sudden death scene. There’s a funny running joke where 7723 can translate the barks of Mai’s excitable dog (Michael Pena), bleeping out his more profane words. I guess it’s on the level of any number of reality shows these days, but I don’t exactly welcome it when a kids’ cartoon features even the mouthing of the F-bomb.
Next Gen isn’t perfect, but it comes closer to Big Hero 6 than I would have thought possible from a Chinese production company I’d never heard of. There’s a lot to love about it and how it addresses moving beyond tragedy and anger while remaining a fun and sweet adventure, and I certainly hope that this and other animation houses outside the mainstream can continue the high quality displayed here.
I’ve had the chance to learn and grow
From where I was ten years ago,
And though time’s neither fast nor slow,
It’s galloped past me even so.
I know,
I know,
I’m not that old.
Not old enough to be consoled
For past regrets and words untold
When still on destiny’s threshold.
Yet worry knows no age or race.
It’s but a trace time can’t erase,
Not even at its breakneck pace.
And such are truths we all must face
As past and future we embrace.
_____________________
Rating: TV-PG (nothing objectionable, just themes best appreciated by adults)
For those who loved Makoto Shinkai’s Your Name, it’s naturally a grueling wait for his next anticipated feature, but in the meantime, CoMix Wave Films, the production studio for Shinkai’s movies, has filled the gap nicely by teaming with the Chinese animation house Haoliners. In place of Shinkai, Flavors of Youth has three different directors, each delivering a dramatic entry for this Netflix anthology film. Surprisingly, the result is a satisfying substitute that boasts both visual beauty and honest emotion in equal measure (as well as a solid English dub).
While the names and settings are clearly Chinese rather than Japanese, Flavors of Youth has all the aesthetic quality of a well-crafted anime film, and while Japanese animation can so often be associated with explosive battles and yelling, this belongs to the more introspective and relatable side of anime. The first of the three short stories revolves around a young man’s memories of the San Xian noodles he ate while growing up, which may seem overly simple, but the true-to-life details and poetic narration by narrator extraordinaire Crispin Freeman (of Haruhi Suzumiya fame) added to its impact. The second film was a bit less engaging for me, focusing on two sisters in the fashion world, but the story ended nicely and didn’t detract from the film overall. The third, though, entitled “Shanghai Love Story,” is especially affecting with its likable characters and sad irony, and any fan of Shinkai is bound to admire it.
While the themes are far from niche, I felt that the individual stories were aimed precisely at people like me, twenty-somethings uncertain about the future and nostalgic for good ol’ days which weren’t all that long ago yet seem to be fading before our eyes. The first story best encapsulated these sentiments and the way that memories and regrets always outlive their source. Cherished businesses close, loved ones die, and modern replacements never quite reach the glory of our recollections and hopes.
Yet unlike some other films I could name (I’m looking at you, 5 Centimeters Per Second), Flavors of Youth doesn’t settle with being depressing and finds hope in the promise that comes with building off those precious memories. This anthology may fall that little bit short of greatness, but those who enjoyed Shinkai’s work, such as The Garden of Words, should not miss it; just don’t expect another Your Name, and certainly nothing supernatural. I feel like I’ve grown fonder of this film since first seeing it, thanks especially to an after-credits scene that barely tied the stories together, and it’s a gratifying sign that Shinkai’s influence is clearly spreading. There are several anime films I’m dying to see this year, especially Maquia and Mirai of the Future, so I’m grateful that Netflix supplied this wistful little film while I wait.
Ideas are born and met with scorn
More often than embraced.
It’s hard to tell what might do well
Or else end up disgraced.
That’s why the rise of one franchise
Can be a wondrous thing
When someone’s pitch can find its niche
And gain a following.
Ideas sow seed while sponsors lead,
But icons call for skill,
For one who spans the dreams of fans
To live and prosper still.
__________________
MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13 for 2 F-words)
I don’t typically watch and review documentaries, but as a lifelong fan of Star Trek, I couldn’t pass up a celebration of Leonard Nimoy and his most iconic role. Funding through Kickstarter, For the Love of Spock is unique in that Nimoy himself was actually involved in its production until his death in 2015, and his son Adam Nimoy not only finished the doco but turned it into a moving retrospective of his father and their rocky relationship.
I love Spock. Who doesn’t love Spock? Whether it’s Nimoy in the original series and films or Zachary Quinto in J.J. Abrams’ reboots, the half-human, half-Vulcan science officer of the Enterprise is a both compelling and surprisingly lovable character, even with his famous emotional reserve. For the Love of Spock dives into the original man behind the ears, from his early acting days to his musical and artistic pursuits to how he and his family reacted to the sudden stardom that Mr. Spock foisted upon them.
Apart from Nimoy and his son, there are a plethora of celebrity interviews that provide commentary of Nimoy’s life, whether the experiences of co-stars like William Shatner and George Takei or the geeky influence he imparted to Neil deGrasse Tyson, Jim Parsons, and J.J. Abrams. It’s a brilliantly edited encapsulation of all that Nimoy and Spock have given popular culture and boasts the emotional resonance of the loss of a legend and some surprising stories of how that legend developed, such as the Jewish origin of Spock’s “Live long and prosper” hand gesture. (You probably can’t see, but I’m doing it right now.) Occasionally, it’s also very funny, as when it recaps Nimoy singing “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins,” which is possibly the biggest what-the-heck moment I’ve seen all year and which I had to include below.
As I said, I don’t often watch documentaries, but I’ve liked the few I’ve seen, with For the Love of Spock up there among the best. I use a simpler “Thumb” system for docos since they’re harder for me to compare to narrative films, but this is undoubtedly worth Two Thumbs Up. Perhaps certain periods aren’t covered in as much detail, like the original films or Nimoy’s first autobiography I Am Not Spock, but Star Trek geeks and semi-geeks alike will find plenty to enjoy.
The world can vex,
Annoy, perplex,
Explicitly and in subtext,
Till one objects
“Life’s too complex!
Just pain in our collective necks.”
Yet when life’s skewed
And comes unglued
And changes unforeseen intrude,
One’s sour mood
And attitude
Can be renewed by gratitude.
___________________
MPAA rating: Not Rated (should be PG-13)
Setting aside the multitude of stand-alone anime films, like those from Studio Ghibli, there are just as many movies based on anime series, which tend to fall into certain categories. There are those that essentially provide a recap for the series, such as the first two films based on Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Then there are those that tie into a series but can stand apart and be enjoyed with or without prior knowledge of the franchise, such as Cowboy Bebop: The Movie. But more often than not, a film designed to follow up the events of a TV series relies on previous knowledge of said series, which is hard to get just right. Sometimes it’s difficult to capture the same magic the show had or the spin-off just falls flat; as much as I loved the time travel story of Steins;Gate, for example, its reasonably good film continuation didn’t feel necessary. (By the way, I highly recommend all these shows I’m namedropping.) Yet if any movie proves that it’s possible to revive a series and deepen everything that came before, it’s The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya.
For those who don’t know, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is a 2006 anime adaptation of a light novel series, which quickly grew in popularity, and its title character is one of the more recognizable anime icons. The main character, though, is Kyon (in the middle above), a high school student who falls into the orbit of the lovely, pushy, and highly capricious Haruhi (with the headband), involuntarily becoming a member of her new fun-seeking club dubbed the SOS Brigade. The other three club members Haruhi recruits turn out to be less-than-normal students and inform Kyon that Haruhi has godlike powers to reshape reality, which she doesn’t and mustn’t know about. Thus, the 2-season series follows their everyday adventures with the robot-like alien observer Yuki Nagato (the girl with purple hair), the time-traveling pushover Mikuru Asahina (girl with orange hair), and the good-natured but mysterious esper/psychic and king of exposition Itsuki Koizumi (the boy on the far left).
All of that information is much easier to digest in the series, which is light-hearted and charming for the most part. Haruhi tends to be obnoxiously bossy, such as exploiting poor Miss Asahina for sex appeal, but her craziness is nicely contrasted by Kyon’s straight man, who always complains and offers some perfectly amusing deadpan commentary. It’s a series that periodically incorporates science fiction into its prosaic high school setting and can be both fantastically complex and aggressively mundane, such as one episode with a four-minute stretch of nothing but Nagato silently reading or the infamous Endless Eight, in which eight consecutive episodes replayed the same events because the characters were stuck in a time loop. (The show gets a lot of heat and accusations of laziness for the Endless Eight, but it’s actually pretty impressive that the animators found eight different ways to present the same events and redrew each one.)
If you’re not sure if all this sounds worth watching, it is, and not just because there’s a murder mystery and a talking cat and a giant alien cricket. It’s not because Melancholy itself is particularly amazing or great, though it is pretty entertaining. It’s because the show allows you to fully enjoy The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, the 2010 movie that supposedly drew plot from season 2 and forced the showrunners to fill time with the Endless Eight. It’s quite a feat that the movie makes the show worth watching, rather than the other way around. I honestly can’t think of another series-based movie that can say the same.
I’ve heard all kinds of praise for Disappearance, with fans naming it their favorite anime movie or claiming it ought to place in iMDB’s Top 250 (it’s currently #42 on iMDB’s animation list). And now that I’ve seen it, I can’t say I disagree. It’s an outstanding piece of animation that surpassed my expectations in every way. As the title indicates, Haruhi suddenly vanishes on December 18 (yes, I waited till today to post this review), the world apparently rewritten so that no one remembers her, except for Kyon, who is understandably perplexed at this inexplicable change. All the supernatural characters seem to be ordinary people now, and Kyon must figure out how to return the world to “normal” and perhaps even question which world is better.
One of the more notable aspects of Disappearance is that it’s 163 minutes long, making it the second longest animated film of all time. It’s basically the equivalent of eight episodes of the series, yet despite its length, I was never bored. It’s hard to explain how unusual that is because the film is by no means action-packed. In contrast to the humor of the series, its tone is slow, serious, and melancholy. Unlike most anime films, there are no sweeping vistas or high-flying adventure; instead, it’s mostly winter cityscapes and interior scenes. How is it then that it held my attention from start to finish?
Well, aside from the fact that I’ve grown very fond of these characters, the plot manages to maintain interest in both the story and characters with some truly incredible pacing. Even with such a long runtime, there’s a lot of plot to cover, and the increased time allows characters’ motivations and the significance of their actions to sink in and add so much to their development. I don’t usually like to watch long movies, but this is one case where its length is carried largely by narrative and dialogue alone, and I’m glad nothing was cut, though I suppose Kyon’s awkward disorientation over his changed life could have been shortened.
Whenever the pace threatens to lag, something significant is revealed and the moving orchestral score kicks in, making for some memorable scenes that feel like momentous turning points (the kind of scenes that would probably end an episode if this were broken up as part of the series). For example, the reappearance of one murderous character who should be dead is filled with the same looming menace as the coming of Jaws. In addition, despite the restraint compared with more fantastical anime, the animation is exceptional and quite detailed, with special attention paid to very expressive faces and the clouds of smoke that are breathed out in the cold Christmastime weather.
As much as I wish I could say to everyone “go watch this movie” with no strings attached, I must admit that the series is a prerequisite for understanding who everyone is. Even though seventeen minutes are spent establishing the status quo before Haruhi’s disappearance, almost every episode of the show is referenced at some point, which is great for those who’ve seen it, less so for those who haven’t. To cut some corners, I’d say you’d only really have to watch the first six episodes of season 1, the first episode of season 2, and the last entry in the Endless Eight. The rest aren’t as necessary, though you may not understand little things like Kyon trying to talk to a cat. I especially loved when time travel entered the equation of the film, and we got to revisit past scenes with a Back to the Future-style altered perspective, again something new viewers could just roll with but nostalgic viewers will understand better.
Despite its potentially burdensome length, The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya is a brilliant conclusion to a good series, transforming the show’s bright charm into subtle emotion and atmosphere. Hyperactive Haruhi herself can be irritating in large doses, so her absence for part of the film actually helps it and allows for some strong development for Kyon and especially Nagato, whose typically robotic face and voice finally get to reveal emotion in this alternate world. I also must point out, as others have before, that the English dub is one of the best out there. As the most significant voice actor, Crispin Freeman as Kyon provides some extensive and superb dialogue, such as an 8-minute soliloquy justifying a fateful decision, one which manages to engender both sympathy for him and regret for how it impacts another character. I’ve seen people refer to this speech as one of the greatest interior monologues of all time and with good reason, as it’s a key validation of his character.
I can usually tell how I feel about an animated film by whether I want to immediately watch it again after it’s over, and yes, all 163 minutes of Disappearance did just that. No, it’s not my new favorite anime film, but to those hesitant to watch a series just to see an overlong movie, I’ll just say you’re missing out.
Best line: (Haruhi, to Kyon about Christmas) “You have to believe in a dream if you want to have one in the first place. If you don’t believe, even the dreams that can come true won’t.”
Sometimes old houses are just empty shells,
Still mourning their past occupier’s farewells,
But sometimes you feel something sinister dwells
In ramshackle relics and haunted hotels.
The dust and mistrust of these dark citadels
We try to ignore, but their menace compels.
Who knows what nightmares and nefarious spells
Can lurk in old homes with their own private hells?
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MPAA rating: PG
Halloween is almost upon us yet again, and since I don’t really celebrate it (except with more candy than usual), I haven’t done much this month in honor of everyone’s favorite scary holiday. However, I think I’ll change that and do what I did last year, four horror reviews in a row leading up to the big day, when I will no doubt contribute to the great November candy shortage of 2017. As with last year (when I reviewed Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, The House That Dripped Blood, Poltergeist, and The Babadook), each of my picks will fit roughly into a different era of horror and will try to buck my wussy aversion to the genre.
First off is the 1979 television adaptation of Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot, something my VC urged me not to see because she recalls it with such terror (probably like me and that clown scene in Poltergeist). I still did, of course, and found it to be quite the credible frightfest, although in a dated way. There are scenes that I could see causing nightmares, but compared with modern horrors like The Babadook, I don’t expect Salem’s Lot to keep me up at night. Still, as far as vampire flicks go, this one hits all the right beats, and I could see how it has influenced the genre since, particularly the glowing eyes and the antler scene in The Lost Boys.
Salem’s Lot is set in Maine and the main character Ben Mears (David Soul) is a writer, which is so unlike Stephen King’s work that I don’t know where to begin! In all seriousness, though, Salem’s Lot is very King-y, from those trademarks of his I mentioned to the idea of a dark evil lurking in a sleepy small town. In fact, it’s very much like It, with Pennywise being replaced by incoming vampires as the protagonists wise up to what’s going on and set out to stop it.
Directed by Tobe Hooper of Poltergeist and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, the three-hour miniseries does a fine job at establishing its large cast of suckable characters: the visiting writer who used to live in Salem’s Lot, the girl who falls for him after one date (Bonnie Bedelia), her doctor father (Ed Flanders), the sinister old man who just bought the local mansion of evil (James Mason), the realtor (Fred Willard), his mistress (Julie Cobb), her jealous husband (George Dzundza), the boy who loves scary stuff (Lance Kerwin), the cemetery keeper (Geoffrey Lewis), and quite a few more besides. It was rather fun playing “Spot the Familiar Face” as I watched, such as recognizing the constable as Kenneth McMillan, who played the gross Harkonnen villain in Dune. It was also good to see Ed Flanders from St. Elsewhere, and his co-star Bonnie Bartlett playing his wife, though she was William Daniels’ wife on the show. James Mason is particularly well-cast as Straker, the forboding newcomer to Salem’s Lot, who you just know has a vampire tucked away somewhere, like maybe in that moving box.
As I said, the horror is a bit dated but still effective, pervaded by a nicely creepy atmosphere and punctuated by periodic jump scares. As with horror in general, it also has its fair share of supernatural foolishness, like allowing inside a fanged loved one floating outside your window or waiting till late afternoon to storm a vampire’s fortress. I thought too that there would be more to Mears’ backstory and his distrust of the Marston house, but that’s never elucidated. There were also a few lapses in the storytelling, or at least questions. Some excellent early tension is wrung from the cheating realtor’s subplot, but when one character is killed, the other two just drop out of the story entirely. The fates of several other characters are left vague as well, as are the circumstances behind the love story’s “resolution.” I’m sure these details are probably better explained in the book, but the miniseries could have clarified them better. I also don’t think it should have started with a flash-forward because that immediately let me know which characters would survive.
Even so, Salem’s Lot is a compelling King story that may not have a lot of story surprises but still spooks with its vampire mythos and general creepiness. The appearance of the main vampire is particularly menacing, clearly inspired by Nosferatu, though I understand that’s a departure from King’s book. I’m by no means an expert on Stephen King adaptations, but Salem’s Lot seemed to do him justice.
Best line: (Straker) “You’ll enjoy Mr. Barlow. And he’ll enjoy you.”
Of all the Star Trek series I’ve seen, my favorite is undoubtedly Voyager, a classic example of a show that started with promise and kept getting better as it went. I wavered on whether or not to make a list of my top episodes, unsure if anyone would even care, but after learning of other fans, namely the lovely ladies of Violet’s Veg*n E-Comics, I couldn’t resist any longer. I’ll likely do a favorites list for all my favorite shows at some point.
For those who don’t know, Voyager is in the same universe as all the other Star Trek series and is the last to occur chronologically. It’s basically a space-faring version of The Odyssey, with the title ship (and a rebel Maquis ship) being blasted into the Delta Quadrant 70,000 light years from Earth, and the two crews must combine to begin the 75-year journey home, with quite a few adventures along the way. The best part of Voyager is its characters, all of whom feel like a family by the end, from Kate Mulgrew’s first female Trek series Captain Kathryn Janeway to Robert Picardo’s egotistical holographic Doctor (“I’m a doctor, not a tricorder.”) to Ethan Phillips’ ever lovable Talaxian cook Neelix. With its far-flung setting, it also explores planets, aliens, and themes unseen in other Trek series and features some of the best time travel episodes of the franchise.
Of course, no series is immune to some duds, and I don’t want anyone’s first exposure to Voyager to be “Threshold” or “The Fight” or “Barge of the Dead.” Thus, for fans and not-yet-fans alike, here are my top twelve episodes of Star Trek: Voyager. I say “not-yet-fans” because I would hope seeing the show at its best would win over any potential viewer. Because Voyager rules! And so the countdown begins….
“11:59” – Season 5
Oddly enough, the first episode here doesn’t even take place on Voyager. When Captain Janeway recounts the story of one of her forebears, we’re treated to an endearing flashback of her ancestor (also played by Mulgrew) falling in love with a nostalgic bookstore owner (Kevin Tighe of Lost) on New Year’s Eve of 2001.
“Before and After” – Season 3
The episodes with Kes (Jennifer Lien) weren’t always the best, despite the uniqueness of a budding telepath with a nine-year lifespan, but “Before and After” was easily her best episode. She begins to live her life backwards, starting as an old woman and trying to figure out what’s happening before she jumps further back in time.
“Shattered” – Season 7
Every series likes to have some kind of recap episode for the more nostalgic fans, and “Shattered” again uses time travel for that very purpose. After a warp core accident, first officer Chakotay finds himself the only one unaffected when the ship is broken up into different sections of its own history. Kudos for all the references to past episodes!
“Nemesis” – Season 4
Another Chakotay episode, this time he crash-lands in the middle of an alien war and becomes a pawn in the struggle. There’s a potent message about how both sides of war encourage hate for the enemy, and I love the unique alien vocabulary used (“glimpses” in place of eyes, “trunks” in place of trees). Seriously, this episode should have won an Emmy for its writing.
“Rise” – Season 3
There was always a great odd-couple dynamic between gregarious Neelix and logical Vulcan Tuvok, and the tension finally bubbled to the surface in “Rise,” where they must work together with some disaster survivors to escape a planet’s atmosphere via a literal ground-to-space elevator. The concept alone is cool!
“Equinox, Parts 1 and 2” – Seasons 5/6
Yes, I’m counting two-parters together. Guest-starring John Savage and Titus Welliver (aka “the Man in Black” from Lost), this double-header that segued from season 5 to season 6 provided an excellent contrast between the straight-laced Starfleet ideals of Voyager and the more ruthless tactics of another stranded ship, the Equinox. Ghost-like aliens and an evil Doctor made this a memorable season finale/opener.
“Year of Hell, Parts 1 and 2” – Season 4
Fleshing out a future time period seen in “Before and After,” “Year of Hell” pit Voyager against Kurtwood Smith’s Annorax, a man with a time-altering ship trying to erase other species to restore his own people’s former glory. This episode shows Janeway and her crew at their most desperate, proving why she’s such a resilient leader.
“Blink of an Eye” – Season 6
With subtly transcendent themes, “Blink of an Eye” has one of the more unique set-ups for a Trek episode, a planet that revolves so rapidly that years and centuries on its surface pass within hours outside its atmosphere. When Voyager is caught in its gravity, the crew watches an entire civilization develop before their eyes, and the viewers get to see a closer perspective from the ground. Lost alert for Daniel Dae Kim as one of the planet’s inhabitants.
“Timeless” – Season 5
It’s always a big deal when a series reaches its 100th episode, and Voyager marked the milestone with a fantastic time travel tale. When the ship is destroyed during an attempt to get home sooner, two survivors risk everything to undo the doomed mission.
“Future’s End, Parts 1 and 2” – Season 3
Wow, there sure were a lot of time travel episodes, and all great ones. In this two-parter, a timeship captain from the future tries to destroy Voyager to prevent an eventual disaster, and a mishap sends both ships back to the 21st century. With shades of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, it also boasts an unlikely villain in Ed Begley, Jr., and introduces an important plot device for the Doctor that would prove invaluable in future episodes. Oh, and early Sarah Silverman is in it too.
“Deadlock” – Season 2
While it doesn’t seem to get much attention compared with, say, the two-parters, “Deadlock” is science fiction at its best. When the ship is attacked (which happens a lot, now that I think about it), a spatial anomaly divides the ship in two in a most unique way.
“Scorpion, Parts 1 and 2” – Seasons 3/4
To compare it to a classic Next Generation episode, “Scorpion” is Voyager’s “Best of Both Worlds.” With a story set in the Delta Quadrant, it was only a matter of time before their journey ran into the home turf of the Borg. A turning point for the series between seasons three and four, it pits Janeway and company against not only the Borg but a new species unlike any seen before, which threatens even the Borg collective. A tense and rather scary tone, a great new background score, and the introduction of Jeri Ryan’s Seven of Nine make this one of the high points of the series.
And here are the runners-up, which were not easy to whittle down, considering how fantastic all of them are. My VC likes most of my picks but also has a few episodes I didn’t choose that she is fond of and wanted to highlight. In the order they aired:
Season 1:
“Caretaker” – Series premiere
“Faces” – First major development for B’Elanna Torres
VC Picks: “Time and Again” and “Heroes and Demons”
Season 2:
“Resistance” – Sad episode for Janeway with a great guest role for Joel Grey
“Meld” – Tuvok tries to help a psychopath on board (Brad Dourif)
“Tuvix” – Tuvok and Neelix fuse in a transporter accident; silly concept exploring serious sci-fi themes
“Resolutions” – Janeway and Chakotay: what could have been….
“Basics, Parts 1 and 2” – Season 2 finale with the crew forced onto a primitive planet
VC Picks: “The 37s” and “Lifesigns”
Season 3:
“Flashback” – A cool revisiting of the events of Star Trek VI, complete with George Takei and Grace Lee Whitney
“Real Life” – Possibly the show’s biggest tearjerker with the Doctor
“Displaced” – The crew is slowly replaced by aliens.
VC Picks: “Remember” and “Blood Fever”
Season 4:
“Scientific Method” – Do you ever feel like a headache is torture? There could be a scary reason why.
“The Killing Game, Parts 1 and 2” – A race of hunters brainwash the crew for holographic sport. It’s the only place you’ll see Nazis and Klingons side by side.
“Living Witness” – An amazing what-if episode questioning the accuracy of history.
VC Picks: “Day of Honor,” “Hunters,” “Prey,” “Unforgettable,” and “Demon”
Season 5:
“Night” – Season 5 premiere with Janeway at her most self-doubting.
“Nothing Human” – Deep ethical questions, guest-starring David Clennon as a Cardassian
“Counterpoint” – Music, romance, and mistrust abound
“Macrocosm” – Attack of the giant killer germs! The new movie Life might have drawn some inspiration from this.
“Bride of Chaotica!” – Just a fun, silly homage to old-fashioned cheesy sci-fi
“Gravity” – Tuvok and Tom Paris stranded on an invisible desert planet, guest-starring Lori Petty
“Course: Oblivion” – Deeply sad what-if episode
“Think Tank” – Alien geniuses make an offer Voyager can’t refuse, guest-starring Jason Alexander
“Juggernaut” – Awesome horror-thriller episode on a deserted(?) toxic waste vessel
“Someone to Watch Over Me” – Poor Doctor!
“Relativity” – Voyager does it again with an amazing use of time travel.
VC Picks: “In the Flesh,” “Thirty Days,” and “The Disease”
Season 6:
“Riddles” – Tuvok and Neelix bond when Tuvok is mentally impaired.
“One Small Step” – A testament to the importance of “early” space travel
“Fair Haven” – The crew enjoy a holographic Irish village.
“Life Line” – The Doctor gets to meet the scientist who designed him after himself.
“Unimatrix Zero, Parts 1 and 2” – Season finale and a game-changer for the Borg collective.
VC Picks: “Pathfinder,” “Memorial,” “Ashes to Ashes”, “Live Fast and Prosper,” and “Muse”
Season 7:
“Flesh and Blood, Parts 1 and 2” – The Doctor must choose between his crew and renegade holograms.
“Lineage” – Big character development for B’Elanna
“Workforce, Parts 1 and 2” – The crew is once again brainwashed as workers on an industrial planet.
“Homestead” – Oh, Neelix. *sniff*
“Endgame, Parts 1 and 2” – Not perfect, but satisfying series finale
VC Picks: “Body and Soul,” “Author, Author,” and “Friendship One”
And to wrap it all up, here’s the beautiful opening theme and credits, which I also included in my post of Voyager musical highlights. Now I want to watch this show again!
