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?
__________________
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!
Although I sit in the cabinet,
I shall not stay for long.
My contents undeniably tempts
My owner with its song.
Its call is far too strong.
Though some can sip with a managed lip,
A few can’t get enough.
No need to think when an amber drink
Can smooth life when it’s rough.
One swig, and “That’s the stuff!”
I’ve been his friend for years on end;
He’s rarely missed a day.
This latest trick, I hope, won’t stick,
Or I may fade away.
I’m lonely since A.A.
____________________
MPAA rating: TV movie (should be PG)
Back in 1986, James Woods and James Garner starred in a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie called Promise, a tale of an older brother (Garner) who must come to terms with caring for his schizophrenic sibling (Woods). While the acting is phenomenal and it remains one of the most celebrated TV movies ever with Emmys, Golden Globes, and a Peabody to its name, it fell short of greatness for me thanks to a downer of an ending. Three years later, Woods and Garner teamed up again in this other Hallmark Hall of Fame member titled My Name Is Bill W., and what was apparently intended as a reunion turned out to be even better than their original collaboration.
My Name Is Bill W. is the story of the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, particularly Bill Wilson (Woods), who begins as a happy husband with great business aspirations in the stock market. Over the years after World War I, he schmoozes investors and stock opportunities to work his way up the ladder of success, all with drink in hand. The habit of a few drinks to loosen lips and pocketbooks quickly becomes a lifestyle for him, much to the dismay of his faithful wife (JoBeth Williams), and he soon starts to spiral into alcoholism. It’s difficult to watch a man willingly destroy his life, but at least we have the promise of a revelation, one which unites Wilson and fellow drunk Bob Smith (Garner) into a dynamic duo dedicated to supporting alcoholics everywhere in need of hope.
Both main actors are in top form, with JoBeth Williams being an extra surprising standout as Wilson’s long-suffering wife, and other strong roles go to Gary Sinise and George Coe. With the inebriated mistakes and desperation he pulls off so convincingly, it’s no wonder that Woods won an Emmy, just as he did for Promise three years earlier, though it’s sad that Garner didn’t win for either.
Above all, the film warns against the dangers of overdrinking, not by demonizing alcohol itself but reminding us that some people simply lack the self-control of others, whether it be “a disease” as one doctor states in the film or a psychological addiction. It’s clear from Bill Wilson’s life that oftentimes a desperate man can only pick himself up after hitting his lowest point, but his story serves as a caution for anyone who refuses to listen to the love and advice of their friends and family. What might have been a tragedy thankfully turned out to be an inspiration because, for Bill Wilson, a man whose life was ruled by alcohol both in its excess and its absence, success didn’t simply involve dragging himself out of the gutter, but helping others to do the same.
Best line: (Bill) “It’s like any journey, Fred. It begins with the first step.”
Do you value your life,
All you have, all you know?
And for what would you trade it,
I wonder?
Could you ever decide
To what lengths you would go?
Would you grieve when you’d paid it,
I wonder?
I would never regret,
Says the fool, feeling smart,
To confirm his conviction
Till later.
But regrets always come
When we think with our heart.
‘Tis our own contradiction
And traitor.
___________________
MPAA rating: All not rated (should be PG-13)
Don’t judge a book by its cover, or in this case, a show by its genre. I would think most people even mildly familiar with anime have heard of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon or Cardcaptors, where a group of girls typically gain powers from some adorable talking creature and become cutesy superheroines. Not to dis those shows, but it’s the kind of formula that works well for kids yet becomes insufferable to outsiders and even older former fans, like me. Yet about six years ago, Puella Magi Madoka Magica (that’s Latin, by the way, not Japanese) revolutionized the genre under the mature eye of writer Gen Urobuchi. In American terms, that’s like Christopher Nolan directing a Barbie movie and making it awesome.
Since I’ve been reviewing only films up to this point, I’ll point out that Puella Magi Madoka Magica (I’ll just call it Madoka Magica to save time) isn’t just a TV show; it had a film follow-up subtitled Rebellion, and before that was released, the 12-episode series was edited and retooled as two theatrical films, the first called Beginnings, the second Eternal. Thus, that makes Madoka Magica eligible for my top movie list and well worth reviewing, since it happens to be my third favorite anime series, after Cowboy Bebop and Steins;Gate.
The odd thing about Madoka Magica is that it was marketed like any number of similar shows, light and innocent, and since it was original and not based on a manga, viewers had no idea what to expect. The opening credits are overly bright and cheery and the first couple episodes are nothing out of the ordinary, with the typical banter and buoyancy of color-coordinated middle-school girls, but don’t let that fool you. This series goes to some very dark and very emotional places, and it confirms the unwritten rule of watching at least three episodes of a given series before you write it off.
After school one day, Madoka (the one with pink hair) and Sayaka (blue hair) are rescued from a dangerous witch by upperclassman Mami Tomoe (yellow hair), who became a magical girl by making a deal with the talking animal-thing Kyubey: magical powers and the duty of battling witches in exchange for a single wish. At first, they’re awed by the potential of such a pact, but neither can bring themselves to trade away their old lives. Meanwhile, a black-haired new student and magical girl named Homura seems to have a mysterious mission to keep Madoka from accepting Kyubey’s deal at all costs. The story may threaten to lose your interest at first, but then comes a moment in the third episode that changes the entire tone of the show, a scene so sudden and shocking that it has burned itself into my memory, even though I knew about it beforehand. From there, the story spirals into tragedy, heartache, and themes far deeper than one would expect going in.
The characters are still young and naïve, and they buckle under the weight of the hard, regrettable choices placed upon them. They expect frilly costumes and to help people, and while there’s some of that, before long they must deal with disillusionment, death, lies, time travel, and the laws of thermodynamics. (Told you this wasn’t a typical magical girl show.) The catalyst for all this is Kyubey, who seems like a cute sidekick at first but holds much darker intentions with his Faustian contract. Even with his passive demeanor, high-pitched voice, and blank stare that gets creepier with time, he’s such a manipulative, logical little bugger that, by the end, I hated the very sight of him. He’s also essentially unkillable, but it was satisfying whenever anyone tried. Homura’s story in particular overshadows everyone else’s, and while she’s a mystery for most of the series, her backstory is remarkably compelling.
Like the story, the art style is also distinctive and layered with atmosphere. The animation of the real world is evocative on its own, often setting the mood with stylized angles and amber-tinged sunsets, and the character’s eyes have a unique sketched quality to them. Things get bizarre, though, whenever a witch appears in its labyrinth, not as a pointy-hatted antagonist but as a collage of stop-motion cutouts that go deep into surreal territory. The combination of the traditional animation with this dreamlike setting is often nightmarish and complements the story’s descent into misfortune, while certain scenes in silhouette are both beautiful and disturbing, incorporating artistic details evoking similar themes to Faust and The Little Mermaid. The action scenes are also very well-done, often with spectacular explosions. Boy, this series has everything.
I feel like I’ve been reviewing Madoka Magica the show rather than the movies, but the first two films basically are the series, with the first eight episodes making up Beginnings and the final four forming Eternal. They actually translate quite well, skipping over some of the awkward moments at the beginning and keeping only what’s necessary to the story, while retaining important character moments, like Madoka’s insightful conversation with her mother. Eternal has one extra battle scene and some revised animation but unfortunately includes some cutesy montages that feel out of place since the story’s tone had already changed drastically from the beginning. However, it does follow the same plot to the same heart-tugging finale. The series is full of tragic events that make me want to tear up just seeing the characters, but despite some overwrought execution of the cosmic twist at the end, the conclusion is sublimely bittersweet.
And then… they had to ruin it with a third movie. Rebellion may be more cinematic than the first two, but it’s nowhere near as successful. It tries to replicate the bait-and-switch of the series, with a lighthearted beginning that gets darker as it goes, but it does so by presenting an alternate version of events with an explanation far too long in coming. I suppose it’s a little satisfying to see the characters in the carefree life they thought they’d have as magical girls, but it indulges for too long. Sure, the plot eventually makes sense, but it’s not good when even those familiar with the story are utterly confused for over a half hour.
It’s not all bad. Once the plot deepens, it gets more absorbing, and the eventual reveal of the mystery reconfirms Kyubey as the most hateful cat-bunny-thing imaginable. There’s also an epic gun battle between two popular characters that is jaw-droppingly awesome and may be the action high point of the series. If only the rest of the story could live up to it. One side character has little reason for existing; the surreal visuals are the rule rather than the exception now, as if the filmmakers took turns animating their most unsettling drug trips; and the final twist took Homura’s obsession with Madoka in a wholly unsatisfying direction. And then it ends, with a brand new conflict introduced and no resolution. No! There’s talk of a fourth film in development, and while that may improve things if they can end it right, it doesn’t make the disappointment of Rebellion any better right now. Sequel-makers constantly ignore this demand, but don’t continue a series unless you can end it just as well as it already had!
The final movie aside, Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a brilliant and memorable series, well-written, poignant, and impressively visualized. The music is haunting, the animation arresting, and the character motivations powerfully nuanced yet pitiful and open to interpretation. It’s the kind of psychological story that leaves me with a persistent melancholy long after it’s over. I’m including a fan-made music video down at the bottom (set to one of my favorite Florence and the Machine songs) that might give you an idea of its peculiar power. For anyone still reading this who may be hesitant to check out a magical girl series, I can only say one thing: Don’t judge a book by its cover. You’ll be glad you didn’t.
Best line: (Kyubey, the loathsome, logical little scumball) “Why is it that when humans regret a decision they made based on their own misunderstanding, they feel resentment toward the other party?”
Tied with his punch-worthy “If you ever feel like dying for the universe, call me. I’ll be waiting.”
Rank for Beginnings and Eternal: List-Worthy
Rank for Rebellion: Dishonorable Mention
This post is part of the Music of Star Trek Blogathon hosted by Film Music Central so check out the amazing music posts that others have already contributed. When I first heard about the blogathon, I wasn’t sure that there was much I could add to the discussion, since most people seemed to be focusing on the original Star Trek series, The Next Generation, and their movies. However, I decided to shine a spotlight on the musical moments in my favorite series in the franchise: Voyager.
For those who don’t know, Voyager is Star Trek‘s incarnation of the Odyssey. Two crews are hurled into the unexplored Delta Quadrant, 70,000 light-years from home: the Federation starship Voyager led by Captain Kathryn Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) and a Maquis ship of rebel freedom fighters, led by Chakotay (Robert Beltran). After their initial encounters with the native aliens leave them stranded, the two crews band together to make the long journey home. Like Next Gen, the somewhat stiff early episodes yield to better and better seasons, and it’s truly gratifying to see all the characters grow into a family. Many episodes rival the very best that Star Trek has to offer, but we’re not here to discuss every little thing I love about this series; let’s talk about the music.
One of the most obvious musical achievements is the opening theme song. While Next Gen recycled Jerry Goldsmith’s incredible score from Star Trek: The Motion Picture for its opening theme, Goldsmith provided an original theme for Voyager, which won an Emmy for Outstanding Individual Achievement in Main Title Theme Music. The soft trumpet and drums immediately set a mood of spacey grandeur, and the brass and strings mingle together as the essence of audible majesty, complemented by lofty shots of the title ship swooping through stellar phenomena. Between the music and the visuals, I firmly consider it the best opening of all the Trek series.
So, that’s the theme. What about the music in the series itself? All of it is excellent, but the most memorable new theme was introduced in the season 3 finale Scorpion, which was a turning point in the series and could be considered Voyager‘s “Best of Both Worlds.” The Voyager crew find themselves in the middle of the Borg’s losing war against an unbeatable super-race known as Species 8472. The music by Jay Chattaway is loaded with bombast, reminding the ear of the high stakes, and the seven forceful notes mix with the background music for a terrific small-screen action piece. You can hear it for yourselves here.
In addition to the instrumental scores, music played a special role in several episodes, particularly for the holographic Doctor (Robert Picardo), who developed a passion for opera. In addition, both Jeri Ryan as Seven of Nine and Tim Russ as Tuvok showed their singing chops on occasion, and Garrett Wang as Ensign Harry Kim periodically played the clarinet. Here are some of the most notable musical highlights:
In the season 2 episode “The Thaw,” Harry Kim and Tom Paris debate where Harry should practice his clarinet without disturbing his neighbor.
In the season 2 episode “Innocence,” Tuvok is stranded on a moon with three alien children and soothes them to sleep with a Vulcan “lullaby” of sorts called Falor’s Journey.
In the season 3 episode “Remember,” Janeway is telepathically taught to play an ethereal-sounding new instrument.
In the season 4 two-parter “The Killing Game,” a hunter race called the Hirogen brainwash the Voyager crew and make them take part in historical holographic violence. One holodeck is set in Nazi-occupied France, and Seven of Nine is a crooning serenader in a French bar.
In the season 5 premiere “Night,” Voyager travels through a vast area of starless space, and in his boredom, Harry performs his own concerto called “Echoes of the Void” while on the bridge.
In the season 5 episode “Counterpoint,” a paranoid, anti-telepath race repeatedly boards and searches Voyager, and its charismatic inspector flirts with Captain Janeway while blaring Mahler’s First Symphony during every inspection.
In the season 5 episode “Bride of Chaotica!,” the show indulges in the classic cheesiness of the old Flash-Gordon-style science fiction and the exaggerated score reflects the over-the-top histrionics.
In the season 5 episode “Someone to Watch over Me,” the Doctor tries to teach Seven of Nine social skills and seems to realize his attraction to her while they sing “You Are My Sunshine” together. During the poignant final scene, the Doctor also sings “Someone to Watch over Me,” alone.
In the season 6 premiere “Equinox Part II,” a reprogrammed evil Doctor performs surgery on Seven of Nine, sadistically making her sing “My Darling Clementine” with him.
In the season 6 episode “Barge of the Dead” (probably the worst episode of the series), we get to hear a traditional Klingon drinking song.
In the season 6 episode “Riddles,” Tuvok becomes mentally damaged, and Neelix plays him a Vulcan funeral dirge, as well as jazz, which Tuvok surprisingly enjoys.
In the season 6 episodes “Fair Haven” and “Spirit Folk,” the crew enjoy a holodeck program of a quaint Irish village, with accompanying Celtic background music.
In the season 6 episode “Virtuoso,” the Doctor becomes a celebrity when he introduces music to a race that has never heard it before. Lots of opera in this one.
In the season 7 episode “Homestead,” Neelix dances to some classic rock ‘n’ roll, and eventually Tuvok indulges him with a parting dance step.
The series finale “Endgame” also won Jay Chattaway an Emmy for Outstanding Music Composition For A Series. Here‘s a taste of the underscore from both the pilot and the final episode.
There you have it. Star Trek: Voyager excelled at utilizing music both in the score and the storylines, continuing the musical legacy of The Original Series and Next Gen. I leave you now with the funniest musical moment from the series in which the Doctor’s operatic daydreams take a comical turn in Season 6’s “Tinker, Tenor, Doctor, Spy.”
A night on the town can be thrilling or fun,
When you know what you’re doing and not on the run,
But if you’re unprepared for the city at night,
I’d highly advise that you do as I write.
Don’t chitchat with strangers or pull someone’s leg,
Unless you need money, in which case just beg.
Do not leave your car, unless you have no choice;
Don’t take a stage unless you have a good voice.
Don’t steal magazines or pet cats you can’t see
And try to avoid any known felony.
And whatever you do in your probable mess,
Don’t bring kids along, unless you like stress.
__________________________
MPAA rating for 1987 version: PG-13
Rating for 2016 version: G
Adventures in Babysitting is one of those movies that could have well been on my original list, but it took a more recent viewing to remind me of this fun ’80s classic and convince me to add it to my list, which I updated all the way back at the beginning of the year. I do want to review all the films I added last year, and the recent Disney Channel remake gave me the perfect opportunity to revisit this one as a Version Variation.
Released by Disney’s Touchstone label, the original Adventures in Babysitting from 1987 was the first lead role for Elizabeth Shue, who plays Chris the babysitter, and I dare say it wasn’t just Keith Coogan’s Brad who had a crush on her. Singing along to “Then He Kissed Me” in the opening credits, she’s the ideal girl next door, soon thrust into extraordinary circumstances when her friend Brenda (Penelope Ann Miller) begs for rescue from an ill-conceived attempt at running away. Forced to bring Brad, his sister Sara (Maia Brewton), and his friend Daryl (Anthony Rapp) along for the ride, Chris holds herself and her under-age entourage together surprisingly well as they ramble from one Chicago danger to the next.
A coworker of mine told me she doesn’t see what makes Adventures in Babysitting a classic, but while it isn’t on the level of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, it’s a film in which individual moments outshine the whole. There’s the scary hook story and its unexpected punchline, the gang confrontation on the L train, the tense climax high on a skyscraper, and the disarming payoff for Sara’s obsession with Thor, long before anyone thought Marvel would give him his own movie. (It’s still hard to believe that hunky mechanic was Vincent D’Onofrio, you know, the scuzzy bad guy in both Men in Black and Jurassic World. No wonder he’s known as a chameleon.) And of course, the film’s high point is its impromptu musical number where Chris and the kids sing their own babysitting blues on stage. Even if you don’t see the film as a classic, that scene certainly is. Through all their risky ordeals, the easily likable main characters ensure Adventures in Babysitting is likewise easy to enjoy.
As for the remake…. Perhaps to capitalize on the boom in ’80s nostalgia and to give its 100th Disney Channel Original Movie some name recognition, Disney decided to give Adventures in Babysitting a kiddie makeover this year, and the results were mixed to say the least. The film features Disney Channel stars such as Sabrina Carpenter from Girl Meets World, Sofia Carson from Descendants, and Kevin Quinn from Bunk’d, and like their shows, it’s a juvenile mix of humor and heart that will appeal far more to tweens than to anyone much older. I used to watch and enjoy Disney Channel Original Movies while growing up (I still love the High School Musical series), but having drifted away from DCOMs and now watching this one, my older self can’t help but wonder if the quality has gone down or my perceptions have simply matured. Maybe both.
Either way, this new Adventures in Babysitting comes up way short of the original even as it seemingly tries to outdo it. Instead of one babysitter, we get two, one a deeply responsible good girl (Carpenter) and the other an unreliable sitter-impersonator (Carson). Instead of three kids, we get five from two different families, ranging from an aspiring chef to a would-be fashionista. Instead of a car-stealing ring with genuine danger implied, we get a couple of bumbling smugglers doing something illegal with a spray-painted ferret.
Yet for all its changes, it’s still recognizably the same general story, hitting the same beats and notable scenes, yet mirroring my main complaint about Maleficent, every scene from the original that they try to recreate is consistently worse. Most atrocious of all is the “musical number,” which has morphed from a blues anthem to a rap battle with dreadful lyrics like “we ain’t no quitters; we’re the babysitters.” It’s enough to make me gag.
Yet even with all the ways the newer version of Adventures in Babysitting falls short of the original, it’s hard to totally disparage. It’s likely far more engaging to its target age group than to me and, for them, probably captures some of the same fun that ’80s kids felt in 1987. For the most part, it’s decent; perhaps someone someday might consider it a classic, but I doubt it. The most the remake has going for it is its kid-friendliness (i.e., “Don’t mess with the babysitter!” as opposed to the original version), since the original was more intended for teens and up with its occasional language and talk of Playboy. If it has to exist, I suppose the latest version of Adventures in Babysitting can act as an introduction to younger audiences before they see the far better original. Now enough already with the lackluster remakes!
Best line (from the original): (Brad) “Where we gonna get 50 bucks?” (Sarah) “We could sell Daryl. You think?”
Rank for 1987 version: List-Worthy
Rank for 2016 version: Dishonorable Mention
