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John is less of a mystery solver and more a mystery-finder.

calling john constantine an 'occult detective' has the same vibe as calling someone who wrote a 300K destiel omegaverse fanfic and put it on AO3 a 'published author'

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Gotta say, something I adore about good Sonic writing is that from other characters' perspectives he's just like - the most annoying guy ever - it's very entertaining

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People who want a 'grounded and serious' Killer Moth weird me out, like, the guy's purpose in the modern day is to be the George Costanza of Batman villians and not only is that a super unique niche, it's also fun as hell

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I'm glad the simpsons ran long enough to see chief wiggum get a jetpack

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And it's a wonderful world where SW fans have media literacy.

there’s a timeline where people understood what tlj was saying and this guy got to do more star wars

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What I want from Star Wars:

The canvas that original movie promised. A delightful culture cocktail mixing Flash Gordon, World War 2 serials, the Vietnam War, Lawrence of Arabia, and Kurosawa. This beautiful creation of George's imagination and history. Something so wonderfully nerdy and sincere in itself, pulling from everything its creator loved.

What I like about the High Republic is this feeling that yes, it is connected to that postmodern cocktail, but it is its own thing with its own influences - what I liked about the Acolyte was the wuxia references, Leslie Headland named Come Drink With Me as an influence and that and Crouching Tiger are very much felt. Sure, it's nowhere as good, but it's the same feeling I got when Rian Johnson talked about The Coen Brothers, To Catch A Theif and The Bridge On The River Kwai as influences: sure, one of these is a David Lean movie, but it gives things its own cinematic lens and language, painting on the canvas that is this galaxy.

I didn't love the Acolyte, but that, The Last Jedi and Andor are the things that have best got Star Wars as what I love it as: a postmodern canvas to paint any story on, your influences being placed within the same cultural history as before. Wuxia placed alongside Wings. Kurosawa and the Coens. The plight against real-life fasism mixed with a Micheal Mann movie that makes Andor. Hitchcock and Lean given the same value as the trashy old Flash Gordon serials in this overall pantheon of paints for this canvas. That means more than just using one paint, in my opinion.

This doesn't nessesarily mean wanting things to be preserved to maintain your idea of lore is bad - lore is very nerdy and sincere in of itself as a way of using the canvas. But if you're so upset about how the painting conflicts with other paintings, or what you wanted the painter to paint...maybe you just don't like painting.

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Naked man with an afro rapping his ass off call that eric andre 3000

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A crossover designed for my specific flavour of autism

QUEBEC

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Steve Purcell worked at Pixar for 18 years so he got asked that a lot, and his opinion was that the characters' moral ambiguity and intentional lack of real development outside their 'looney tunes commit police brutality' archtypes wouldn’t fit the Pixar style.

He got laid off last year tho, so maybe he'll now give it a try?

Any time a big studio makes a shitty animated film at this point I just think to myself how much better the world would be if they all stopped making sequel after sequel and if a studio just finally made a Sam & Max movie

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An essay on Furiosa, the politics of the Wasteland, Arthurian literature and realistic vs. formalistic CGI

Mad Max: Fury Road absolutely enraptured me when it came out nearly a decade ago, and I will cop to seeing it four times at the theatre. For me (and many others who saw the light of George Miller) it set new standards for action filmmaking, storytelling and worldbuilding, and I could pop in its Blu Ray at any time and never get tired of it. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was deeply apprehensive about the announced prequel for Fury Road's actual main character, Furiosa, even if Miller was still writing and directing. We didn't need backstory for Furiosa—hell, Fury Road is told in such a way that NOTHING in it requires explicit backstory. And since it focuses on the Yung Furiosa, it meant Charlize Theron couldn't return with another career-defining performance. Plus, look at all that CGI in the trailer, it can't be as good as Fury Road.

Turns out I was silly to doubt George Miller, M.D., A.O., writer and director of Babe: Pig in the City and Happy Feet One & Two.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is excellent, and I needn't have worried about it not being as good as Fury Road because it is not remotely trying to be Fury Road. Fury Road is a lean, mean machine with no fat on it, nothing extraneous, operating with constant forward momentum and only occasionally letting up to let you breathe a little; Furiosa is a classical epic, sprawling in scope, scale and structure, and more than happy to let the audience simmer in a quiet, almost painfully still moment. If its opening spoken word sequence by that Gandalf of the Wastes himself, the First History Man, didn't already clue you in, it unfolds like something out of myth, a tale told over and over again and whose possible embellishments are called attention to in the dialogue itself. Where Fury Road scratched the action nerd itch in my head like you wouldn't believe, Furiosa was the equivalent of Miller giving the undulating folds of my English major brain a deep tissue massage. That's great! I, for one, love when sequels/prequels endeavour to be fundamentally different movies from what they're succeeding/preceding, operating in different modes, formats and even genres, and more filmmakers should aim for it when building on an existing series.

This movie has been on my mind so much in the past week that I've ended up dedicating several cognitive processes to keeping track of all of the different ponderings it's spawned. Thankfully, Furiosa is divided into chapters (fun fact: putting chapter cards in your movie is a quick way to my heart), so it only seems fitting that I break up all of these cascading thoughts accordingly.

1. The Pole of Inaccessibility

Furiosa herself actually isn't the protagonist for the first chapter of her own movie, instead occupying the role of a (very crafty and resourceful) damsel in distress for those initial 30-40 minutes. The real hero of the opening act, which plays out like a game of cat and mouse, is Furiosa's mother Mary Jabassa, who rides out into the wasteland first on horseback and then astride a motorcycle to track down the band of raiders that has stolen away her daughter. Mary's brought to life by Miller and Nico Lathouris' economical writing and a magnetic performance by newcomer Charlee Fraser, who radiates so much screen presence in such relatively little time and with one of those instant "who is SHE??" faces. She doesn't have many lines, but who needs them when Fraser can convey volumes about Mary with just a flash of her eyes or the effortless way she swaps out one of her motorcycle's wheels for another. To be quite candid, I'm not sure of the last time I fell in love with a character so quickly.

You notice a neat aesthetic contrast between mother and daughter in retrospect: Mary Jabassa darts into the desert barefoot, clad in a simple yet elegant dress, her wolf cut immaculate, only briefly disguising herself with the ugly armour of a raider she just sniped, and when she attacks it's almost with grace, like some Greek goddess set loose in the post-apocalyptic Aussie outback with just her wits and a bolt-action rifle; we track Furiosa's growth over the years by how much of her initially conventional beauty she has shed, quite literally in one case (hair buzzed, severed arm augmented with a chunky mechanical prosthesis, smeared in grease and dirt from head to toe, growling her lines at a lower octave), and by how she loses her mother's graceful approach to movement and violence, eventually carrying herself like a blunt instrument. Yet I have zero doubt the former raised the latter, both angels of different feathers but with the same steel and resolve. Of fucking course this woman is Furiosa's mother, and in the short time we know her we quickly understand exactly why Furiosa has the drive and morals she does without needing to resort to didactic exposition.

Anyway, I was tearing up by the end of the first chapter. Great start!

2. Lessons from the Wasteland

Most movies—most stories, really—don't actually tell the entire narrative from A to Z. Perhaps the real meat of the thing is found from H to T, and A-G or U-Z are unnecessary for conveying the key narrative and themes. So many prequels fail by insisting on telling the A-G part of the story, explaining how the hero earned a certain nickname or met their memorable sidekick—but if that stuff was actually interesting, they likely would have included it in the original work. The greatest thing a prequel can actually do is recontextualize, putting iconic characters or moments in a new light, allowing you to appreciate them from a different angle. All of season 2 of Fargo serves to explain why Molly Solverson's dad is appropriately wary when Lorne Malvo enters his diner for a SINGLE SCENE in the show's first season. David's arc from the Alien prequels Prometheus and Covenant—polarizing as those entries are—adds another layer to why Ash is so protective of the creature in the first movie. Andor gives you a sense of what it's like for a normal, non-Jedi person to live under the boot of the Empire and why so many of them would join up with the Rebel Alliance—or why they would desire to wear that boot, or even just crave the chance to lick it.

Furiosa is one of those rare great prequels because it makes us take a step back and consider the established world with a little more nuance, even if it's still all so absurd. In Fury Road, Immortan Joe is an awesome, endlessly quotable villain, completely irredeemable, and basically a cartoon. He works perfectly as the antagonist of that breakneck, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote-ass movie, but if you step outside of its adrenaline-pumping narrative for even a moment you risk questioning why nobody in the Citadel or its surrounding settlements has risen up against him before. Hell, why would Furiosa even work for him to begin with? But then you see Dementus and company tear-assing around the wasteland, seizing settlements and running them into the ground, and you realize Joe and his consortium offer something that Dementus reasonably can't: stability—granted, an unwavering, unchangeable stability weighted in favour of Joe's own brutal caste system, but stability nonetheless. It really makes you wonder, how badly does a guy have to suck to make IMMORTAN JOE of all people look like a sane, competent and reasonable ruler by comparison?!?

…and then they open the door to the vault where he keeps his wives, and in a flash you're reminded just how awful Joe is and why Furiosa will risk her life to help some of these women flee from him years later. This new context enriches Joe and makes it more believable that he could maintain power for so long, but it doesn't make him any less of a monster, and it says a lot about Furiosa's hate for Dementus that she could grit her teeth and work for this sick old tyrant.

3. The Stowaway

Here's another wild bit of trivia about this movie: you don't actually see top-billed actress Anya Taylor-Joy pop up on screen until roughly halfway through, once Furiosa is in her late teens/early twenties. Up until this point she's been played by Alyla Browne, who through the use of some seamless and honestly really impressive CGI has been given Anya's distinctive bug eyes [complimentary]. It's one of those bold choices that really works because Miller commits to it so hard, though it does make me wish Browne's name was up on the poster next to Taylor-Joy's.

Speaking of CGI, I should talk about what seems to be a sticking point for quite a few people: if there's been one consistent criticism of Furiosa so far, it's that it doesn't look nearly as practical or grounded as Fury Road, with more obvious greenscreen and compositing, and what previously would've been physical stunt performers and pyrotechnics have been replaced with their digital equivalents for many shots. Simply put, it doesn't look as real! For a lot of people, that practicality was one of Fury Road's primary draws, so I won't try to quibble if they're let down by Furiosa's overt artificiality, but to be honest I'm actually quite fine with it. It helps that this visual discrepancy doesn't sneak up on you but is incredibly apparent right from the aerial zoom-down into Australia in the very first scene, so I didn't feel misled or duped.

Fury Road never asks you to suspend your disbelief because it all looks so believable; Furiosa jovially prods you to suspend that disbelief from the get-go and tune into it on a different wavelength. It's a classical epic, and like the classical epics of the 1950s and 60s it has a lot of actors standing in front of what clearly are matte paintings. It feels right! We're not watching fact, we're watching myth. I'm willing to concede there might be a little bit of post-hoc rationalization on my part because I simply love this movie so much, but I'm not holding the effects in Furiosa to the same standard as those in Fury Road because I simply don't believe Miller and his crew are attempting to replicate that approach. Without the extensive CGI, we don't get that impressive long, panning take where a stranded Furiosa scans the empty, dust-and-sun-scoured wasteland (75% Sergio Leone, 25% Andrei Tarkovsky), or the Octoboss and his parasailing goons. For the sake of intellectual exercise I did try imagining them filming the Octoboss/war rig sequence with the same immersive practical approach they used for Fury Road's stunts, however I just kept picturing dead stunt performers, so perhaps the tradeoff was worth it!

4. Homeward

Around the same time we meet the Taylor-Joy-pilled Furiosa in Chapter 3, we're introduced to Praetorian Jack, the chief driver for the convoys running between the Citadel and its allied settlements. Jack's played by Tom Burke, who pulled off a very good Orson Welles in Mank! and who I should really check out in The Souvenir one of these days. He's also a cool dude! Here are some facts about Praetorian Jack:

He's decked out in road leathers with a pauldron stitched to one shoulder

He's stoic and wary, but still more or less personable and can carry on a conversation

Professes to a certain cynicism, to quote Special Agent Albert Rosenfield, but ultimately has a capacity for kindness and will do the right thing

Shoots a gun real good

Can drive like nobody's business

So in other words, Jack is Mad Max. But also, no, he clearly isn't! He looks and dresses like Mad Max (particularly Mel Gibson's) and does a lot of the same things "Mad" Max Rockatansky does, but he's also very explicitly a distinct character. It's a choice that seems inexplicable and perhaps even lazy on its face, except this is a George Miller movie, so of course this parallel is extremely purposeful. Miller has gone on record saying he avoids any kind of strict chronology or continuity for his Mad Max movies, compared to the rigid canons for Star Trek and Star Wars, and bless him for doing so. It's more fun viewing each Mad Max entry as a new revision or elaboration on a story being told again and again generations after the fall, mutating in style, structure and focus with every iteration, becoming less grounded as its core narrative is passed from elder to youth, community to community, genre to genre, until it becomes myth. (At least, my English major brain thinks it's more fun.) In fact there's actually something Arthurian to it, where at first King Arthur was mentioned in several Welsh legends before Geoffrey of Monmouth crafted an actual narrative around him, then Chrétien de Troyes added elements like Lancelot and infused the stories with more romance, and then with Le Morte d'Arthur Thomas Malory whipped the whole cycle together into one volume, which T.H. White would chop and screw and deconstruct with The Once and Future King centuries later.

All this to say: maybe Praetorian Jack looks and sounds and acts like Max because he sorta kinda basically is, being just one of many men driving back and forth across the wasteland, lending a hand on occasion, who'll be conflated into a single, legendary "Mad Max" at some point down the line in a different History Man's retelling of Furiosa's odyssey. Sometimes that Max rips across the desert in his V8 Interceptor, other times driving a big rig. Perhaps there's a dog tagging along and/or a scraggly and at first aggravating ally played by Bruce Spence or Nicholas Hoult. Usually he has a shotgun. But so long as you aren't trying to kill him, he'll help you out.

5. Beyond Vengeance

The Mad Max movies have incredibly iconic villains—Immortan Joe! Toecutter! the Lord Humongous!—but they are exactly that, capital V Villains devoid of humanizing qualities who you can't wait to watch bad things happen to. Furiosa appears to continue this trend by giving us a villain who in fact has a mustache long enough that he could reasonably twirl it if he so wanted, but ironically Dementus ends up being the most layered antagonist in the entire series, even moreso than the late Tina Turner's comparatively benevolent Aunty Entity from Beyond Thunderdome. And because he's played by Chris Hemsworth, whose comedic delivery rivals his stupidly handsome looks, you lock in every time he's on screen.

Something so fascinating about Dementus is that, for a main antagonist, he's NOT all-powerful, and in fact quite the opposite: he's more conman than warlord, looking for the next hustle, the next gullible crowd he can preach to and dupe—though never for long. For all his bluster, at every turn he finds himself in way over his head and writing cheques he can't cash, and this self-induced Sisyphean torment makes him riveting to watch. You're tempted to pity Dementus but it's also quite difficult to spare sympathy for someone who's so quick to channel their rage and hurt and ego into thoughtless, burn-it-all-down destruction. When you're not laughing at him, you're hating his guts, and it's indisputably the best work of Chris Hemsworth's career.

It's in this final chapter that everything naturally comes to a head: Furiosa's final evolution into the character we meet at the start of Fury Road, the predictable toppling of Dementus' precariously built house of cards, and the mythmaking that has been teased since the very first scene becoming diagetic text, the last of which allows the movie to thoroughly explore the themes of vengeance it's been building to. A brief war begins, is summarized and is over in the span of roughly a minute, and on its face it's a baffling narrative choice that most other filmmakers would have botched. But our man Miller's smart enough to recognize that the result of this war is the most foregone of conclusions if you've been paying even the slightest bit of attention, so he effectively brushes past it to get to the emotional heart of the climax and an incredible "Oh shit!" payoff that cements Miller as one of mainstream cinema's greatest sickos.

Fury Road remains the greatest Mad Max film, but Furiosa might be the best thing George Miller has ever made. If not his magnum opus, it does at least feel like his dissertation, and it makes me wish Warner Bros. puts enough trust in him despite Furiosa's poor box office performance that he's able to make The Wasteland. Absolutely ridiculous that a man just short of his 80th birthday was able to pull this off, and with it I feel confident calling him one of my favourite directors.

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what is with the hand-wringing on whether the acolyte will be “pro-jedi” enough?? still don’t get it. stories need character conflict. and if the jedi are portrayed as more flawed in this show than canon i think that’s fine! they’re not real.

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Begging Batman Tumblr to read other comics.

Or just read 'Tec.

Or Batman and Robin.

Or Birds of Prey.

Yes, the main book isn't too good right now, alright? It's literature, you don't have to read it. You're not obliged. Go read something else if it's upsetting you. Enjoy fiction outside your hyperfixations, y'know? It's not healthy.

DC and especially Chip Zdarsky hates every Robin except Tim.

Steph and Duke is not here because they don't even "exist" 😑🤦‍♀️

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Keith David being a Christian makes perfect sense because there's no secular explanation for naturally sounding like that

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I was there, the fans were very excited until they weren't.

I dunno, I think his first couple issues are contrived but ultimately fun and have some good ideas, but there's this overwhelming sense to the whole thing of him trying to write a definitive run, rather than a good one.

It doesn't help that at the same time Ram V is actually writing a definitive Batman run.

Zdarsky: Writes the gayest Batman story that besides doing Talia dirty (but I mean if that were a drinking game we’d all be dead) is decently well received after from what I have read about him a well received Daredevil run.

DC: How about you write for the main Batman comic?

Fans: How about he doesn’t?

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I enjoyed The Devil's Chord, I just wish they grey world had more of an energy to it, if that makes sense? Like, I dunno, shooting in black and white, kinda cardboardy cheap looking sets? It's just there's an inherent creativity and celebration of such there, but it doesn’t quite shine in the direction imo

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I wasn't expecting a Sonic show seemingly based entirely on Lebowski references and The Lonely Island, and I kinda vibe with that

It's also like a show that's made for like...3 people. None of which have paramount plus

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Realised that this never posted, but I stand by it:

It's really weird that Rogue One's aesthetic, which was specifically developed for a Star Wars film which had minimal space wizards and was instead about much more subdued characters and murkier moral themes, has now become the aesthetic which gets slathered over all new live-action Star Wars whether it fits or not.

Mando mostly works with that look because while there are some big personalities, they're almost all side characters, while the mains are stoic and reserved except for Grogu. Andor looks downright great, not least as much of it is shot on actual locations and on full sets.

But apply this to Ahsoka and Kenobi, and it rather cuts against the vibe they're going for. Space wizards, with their operatic cosmic conflicts and connection to a mystic energy, tend to want something a bit more heightened (which I think is an under-discussed problem in the PT which is very muted much of the time, and a major strength in the more stylised Empire and TLJ). The colours are muted, the angles mostly flat, and it ends up being at odds with the story being told.

To extend Kenobi some goodwill, lots of the latter seems to have come from the Volume. You keep seeing where the cinematographer wanted to crank a shot of Vader to be sharper and more impactful, but couldn't because the Volume doesn't permit that. Although I do think there are some baffling bits of blocking like in the chase and the first duel, the floaty shaky-cam is a generally poor look and really, Lucasfilm shouldn't lean so hard on the Volume (I mean, seriously guys, look at Monarch. That looks miles better than anything you've done on TV except for Andor.) But point is, they tried and ran into constraints.

Meanwhile Ahsoka seems exceedingly comfortable with both feet in Gordon Willis' metaphorical bucket of cement. The characters' energy levels are tamped way down from Rebels to match the muted presentation, and things often feel low-energy even just within the context of these shows. Even when the show steps into the World Between Worlds, an explicitly supernatural plane (or goes into Ahsoka's coma dream) there's no real change in look. Contrast the way that Empire employs that low shutter speed in the dark cave, while TLJ steps into something surreal complete with voiceover and an impossible CG camera move. In Ahsoka, though, there's little attempt to make the place feel otherworldly beyond how the scenery looks.

And these are largely missing a vital part of Rogue One's look, which is scale. Both Gareth Edwards and cinematographer Greig Fraser are great at portraying large-scale things in interesting ways, and that's something which will tend to get lost with a move to the small screen and the massive use of the Volume, without shots from locations or physical sets to balance it out and make spaces feel more real.