inaneswine

[inaneswine]

I decided to continue watching The Walking Dead (SPOILERS)

So it’s currently nine days away from the premiere of season 7B of The Walking Dead (not that I’m counting, at all), and I was sort of in two minds about whether to tune in at all. I’ve decided I will, but I haven’t been too thrilled with what the last couple of seasons have had to offer.

I have loved The Walking Dead since it first appeared. I have been a lover of all things zombie since I was a child – first getting into the Resident Evil video games and series of film adaptations that followed, Danny Boyle’s modern classic 28 Days Later, and then finally getting into the classic Romero Living Dead films. However, when The Walking Dead first aired in 2010, it was before Netflix, box sets and binge-watching were a big thing, and not too many people this side of the pond had heard of Breaking Bad, so television wasn’t quite in its golden age yet. The only zombie series worthy of note that had ever been broadcast either here or in the states was the Charlie Brooker penned miniseries Dead Set, a fantastically cynical satire which places a zombie apocalypse on the eviction night of reality television series Big Brother. While its premise may have been laughable, it was incredibly well-written and executed, and it was also intensely frightening. I like to view it myself as a pilot to Brooker’s Black Mirror anthology series, as its nihilistic tone and darkly comic style are very similar.

However, post-apocalyptic drama wasn’t especially new to television. In 2008, the same year as Dead Set aired, the BBC began airing a remake of 1970s drama Survivors. It starred Julie Graham as Abby Grant, one of the few survivors of a flu pandemic that has almost wiped out the human race. She meets and bands together with other survivors and together, they attempt to stay alive, and try to avoid the dangers of this new, quieter world they inhabit. It lasted a mere two seasons before its cancellation in 2010 (the same year Walking Dead began to air). Predating Walking Dead by a good couple of years (though airing after the Dead comics began publication In 2003), Survivors explores very similar themes, such as community spirit, reconnecting with family and fighting oppressive leadership – characterised here by the last surviving government official. It was a terrific series – great writing, excellent performances and stunning cinematography and visual effects. It also hammered home the idea that no character is safe at any time, as two of the most arguably well known actors in the show – Freema Agyeman and Shaun Dingwall – succumb to the deadly flu in the very first episode. Unfortunately, it seemed that the viewing figures weren’t meeting the standards set by the show’s high budget, and it was not renewed for a third season.

Then, in October 2010, The Walking Dead began to air. I had never heard of the comics and, to this day, still haven’t read them, so it was all new to me. But from the moment Rick pulled the trigger on that small girl with the half-missing cheek as she quickly staggered towards him, I was hooked. Its first season’s relatively short running time of six episodes was a welcome change from the usual American television dramas which, at this time, usually stretched out to a good 24 or so episodes. Thankfully, Americans are beginning to learn that it’s about quality not quantity, and they delivered six action-packed, thoughtful and scary episodes of character-driven – as opposed to gore-driven – drama. (Having said that, there was still gore a-plenty.)

First of all, the show presented a group of diverse, flawed, but very likeable characters. With the exceptions of Carol’s abusive husband Ed, our initial introduction to Daryl and, as the first two seasons progressed, the mentally unstable Shane, it was a show about relatively decent, ordinary people coming to terms with a terrible predicament that they neither deserved nor asked for. The early seasons remain my favourites, as our group takes refuge at a secluded camp, and then at a farmhouse in rural Georgia. Though several are very vocally critical of the second season, I seriously adored it, as it gave the characters some time for respite and allowed for thorough character exposition, almost crossing into Shakespearian territory as the Rick-Lori-Shayne love triangle complicated further and further. It also echoed the “cosy catastrophe” element of post-apocalyptic fiction – the idea that a group of protagonists can live a relatively comfortable life in the face of a great disaster, or that the apocalypse has freed them from the constraints of society – present in the works of John Wyndham and George A. Romero. Additionally, it was refreshing to see that the old classic style of zombies – the slow, Romero-esque shamblers – were not only being used, but were being made threatening and scary again. While Romero somehow managed to imbue his zombies with a sense of character and intelligence – by the end of 1985’s Day Of The Dead, one zombie even understands the concept of sarcasm – Walking Dead’s zombies are just beasts, plain and simple.

However, season three was a game-changer in this respect. Life became so much more difficult for the survivors after they lost their home at the end of season two, and additional threat was added by the tyrannical and psychotic rule of the Governor, expertly played by David Morrissey. Walking Dead began to let viewers know that not everyone in the zombie apocalypse was very nice.

As each season passed, the show became more harrowing and difficult to watch, with some standout moments being the death of Hershel, Carol’s “look at the flowers” moment and the group’s arrival at Terminus. As a matter of fact, the opening scene of season five’s first episode, “No Sanctuary”, was perhaps the most disturbing five minutes in television that I’ve ever seen. But just when it looks like there’s no hope for our survivors, viewers were uplifted and rejoicing by the end of the episode as Carol stepped in to save the day in some of the most spectacular scenes of the series yet. They all still stuck together, and seemed to be able to overcome any dangers they faced.

Season six was fairly uneven, with some outstanding zombie horde scenes, excellent fight scenes involving the Wolves, but also a poorly executed and frustrating red herring involving the alleged death of Glenn (who didn’t really die, he just fell off a bin). Nonetheless, it was still enjoyable to watch and fascinating to watch the characters develop. An easy example would be the episode “Here’s Not Here”, which may just be the finest episode of the whole series.

Now, onto season seven. As I’ve said, I understand that it’s a zombie apocalypse, and things are likely to get rather unpleasant, but this season has been damn near unwatchable. We have seen remarkable character exposition and fantastic human drama, but the untold misery and cruelty inflicted upon our heroes episode by episode became just too much to take, and sitting through it each week was extremely hard work. I’m not criticising the writing or the acting, as both have been beautiful, I just wanted some relief for our poor friends that never seemed to come. It hasn’t just been tough, it’s been thoroughly depressing.

I was at a point during the mid-season finale, just as Spencer was disembowelled by Negan, returned as the living dead and was subsequently shot by Rick, where I expected the end credits to pop up right after that scene. If it had ended there, I’m pretty certain I would have stopped watching The Walking Dead. However, the last few minutes as the cast reunited at the hilltop community was virtually the only saving grace of this season so far (except Carol and Morgan’s wonderful episode entitled “The Well”). I simply hope that the next eight episodes can give us at least some glimmer of hope.

I think I’m beginning to look at antagonists differently at the moment. Characters such as Negan used to annoy me, as I simply wanted to meet nice people onscreen, and I couldn’t believe that a character could be so sadistic and brutal. Sure, the Governor was wicked, but his killing just seemed like a means to an end and, later, revenge. But Negan, he just gets off on watching people suffer.

A similar thought came recently when I watched a Korean zombie film entitled Train To Busan, which featured a fairly stereotypical “business man” character whose sole purpose was to survive the movie by sacrificing anything and anyone in his way. Again, I thought to myself, who would behave like that?

Then, another thought washed over me. And it chilled me to the bone.

Donald Trump in a zombie apocalypse.

I’ll just let you think about that.

[inaneswine]

Why The Oscars® are bullshit.

Summer blockbusters, no matter how terrible, stupid or clichéd they are, always make big money. Examples this year include Godzilla, Transformers, Guardians of the Galaxy and other similar-themed superhero films. Pushing the IMAX and 3D formats to the limits, full of over-the-top CGI and sound effects, the most spectacular thing about most summer blockbusters is the ticket price, allowing studios to rake in millions, or even billions, from just one movie by doubling the charge to the public. However, dramas would never be able to achieve figures like this. Films like Selma or The Theory of Everything would struggle to break the $100 million barrier in their whole lifetimes. So, Hollywood has another marketing tool they use to draw more attention to these slower-paced, less extravagant films: The Oscars®.

You’ve heard of Citizen Kane. Whether you’ve seen it or not (I haven’t), you’ll know that Americans regard it as one of the most important American films in history. It was recently voted by the American Film Institute as the greatest American film ever made, and was one of the first films inducted into the National Film Registry in 1989. As Rachel Green opined, it’s “really boring” but “such a big deal”. Now, have you heard of a film called How Green Was My Valley? Really? You haven’t? But it beat Citizen Kane to the Best Picture award at the 14th Oscars® ceremony back in 1942. Kane won only one of its nine nominations, for Best Original Screenplay, while Valley scooped five. So surely that means Valley was the better film, right?

Take another more recent example of this – Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining was actually nominated for two Razzies (Worst Director/Actress) upon its original release, but which is now regarded by some as one of the greatest horror films ever made, currently sporting a 92% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Kubrick, one of the most influential filmmakers that ever lived, only won a single Oscar® in his lifetime (Best Visual Effects for 2001: A Space Odyssey), while other cinematic legends such as Alfred Hitchcock received no Oscars® at all (aside from the Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award, which they gave him at the 40th Academy Awards® ceremony, striking me as an apology for completely ignoring him previously).

You could argue that this is typical of most modern masterpieces and great artists – they gain little attention upon their original release to the public, or even negative attention. But time softens this, they attract bigger crowds and critics take another look, before ultimately deciding they’re magnificent. In which case, what is the point of the Oscars®? Or the BAFTAs®, the Golden Globes®, the Critics Choice®, SAG Awards®, or any of these other registered trademarks of bullshit?

The point is to make money. There’s a reason that the majority of Oscar® nominated films are widely released at around the same time – so that the studios and the marketing teams have enough time to modify their posters and trailers accordingly. It adds a sense of prestige to otherwise unremarkable films, and allows multi-millionaire directors, producers and actors to all give themselves a big pat on the back, congratulate themselves on being visionary artists before throwing a statuette of a golden man on top of their heaving piles of money.

The 2014 list of nominations for Best Picture at the Oscars® is the worst list of Oscar® nominated films in recent memory. Only two films on the list were widely release before October, being Boyhood and The Grand Budapest Hotel. Both are impressive films – the former for its technical achievements and scope, the latter for its unique cinematography, sharp style and sense of humour. But the majority of the rest are all part of a widely recognised and unofficially acknowledged genre of film simply known as “Oscar® bait”. Biopics, coming-of-age dramas and one film which criticises the movie industry itself (Birdman). In ten years time, I would be suprised if anybody even remembers any of these films, let alone the winner.

The most shocking exclusion on the list for me was Gone Girl. Nominated once in the Best Actress category for Rosamund Pike, it was ignored for Picture, Adapted Screenplay, Actor, Cinematography and, most egregiously for me, Best Original Score – all of which it deserved nominations at the very least. Other exclusions that ticked me off were Nightcrawler (nominated for Original Screenplay but ignored elsewhere), Godzilla (a below average film but – credit where credit’s due – more than earned nominations for Sound Editing and Sound Mixing) and even the Irish drama Calvary. Fitting into the category of Oscar® bait itself, Calvary may have had more impact had it been released in the pitifully titled Oscar® season. But being dumped in April did it no favours.

Unlike Godzilla, most non-Oscar® bait films at least get recognised for their achievements in their specific categories, such as Kathy Bates’ Oscar®-winning performance in Misery – a Stephen King based horror/thriller, and Meryl Streep scooping the Meryl Streep’s Best Actress prize in The Iron Lady – an otherwise mediocre film for which Streep absolutely deserved to be recognised for turning into Thatcher.

My point is this: The Oscars® is a money-making advertisement scheme for underwhelming films that need as much financial support as they can get, and that’s been made more obvious this year than most. This year’s nominations don’t even make logical sense, and the opaque and undemocratic selection procedure is wearing very thin on modern filmgoers, particularly this one.

[inaneswine]

The X Factor, and what it does to people.

So, this began as a Facebook status that I realised was a bit long, so I decided to join tumblr instead. Why not.

I decided to write it because I just had a quick visit onto Facebook, a few hours after the first X Factor Live Results Show of 2012. And immediately my homepage was flooded with comments calling for Louis Walsh to be sacked, describing the show as a “joke”, a “disgrace” and “rigged”.

For those who don’t watch it, the comments came from Louis’ decision to go to deadlock, following auditions regular Carolynne Poole and the, I suppose, quirky Essex boy Rylan Clarke ending up in the bottom two after a public vote. Subsequently, Poole lost the public vote to Clarke.

First of all, what is The X Factor? I believe is a glorified Saturday night karaoke competition/soap opera, poorly camouflaged as a genuine search for “the next big thing”. I’m not sure who else noticed, but I certainly noticed that less than two minutes after the vote was taken, host Dermot O’Leary described the result as “controversial”. Talent is secondary in the producers’ eyes, while drama, controversy and conflict between contestants and, moreover, the judges are top of their priorities. That’s why I believe that X Factor has more in common with Big Brother than it does with a genuine talent search.

However, I’ve viewed this series a little differently than I might have other series. This year, the one to watch for me has been Lucy Spraggan. Someone who writes her own music. I compare her to artists such as Amy Macdonald and Ed Sheeran. She isn’t an epic Whitney Houston vocalist, but she writes songs about such ordinary moments in life, turning them into emotional and poignant music. Yet, soon after her audition aired and people began to buy her music, the producers stepped in. Having changed the rules this year to allow musicians with recording contracts into the competition, Lucy’s popularity proved too much and producers demanded her music was removed from sale, in order to give all contestants “the same level of exposure”. Or so I read.

So Lucy, you’re going to withdraw your music from sale, to continue in a competition where the prize is selling Simon Cowell’s music? Smart artistic decision? Probably not.

But moving on from Lucy, think about the other contestants. Such as Christopher Maloney, who shakes like milk every time he looks at a stage. We don’t think “Oh, what a strong performer, an amazing singer”. We think, “Oh, he’s trying, bless him.”

Also, what about Rylan Clarke himself? Personally, I’m glad he stayed tonight. He’s interesting. He’s fun to watch on a Saturday, in the same way that Nikki Grahame’s “Who IS she!?” tantrum on Big Brother was amusing. At least he’s not some 45 year old till worker in a sparkly frock singing “You Raise Me Up”, which is what I most identify X Factor with.

So, Is Louis Walsh’s decision to go to deadlock really that outrageous? Do we really think that Carolynne Poole or indeed Rylan Clarke are going to change the face of music? This coming from the same talent contest that gave us Chico, One Direction and…er…Jedward?

People are taking this show far too seriously. (Hell, maybe even I am, as I’ve devoted an entire blog to it.) If you’re staying in on a Saturday night, watch it. Or don’t watch it. Or whatever.

“Look at it this way. In 100 years, who’s gonna care?”