#Film preservation services

[monkey-network]

The Disposable Era of Cartoons

There exists many cartoons in the world that a vast majority never really bring up, and that's okay. Not everyone can watch everything all the time and you can argue that we only scratch the surface since the beginning. I've always had this deep seeded thought however of how animation's been treated, notably of tv shows. Browsing my usual "streaming" sites, I often come upon a show I've never heard of before. One just recently was Zokie of Planet Ruby, a series made by Nelvana, hosted by Nickelodeon, with its entire first season dropped on Amazon Prime on the last day of 2023. Overall, it's not a show I'm interested in, but how it was just dumped onto streaming upon other factors like that got deep seeded thought resurfacing into a theory. A theory regarding the potential era where excess is reaching its apex.

Animated TV shows I say are more arduous to make than films. Not to say films are more effortless to produce, god no, but have better limits given you'll have a set script and runtime to work off of as opposed to having to constantly produce multiple at a time for episodes ranging from 7 to 22 minutes. We work on a timeline where it's hard to believe any new story isn't derivative of already told stories, but the beauty does come in how we're able to transform them with new purposes and concepts. The workload however can be a lot many recognize but don't grasp themselves only as outsiders. The pitch getting greenlit is just the big toe in the door, finally stepping in is a matter of juggling multiple episodes a day, revising and editing, deliveries to the animators, all for the hope that it gets back in time to air. This is where I've come to appreciate The Simpsons, good and bad. Regardless of a recent season's quality, it's undoubtedly difficult to schedule fresh ideas that can stick with the same concepts for 30+ years, all to meet the quota by the beginning of the autumn season. Things have shifted thanks to streaming.

In retrospect, what felt like a novel idea was inevitably gonna turn into a capitalistic nightmare. It makes some sense that Netflix wouldn't have a monopoly on hosting every show from cable TV to be put on their newly founded streaming site in 2007. It wouldn't have been long before every other studio threw their hat in, developing their own stream sites with the properties they made and owned themselves. Competition is natural, but now you're basically spending the same prices as cable or satellite if you wanted to watch every show you remembered seeing on TV. Sites like Tubi and PlutoTV I say are the saving graces where you can shockingly find a ton of film/shows old and new for free, but you've probably seen shows and films getting removed from the sites they originate from, either to be traded to another site or written off for good because investment returns weren't a shake 'n bake. All this is because of rights ownership and a complex web of cost cutting against the people behind said shows and films. What does this mean for cartoons, though?

Like TV shows, you're gonna have a few poster boys upon a ton of shows nobody beyond avid seekers are gonna bother remembering. This has been a trend long in the making, but while many shows can be greenlit and made it can be a crapshoot as to whether the company actually believes in that show enough to market it. For Nickelodeon, it's an open secret that any cartoon not an instant hit like Spongebob, despite little promotion from the company, would be chucked onto the Nicktoons network to run out their remaining episodes. With streaming however, you'd either get something like Zokie of Planet Ruby where everything's dumped without warning or Glitch Techs where it's stuck in development limbo with half its episodes un-aired or incomplete. This isn't just with Nick however. Disney and Cartoon Network has had its fair share of duds everyone's slept on if they weren't massively eyecatching regardless of quality. The fates of their existence is dependent on who's keeping an eye on the companies. This isn't to say shows like Infinity Train and Final Space, which got removed digitally back in October and December respectively, didn't have their supporters who expressed outrage. It's to say other shows couldn't get that level of reported support, and I feel it's only going to get worse.

This is what I believe amounts to the theoretical "Disposable Era" of television, where we aren't just having companies dispose shows but create shows that are purposefully disposable. For websites designed to stream cyclically endless content, this will mean an exponential ton of commissioned projects for cheap that anyone will pick up once, never watch again, and can be written off immediately after a small period because no one outside the crew responsible would notice, incapable of viewing unless someone miraculously torrents everything. While I've brought up TV in general as opposed to just animated stuff, I personally feel the efforts and imaginative possibilities of animation count more for the generations that grow up with them as much as the influences they can have on artists. And I can feel it's discouraging for creators to know that their work can be eventually assembly lined, worst than reality tv, and then erased for tax breaks because nobody thought about them for more than the weekend they binged it all.

This is all if you don't account for anime studios like MAPPA which are a whole other horrifying story

I say "theoretical" because we aren't that far to where it could be possible. Shows do take time to make, and even if companies are pushing AI it's barely able to be anything more than an asset for certain cases. People have their reasonable fears, but an animated show fully AI generated that lasts more than 2 7-minute episodes, at this point in time, is a wet dream from investors. AI will not easily replace the craft, but the craft will be abused year after year with of how many shows get greenlit, made within a couple years, only to be thrown out when the numbers don't appease. This doesn't mean we won't get quality gems, but the rough they come from will pile more and more, and the gems some find that the majority will ignore will be written off and vaulted. I say the inception behind my theory wasn't exactly from the recent stuff like David Zaslav or Paramount's haphazard treatment of their content, it goes a little further back.

Hanazuki: Full of Treasures wasn't a huge series back in 2017, but it was one I enjoyed a lot when it was premiering on Youtube at the time. After its first season finished, Hasbro would produce a theatrical short to coincide with the My Little Pony movie in October. This is where I felt things fell apart. While the film was a commercial success, the short was basically overshadowed and I can't help imagine was what affected the series by the time it got a season two. 2019 was where Hanazuki not only got its broadcast season cut, Hasbro would basically start erasing its existence while supposedly having in development limbo since. While it was all thankfully reuploaded, you wouldn't have been remiss to know Hasbro couldn't even allow it to stay on Youtube after its TV broadcasting.

Everything surrounding rights ownership and royalties has basically developed an endless turmoil of how shows and their crew are treated. I don't blame anyone for not discussing or mentioning everything that gets to exist. Variety is never a bad thing, and sometimes people want certain things because again not everyone thinks or enjoys stuff homogeneously. It's just always increasingly bothered me that so much can get pumped out to be either taken away or left there for people to stumble across. TV's become Youtube but more business heavy where creativity is a tightrope of whether their appeal gets to live for more than a week or not. Like Youtube though, can also be lost to time to no one looking back. Let's just say David Zaslav running WB is only considered the worst because he's become the biggest face of an open secret. He could very well be the beginning of a shift that could lead us into the Disposable Era, and it's anyone guess of how bad it could get.

With all this said, I don't believe preventative hope can't exist, especially without the effort. Piracy is already doing enough for preservation and availability, even if you gotta have adblock to watch them properly. More creators I feel should learn and process the rights they can have with their properties. If there's anything I learned from artists Bill Watterson and Making Fiends' creator Amy Winfrey, is that production syndicates will abuse their knowledge of the law to do as they see fit, especially when it comes down to what you're offering them. The eventual animators and VFX work strikes could provide something more stable, but that's all in due time. How much the average audience member can retain or hyperfixate on is not something to concern, rather that it happens at all. The best solution is finding a middle ground between the disposable and sentimental; more people being vocal about good stuff they found no matter how small. There can be pushback from online lethargic asshats, but it's far better than complaining about the multitude of reboots or how woke everything's become. Something is only as disposable as nobody proclaims otherwise.

but that's all just a theory.

[magpiemirroring]

YES! When I had more disposable income, I used to go buy $5 dvds at the used bookstore randomly (and sometimes at an actual retailer) and a major criteria for if I would purchase a movie I had never seen before in my life, was the promised quantity and quality of the Bonus Features. Bloopers were pretty much a minimum requirement. For things I had seen before, sometimes I would watch the behind the scenes features more than the actual movie.

Even now, with my more tight budget, I would still be willing to shell out for a DVD of a film or a box set of a series I loved if you promised me some really good, and fun behind the scenes features and a good commentary track. I am hungry to pay to own things I love on a physical medium that contains even more content and info about the thing I love!

You know the biggest loss of the decline of physical media and the rise of streaming? DVD special features.

[flanaganfilm]

Mr. Flanagan, I’d like to ask a question and I deeply hope that it does not offend or upset you. I am strongly considering canceling my Netflix subscription due to their new password sharing policy. However, Midnight Mass is one of my favorite shows of all time and I know it isn’t available on DVD, and I’m also profoundly anticipating your take on my favorite Edgar Allen Poe story. So I wanted to ask your take on people accessing your work through, uh, other means. If it’s something that’s offensive to you or will harm you or the other people who work so hard on these shows, I’ll happily keep my Netflix just so that I can keep supporting your work. I respect you far too much as an artist to do otherwise.

Again, I really hope I’m not upsetting you by asking this question. Thank you for everything, and I hope you’re having a great day!

(NOTE 6/4/2024: I'm editing this entry because, well over a year since it was posted, some journalists dug this up and used it to create click-bait headlines that are misleading, out of context and artificially combative. While I was of course disappointed over the years that Netflix opted not to release my work on physical media, I never experienced any hostility or aggression in those discussions, and I sincerely regret the manner in which this post was used in the press this week.)

Hi there - no offense taken whatsoever, in fact I think this is a very interesting and important question.

So. If you asked me this a few years ago, I would have said "I hate piracy and it is hurting creators, especially in the independent space." I used to get in Facebook arguments with fans early in my career when people would post about seeing my work on torrent sites, especially when that work was readily available for rent and purchase on VOD.

Back in 2014, my movie Before I Wake was pirated and leaked prior to any domestic release, and that was devastating to the project. It actually made it harder to find distribution for the film. By the time we were able to get distribution in the US, the film had already been so exposed online that the best we could hope for was a Netflix release. Netflix stepped in and saved that movie, and for that I will always be grateful to them.

However...

Working in streaming for the past few years has made me reconsider my position on piracy.

In the years I worked at Netflix, I tried very hard to get them to release my work on blu-ray and DVD.

It became clear very fast that their priority was subscriptions, and that they were not particularly interested in physical media releases of their originals, with a few exceptions.

While companies like Netflix pride themselves on being disruptors, and have proven that they can affect great change in the industry, they sometimes fail to see the difference between disruption and damage. So much that they can find themselves, intentionally or not, doing harm to the concept of film preservation.

The danger comes when a title is only available on one platform, and then - for whatever reason - is removed.

We have already seen this happen. And it is only going to happen more and more. Titles exclusively available on streaming services have essentially been erased from the world. If those titles existed on the marketplace on physical media, like HBO's Westworld, the loss is somewhat mitigated (though only somewhat.) But when titles do not exist elsewhere, they are potentially gone forever.

The list of titles that have been removed from streaming services is growing.

I still believe that where we put our dollars matters. Renting or buying a piece of work that you like is essential. It is casting a vote, encouraging studios - who only speak the language of money - to invest more effort into similar work. If we show up to support distinct, unique, exciting work, it encourages them to make more of it. It's as simple as that. If we don't show up, or if they can't hear our voice because we are casing our vote "silently" through torrent sites or other means - it makes it unlikely that they will take a chance to create that kind of work again.

Which is why I typically suggest that if you like a movie you've seen through - uh - other means, throw a few dollars at that title on a legitimate platform. Rent it. Purchase it. Support it.

But if some studios offer no avenue for that kind of support, and can (and will) remove content from their platform forever... frankly, I think that changes the rules.

Netflix will likely never release the work I created for them on physical media, though I'll always hold out hope.

Some of you may say "wait, aren't The Haunting of Hill House and The Haunting of Bly Manor available on blu-ray and DVD?" Yes, they are, because they were co-produced with Paramount, and I'm grateful that Paramount was able to release and protect those titles. (I'm also grateful that those releases include extended cuts, deleted scenes, and commentary tracks. There are a number of fantastic benefits to physical media releases.)

But a lot of the other work I did there are Netflix originals, without any other studio involvement. Those titles - like Midnight Mass, The Midnight Club, and the upcoming Fall of the House of Usher - along with my Netflix exclusive and/or original movies Before I Wake and Gerald's Game - have no such protections. The physical media releases of those titles are entirely at Netflix's discretion, and don't appear to be priority for the studio at this time.

At the moment, Netflix seems content to leave Before I Wake, Gerald's Game, Midnight Mass, and The Midnight Club on the service, where they still draw audiences. I don't think there is a plan to remove any of them anytime soon. But plans change, the industry changes.

The point is things change, and each of those titles - should they be removed from the service for any reason - are not available anywhere else. If that day comes - if Netflix's servers are destroyed, if a meteor hits the building, if they are bought out by a competitor and their library is liquidated - I don't know what the circumstances might be, I just know that if that day comes, some of the work that means the most to me in the world would be entirely erased.

Or, what if we aren't so catastrophic in our thinking? What if it the change isn't so total? What if Netflix simply bumps into an issue with the license they paid for music (like the Neil Diamond songs that play such a crucial role in Midnight Mass), and decide to leave the show up but replace the songs?

This has happened before as well - fans of Northern Exposure can get the show on DVD and blu-ray, but the music they heard when the series aired has been replaced due to the licensing issues. And the replacements - chosen for their low cost, not for creative reasons - are not improvements. What if the shows are just changed, and not by creatives, but by business affairs executives?

All to say that physical media is critically important. Having redundancy in the marketplace is critically important. The more platforms a piece of work is available on, the more likely it is to survive and grow its audience.

As for Netflix, I hope sincerely that their thinking on this issue evolves, and that they value the content they spend so much money creating enough to protect it for posterity. That's up to them, it's their studio, it's their rules. But I like to think they may see that light eventually, and realize that exclusivity in a certain window is very cool... but exclusivity in perpetuity could potentially limit the audience and endanger the work itself.

[specialagentartemis]

Getting Involved In Your Community: A Guide For If You Don't Know Where To Start

I've seen several back-and-forths on tumblr that boil down to "media consumption is not activism; if you want to do activism, go volunteer or get involved in local politics." I agree, but also understand that it can feel daunting to try. Especially when you don't have a lot of money to donate places or know anybody who's organizing things! I definitely get it. But I also agree that volunteering is valuable - not only does it make you feel good, like you've accomplished something meaningful, it gets you out of the house and meeting new people in a structured environment. It helps you get to know the people in your community, and what's going on in your town or city.

There are LOTS of ways to do this! You don't need to already know people, or have organizing skills of your own. Finding something that works for you can be really rewarding, and it doesn't have to be difficult.

Food Pantries, Food Banks, and Soup Kitchens

The obvious one, but it's obvious for a reason: people always need food, food pantries always need volunteers, and nearly every town or city has one nearby. They're frequently easy to find by googling. It's immediately rewarding knowing you materially helped someone and if it's something you do (or have in the past or may in the future) need too, it's good to get to know the people. There are volunteer needs available all throughout the week, and rarely require knowing any particular skills in advance. During much of COVID lockdown I helped unload food deliveries every Tuesday and put them on the food pantry shelves, for example.

If nonprofits make you leery or there are only aggressively Christian ones nearby, see if there's a local chapter of Food Not Bombs, a more anarchist-leaning network that provides vegetarian foods to people. They frequently need volunteers for things like cooking, setup, dishwashing, food pickup, or cleaning out a free community refrigerator.

Everyone needs food and these are the most immediate and most common type of volunteer opportunities around.

Environmental and Conservation Groups

You probably have a park, pond, creek, wetland, or some other natural space near you, and that space almost certainly has some environmental group that maintains it. Start by searching "Friends of [park name]" or "citizen science [town]". Look for invasive plant removal, trash pickup, or native plant planting events - these are pretty common and open to new volunteers without specialized knowledge.

There may also be related community gardens! Search for "[Town] community garden" to see what's available. Some places also have nonprofit groups dedicated to saving, preserving, maintaining, and planting native crop/wildflower seeds.

Refugee Support

Many cities have refugee support organizations. A lot of the services they offer require specialized skills (like language or legal knowledge) or long-term commitments, but they can also involve things like picking people up from the airport or driving them to important appointments. If this is something important to you, search up "[city] refugee support" and email them to ask what they need!

Local Library

If you want something more book-related, see if your local library wants volunteers, or if it has a "Friends of the Library" group. Library volunteers help keep a lot of tasks running that the often underfunded staff might otherwise not get a chance to do, like reshelving books or adding self-checkout RFID tags to the whole book collection (this is what I did in high school), and the Friends of the Library does things like sort through book donations, and help fundraise for the library.

Local Cable Access TV Station

Does your town/city have a local cable access tv station - that is, they film and broadcast local events to local cable channels? This is an amazing way to learn, and use, A/V skills for the benefit of your town! For years throughout high school and college, I helped to film town council meetings, committee meetings, town election debates, various other town events, and high school football games, in addition to other shows - in high school some friends and I made a kid-friendly after-school science education show. Stations like these are almost always on the lookout for new things to broadcast, too, so if you want to do a monthly broadcast of local art exhibits or queer events or community garden updates or a vegetarian/vegan/low-budget/low-spoons cooking show, or a socialist talk show (who knows!), see if that's something that's available to you! Or you can volunteer to transcribe their shows for closed-captions.

Local Historical Society

Does your town have a historical society? Odds are they have lots of things they'd love to do and very little money. If you're interested in local history, get in touch with them and see if there's something they want volunteers to help with. In college I transcribed a lot of Revolutionary War-era letters. (I also made a documentary about my town's history that aired on the local cable access TV station and I had to fight with the town historical society over being able to use their photos, so. You know.)

Politics and Activism

Find out when your town council meets, or any particular committees that discuss topics important to you (sustainability, education, transit, police, affordable housing, etc). Your town/city will likely have a dedicated town government website with this information. Show up and ask questions.

Calling your elected representatives is also always valuable, and the trick is, the more local they are, the more likely they are to listen to you.

Google "[topic] advocacy group [town]" - LGBTQ, police abolition, climate justice, education, etc. See if there are already groups doing the things you care about. They will likely love new people showing interest.

"Town Day," Farmer's Markets, Town Festivals, or Other Events

Every fall, my town has a "town day" where different local businesses, artists, schools, and groups have booths and events all throughout downtown. This is a great place to learn about different nonprofits and advocacy groups who are looking for volunteers. This is true for a lot of these types of events. Browse the booths and see if there's any group you didn't know about before whose mission speaks to you, and ask if they're looking for volunteers. This is how I discovered a local group that harvests and then donates fruit, herbs, and nuts from plants in people's yards and municipal plots that would otherwise get ignored and go uneaten. They're small, they're great, and the work is outdoors, active but not strenuous, and fulfilling, and I get to take home some fruit afterwards.

Generally, volunteering means you can either donate your money, skills, or time, and it's up to you to decide what you have available to donate. But actually getting out there and meeting people helps give you reasons to get out of the house, a few hours off the internet, a sense of fulfillment, and greater connection to other people who are doing things you care about or who know who is. Don't try to do everything - just pick something that speaks to you and fits into your schedule, and go from there.

[astroismypassion]

✨PART OF FORTUNE IN SIGNS AND HOUSES SERIES: 9TH HOUSE✨

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

ARIES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aries and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You would do well as a personal trainer or fitness instructor since you have great energy and motivation that can inspire clients to achieve health and fitness goals. You feel abundant when you are inspired and inspiring others and when you can experience the childlike joy and share it with those around you.

TAURUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Taurus and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via teaching about practical skills, business, economics or the arts, via creating and selling educational content (online courses, e-books, instructional videos), by becoming a travel writer or blogger, starting or managing a tourism-related business (travel agency, boutique hotel or guided tour company), via international law.

GEMINI PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Gemini and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via developing or working with educational technology platforms that facilitate online learning, via work in international business/trade, via diplomacy, engaging in media production, creating content for TV, radio or online platforms.

CANCER PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You can feel the most abundant when you have Cancer and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via selling home-brewed beer or offering brewing classes, via media content (podcasts, videos) connected with family relationships, emotional health, cultural traditions, life coaching, via real estate related to family homes, community housing, vacation properties that provide a sense of home and comfort, via non-profit organizations that focus on family support, emotional well-being and cultural preservation.

LEO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Leo and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via providing high-end services, such as image consulting or bespoke travel planning, via engaging in theatre, film, directing, producing, via creative arts (music, painting, dancing), via sharing your experiences by storytelling, via teaching, arts, philosophy or leadership.

VIRGO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Virgo and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via nutrition counselling, naturopathy, wellness coaching, preventative care, via writing for technical and scientific publications, via developing or managing programs that facilitate cultural exchanges and study abroad opportunities. You feel abundant when you are focused on service and when you have clear communication.

LIBRA PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Libra and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via becoming a make-up artist, creating tutorials or selling beauty products. You feel abundant when you travel with your loved ones, your partner or as a part of the team. You find wealth via becoming a teacher in subjects like art, design, law or philosophy. You find abundance in starting a business in art (art gallery, design studio, fashion brand).

SCORPIO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Scorpio and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via esoteric studies, sociology, spiritual transformation, via energy work, shamanic healing, transformational coaching. You feel abundant when you dive into transformation, healing and deep psychological insights. You can also offer consulting services in areas, like crisis management, organizational transformation or deep personal development. You feel abundant when you promote healing and transformation via self-help books, wellness products or spiritual tools.

SAGITTARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering tailored travel plans, starting a business in adventure tourism (offering hiking, trekking and cultural tours), offering spiritual counselling or coaching, helping others find their path and purpose.

CAPRICORN PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Capricorn and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via import/export, global consultancy, multinational corporations, via offering historical tours, archaeological digs, via eco-tourism, via international law or corporate law. You feel abundant when you are disciplined, patient and persistent.

AQUARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aquarius and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via writing or speaking about progressive philosophical or spiritual ideas that align with modern, futuristic or humanitarian values, via online courses, workshops or alternative education methods, via technology, social sciences or futuristic studies.

PISCES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Pisces and Sagittarius Sun people in your life. You can earn money via producing media content (podcast, video, documentary) on spiritual, artistic, cultural topic, via creating educational programs/workshops that blend traditional learning with holistic or spiritual perspective, via spiritual coaching, astrology or psychic readings.

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

[bowelfly]

oh hi i just dumped like 30-ish of my favorite chinese fantasy movies (plus a few japanese and indonesian fantasy films) onto a google drive here. i'm gonna try and leave it up for at least a year unless i really need the space, but in the meantime go nuts with it. i might also occasionally add new films to the folder. the contents of the drive are not even close to a comprehensive overview of the genre but i've only got so much upload capacity and it's a pretty good introduction imo.

if you're wondering where to start, i will recommend the following, roughly in order, as first stabs into the genre:

Buddha's Palm (1982)

Holy Flame of the Martial World (1983)

Zu: Warriors from the Magic Mountain (1983)

The Miracle Fighters (1982)

Portrait in Crystal (1983)

Descendant of the Sun (1983)

The Battle Wizard (1977)

The Beheaded 1000 (1993)

The Ghost Hill (1971)

The Hidden Power of the Dragon Sabre (1984)

that last one is technically the third part of a trilogy but it's a long-gap sequel with tenuous continuity and the first two aren't nearly as crazy, and honestly watching them first wouldn't really make the film anymore coherent. in fact as a general rule for enjoyment of any of these i strongly discourage the impulse to make total sense of the plot. just let the wizard laser nonsense wash over you.

offhand, i think the only film in this compilation that really needs a content warning is Wolf Devil Woman, which is a kickass taiwanese fantasy film and one of the few that has a female lead, the inimitable Pearl Chang who also wrote and directed the film, but it also has a couple moments of on-screen animal cruelty to be wary of.

UPDATE 2024.3.2: i replaced the copy of The Enchantress (1983) with a higher quality version i found. i highly recommend grabbing this one, it's a banger.

i absolutely love old 60s-80s wuxia movies and have watched probably close to a hundred of them just in the last year, especially if you include some of the more wuxia-adjacent kung fu films of the era, but without question my favorite wuxia subgenre is the string of films made mostly in the 80s plus a few from the late 70s and early 90s when hong kong and taiwan movie studios started to get really weird and high concept in an effort to stand out and were churning out all kinds of movies about wizards having laser battles and shit, but since computer graphics weren't really a big thing yet everything had to be done either with practical effects or just hand-drawing the effects on the film.

i say this without an ounce of irony or condescension. there is absolutely nothing "so bad it's good" about these movies. they genuinely fucking whip ass and the amount of effort and artistry put into such weird and wild concepts is mind-blowing, especially considering many of them were made to be practically disposable and some of them only survived to today by the grace of someone happening to save the original negative or just an intact 35mm print from being tossed in a dumpster.

to that end i've been compiling a list of films in this my most beloved of genres and if you love wizard shit then you really owe it to yourself to track some of these down and give them a watch:

EDIT: forgot to mention that many of these you can find on public torrent servers like rarbg and there's a surprising number just on archive.org and youtube. but also if you can spare the cash, many excellent old hong kong movies are starting to get really nice physical media releases from boutique DVD and blu-ray distribution companies

[probablyasocialecologist]

At the end of World War I, the Japanese delegation had come to the Versailles Peace Conference of 1919 to secure a racial equality clause in the charter for the new League of Nations. Despite his promises of freedom and plans for a postwar league to promote world peace, American president Woodrow Wilson was a Southern segregationist who had purged the US civil service of Blacks and hosted a White House screening of Birth of a Nation, thereby endorsing the film’s celebration of the Ku Klux Klan and its virulently racist depictions of African Americans. British officials had similar concerns that any declaration of human equality would create “extremely serious problems” for their colonial empire. When the Japanese motion nonetheless won majority support at the conference, Wilson used his position as chair of the deliberations to arbitrarily dismiss it, thereby preserving the racial hierarchy of the imperial age. While the conference liberated white Europeans from Austrian and Russian imperial rule, the League sanctioned continued colonial dominion over the peoples of Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. To preserve imperial rule, the League created a mandate system which instituted a form of suspended sovereignty first advanced in the sixteenth century by the Spanish jurist Francisco de Vitoria. In effect, President Wilson’s arbitrary rejection of racial equality crippled the moral leadership of the League of Nations at birth, just as his inept failure to win congressional approval for US participation fatally weakened its international influence.

Alfred W. McCoy, To Govern the Globe: World Orders and Catastrophic Change

[weaselandfriends]

Death and Identity in Post-postmodern Mystery

This essay contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko When They Cry and spoilers for up to Chapter 140 of The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere.

Near the end of the first half of Umineko When They Cry, a bizarre curveball is tossed into the logic duel between Battler and Beatrice. Beatrice claims that Battler is somehow not actually Battler, but rather an imposter, a body double brought to the island as part of a plot to seize the inheritance. Thus, Battler is unqualified to be her opponent, meaning he must be expelled from the metafictional realm where the game takes place, and the game itself must be cancelled.

Battler, stumped by her logic, cannot form a rebuttal. He disappears, his very existence denied. "Without the one pillar that established his soul," the story reads, "he had fallen into the very depths of darkness, and had been drifting about all this time."

In The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, a parallel moment occurs at the climax of the story's first half. The protagonist, Utsushikome of Fusai, confronts the person she believes to be the murderer, someone she knew when she was young. Cornered, he attempts to appeal to their childhood friendship, indicating he had even been in love with her. Utsushikome of Fusai cuts him off coldly, saying:

"I'm not Utsushikome of Fusai."

She then bludgeons him to death with a blunt instrument, committing a murder for which the reader immediately and unambiguously knows the culprit.

Identity is the fundamental question of even the most basic mystery novel. What is the identity of the culprit? Which character, seemingly a functional member of society, is actually a murderous villain?

As the genre has developed in complexity, this question has only become more prominent. Red herrings designed to throw off genre-savvy readers necessitate many non-culprits to also lead double lives or conceal key components of their identities. Inverted mysteries, where the culprit is revealed to the reader right away, emphasize the duality of the culprit's public persona and their murderous secret: Columbo's villains are exclusively elite, wealthy, and cultured, and Light Yagami is the seeming portrait of a model Japanese youth. Even House MD, a mystery story where "diseases are the suspects," predicates its drama on the fact that the diseased victim is concealing a double identity; in House's words, "Everyone lies."

Meanwhile, the mystery genre blurs the line between art and game. A proper mystery, as genre purists will tell you, must be solvable, must be fair, must follow certain "rules." If the culprit turns out to be a character who had not appeared in the story prior to their reveal, then the parameters of the game were broken, the reader had no chance. Ditto for the implementation of fanciful poisons or contraptions, secret twins, hidden passages, and so forth. These rules are in service of preserving the phenomenological experience of reading a mystery; like a game, the value of the work is expressed through the reader's attempts to interpret it, rather than its existence as a static artistic monument.

Yet, the genre has long been entangled with literary art. Mystery's foundation lies with authors like Edgar Allan Poe and Wilkie Collins, placing it as an outgrowth of the romantic and realist literary epochs. But between 1880 and 1930—the peak of literature as mass market entertainment, before film slowly usurped it—from when Sherlock Holmes popularized the genre until the so-called Golden Age of Detective Fiction, mystery became its "own thing," and in being its "own thing" suddenly resisted the artistic spirit of its time, whatever that time might be. The Golden Age coincides temporally with the height of modernist fiction, and yet none of the stream of consciousness or abstraction that defines the latter seeps into the former whatsoever. In the post-WWII postmodern era, when literature increasingly rejected the concept of objective truth altogether, detective fiction (both in literature and in new, televised forms) continued to doggedly assert the objective truth of the culprit's identity, the objective solvability of the crime.

A lot of this discrepancy has to do with the general schism between "art" and "entertainment" that arose in literature between the late 1800s and early 1900s. As the modernists ventured in more experimental directions, a newly literate and growing middle class continued to clamor for works that were more relatable to their pragmatic, dollars-and-cents sensibilities. (I often talk about "modernism" and "postmodernism" as these all-encompassing artistic zeitgeists, but the truth is that literary realism has never fallen out of vogue with mass audiences, and even in the 1920s a realist social satirist like Sinclair Lewis—not to mention twenty names you've never heard of writing at a similar bent—sold more than Hemingway and Faulkner combined.)

By entrenching itself within the "entertainment" sphere, and by continually defining itself against itself (the process by which "genre" is created), mystery fiction was able to develop independently of the overall artistic milieu and maintain a faith in objective reality even as that became an increasingly untenable position elsewhere. And it's what makes post-postmodern mystery fiction like Umineko and The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere so fascinating to me.

Umineko didn't emerge in a vacuum. It extends from Japan's dedicated mystery subculture, and I've heard that it shares many similarities with The Decagon House Murders, a 1987 novel by Yukito Ayatsuji. Japan has its own unique relationship with postmodernism as a literary movement, with it being more of a clearly-defined artistic fad that reached prominence in the 1980s specifically, compared to the West where postmodernism seems to be the nightmare of a post-WWII world from which we cannot awaken. I wish I had more familiarity with the Japanese mystery subculture to more authoritatively speak on this subject, but I do know that it, like the West, still believes strongly in the solvability of its mysteries. I described Japan as having a "postmodern" mystery scene, but that's not what Japan calls it. In Japan, the term for a solvable, "fair play" mystery is honkaku, meaning "orthodox"—or, roughly equivalent, "classical." And beginning with The Decagon House Murders, Japanese mystery entered a new era, shin-honkaku—neoclassical.

These terms are a perfect fit. In the West, the classical is associated with the Renaissance, and indicates a focus on mathematical precision in service of the objective truth associated with God. (The golden ratio, after all, is called divina proportione in Italian—divine proportion.) The precise, solvable logic of a classical murder mystery fits within this framework, and the neoclassical mystery retains its core beliefs, much as how Napoleon Bonaparte wielded neoclassicism to lend divine legitimacy to his rule. Despite the increased complexity and metatextuality of shin-honkaku mysteries, there remains that belief in objective truth.

Umineko does not believe in objective truth.

Umineko, as a mystery, is fucking bullshit. Solving it relies on so many unspoken metafictional conceits, and even if you do "solve" it, it turns out that the culprit of the first half of the story isn't even the """real""" culprit, because the first half of the story was actually just in-universe murdersona fanfic and the actual """""truth""""" of what happened on the island is completely irrelevant to most of the mysteries with which the reader is presented.

And that's under the assumption that Umineko actually tells you who the """""""real""""""" culprit is, because it doesn't, unless you read the manga, where it was thrown in as a bone to an absolutely incensed fanbase. Umineko was not popular with the Japanese mystery crowd, which makes sense, because they get pretty directly and brutally lampooned. This is a story where a detective quoting Hercule Poirot gets introduced halfway into the story and is an unequivocal villain (she calls herself an "intellectual rapist"), with the heroes fighting to conceal the truth from her.

No, Umineko does not believe in objective truth. It might believe it exists, in some abstract way, but it does not believe it matters, compared to the magic of subjective reality. About 90 percent of Umineko (honestly a lowball estimate) depicts stuff that didn't really happen. Sometimes it depicts stuff that didn't really happen within the subjective reality of a fanfic that itself didn't really happen. Even most flashbacks set before the mystery or flash forwards set after are mired in unreality.

No, what Umineko believes in is emotional truth, subjective truth. The story's key phrase is "Without love it cannot be seen," referring to how biases (love) influence one's understanding of reality. The "Red Truth," objectively correct statements, are depicted as painful and punishing, or spiderwebs that ensnare helpless victims. It is in the space between what is known objectively where magic is allowed to exist, where interpretation can supersede fact, and where true emotional catharsis can be reached.

As such, it is the antithesis to the mystery genre.

It's also the antithesis of postmodernism. Not rejecting it, in an impossible attempt to return to some pre-modern understanding of the world; no, Umineko agrees with postmodern thought on the subjectivity of our reality. Where it diverges is in the interpretation of that subjectivity, seeing in it not the cynical nihilism postmodernism quickly (perhaps from the onset) devolved into, but a new method of reaching emotional and intellectual fulfillment.

This, to me, is what the post-postmodern artistic zeitgeist has increasingly turned toward. Works that recognize the information-dense, ungraspable reality of the post-internet age, but seek and ultimately find emotional catharsis within it. Everything Everywhere All at Once, Spider-verse and unlimited lesser multiverse stories, Homestuck, even the origin point of the literary mode Infinite Jest all operate within this theme.

Where Umineko seeks its catharsis is in identity. While the central "game" of the mystery, sometimes literalized as a chess match between Battler and Beatrice, initially appears to be Battler's attempt to discern the true culprit in classical mystery fashion, from Beatrice's perspective the game is an attempt to assert and confirm the existence of her identity altogether.

In "reality," Beatrice the Golden Witch "does not exist." There is no magical being haunting the island. Beatrice is an identity invented by another character in an attempt to generate meaning for their life. And that meaning is, fundamentally, important, perhaps more important than the objective facts that deny her existence. Which is why, as the story continues, Battler switches to Beatrice's side and defends her existence from a slate of cackling ghouls dredged out of the annals of classical mystery, who sling the "rules" of classical mystery about like weapons to maim and kill. Objectivity is the enemy, the Red Truth is a prison, but it cannot cover everything and in the mercy of subjective reality, a different sort of "truth" can be allowed to live. As the story goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that this "truth" is everything. Umineko never explicitly reveals the true killer on Rokkenjima, though mostly only through technicality. That's fine. Even by technicality, subjectivity can be allowed to live. Beatrice's identity remains.

Return to that moment I described at the start of this essay, where Beatrice briefly denies Battler's identity. In the overall narrative of Umineko, it winds up being an almost entirely inconsequential scene. Shortly after Battler disappears, his sister Ange asserts that even if Battler was not born to Asumu, he is still Kinzo's grandson, meaning he is a true heir to the Ushiromiya family and thus qualified to be Beatrice's opponent. Battler returns and the status quo is swiftly reestablished.

What is the purpose of this scene, then? In character, it makes sense as a play for Beatrice to make. Her own identity has been constantly under assault from Battler, most recently—and most painfully, for her—when Battler forgot an important promise he once made to her. She is giving him his own medicine as revenge. But it's a very dramatic and extreme turn for something so petty. The scene does establish that Battler was not actually born to the woman he believed to be his mother (Asumu), but what does this mean for the story itself?

Beatrice's claim stems from a convoluted baby swapping plot that is revealed much later in Umineko. It turns out that Rudolf had a child with both Asumu and his mistress Kyrie at the same time, and Asumu's child, the "real" Battler, died immediately, so Kyrie's child was renamed Battler and substituted for the real thing. Both children were Rudolf's son, and thus Kinzo's grandson, and all of this really has nothing to do with anything else going on in Umineko's mystery, and is kind of pointless. (It does suggest Battler as a red herring identity for the mysterious baby Kinzo tries to foist onto Natsuhi in Umineko's fifth episode, but as far as red herrings go, it's a lot of legwork for not much deception.)

I've always been fascinated, though, by what it would mean if Beatrice's claim were true. Not just that Battler wasn't Asumu's son, but that he was not related to the Ushiromiya family at all. There's some fairly compelling evidence in its favor. It's stated early on that Battler, at age 12, became angry when his father married Kyrie shortly after Asumu's death, and estranged himself from the family for six years. His appearance at the family conference where most of Umineko takes place is the first time anyone in the family has seen him since, and almost everyone is surprised by the physical transformation Battler has undergone, particularly remarking on how incredibly tall he is. Near the end of Umineko, when it is suggested that Rudolf and Kyrie are the mystery's "true" culprits, the idea that they brought in some yakuza thug to pose as Battler and help them murder everyone becomes compelling.

But that's just the practical aspect of the mystery. What about the story itself? What would it mean for the ultimate moment of emotional catharsis at the end of the narrative, when Ange—dying of cancer—finally reunites with her long lost brother, only to discover he isn't actually her brother at all?

Well, that's actually what happens at the end of Umineko. Not because Battler is a yakuza thug, though. It's because of yet another oddly-inserted plot element where Battler receives brain damage escaping the island and develops a dissociative identity disorder that causes him to view himself as Tohya Hachijo, an amnesiac author.

Though somewhat farfetched, this last-second development makes sense within Umineko's thematic framework, where identity—and the capacity for people to inhabit multiple identities at once, either literally or through the subjective interpretations of the people around them—is one of the key drivers of the story's emotional core. For Ange, her brother is lost, and yet meeting Tohya is a moment of intense catharsis, because she is willing to believe in the redemptive magic of love and "see" a subjective truth more powerful than objective reality. After all, this meeting occurs in the "Treat" ending, and is placed in contrast to the "Trick" ending, where Ange instead embraces objective rationalism and deals with uncertainty by gunning down anyone who might possibly be a threat to her. (Which turns out to be every character in her immediate vicinity.)

I wonder how that Treat ending catharsis would read, though, if instead of the author Tohya Hachijo, who deals with his identity disorder by writing fictional accounts of the Rokkenjima massacre that, while not the literal truth, reach for a subjective or emotional truth, the version of her brother Ange met was Battler the yakuza thug, who was never her brother but a cheap imposter. It would probably undermine Umineko's entire message. It would at the very least make the Treat ending seem like a nasty trick in its own right. Or would Ange still be able to "see" an emotional truth even in this? Where does the line between subjective reality and pathetic delusion lie? What, exactly, would be the identity of the brain-damaged man she reunites with? What is the identity of the story's protagonist?

That's where The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere comes in. When its central mystery starts, a metafictional interlude occurs in which rules for solving the murder(s) are established. The first rule reads:

1. THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE PROTAGONIST IS ALWAYS TRUTHFUL

This rule, like many of the subsequent rules, is highly questionable. The story has already thrown into doubt who exactly the "protagonist" is. That seems like an odd thing to say, because the very first chapter, numbered 000, appears to make it explicitly clear:

"Understand this: Your role in the scenario has been elevated from that of bystander to that of the heroine, and your victory condition is thus," she continued. "You must ascertain the identity of your opponent, the cause of the bloodshed to follow, and prevent it before it comes to pass. In order to accomplish this goal, you must pay close heed to all which transpires, and use deduction, alongside your skills and past experience of the events to follow. Do you understand your role?" "Yes," I said, muted.

The issue is that whoever the perspective character is in 000, they are not the same person as the perspective character for the rest of the story. It eventually becomes clear that they share the same body, that they are both called Utsushikome of Fusai. Nonetheless, they are distinct identities. They have different memories, different motives, and different personalities. Much later, they even hold a conversation with one another in the same metafictional realm where the mystery's rules were outlined, a metafictional realm that turns out to not be metafictional at all.

Of course, neither of these Utsushikome of Fusais are actually Utsushikome of Fusai. They are gestalt personalities that combine the memories and personality of an original Utsushikome of Fusai with the memories and personality of an entirely different girl named Kuroka, and then after the two Utsushikome of Fusais diverged from one another for reasons that are, as of writing, not fully clear but potentially due to the accumulation of memory over a centuries-long time loop. This labyrinth of identity defines the story as much as its core mystery. As said mystery hurtles toward its climax, scenes in the present are intercut with flashbacks detailing how the current identity of Utsushikome of Fusai came to be. In the present mystery, there is no ultimate reveal of the culprit (one is proposed, but in fairly faulty fashion). In the past, though, the reveal of the truth of Utsushikome's identity is laid bare, brutally and explicitly, to the point that it consumes the main narrative, and culminates in the scene I described at the beginning of this essay, where the gestalt entity inhabiting Utsushikome's body discards her identity as Utsushikome and performs a brutal on-screen murder.

In doing so, the traditional climax of the mystery novel—the unmasking of the culprit—is reframed. It is the protagonist, not the culprit, who is "unmasked." Flower is, ostensibly, a time loop murder mystery (though only one loop is shown), and shortly after committing this murder, Utsushikome meets another character, who tells her that in 90 percent of loops, Utsushikome herself is the murderer. It's a claim that seems unbelievable, despite what just happened, based on the reader's knowledge of Utsushikome as a bumbling and indecisive girl who needed the most extreme circumstances to rouse herself to violence (an "anxious waif," as the author, Lurina, described her to me). It's a claim even Utsushikome meets with doubt. At the same time, how much does the reader really know about this character? How much does she know about herself? Throughout the story, her name is split into various nicknames: Utsu, Su, Shiko, each tied to a different part of her existence. The fragmentation of her name symbolizes the fragmentation of her psyche, and the version of her the reader follows—the ostensible "protagonist"—is Su, the smallest and most fragmentary scrap of her, the one most divorced from knowledge and understanding.

If Umineko exhibited faith in the magic of subjective interpretation, Flower provides a cynical counterpoint. Forget comprehending other people, or the confusion of your increasingly complex world. What if you cannot even comprehend yourself? What if, rather than the redemptive turn of Umineko's Treat ending, one looked inward and saw only greater incomprehensibility? In Beatrice, Umineko has its own character whose psyche fragmented into various constituent personalities, each with their own name and appearance. Yet Umineko posits a beauty in these personalities, and its protagonists fight for their right to exist in the face of crushing objective reality. For Utsushikome, her fragmented selves are base, ominous, potentially murderers, or indeed actually murderers—as even Su considers herself the murderer of the original Utsushikome. Her primary goal, more important to her than solving the mystery, is finding a way to undo the gestalt fusion that underlies her personality and restoring the original Utsushikome. Beatrice fights to justify her existence; Su fights to destroy it.

Postmodernism's focus on the subjectivity of individual experience quickly turned it toward cynicism, even nihilism, and the all-pervading "irony" that David Foster Wallace made his personal bugbear. One can only know their own experience of the world, not anyone else's, and the outside world is becoming increasingly complex, increasingly unfathomable, increasingly disorderly. Post-postmodernism was, from its inception, a deliberate turn away from that cynicism. A way of finding emotional catharsis even after logic dissolved. Umineko operates within this framework, while Flower goes in the opposite direction. The postmodernists were too optimistic. They at least believed in subjective truth. In the world of The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, even that strip of reality is shredded.

Entropy features big in the postmodern landscape, brought to literary prominence by Thomas Pynchon, who studied engineering physics and often used mathematical motifs as analogies for social concepts. Flower, too, engages with the concept of entropy, or rather revolves around it. The central murder mystery is set at the sanctuary of an order of scientists dedicated to curing death, and the way they have sought to do so involves stealing a piece of an entropic god-entity and incarnating it in human form.

As such, Flower strongly ties the concept of death to the concept of entropy. I said before that identity is the fundamental question of even the most basic mystery novel, but the same could be said for death; you'd have to go back to The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, or maybe mystery stories made for children, to find a mystery without murder. Van Dine's rules for mystery put it emphatically:

There simply must be a corpse in a detective novel, and the deader the corpse the better. No lesser crime than murder will suffice. Three hundred pages is far too much pother for a crime other than murder. After all, the reader's trouble and expenditure of energy must be rewarded.

I love this because it's such a cavalier treatment of death in narrative, as though death, rather than a tragedy, was simply a way to kickstart a plot—or a "reward" for the "expenditure of energy" (as though a reader's energy is finite, and always being entropically lost). Indeed, many of the Golden Age detectives who found themselves amid a new murder a month seemed to take a similarly detached tack toward the whole affair. Umineko lampoons this as well; its Hercule Poirot parody, when faced with a group of people playing dead, goes on a six-man mass decapitation spree just to ensure there really is a mystery to solve.

Flower philosophically confronts the question of death as early as Chapter 002, when fan favorite smarmy bitch Kamrusepa goads Su into an argument over the moral implications of curing death. Kamrusepa takes a rationalist, "anti-deathist" perspective, stating that not only is curing death a fundamentally good thing to do, but the most good thing that can be done; that curing death would not only be valuable in and of itself, but would also lead to the alleviation of every other social ill. Su is less sure. Certainly, a deathless world wouldn't be free of social strife. But there's also another argument she flirts with: Perhaps people, like Van Dine's readership, somehow need death to orient the meaning of their lives around.

Her thought process mirrors that of the mystery genre. If the genre has absolute faith in objective truth, it also has absolute faith in utter destruction. Crimes less than the complete annihilation of a thinking being will not suffice. In such a way, even the most orthodox or classical mysteries themselves have a drop of the postmodern in them, a faith in the incontrovertible necessity of entropic dissolution, though in the form of the human body rather than society or information. It's notable to me that, in contrast, Umineko posits a sort of immortality for its victims, alive in the "Golden Land" within the Treat ending despite the objective reality of their tragic deaths, or even alive within the metafictional conceit of the Rokkenjima game board, where if the players desire they can always open up the box, set the pieces aright, a play with these characters once more. Through its use of the time loop, Flower rejects this proposal; its characters are trapped in a game without end, and ultimately conspire to escape this hellish immortality they've wrought for themselves. (Remember also that Utsushikome's role as protagonist, explicated in 000, was not to solve a murder, but to prevent it, which she fails at utterly and quickly.)

The Flower That Blooms Nowhere is still ongoing, and many of its mysteries remain unresolved simply due to that fact. I've spoken extensively to the author, Lurina, and she assures me she is committed to the solvability of the mystery, which suggests that she intends to ultimately reveal the truths behind the murders and everything else. This essay isn't intended to be predictive of the story's future (which, as of the latest updates, is heading into some of the most exciting territory yet, with many meditations on death and identity that I would love to talk about in this essay but withheld because I know many readers aren't caught up), but rather an assessment of what currently stands. What I find most fascinating about Flower is how it rejects so many of the redemptive post-postmodern precepts that imbue Umineko, despite borrowing so much of its metatextual complexity, and without retreating into the classical or even postmodern, as would seem to be the only alternative. Instead, Flower's vivisection of identity and death within post-postmodern concepts strike me as a wholly new and unique artistic direction, and once more makes me excited for the growing avant garde to be found within web fiction.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

one piece live action thoughts?

It looks very much like a live action adaptation of One Piece. For better, and very much also for worse.

I mean this in the sense that it's adapted to fit a form that helps it make sense 1) in live action and 2) to a general audience which isn't intimately familiar with manga or anime, and which a broadcaster or streaming service would want to reach.

Luffy especially, at least going by the relatively tiny snippet we have seen so far, seems to have had some of his more peculiar edges sanded off to fit more comfortably into the mold of a typical young adult protagonist, which includes the... I guess what people call "marvel speak" now? The little funny quips and asides and ironic saying-the-obvious-thing-out-loud beats, which are more Americanisms than Marvel specific but I digress.

In One Piece, Luffy is most often not the point of view character, especially early on. Luffy is usually observed from outside by other characters - Koby serves this role in the early chapters, and from then on usually we see Luffy through his crew, or through whatever secondary characters they're interacting with in that particular arc.

People have observed this before, but in the manga, we essentially NEVER get any internal monologue from Luffy, he always either SAYS what he's thinking, or he runs on head empty no thoughts just vibes instinct and gut reaction.

And that... probably doesn't really work with a typical young adult protagonist. If adapted faithfully to screen, I think a lot of audiences would read him as just a reckless, inconsiderate and kinda heartless asshole, because a framing and presentation of Luffy that makes sense in a manga or anime just doesn't read the same in live action filmmaking.

Like, One Piece opens with Luffy recklessly sailing off to sea despite having no idea how to sail, getting sucked into a whirlpool and surviving on sheer dumb luck, getting picked up by some pirates in a barrel. Then he meets an abused child named Koby who has been getting the shit kicked out of him daily for months and immediately calls him a clumsy, stupid, cowardly worthless loser to his face and laughs at him.

Like, if you adapted that faithfully, how would that come across to a general audience? Imagine this scene staged in live-action, with human actors having to portray this conversation rather than stylized cartoon people. It simply wouldn't come across the same way, Luffy would come across as an It's Always Sunny character at best. Why would a general audience sympathize with him? Why would they find him compelling or worth investing emotionally in?

And I'm not saying there aren't ways to adapt One Piece faithfully into live action, there absolutely are (much like the manga, I would make everyone ELSE the point-of-view characters looking AT Luffy rather than try and present him as a Likeable Protagonist, for example).

My point is just that in any translation into live action, there are going to be concessions to the medium, there are going to be concessions to film language, concessions to audience expectations, concessions to the market conditions, concessions to the studio funding the filming, and so on. That's just the nature of the endeavour.

When it's done well, you get an adaptation that preserves the spirit of the thing while fitting its medium. Lord of the Rings comes to mind, an adaptation which changed huge amounts from its source material, but preserved the spirit.

When it's done poorly you get... well, Cowboy Bebop on Netflix.

I don't know from the tiny trailer snippet we've seen whether this show will preserve the spirit of One Piece, it very well may not, and end up another victim on the pile of bad anime adaptations. But I don't think the fact that it changed the vibe of the characters or Main Character'd Luffy alone are reasons to dismiss it, at least not yet. Those might have been necessary concessions for the show to work in live action at all. We shall see.

I'm not super optimistic or excited (because, again, I remember Cowboy Bebop), but I'm not despairing of it yet either.

[strictlyfavorites]

Jimmy Stewart & Post-Traumatic Stress-Months after winning his 1941 Academy Award for best actor in “The Philadelphia Story,” Jimmy Stewart, left Hollywood and joined the US Army. He was the first big-name movie star to enlist in World War II. An accomplished private pilot, the 33-year-old Hollywood icon became a US Army Air Force aviator, earning his 2nd Lieutenant commission in early 1942. With his celebrity status, he was assigned to attending rallies and training younger pilots. Stewart, however, wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to fly combat missions. By 1944, frustrated and feeling the war was passing him by, he asked his commanding officer to transfer him to a unit deploying to Europe. His request was reluctantly granted. Stewart, now a Captain, was sent to England, where he spent the next 18 months flying B-24 Liberator bombers over Germany. Top brass tried to keep the popular movie star from flying over enemy territory. But Stewart would hear nothing of it. Determined to lead by example, he assigned himself to every combat mission he could. By the end of the war he was one of the most respected and decorated pilots in his unit. But his wartime service came at a high personal price. In the final months of WWII he was grounded for being “flak happy,” today called Post Traumatic Stress (PTS). When he returned to the US in August 1945, Stewart was a changed man. He had lost so much weight that he looked sickly. He rarely slept, and when he did he had nightmares of planes exploding and men falling through the air screaming (in one mission alone his unit had lost 13 planes and 130 men, most of whom he knew personally). He was depressed, couldn’t focus, and refused to talk to anyone about his war experiences. His acting career was all but over. As one of Stewart’s biographers put it, “Every decision he made [during the war] was going to preserve life or cost lives. He took back to Hollywood all the stress that he had built up.” In 1946 he got his break. He took the role of George Bailey, the suicidal father in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Actors and crew of the set realized that in many of the disturbing scenes of George Bailey unraveling in front of his family, Stewart wasn’t acting. His PTSD was being captured on film for millions to see. But despite Stewart’s inner turmoil, making the movie was therapeutic for the combat veteran. He would go on to become one of the most accomplished and loved actors in American history. When asked in 1941 why he wanted to leave his acting career to fly combat missions over Nazi Germany, he said, “This country’s conscience is bigger than all the studios in Hollywood put together, and the time will come when we’ll have to fight.” This holiday season, as many of us watch the classic Christmas film, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” it’s also a fitting time to remember the sacrifices of those who gave up so much to serve their country during wartime.

[theoutcastrogue]

WHY DIGITIZE CULTURAL HERITAGE, AND FOR WHOM?

Many museums around the world make high-quality 3D scans of important artwork and ancient artifacts in their collections. Several forward-thinking organizations freely share their 3D scans, allowing the public to view, copy, adapt, and experiment with the underlying works in ways that have never before been possible.

Anyone in the world with an internet connection can view, interact with, and download the British Museum’s 3D scan of the Rosetta Stone, for example. The public can freely access hundreds of scans of classical sculpture from the National Gallery of Denmark, and visitors to the Smithsonian’s website can view, navigate, and freely download thousands of high-quality scans of artifacts ranging from dinosaur fossils to the Apollo 11 space capsule.

With access to digitizations like these, artists can rework and incorporate our common cultural heritage into new works, such as films, video games, virtual reality, clothing, architecture, sculpture, and more. Researchers and educators can use 3D scans to further our understanding of the arts, and the art-loving public can use them to appreciate, study, and even replicate beloved works in new ways that are not possible within the confines of a museum or with the original works. [...]

Unfortunately, some ostensibly public-spirited organizations do keep their 3D scans hidden. I’ve been trying to help them see the light. Beginning in 2017 I spent three years using German freedom of information law to successfully pressure the Egyptian Museum of Berlin to release its 3D scan of its most prized possession and national treasure, the 3,000 year-old Bust of Nefertiti. Since then I’ve turned my attention to the digital treasures being hoarded by taxpayer funded institutions in France.

The Louvre, for example, will not allow the public to access its ultra-high quality 3D scan of Winged Victory, the Nike of Samothrace, despite its aggressive public and corporate fundraising campaign to digitize the iconic Greek sculpture. Nor its scan of Venus de Milo.

The French Ministry of Culture’s Réunion des musées nationaux (RMN) receives tens of millions of dollars anually in public subsidies to provide services to French national museums. [...] RMN advertises its scans’ availability to the public, which makes for great PR, but its ads are false. In fact, RMN has a strict look-but-don’t-touch policy for its 3D scans and absolutely refuses to allow the public to access them directly. My own investigation has revealed that, in private, RMN admits it won’t release its scans because it wants to protect its gift shops’ sales revenue from competition from the public making their own replicas. For practical applications and creative potential, and direct value to the public, it is as though these scans simply do not exist.

And then there is the Rodin Museum. Founded in 1917 shortly after the death of famed sculptor Auguste Rodin, le musée Rodin is a state-run administrative agency and an arm of the Ministry of Culture. It has a legally mandated mission to preserve, study, enhance and disseminate Rodin’s works, all of which have been in the public domain since their copyrights expired decades ago. Even though musée Rodin never passes up an opportunity to remind the public that it is France’s sole “self-funded” national museum, it sought and obtained direct public funding from the Ministry of Culture’s national digitization program, and in 2010 as part of its public service mission began 3D scanning its collection with the stated purpose of publishing the results.

Fourteen years later, musée Rodin’s scans have not been shared with the public. [keep reading]

- Cosmo Venman

The Baltimore Museum of Art’s unpublished 3D scan of The Thinker.

[theoriginalmarke]

FIRST JOBS

@itsbadno made a post about his early jobs and it got me thinking about mine. Let's see...

As a wee lad I went door to door selling Grit newspapers. I know you kids aren't familiar with newspapers these days, especially a weekly national paper delivered by a kid.

I shoveled snow out of driveways for a few extra bucks as a preteen in PA. We moved to Florida then and I helped out a friend with his lawn service and I enjoyed that.

As a teen I got a job with a national drug store chain as a cashier/stocker/whatever. I began working several stores in the area filling in once I developed a reputation for versatility and reliability.

My senior year of high school I moved on to The Kapok Tree Inn. There were several locations around Florida and I believe one up north. Ours had five dining rooms, gardens, a lake with a houseboat that you could rent for your honeymoon, a gift shop, and more. Scarface filmed something at that location.

Off hours, the staff was a bit on the wild side. As an impressionable young teenager it was awesome. They offered me a management position if I stayed, but college was waiting for me. They ended up closing six years later, so I made the right choice. The property is now a preserve.

While in college I worked in the campus game room where I hung "Out of Order" signs, drank beer, and played billiards. Off hours, the students were a bit on the wild side. As an impressionable young...

Anyway. First real job was with McCrory's, once known as the five and dime. With them I moved up the ranks, from a clerk to Assistant Manager to traveling around the south remodeling stores to Manager to "Assistant to the Regional Manager" of a spinoff chain. I wasn't really "Assistant to the Regional Manager," I borrowed that title from The Office. But I was the store manager where the regional office was located, which left me as the de facto backup, secretary, and assistant.

I saw the writing on the wall and left before they closed too. I miss the money but I don't miss the stress of retail management. Too many of my friends began getting heart attacks in their 30s, a good sign that it was time to move on.

Maybe one day I'll share my life from there, along with the name of the street my family home was on, passwords, and mother's maiden name.

[1americanconservative]

@RickyDoggin

Jimmy Stewart & Post-Traumatic Stress: Months after winning his 1941 Academy Award for best actor in “The Philadelphia Story,” Jimmy Stewart, left Hollywood and joined the US Army. He was the first big-name movie star to enlist in World War II. An accomplished private pilot, the 33-year-old Hollywood icon became a US Army Air Force aviator, earning his 2nd Lieutenant commission in early 1942. With his celebrity status, he was assigned to attending rallies and training younger pilots. Stewart, however, wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to fly combat missions. By 1944, frustrated and feeling the war was passing him by, he asked his commanding officer to transfer him to a unit deploying to Europe. His request was reluctantly granted. Stewart, now a Captain, was sent to England, where he spent the next 18 months flying B-24 Liberator bombers over Germany. Top brass tried to keep the popular movie star from flying over enemy territory. But Stewart would hear nothing of it. Determined to lead by example, he assigned himself to every combat mission he could. By the end of the war he was one of the most respected and decorated pilots in his unit. But his wartime service came at a high personal price. In the final months of WWII he was grounded for being “flak happy,” today called Post Traumatic Stress (PTS). When he returned to the US in August 1945, Stewart was a changed man. He had lost so much weight that he looked sickly. He rarely slept, and when he did he had nightmares of planes exploding and men falling through the air screaming (in one mission alone his unit had lost 13 planes and 130 men, most of whom he knew personally). He was depressed, couldn’t focus, and refused to talk to anyone about his war experiences. His acting career was all but over. As one of Stewart’s biographers put it, “Every decision he made [during the war] was going to preserve life or cost lives. He took back to Hollywood all the stress that he had built up.” In 1946 he got his break. He took the role of George Bailey, the suicidal father in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Actors and crew of the set realized that in many of the disturbing scenes of George Bailey unraveling in front of his family, Stewart wasn’t acting. His PTSD was being captured on film for millions to see. But despite Stewart’s inner turmoil, making the movie was therapeutic for the combat veteran. He would go on to become one of the most accomplished and loved actors in American history. When asked in 1941 why he wanted to leave his acting career to fly combat missions over Nazi Germany, he said, “This country’s conscience is bigger than all the studios in Hollywood put together, and the time will come when we’ll have to fight.” This holiday season, as many of us watch the classic Christmas film, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” it’s also a fitting time to remember the sacrifices of those who gave up so much to serve their country during wartime.

[pix4japan]

Three Generations of Tradition: Hamadaya Kimono Care Shop

Location: Gumyoji, Minami Ward, Yokohama, Japan Timestamp: 17:41・2024/04/09

Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter ISO 1250 for 1/250 sec. at ƒ/2 Classic Negative film simulation

Hamadaya, a kimono tailor and cleaning specialty shop, has a rich history dating back to the 1920s when it began as a dyeing workshop. Today, they specialize in the meticulous care and maintenance of kimono garments. Their services include professional cleaning, stain removal, tailoring to fit your body measurements, and various alterations.

With access to a wide range of silk materials, Hamadaya offers not only traditional kimono but also a variety of Japanese-style clothing items reminiscent of kimonos, along with tenugui towels and unique furoshiki cloths. Additionally, they provide a selection of souvenir silk items highly sought after by overseas tourists.

As a family-run establishment, Hamadaya is currently led by its third-generation owner, ensuring a legacy of craftsmanship and dedication to preserving the art of kimono.

Check out my full write-up, which includes a glossary, references for further reading, and Google Maps link (https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20240409-kimono).

[visit-new-york]

The Williamsburg Bridge is a prominent suspension bridge that spans the East River in New York City, connecting the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn. It is one of the many iconic bridges in the city and plays a crucial role in the transportation network of New York.

Here are some key facts and information about the Williamsburg Bridge:

1. Construction: The construction of the Williamsburg Bridge began in 1896 and was completed in 1903. It was designed by Leffert L. Buck and Henry Hornbostel and was a remarkable engineering feat of its time. 2. Location: The Williamsburg Bridge connects the Lower East Side of Manhattan with the Williamsburg neighborhood in Brooklyn. It spans the East River, providing a vital transportation link between the two boroughs. 3. Design: The bridge features a suspension design with two main towers and four main cables that support the roadway. At the time of its completion, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world. 4. Dimensions: The Williamsburg Bridge is approximately 7,308 feet (2,227 meters) long, with a main span of 1,600 feet (488 meters). The clearance below the bridge allows for the passage of ships on the East River. 5. Transportation: The bridge accommodates various modes of transportation, including vehicle lanes, pedestrian walkways, and bike lanes. It has historically been an important route for commuters traveling between Manhattan and Brooklyn. 6. Historical Significance: The Williamsburg Bridge played a crucial role in the development of Brooklyn and helped facilitate the growth of Williamsburg as a thriving neighborhood. It also provided easier access to jobs in Manhattan for residents of Brooklyn. 7. Renovations: Over the years, the bridge has undergone several renovations and repairs to ensure its structural integrity and safety. These renovations have included upgrades to the road surface, lighting, and the pedestrian and bike paths. 8. Cultural References: The Williamsburg Bridge has featured in various cultural works, including literature, film, and music. It is often seen as a symbol of New York City and has been depicted in numerous artistic forms. 9. Commemorative Plaque: A plaque on the bridge commemorates its completion and the individuals involved in its construction, including the designers and builders. 10. Trolley Service: When the bridge first opened, it included tracks for trolley cars, which were a popular mode of public transportation at the time. These trolley tracks were later removed, but they played a significant role in making the bridge accessible to the public. 11. Artistic Lighting: In recent years, the Williamsburg Bridge has undergone a series of lighting upgrades. The bridge's lighting system has been used creatively to celebrate various holidays and events, making it a visually striking part of New York City's skyline. 12. Historical Preservation: The bridge is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and has received recognition for its architectural and engineering significance. Efforts have been made to preserve its historic character while ensuring it remains functional and safe. 13. Traffic and Commuting: The Williamsburg Bridge carries a substantial amount of vehicular and pedestrian traffic daily, serving as a crucial link between Manhattan's Lower East Side and Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood. It helps alleviate congestion on nearby bridges like the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge. 14. Views and Photography: The bridge offers breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline, the East River, and other New York City landmarks. Many photographers and tourists visit the bridge to capture these scenic vistas. 15. Maintenance: Due to the harsh weather conditions and constant use, the Williamsburg Bridge requires regular maintenance. Maintenance crews monitor and repair the bridge to ensure its safety and longevity. 16. Cultural and Community Events: The bridge has also been used as a venue for cultural events, including public art installations, parades, and community gatherings, which highlight its role as a cultural and social hub for the surrounding neighborhoods. 17. Transportation Evolution: The Williamsburg Bridge has witnessed changes in transportation trends over the years, from trolley cars to automobiles and now to cycling and walking. It reflects the evolving transportation needs of the city.

The Williamsburg Bridge is not only a vital transportation link but also an iconic piece of New York City's infrastructure, contributing to the city's rich history and cultural heritage. It continues to be an essential part of the daily lives of commuters and residents in the area.

<Previous page  - Williamsburg Bridge -  Next page>

[lokiondisneyplus]

Kevin R. Wright’s MCU timeline has come to a close. The Loki executive producer and now-former VP of production and development at Marvel Studios has exited his position to produce original film and TV projects, independently. Wright was one of the central creative figures behind the Tom Hiddleston-led Loki, which is widely considered to be the crown jewel of Marvel Studios’ Disney+ slate. On top of six Emmy nominations, the time-bending sci-fi series is the first-and-only MCU live-action series to receive a second season thus far.

In 2018, when Disney CEO Bob Iger pivoted to streaming with Disney+, he asked his most successful studio, led by Kevin Feige, to expand its shared universe into television. So Wright took the initiative with regard to a potential series about the God of Mischief, crafting a 30-page pitch that included many of the future show’s foundational elements, including the Time Variance Authority. The TVA — which is the bureaucratic agency that once preserved the MCU’s “sacred timeline” and now oversees its branched multiverse — proved to be so popular that the entity is soon transitioning to the big screen by way of July’s highly anticipated Deadpool & Wolverine. 

Before writers, such as series creator Michael Waldron, and directors were hired to bring Loki to life, Wright was also responsible for presenting his initial ideas and possibilities to Hiddleston, who, at that time, was content with his existing character arc that originated all the way back in Thor (2011). The Marvel executive even laid the groundwork for the series’ Emmy-nominated production design, having made a strong case to Marvel brass for immersive 360 sets. Besides finishing on time and under budget, Loki season two was also one of the first, if not the first, Marvel Studios projects to not require any additional photography.

In a statement to The Hollywood Reporter, Wright expresses his gratitude to Marvel and Disney, before expanding on the reasoning for his departure after nearly ten years with the studio.

“I am incredibly proud of my contributions to the MCU and thankful for my time at Marvel Studios and The Walt Disney Company,” said Wright. “The industry has changed dramatically during my near decade with the company, and I can no longer ignore my desire to independently produce original films and television. I extend my love and gratitude to everyone at Marvel Studios.”

Shortly before 9/11, the Philadelphia native delayed his film school ambition to enlist in the U.S. Marine Corps, and he served as a combat correspondent for four years. Upon completing his service, he majored in writing for film and television at Philadelphia’s University of the Arts, before graduating as valedictorian. Wright then moved to Los Angeles and interned for a couple years, until a chance meeting and opportunity with Marvel Studios materialized at a time when he was considering abandoning his pursuit. He then steadily climbed the ranks, beginning as a development assistant and then the production and development manager on Doctor Strange (2016). That led to an associate producer position on Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018), which put him on a trajectory toward becoming a full-fledged producer on Loki and VP of Production and Development.