#but he is the most compelling character in the whole movie BECAUSE HE HAS LIKE... SOMETHING GOING ON

[the-acid-pear]

Btw if you're a fan of the movie and you saw any of my criticism OR NOT I deeply encourage you to tell me why you love this movie and maybe counterpoint my takes. I'm so into getting a new perspective thru the eyes of a lover.

That said the fact that around 8 people saw me asking if I'd watch this movie and Fargo and everyone voted Fargo (of that group, like 2 went for nope) gives me such hope about the fans in the crowd. True lulyheads knew I was gonna hate it before I knew that. Wild.

[astriiformes]

Okay as promised earlier, a post about Marty McFly and gender.

The reason I find a trans reading of Marty specifically so compelling beyond some of the superficial things--like the fact that he's smaller and wears a lot of layers and generally looks the way a lot of younger trans men do--is because if you interpret him as trans, there are other parts of his character that become extremely interesting.

Because, like, Marty is a decent guy. I am not the first to comment on the fact that, when compared to a lot of other young, male 80s protagonists especially, he comes across as much kinder & more empathetic, generally a lot more earnest, and less complicit in certain kinds of toxicity. But a huge huge aspect of that is that he is generally pretty respectful of the female characters in the series. Which is pretty noteworthy considering most of the other male characters have some pretty big blips in that department -- George spies on Lorraine, Doc is dismissive of Jennifer and treats women like a mystery to be solved, Biff is, well, Biff.

--And I will say that I could write a completely separate essay on masculinity in Back to the Future in general, because the other male protagonists, at least, do end up having whole character arcs about this (George coming to Lorraine's rescue at the dance and Doc realizing that he has a lot in common with Clara are both genuinely good examples of how men who have certain flaws courtesy of the patriarchy can learn to be better!) But Marty has a totally different arc related to masculinity, that stems from something else entirely, and it's a very interesting contrast!

Marty's problem is that he's insecure about being seen as weak or cowardly, which is why he's so easily goaded into doing dangerous, stupid things just because another guy dared him to (and it's very noteworthy, I think, that it's always other guys). His character arc revolves much more around accepting that it's okay to follow his conscience in those situations, and also learning to let go of other people's perception of him.

So like. You could very easily read him (as was intended) as a young cis man who has generally been raised to stand up for and treat women well but still has some very teenager insecurities. BUT. There is so, so much going with him on if you instead look at him through the lens of transmasculinity. Suddenly what you have instead is a character who probably has personal experiences with misogyny that make him sympathetic towards the women he knows, but who has very complicated, deep-seated insecurities around being seen as "enough" of a man. It explains why being a jerk to women is not only a line he won't cross, but something he actively calls other people out for, while still being deeply entrenched in other toxic ideas about what being a man looks like -- of course a trans Marty would be insecure about being seen weak or less masculine compared to other guys! He's had to fight to be seen as a man in the past, and doesn't know when and where to draw the line!

I just think it's a reading that has so much rich, interesting stuff going on--in part because the Back to the Future movies, as I said in my other post, are actually extremely full of Gender and so Marty is caught up in that already--and I am rotating him in my mind constantly. Do you understand.

[trainsinanime]

I rewatched Knives Out the day before yesterday, and one thing I love was the symbolism of the Go board. Marta wins at Go more than either Ransom or Harlan because she's not playing the game their way at all. She literally says (jokingly) that she's just laying pretty shapes, while Harlan and Ransom are all trying to outsmart everyone. And that perfectly mirrors the resolution: Marta wins because she's the one person they're not acting like she's in a murder mystery (Benoit Blanc outright says so). Nice little parallels.

The same thing happens in Glass Onion (spoilers) with the mystery box. The way to beat Miles is not by playing along with the mystery box, but by smashing it open (disrupting it, if you will).

Both movies are in an interesting sort of conversation with the classic murder mystery. They are heavily inspired by them, in terms of settings, plot, even the whole twists and turns of who did it. But at the same time they're also playing with the concept, subverting it and ultimately destroying it. Marta and Helen gleefully break the rules, and are rewarded with justice (and also an insane amount of cash).

It's no mistake that both movies feature characters who are deeply steeped in the murder mystery genre. Harlan is a mystery writer, and sets up his own murder mystery; Miles Bron does a similar thing, but as a game for his guests. Whether mystery writer patriarch or rich tech bro asshole, they fully believe in the world of Agatha Christie and in their own brilliance. And they are proven wrong by people who don't share their class or their pretensions, and really just act like people.

Benoit Blanc is a very interesting point in these movies. On the one hand, he is the classic detective who is part of the classic mystery, and when the movies deconstruct and then rebuild the mystery, he is part of the people on the wrong side. In both movies, he brings the plot together and solves the mystery, but in both movies, he isn't the one that solves the actual underlying problem. It's the actions of Marta and Helen that ultimately save the day and bring real justice.

The most central character of the classic detective story, the detective, is not actually the hero of the movie here; he's here as support for the real hero, who has nothing to do with mysteries and riddles and the like. The Knives Out movies play at being whodunnit mysteries, but they're really discussions of the whodunnit mystery as a whole. That's what makes them so damn compelling.

[arcielee]

How House of the Dragon’s Ewan Mitchell became TV’s most chilling villain [interview + pictures]

He played Barry Keoghan’s geeky friend in Saltburn. Now, the 27-year-old from Derby is riding dragons as Matt Smith’s terrifying nephew.

House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones prequel series, is coming to the boil for its second-season finale, a cauldron of Targaryen civil war, court skulduggery and dragon-on-dragon dust-ups. For many, the highlight of this season has been the emergence of a beguiling new villain in Ewan Mitchell’s Prince Aemond Targaryen, who has a character arc that’s more like a zigzag. Spoilers follow.

Aemond lost his eye to the knife of his cousin, Lucerys, got airborne revenge when his dragon, Vhagar, swallowed Lucerys whole and is now on the Iron Throne as prince regent after Vhagar barbecued the king, Aemond’s despised brother Aegon, into a walking kebab. What makes the character, though, is the chilling panache with which Mitchell plays him; an impassive psychopath behind his eyepatch.

The showrunner, Ryan Condal, has said that he was at times taken aback by the Derby-born actor’s intensity. “I sometimes forget to blink,” Mitchell, 27, says with a smile. “I need to just chill out a little bit.” Not if it means losing the edge that defines Aemond, the same contained menace that fuelled Michael Corleone. It’s a Dornish-hot day in Covent Garden. Mitchell is softly spoken like Aemond, with striking blue-grey eyes, but considerably more courteous and less terrifying. His hair, which he buzz-cuts for the show to accommodate a wig, has grown to a tousled mop, dyed a Targaryen peroxide for this publicity tour.

To help him to get into character Mitchell listened to Metallica and Slipknot (“Aemond’s straight out of heavy metal”), while cinematic inspirations included Kirk Douglas’s titular swashbuckler (“with his strong chin”) in the 1958 movie The Vikings, the icily evil android played by Michael Fassbender in Prometheus and slow-walking horror villains such as Michael Myers in Halloween. “That’s the message that Aemond wants to give off: that he has you in his sights and you won’t be able to escape him,” Mitchell says. Sometimes he took it too far. In one scene he stalked into the council chamber, “and [the director] Alan Taylor said, ‘Can you speed up the walk, please?’”

His dragon’s knack of pouncing midair (“She comes up out of nowhere like Jaws”) helps Aemond’s aura, as does that eyepatch, even if it took Mitchell a while to get used to when riding horses. He often kept it on between takes, he says, “because over the course of a couple of hours you develop a headache”. That, in his world, is a good thing because it helps to suggest a “volcano that’s boiling underneath the surface”.

We are increasingly invited to compare Aemond with the show’s other compelling bad boy: his uncle Daemon, played by Matt Smith. Both are spares who believed they deserved the crown more than the heir. “Aemond is a prince who stands to inherit nothing,” Mitchell says. “He recognised, similar to Daemon, that everything he wanted to achieve he’d have to go out and get himself. Daemon and Aemond — their names are anagrams of each other and he definitely looked up to Daemon growing up.”

Similarly, Mitchell was a fan of Doctor Who as a child and Smith was his favourite Doctor. “There is a certain resemblance as well. I remember my nan saying that,” he says. Now, though, Aemond and Daemon are on opposite sides, the former fighting with the “Greens”, the latter, nominally, with Queen Rhaenyra’s “Blacks”. Two men with brutal self-confidence, a sense of grievance and prominent chins … the stage is set for a bloody confrontation, as it was in the original Game of Thrones between the brothers Sandor and Gregor Clegane. Aemond has already said he would “welcome” a chance to test himself against his uncle.

When it will happen, Mitchell can’t say. In preparation, though, he and Smith have been avoiding each other on set. That was Mitchell’s idea, but Smith and Condal agreed that it would help them to keep their grudge-match powder dry. “In the same way that Aemond keeps Daemon on that podium, I wanted to keep Matt Smith on that podium,” he says. “Our stories are very much contained and we shot in different studio spaces, so we never really brushed shoulders.”

Mitchell has also decided not to watch or read the original Game of Thrones. “I didn’t want it to influence me whether it be subconsciously or consciously,” he says, before asking me, “Which one do you prefer, House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones?” It’s hard to say until this show is over, I say, although both are equally obsessed with incest. He looks puzzled. “There was only one Targaryen in Game of Thrones, right?” Erm, not quite but I don’t want to spoil it. He smiles. “I’ll get around to watching it.”

He has certainly steeped himself in the world of House of the Dragon, which was adapted from the book Fire and Blood by the Thrones creator George RR Martin and is set more than a century before the first saga. Mitchell drew Aemond’s family tree when he got the part and can’t hide his annoyance when he briefly confuses Driftmark and High Tide, respectively an island and its castle in the show. “I’m kicking myself,” Mitchell says, which feels typical of his obsessiveness.

What is it about the Midlands that produces actors with such bristling presence? Mitchell, like Paddy Considine, who played Aemond’s father, Viserys, in the show, is a working-class son of Derbyshire and studied at the Television Workshop, an affordable, inclusive drama school in Nottingham whose other alumni include Samantha Morton, Jack O’Connell, Bella Ramsey and Vicky McClure.

“It’s just an amazing platform that champions raw talent,” Mitchell says. “I didn’t necessarily possess the means or the finances to go to drama school — no one in my family has ever done it.” His father’s side is “very much military”, he says, his grandfather having served in the SAS in Malaya and Oman after the Second World War. “He was very stoic; didn’t show much at all.” So that’s where Mitchell gets it from — his friends in Derby, where he still lives, call him “the Iceberg”. “I keep my cards quite close to my chest,” he says and he certainly does when it comes to saying if he has a partner.

After graduating he got his break in The Last Kingdom, the medieval drama series, playing Osferth, a kinsman of King Alfred. Good practice for the sword swinging, horse riding and dagger tossing to come. There was also a small role in High Life, the sci-fi-horror film starring Robert Pattinson, and a bigger one in Saltburn, Emerald Fennell’s remix of Brideshead Revisited, as Barry Keoghan’s geeky mathematician friend — one of the few non-plummy characters. “Emerald would give me something new every single take: ‘Play this one like Travis Bickle, play this one like a serial killer,’” Mitchell says.

• Before Game of Thrones — the story behind House of the Dragon

Like Robert De Niro as Bickle, Mitchell is brilliant at showing vulnerability beneath the menace. He loved shooting the scene in House of the Dragon where a smirking, pre-barbecue Aegon finds a naked Aemond in bed with the brothel worker who has become a mother figure. Aemond’s real mother is Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower (Olivia Cooke), whom he, as regent, has just ruthlessly stood down from the Small Council. “He doesn’t want anyone else to notice that he actually really loves his mum,” he says. “Once the war ends he wants to be sat on a Dornish beach with her sipping piña coladas.”

“Horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.”

They may not get that far, although you sometimes feel that Aemond knows how things will pan out — he accepted the regency with a cool sense of inevitability. Condal has stressed the parallels of his story with the Greek myth of the Cyclops, Mitchell says. “He traded one of his eyes to Hades so he could see the day he would die.” Recent events have tested Aemond’s prescience, though, notably Rhaenyra’s recruitment of low-born Targaryen bastards to ride dragons. In the finale “you’ll see Aemond lose that composure”, Mitchell says. “He’s gonna get desperate, and you don’t want Aemond desperate because that’s when he starts to overextend.”

What next? Mitchell won’t say how many seasons of House of the Dragon he has signed up for and we know by now that anyone can be killed off with zero fanfare. He clearly loves movies, peppering his chat with references to Inglourious Basterds, The Untouchables and the M Night Shyamalan film Split, and says he would love to work with Jodie Comer, the Safdie brothers, who made Uncut Gems, and Rose Glass, who directed Love Lies Bleeding. Oh, and “horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.” He would be a natural.

tagging my beloved @assortedseaglass fuck the paywall

copy pasta from The Times

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

How House of the Dragon’s Ewan Mitchell became TV’s most chilling villain

He played Barry Keoghan’s geeky friend in Saltburn. Now, the 27-year-old from Derby is riding dragons as Matt Smith’s terrifying nephew

House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones prequel series, is coming to the boil for its second-season finale, a cauldron of Targaryen civil war, court skulduggery and dragon-on-dragon dust-ups. For many, the highlight of this season has been the emergence of a beguiling new villain in Ewan Mitchell’s Prince Aemond Targaryen, who has a character arc that’s more like a zigzag. Spoilers follow.

Aemond lost his eye to the knife of his cousin, Lucerys, got airborne revenge when his dragon, Vhagar, swallowed Lucerys whole and is now on the Iron Throne as prince regent after Vhagar barbecued the king, Aemond’s despised brother Aegon, into a walking kebab. What makes the character, though, is the chilling panache with which Mitchell plays him; an impassive psychopath behind his eyepatch.

The showrunner, Ryan Condal, has said that he was at times taken aback by the Derby-born actor’s intensity. “I sometimes forget to blink,” Mitchell, 27, says with a smile. “I need to just chill out a little bit.” Not if it means losing the edge that defines Aemond, the same contained menace that fuelled Michael Corleone. It’s a Dornish-hot day in Covent Garden. Mitchell is softly spoken like Aemond, with striking blue-grey eyes, but considerably more courteous and less terrifying. His hair, which he buzz-cuts for the show to accommodate a wig, has grown to a tousled mop, dyed a Targaryen peroxide for this publicity tour.

To help him to get into character Mitchell listened to Metallica and Slipknot (“Aemond’s straight out of heavy metal”), while cinematic inspirations included Kirk Douglas’s titular swashbuckler (“with his strong chin”) in the 1958 movie The Vikings, the icily evil android played by Michael Fassbender in Prometheus and slow-walking horror villains such as Michael Myers in Halloween. “That’s the message that Aemond wants to give off: that he has you in his sights and you won’t be able to escape him,” Mitchell says. Sometimes he took it too far. In one scene he stalked into the council chamber, “and [the director] Alan Taylor said, ‘Can you speed up the walk, please?’”

His dragon’s knack of pouncing midair (“She comes up out of nowhere like Jaws”) helps Aemond’s aura, as does that eyepatch, even if it took Mitchell a while to get used to when riding horses. He often kept it on between takes, he says, “because over the course of a couple of hours you develop a headache”. That, in his world, is a good thing because it helps to suggest a “volcano that’s boiling underneath the surface”.

We are increasingly invited to compare Aemond with the show’s other compelling bad boy: his uncle Daemon, played by Matt Smith. Both are spares who believed they deserved the crown more than the heir. “Aemond is a prince who stands to inherit nothing,” Mitchell says. “He recognised, similar to Daemon, that everything he wanted to achieve he’d have to go out and get himself. Daemon and Aemond — their names are anagrams of each other and he definitely looked up to Daemon growing up.”

Similarly, Mitchell was a fan of Doctor Who as a child and Smith was his favourite Doctor. “There is a certain resemblance as well. I remember my nan saying that,” he says. Now, though, Aemond and Daemon are on opposite sides, the former fighting with the “Greens”, the latter, nominally, with Queen Rhaenyra’s “Blacks”. Two men with brutal self-confidence, a sense of grievance and prominent chins … the stage is set for a bloody confrontation, as it was in the original Game of Thrones between the brothers Sandor and Gregor Clegane. Aemond has already said he would “welcome” a chance to test himself against his uncle.

When it will happen, Mitchell can’t say. In preparation, though, he and Smith have been avoiding each other on set. That was Mitchell’s idea, but Smith and Condal agreed that it would help them to keep their grudge-match powder dry. “In the same way that Aemond keeps Daemon on that podium, I wanted to keep Matt Smith on that podium,” he says. “Our stories are very much contained and we shot in different studio spaces, so we never really brushed shoulders.”

Mitchell has also decided not to watch or read the original Game of Thrones. “I didn’t want it to influence me whether it be subconsciously or consciously,” he says, before asking me, “Which one do you prefer, House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones?” It’s hard to say until this show is over, I say, although both are equally obsessed with incest. He looks puzzled. “There was only one Targaryen in Game of Thrones, right?” Erm, not quite but I don’t want to spoil it. He smiles. “I’ll get around to watching it.”

He has certainly steeped himself in the world of House of the Dragon, which was adapted from the book Fire and Blood by the Thrones creator George RR Martin and is set more than a century before the first saga. Mitchell drew Aemond’s family tree when he got the part and can’t hide his annoyance when he briefly confuses Driftmark and High Tide, respectively an island and its castle in the show. “I’m kicking myself,” Mitchell says, which feels typical of his obsessiveness.

What is it about the Midlands that produces actors with such bristling presence? Mitchell, like Paddy Considine, who played Aemond’s father, Viserys, in the show, is a working-class son of Derbyshire and studied at the Television Workshop, an affordable, inclusive drama school in Nottingham whose other alumni include Samantha Morton, Jack O’Connell, Bella Ramsey and Vicky McClure.

It’s just an amazing platform that champions raw talent,” Mitchell says. “I didn’t necessarily possess the means or the finances to go to drama school — no one in my family has ever done it.” His father’s side is “very much military”, he says, his grandfather having served in the SAS in Malaya and Oman after the Second World War. “He was very stoic; didn’t show much at all.” So that’s where Mitchell gets it from — his friends in Derby, where he still lives, call him “the Iceberg”. “I keep my cards quite close to my chest,” he says and he certainly does when it comes to saying if he has a partner.

After graduating he got his break in The Last Kingdom, the medieval drama series, playing Osferth, a kinsman of King Alfred. Good practice for the sword swinging, horse riding and dagger tossing to come. There was also a small role in High Life, the sci-fi-horror film starring Robert Pattinson, and a bigger one in Saltburn, Emerald Fennell’s remix of Brideshead Revisited, as Barry Keoghan’s geeky mathematician friend — one of the few non-plummy characters. “Emerald would give me something new every single take: ‘Play this one like Travis Bickle, play this one like a serial killer,’” Mitchell says.

Like Robert De Niro as Bickle, Mitchell is brilliant at showing vulnerability beneath the menace. He loved shooting the scene in House of the Dragon where a smirking, pre-barbecue Aegon finds a naked Aemond in bed with the brothel worker who has become a mother figure. Aemond’s real mother is Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower (Olivia Cooke), whom he, as regent, has just ruthlessly stood down from the Small Council. “He doesn’t want anyone else to notice that he actually really loves his mum,” he says. “Once the war ends he wants to be sat on a Dornish beach with her sipping piña coladas.”

They may not get that far, although you sometimes feel that Aemond knows how things will pan out — he accepted the regency with a cool sense of inevitability. Condal has stressed the parallels of his story with the Greek myth of the Cyclops, Mitchell says. “He traded one of his eyes to Hades so he could see the day he would die.” Recent events have tested Aemond’s prescience, though, notably Rhaenyra’s recruitment of low-born Targaryen bastards to ride dragons. In the finale “you’ll see Aemond lose that composure”, Mitchell says. “He’s gonna get desperate, and you don’t want Aemond desperate because that’s when he starts to overextend.”

What next? Mitchell won’t say how many seasons of House of the Dragon he has signed up for and we know by now that anyone can be killed off with zero fanfare. He clearly loves movies, peppering his chat with references to Inglourious Basterds, The Untouchables and the M Night Shyamalan film Split, and says he would love to work with Jodie Comer, the Safdie brothers, who made Uncut Gems, and Rose Glass, who directed Love Lies Bleeding. Oh, and “horror is definitely a genre I’d love to venture into at some point.” He would be a natural.

[thebirdsareafterme]

maxiel, galex, scaniel, brocedes!

OOOH OK I am ready.

Maxiel: makes sense, compels the FUCK out of me

I genuinely don’t think there’s been a ship that has compelled me like Maxiel. They make me so insane and I’ve spent the last 8 months of my life going up and down all 200ish AO3 pages in the tag like some kind of deranged possum, searching for more Maxiel content. They just make so much sense in my mind. You have Max, who has been taught his entire life that his only purpose in life is to win races, who is this angry, strung up little kid when he first joins F1…and then he meets Daniel, who is so kind and charismatic and has always been taught to enjoy the moment and the process of it all and just treats him with so much love even when he’s not winning or when he’s getting criticized by the media…and Max finally learns how to enjoy life outside of racing for the first time. Even outside of the general RPF scene of it all, the absolute pivotal Maxiel moments are so important and have so much significance in the grand scheme of the sport. Daniel leaving Red Bull because of Max (to an extent) which then caused a ripple effect on a whole bunch of people’s careers and ultimately led to the Horrors that we are currently living through, but at the end of the day, it’s about “If it can’t be me, I’m glad it’s him” and that fastest lap into “Thank you, Daniel.” Yeah, I could talk about them for DAYS if given the chance.

Galex: makes sense, compels me

They’re everythingggg to me. I love the childhood friends to lovers thing they have going on. The Galex lore is so interesting, like the throat infection incident, the collarbone biking accident, the whole thing about George being Alex’s hype man/personal photographer as a kid… underrated ship fr. They have the best chemistry and their sense of humour actually work so well together, and I NEED more content from them. I also CANNOT ship either of them with anyone else because it just does! Not! Work! In my head. They are each other’s ride or die and I love that for them.

Scaniel: makes sense, does not compel me

I love their friendship a lot and I think they have so much weird gay energy between them, but unfortunately my day one Daniel ship is still Maxiel. I think Scaniel has potential for growth, but unfortunately they do kinda give off besties to me. I will admit they have had some good, shippable moments, but Scotty just feels like a straight man in my mind. I think it’s just the DR effect (every man within a 5 mile radius falls in love with him) that drives this ship forward tbh.

Brocedes: makes sense, compels me A LOT

THIS is THE SHIP of all ships. The lore goes so hard and it’s so devastating to me. I’m a sucker for a good childhood friends to lovers to enemies storyline, so they are right up my alley. It’s just the most insane story that when I tried explaining it to my casual F1 fan friend, they asked me if it was from a movie and I was like NO! This is irl!!! The way that they have a 6 hour, 3 part YouTube docuseries about their relationship is crazy. No other ship has as much angst as them, and no one will ever come close to being them. It’s the way that they fundamentally are a part of each other’s careers and that you cannot mention one without the other, it’s the way that Nico talks about that era of his life and how he could only stomach their childhood favourite cereal on the weekend before cinching the championship, how he ruined his body and soul to beat Lewis and how his retirement changed Lewis’ whole outlook on the sport!!! And through it all, there is an awkward third-wheel in the form of either Daniel Ricciardo or Sebastian Vettel just smiling through the most disgusting vibes a room could ever have, which, in my opinion, adds to the whole drama of the ship. This ship has so much narrative and character and it is so so devastating to think about, I need to see or make a Brocedes movie before I die.

[bethanydelleman]

Taking a break from my usual programming to talk about Megara from Disney's Hercules being an awesome, flawed, complex, female character who has a very compelling arc.

The backstory, given by Hades, is that Meg sold her soul to him so her lover could live, but he left her for someone else. This makes her one of the very few Disney women who actually has romantic relationship baggage and experience. She is also older than Hercules (I think unique in Disney) though I think she's still mortal and within a normal lifespan. But the point is, she thought had the "Disney princess" perfect sacrificial romance, but then was betrayed.

She does fall in love and begins to believe that Hercules is a really good person, which inspires her to be better as well. Then Hercules finds out that Meg has been working for Hades the whole time and is heartbroken and betrayed. Meg sacrifices herself to save him, JUST LIKE BEFORE, but this time, she did pick a better guy and her sacrifice was honoured. Hercules probably has a far better reason to abandon Meg than previous boyfriend, but he doesn't: he goes to the underworld, retrieves her soul, and then, in another huge personal sacrifice, opts to stay with her instead of joining the gods on Mount Olympus.

She is shown as cynical, amoral, and sarcastic; not seeming to mind that she's helping Hades attempt to overthrow the other gods. Even though she likes Hercules, she agrees to attempt to find his weakness when Hades offers her personal freedom (that seems to be lifted from the story of Delilah and Samson, by the way). While she is a slave to Hades, that doesn't fully excuse her actions because we learn that she can refuse to serve him. Her motivation seems to primarily come from her not really thinking humanity is worth saving after her betrayal.

I loved this movie so much as a kid and I think I imprinted on Meg like some sort of baby duck. I love her song, I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) and how she struggles to get over her cynical views of relationships and men. But now, I'm amazed that she exists at all. She's a femme fatal who tried to take down the hero of the story and she both survives and gets a happy ending! She commited the Ultimate Narrative Woman Sin: she used her sexuality against a hero! She does make a huge sacrifice, dying to save both Hercules and the world, but in most stories she would have saved him and died (permanently). Instead, she's completely forgiven and Hercules risks his life to bring her back.

I love her. I love her story. She's the best. Can we have more of her please?

[artist-issues]

And another thing—the whole premise of Asha’s motivation, her whole character, is that she believes the people of Rosas deserve “more” than what Magnifico is giving them.

And I’ve already made posts about how that’s already kind of lame, because the movie doesn’t give you a good look at the citizens of Rosas really “suffering” because of Magnifico. They’re not all dull, or diffident, or zombies or anything. So she’s not really rescuing them from anything too bad, in that sense.

But that’s not the point of this post.

The point of this post is that Asha believes all the wishes in Rosas deserve the chance to come true, because she believes that all the intentions of the people in Rosas are basically good…she believes they’re all basically good people.

All their wishes are, therefore, good, harmless wishes.

But that’s so boring. And untrue. Not all wishes are good! Very few of the things we choose to wish for are the best things we could choose to wish for. And even less of the things people wish for are what they actually need.

Wish makes a lame attempt at the end, with the clunky Peter-Pan background character, to suggest that what the people of Rosas were missing was a work ethic to achieve their dreams, and collaborate with others, themselves. But it’s lame. And still not compelling. Because not everybody has good wishes. In fact, almost ALL of Disney’s best stories are about a character wishing for something that isn’t completely good for them. I already made a post that was kind of about this, but seriously. Having characters who want something, then discover that something is not so good for them, or something else would be even better, is one of Disney’s trademark tools for making compelling characters and adventures.

Flynn, in Tangled, just wanted to live a life of ease where nobody could bother him or take anything from him. And you know, he’s an orphan. They explained why he has that bad wish, because of his life and the circumstances that made him how he is—so we understand. We don’t hate him for having a bad wish. We get it. But then it’s wonderful to watch him learn to wish for something better! That’s a big chunk of the story! Just like how Rapunzel wished to see the floating lights, because it meant exploring and understanding the world. Not a bad wish, but not everything she could’ve had. Love, with Flynn, was an even better wish.

You could do this with villains, too, as the opposite. You can say,

Gaston had a bad wish. He wished to have Belle, simply because she was the most beautiful girl in town and he felt like he “deserved” her as the most beautiful man in town—and didn’t want to settle for second-best. And he has plenty of evidence to look at in order to recognize that his wish is bad, it’s not good for anyone including him—he has Belle’s selfless love for her father, the Beast’s refusal to fight back, and other adoring girls who would love to have him. But he won’t let it go. He won’t give up his wish or change it to something good—because he won’t acknowledge that it’s bad. So you have a great villain.

You get lots of great villains that way. Having bad wishes, but refusing to give them up. I mean, every Disney villain has a dream too, you guys realize that? And Disney had no problem saying “some wishes are bad” then. So they had strong characters with believable motivations/performances and a gripping story. Plus, actual impactful morals.

Stitch realizing his wish to destroy is bad, and changing it to a wish for family, like what Lilo and Nani have.

Clayton wishing he could “conquer” Africa, right down to selling its most fearsome creatures, right down to refusing to give up in a fight with Tarzan and winding up getting killed for it.

Hercules changing his wish from being a god to being on earth with Meg, because that’s a better fulfillment of his previous wish, which was just to find where he belongs.

Cruella refusing to change or give up her bad wish for a fur-skinned coat made from the pelts of the pets of the friends who insulted her.

The fairies continually giving up their wishes to do what’s best for Aurora and the kingdom—they give up their magic when it fails to undo Maleficent’s curse, then they give Aurora herself back to her real parents even though they’ve loved her, then they put the whole kingdom full of their friends to sleep to spare them the heartbreak of losing Aurora.

I mean, you could think of this as Part II of my earlier post, but what I’m saying is, Wish doesn’t acknowledge one of the most fundamental things about Disney stories: wishes aren’t always good, and they’re not always good for the people making them.

I get that Magnifico was taking away the chance for Rosas to find that out for themselves. No character in Rosas gets to go on their own journey of “is my wish worth getting.” But basing a movie off of that set them up for a boring movie. The whole concept of forgetting the wish you have, but it was probably good/harmless, makes the characters stop being characters, and the story super bland.

The only character that has a wish that he tries to make come true and has to choose to either keep or let go of is Magnifico—and his wish is “maintain absolute power.” Not even the Evil Queen had a wish that was that one-dimensional and bland—at least she had something personal in there. Magnifico doesn’t have a backstory or a personality that hints at a backstory which would explain his being a control-freak. He just has a burnt tapestry hanging on a wall that he sometimes glances at and says super vaguely, “nobody should ever have to live with their wish not coming true!” What wish, Magnifico? What did you wish for that you didn’t get? Say something that makes you real to me, or else I don’t care. Like everything else in this movie.

[adreamingofguns]

oooh what do you think people get wrong about hoffman and gordon??

OH BOY. Starting with Hoffman, people who characterize him as a daddy dom miss the character entirely. This man is a sub. Put this man in a dog collar immediately. in all seriousness, I also think the characterization of him being a murder maniac also feels... Wrong. We see him getting rid of everything, id and so on, and that feels... Final, to me. Like his Hoffmanator Murder Spree was not intended to be survivable, and only through sheer dumb luck did he manage to live (and because the cops in Jigsaw City are like. Very bad at their jobs). I also think that Hoffman is an extremely lonely man who WANTS to help people (his volunteers of America mug for sure, but also the fact that he comforted Corbett Denlon with a stuffed animal when he didn't have to, and the fact that out of everyone, he is the Only apprentice to target multiple white supremacists) and who only really sticks around because John was leading him with affection like a horse with a carrot on a string. We see this textually when John is encouraging Mark by touching his shoulder in a parental sort of way. I think Hoffman is passively suicidal throughout most of the series because it's the only thing that makes a Lot of his decisions make sense. Also kinda fucked up to make a suicidal guy go after a suicidal target, John.

ALSO THE WHOLE SLOB HOFFMAN THING. This man redecorated his house, this man has an ART NOOK and tasteful black leather that goes with his dark cherry or mahogany furniture. This man wears suits even when he doesn't have to. This man probably smells amazing. And he's fat. Stop drawing him skinny.

ALSO Lawrence is canonically a misogynist with a criminal record who either a) punches walls or b) fights people. This is in text, in the script and in the video games (which ARE canon). Lawrence kinda sucks and he FROM THE BEGINNING doesnt think John is a murderer, so him disagreeing with jigsaw is ooc because he canonically in the movie says "jigsaw doesnt kill people". I think also Lawrence is convinced of how jigsaw does actually help, which is why he goes to the meetings. ALSO LAWRENCE DID THE BOBBY DAGEN GAMES IN MY HEART WHICH KILLED JOYCE BECAUSE HES A MISOGYNIST. Lawrence sucks SO bad as a person, but as a character he's so compelling.

IN FACT STOP DRAWING LAWRENCE SKINNY TOO

[astridhoff03]

My thoughts on Season 2 of the greatest Chaos in the World of DreamWorks TV…

Oh my gosh, did this season yet again not disappoint, even if it has a bit of a slow start, it is still a great story. I definitely can see past the little flaws, because it’s still a good show with emotional moments and thrilling adventures. Also at the end of the season it will get really dark, darker than the Jurassic World Trilogy ever could’ve gone. I got goosebumps just like watching the Jurassic Park movies. And more emotional than every movie in the Jurassic Park/World franchise. Such compelling, complex characters with well developed backstory’s. I honestly was speechless when I finished season two and thought again, wow they scored again with this show,

My favorite episode is definitely two because how they showed us, how Brooklynn reacts to the loss of her arm and the fact that everyone thinks she’s dead. Kiersten Kelly does a great job in executing Brooklynns emotional journey in this, I think she has took a bit inspiration of herself loosing an important part of the body.

And Soyona Santos is an incredible villain, her backstory is also really interesting and how she interacts in the whole show with Brooklynn is just amazing. My favorite scene of her is when she draws Brooklynn, she never was so intimidating and seems extremely intelligent and dangerous. Together with the Raptor Lady she’s now one of the best villains in the Jurassic Park franchise. Also I just noticed that the thing with the lazer makes actually a lot of sense, even if I think it’s not as scary as the whistle of the Raptor Lady. Also Soyonas animated version is prettier than her live action counterpart. It’s just funny how much more intimidating and dangerous the JW: Dominion villains are in the series.

What Brooklynn does is not good for her but I can also understand her, she wants to protect her friends and family. But it was sad to see that Ben was near at a panic attack when Brooklynn called him. Also Yaz and Sammy are still the cutest and heathliest relationship in the entire camp fam but I like that Darius and Kenji finally get along again, I missed their friendship and dynamic so much. Kenji has gone through so much, he’s the most tragic figure in the entire cast of how much he experienced loss in his life. And Yaz and Sammy have grown stronger together. I love how Sammy tries to decorate the container and Yaz watches her with so much love and admiration.

And don’t let me start on the dinosaurs this season. They were incredible. The Suchomimus or as Billy would said it Suchimimus has a beautiful design and many incredible action scenes, my favorite is when he fights the hippo. I also like the the communication between the Albino Baryonyx and the Atrociraptor Red, was very scary and also how he walked behind Brooklynn was bizarre. Leucotistic Baryonyx is also the perfect combination of the idea of the hybrids and the normal dinosaur from Jurassic Park. It’s like they’ve found a perfect compromise where every fan gets something out of it. The chase in the dark with the eyeless Baryonyx was scary as hell, I can’t find words for it and also with what calmness Soyona Santos guides Brooklynn through the darkness, while her friends get chased. Geba was also pretty cute and funny, I feared for her life in the last episodes. It was actually a really good Idea to show how humans, animals and the dinosaurs get along on other continents. Was very interesting to witness and also helped to understand the world better our heroes are now in. The Majungasaurus was also very cool to see finally in the Jurassic Franchise and I am happy that my favorite dinosaur of all time, the Allosaurus has a final hurrah in episode two. This magnificent beast was going through a lot, blindness, serval fights who could’ve easily ended deadly, she was blamed for killing Brooklynn, was hunted and serval times imprisoned. I feel very sorry for my favorite predator of the Jurassic Park franchise, hopefully she can find finally peace in her future as our Camp Family. But I guess we have to wait until season three. I am happy when I see DODGSON again and the biosyn valley.

[toy-powerhouse]

The Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turtles have some serious “No Friends” energy: Or the turts lack a support network of allies and friends, so it makes the series feel empty

Maybe one of the biggest failings of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (out of many other failings) is how the titular characters lack a (non-familial) support network. They don't really have any friends or allies, and what few friends/allies they do have are very underappreciated, underrepresented, and underutilized (Todd Capybara and Señor Hueso) or "upgraded" to the much more valued status of family members (April and Draxum).

Despite possibly being the most attention-seeking turtles ever to be created so far, they never seem to have any desire to receive attention from outside the family unit. They're all so insular despite constantly showboating in a world where largely no one has any issues with them being mutant turtles. For the most part, the whole world, both human and Yōkai, is their oyster, and they’re free to roam around and mingle as they please. Yet they're largely content to remain detached from it all. And, that lack of connection makes the series, and its entire universe feel so empty and so small in scope. This emptiness is made especially obvious when compared to other TMNT adaptations that do give the mutant turtles a stronger and plentiful network of friends/allies or at least have the turtles working towards building such close-knit ties with others outside their family unit. The 2003 series was so chock full of friends/allies, it ended on a big damn wedding attended by all the folks they befriended. Even if RotTMNT continued beyond 1 ½ seasons and a movie (technically, it’s two seasons, but let’s be real, season two is too truncated to count as its own season), it’d be highly unlikely that the turtles of that series would ever amass that many notable friends/allies.

We see some glimmers of interest that the turtles have in being a part of a world outside themselves, but aside from those fleeting instances, their disinterest in anything apart from themselves is palpable and never challenged in any major way. This limits the characters’ experiences, their development as well as the overall narrative. It makes all their wacky adventures or dramatic exploits seem repetitive and hollow in a way better kids’ shows mitigate with a compelling cast of supporting characters (i.e., friends and/or allies for the protagonists).

Instead, what RotTMNT lacks in platonic support it more than makes up for in enemies, albeit mostly underdeveloped enemies. The turtles just sort of gain enemies time and time again (because they’re usually unfunny obnoxious screw-ups), which makes their lack of reoccuring friends/allies even more noticeable. Big Mama, Warren Stone, Hypno-Potamus, Repo Mantis, Meat Sweats, the Purple Dragons, Ghostbear, Baxter Stockboy, Sando Brothers, etc., (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, more like Everybody Hates the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, lmao). You get the idea; the turtles seem to have a talent for making more enemies than friends/allies.

But, with friends like the turts (correction: turds), who needs enemies?

The biggest middle finger the series shows to the idea of allies is when in the season one finale, “End Game,” the following allies join April and Splinter to rescue the turds as the B-Team: Bullhop, Franken-Foot, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., and Todd Capybara. Only for the quartet to be captured immediately and left for dead because they’re never brought up again in the episode. While each of the so-called "allies" of B-Team aren't given much respect both in- and out- of universe, Bullhop (real name Stanley) may be the least respected. In short, the turds ruined Stanley's life, showed little grace to the poor guy before he got unceremoniously ousted from the series. He got mutated by the Oozesquitos the turds had accidently released from Draxum's lab, the turds let him stay at the lair with them for a bit to make amends but were on the verge of kicking him out because he was annoying to live with (Gee, those sure are a lot of pots calling the kettle black…), only for him to leave anyway of his own volition. He then shows up one more time in "End Game" to get captured by the Foot Clan, and because this was his last appearance, it's probably fair to assume that he died/was killed while the other three managed to escape unscathed. RIP Stanley, I know he must be ballet dancing his heart out somewhere in cartoon heaven.

It's characters like Bullhop combined with other infrequently or one-time occurring allies like Casey (Sr.), Señor Hueso, Marcus Moncrief (aka Jupiter Jim), Sunita, Piebald, Red Fox, and so on that show how little the series wants to commit to giving the titular characters a stable support network built on trust and camaraderie. The closest we get to a true, ride or die ally and friend is Todd (see “Todd Scouts” and “Anatawa Hitorijanai”) and even he barely gets any respect. In “Anatawa Hitorijanai,” he provides them with a haven away from the Shredder when he’s taken over New York, forges them weapons they use to save the day, and he receives no thanks or any real acknowledgment for doing any of it which makes the turtles come off as very ungrateful to their greatest ally and friend. The way in which the series represents friends and allies is, at times, tinged with a dismissive, even mean-spirited undertone that feels like a slap in the face to themes and messages that the franchise often represents.

TMNT is a franchise that’s narrative is built on connection and the desire for misfits to find acceptance. In many adaptations, the turtles pine for meaningful relationships outside themselves and Splinter. And, while this theme doesn’t need to be the focus of every adaptation, its absence in RotTMNT does strip from the characters an extra layer of depth and misses out on an opportunity to make them more relatable to members of the audience, especially those who’ve ever felt alienated.

If RotTMNT wanted to focus more on the familial relationships of the titular characters instead, that would be one thing. However, even the development and depth of those familial relationships are lacking. For instance, Splinter’s neglect of the turtles is never truly confronted along with the impact of Raph’s parentification (the underdeveloped family dynamic is something to be expanded upon for another entry in my lengthy list of grievances with this adaptation).

There was so much potential to explore new relationships for the turtles outside their own little world. The introduction of Yōkai opened new possibilities for the characters with them being able to be among other non-humans (the underdeveloped role of Yōkai and their Hidden City is also a topic for another day). Even the more lenient human world offered a new perspective. But, like all things surrounding Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it was just more wasted potential.

[antialiasis]

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: all of my thoughts (part 1)

All right, this is me, watching my way through my current obsession The Good, the Bad and the Ugly for the umpteenth time and rambling about everything that comes to mind as I go, which ended up with me typing over thirty thousand words because I am incapable of shutting up. Because that is truly excessive, I will be posting my thoughts in three parts; this is part one (covering roughly the first hour and thirteen minutes of the Extended Cut, up through the end of the desert/carriage sequence), and I'll probably post part two in a few days to a week, pending editing and such and some of the other things I should be doing.

Because that's a lot of reading to commit to without knowing what you're getting into, especially if you're here from the tag, here's what to expect in brief:

This is all of my thoughts, simply whatever comes to mind, but my thoughts on fiction tend to be heavy on in-depth analysis of characters, their motivations and how they tick, so a lot of this falls into that general category.

In particular, there will be a whole lot of thoughts on Tuco, Blondie, and their evolving character dynamic, which is my favorite part of the movie. I will not be looking at it through a shippy lens, for what it's worth (romantic shipping is not generally how I personally engage with fiction), but I hope anyone who finds their dynamic compelling in whatever way might still enjoy some of my thoughts on them!

In between, there's also a bunch of other commentary on stuff like the narrative function of scenes (especially on the scenes that were cut in the International Cut of the film and whether the film is better with or without them), directorial or editing or production design or storytelling choices, acting choices, foreshadowing and parallels, as well as some lighter commentary on bits that amuse me or bug me or that I particularly enjoy.

Sometimes I will just be making observations about random things I didn't necessarily notice or pick up on on my first viewing; many of them are probably kind of obvious, but if I didn't pick them up seeing it once, probably there's at least a chance they might be interesting for other people who have only seen it once.

This is not a recap of the movie, but I do try to quote lines or explain bits that I'm commenting on, so hopefully you can follow along if you've seen the movie at all. I don't know how coherent this would be if you haven't seen the movie, but if you choose to read a post like this about a movie you haven't seen anyway, godspeed to you.

Tuco's introduction

The opening scene sure is a microcosm of Sergio Leone's directorial style. Slow, silent close-ups, wide shots, unclear exactly where the scene is going initially, these unnamed characters eventually converge on a saloon -- and then instead of following them inside, Tuco comes crashing through the window and we freeze-frame. It's very drawn out (I had a bit of an "Is the whole movie going to be like this" moment watching it for the first time), but the comic timing of Tuco and the freeze-frame is great; instantly we go from this super slow, dramatic buildup to this fun, humorous subversion that really sets a tone. All that buildup was actually for introducing this guy.

In the process, we learn that 1) Tuco is someone at least three different people want to kill, 2) he's someone skilled and resourceful enough to manage to shoot them first and then make his escape through the window even after being caught unawares during a meal by three people working together, and 3) even in the process of doing that he brings his food with him -- probably actually pretty revealing about his background of poverty, not wanting to waste food when he has it. We'll of course see him introduced further a little later, but this really says a lot for only actually containing about ten silent seconds of him, and also benefits from being funny.

It's kind of amusing how bloodless most gun deaths are in this movie, considering it doesn't shy away from blood in other parts. The surviving bounty hunter does have some blood on his hand as he tries to shoot after Tuco, probably to convey that he's injured despite still being alive, but the others are just cleanly lying there with no signs of damage. Maybe it's paying homage to what other Westerns looked like -- the actual cowboy gunslinging specifically is very idealized, sanitized and almost cartoonish, compared to a lot of the other violence in the film. I remember being a kid and hearing about the trope of people in old Westerns getting shot and dramatically going flying as a result, despite that normal bullets are far too small for their momentum to send a person flying anywhere -- you don't actually see too much of that in modern movies, where everything tends to look much more realistic, but this movie definitely has a lot of very dramatic flailing and spinning around when people get shot in a way that looks pretty distinctly silly and cartoony today. Ultimately it meshes pretty well with the overall tone of the film, though; this movie is gritty in many respects, but it does not aspire to realism.

Angel Eyes' introduction

The way Angel Eyes just silently waltzes into Stevens' home and helps himself to some of his food while maintaining eye contact the whole time is so weird and uncomfortable, it's delightful. What an entrance.

Stevens has a limp. People who have fought in the war tend to be visibly scarred by it in this movie -- truly something that just permeates every background detail, that you don't really think about on a first viewing when you think the Civil War is just a setting backdrop.

There is zero dialogue in this film until more than ten and a half minutes in (though the first three minutes of that are the opening credits, so it's seven and a half minutes of actual movie with no dialogue). I think this is a very fun choice which contributes to the viewer really feeling how unbearable the silence is for Stevens by the time he starts asking Angel Eyes if Baker sent him - half of that silence wasn't even technically part of this scene, but it really intensifies it by making the silence here feel even longer than it is.

When Stevens says, "I know nothing at all about that case of coins!", Angel Eyes looks up with interest from where he'd been casually looking at his food. Evidently he had had no idea there was any case of coins involved, only that he was meant to collect a name, but once Stevens mentions it, his interest is piqued.

Angel Eyes casually offers, "Well, Jackson was here, or Baker's got it all wrong," while cutting off and eating a piece of bread with a large knife, sort of implicitly daring Stevens to try to say Baker's got it all wrong and see what happens. When he's got Tuco captured later, Angel Eyes does a similar thing of staying friendly-threatening as he casually asks questions, but once Tuco actually refuses to talk of his own accord, out come the claws. This time, though, Stevens does not take the bait, probably sensing that that would lead nowhere good for him.

He says, "Maybe Baker would like to know just what you and Jackson had to say about the cash box" -- this isn't the info he came for, but maybe Baker would be interested. Really it's Angel Eyes himself who is intrigued -- he'll go on to tell Baker that that's my bit. But he doesn't really bother pushing Stevens for it, instead moving on to admitting he's being paid for the name specifically. Probably he figures once he gets the name, he'll have all the info he needs to track him down anyway by his usual means (which it turns out he does).

The casual, grinning confidence of Angel Eyes' assertion that if Jackson weren't going by an alias he would've found him already, "That's why they pay me," really makes you believe it, doesn't it. It's exposition about what Angel Eyes does, but is also executed to work as a nice character-establishing moment about his competence.

Christopher Frayling's otherwise fun and informative commentary on the film talked about how Angel Eyes' missing fingertip was provided by a hand double in the final truel -- but you can see in this scene that Lee van Cleef's own right hand is definitely missing that fingertip (though I did not notice it at all until I thought to specifically look for it). Very curious where the notion of a hand double came from -- he even named a specific guy.

Angel Eyes casually announces that when he's paid, he always sees the job through, even though that's just going to make Stevens desperate -- Angel Eyes knows he can shoot first, no big deal.

He shoots Stevens through the table and the food, even. How does he aim.

Angel Eyes grabs his gun and turns around to shoot Stevens' son before he actually comes into view (specifically, we see him start to react to something about ten frames before we can first see the tip of the son's rifle). Presumably, in-universe, he heard him coming, but we don't hear him coming at all over the blaring background chord, so it feels like Angel Eyes just knows he's coming by some sixth sense. Very effective at making him seem even more threatening, especially since there's also generally a conscious decision in this movie to act as if the characters can't see anything that's out of frame for the viewer -- Blondie and Tuco get caught out by that rule a couple of times in amusing ways, but Angel Eyes actively defies the auditory equivalent.

(It's neat how the family photo, used for Angel Eyes obliquely threatening Stevens' family, also serves as foreshadowing for the fact he also has this second, older son we hadn't seen yet at that point.)

The fact Angel Eyes sneaks into Baker's bedroom when he's sleeping to report back is so extra. A normal person would just arrange to meet him the next morning, but no, Angel Eyes does the creepy stalker thing. Probably makes the murdering him in his bed bit a little easier, though, which also suggests he was definitely intending on that bit the whole time and didn't just "almost forget".

Baker's brow furrows and his eyes shift uncomfortably when Angel Eyes mentions the cash box; clearly he was hoping Angel Eyes would never find out about that bit (very reasonably, given what happens next).

All in all, Angel Eyes' introduction is super striking. The casual veneer and smug grins painted over a deeply tense sense of threat; the absolute deadly confidence; the fact he shoots Stevens' son too so easily and presciently, almost as a footnote to it all; casually walking out with the money that Stevens offered him for sparing his life; and then, on the ostensible basis that when he's paid he always sees the job through, casually killing Baker too.

Although he explains the murder of Baker as simply seeing the job through, though, Stevens didn't actually ask him to kill Baker; all he ever suggested he wanted was to be left alone, and all he said about the money was that it's a thousand dollars, after asking what Angel Eyes was being paid for murdering him. I expect Angel Eyes simply chooses to take it as payment for the 'job' of killing Baker for motivated reasons; that way, he can act as if the money is still 'payment' for him even though he rejected Stevens' attempt to bribe him, and it's much easier to go after the cash box himself if Baker's out of the picture, after all.

This creates an interesting ironic sense that while Angel Eyes effectively presents his own introduction as being all about his unassailable professional principles about always performing the job he's been paid for, and I took him at his word on my first viewing, he's not really all about those principles at all -- and as the movie goes on, indeed, he's simply pursuing the cash box for his own reasons rather than because anyone's paying him for it. His 'professional principles' don't come up again, because that's not really what this intro was telling us at all.

Which isn't to say he doesn't always see a job through after being paid (I can definitely believe that; if he has a reputation for getting the job done no matter what, that makes people more likely to pay him in the future, and he sure has no qualms about completing any job), just that that's not at all the main thing driving his character, as you might initially assume. The thing his intro is really telling us about him is that he's ruthless, terrifying, extremely competent, very interested in this cash box, and has absolutely no trouble casually murdering whoever might be standing in the way of accomplishing what he wants. And I think it's very effective at showing that.

Blondie's introduction

This scene opens with Tuco on a galloping horse in a way that naturally invites the viewer to assume this is following directly from when he flees from the saloon in his intro, and that's what I assumed on my first viewing -- but nah, not only does he not have the food and drink, he's wearing different clothing. Given the surviving bounty hunter from the intro will be appearing later and indicating that was eight months ago, and this is decidedly the most obvious place for the bulk of the timeskip to be happening, probably this is actually several months later. This film is not at all big on time indicators -- for the most part, we have no idea how much time is passing, everything feels like it's happening pretty much in sequence, and we can only vaguely infer that there must be longer gaps between particular events.

The straight-up photograph on Tuco's wanted poster is pretty hilarious. There's even a scene later with a little gag about the long exposure times for photographs at the time. Probably this is just a funny prop for two scenes to make it very obvious to the viewer that it is absolutely him on the wanted poster even as he adamantly denies it, but it's also very funny to imagine Tuco patiently posing for his own wanted poster.

Framing through it, all three of the bounty hunters surrounding Tuco when Blondie comes along are in fact going for their guns when Blondie shoots them, which makes sense -- for all that Blondie is not much of a noble hero, he generally does not tend to shoot people until they're at least starting to draw on him. (There's one notable exception, which will come up in part two.)

I enjoy Tuco's weird little nervous, disbelieving grin as he realizes this stranger just shot the bounty hunters but is sparing him. Tuco's own worldview, as shaped by his background, is dominated by self-interest; it's every man for himself, and it's up to him to do whatever it takes, tell whatever lies, betray whoever he has to, to get ahead. And yet, there's this endearing naïveté to him, where he's not really suspicious of other people's motives accordingly -- he's surprised Blondie would save him, but his brain doesn't immediately go to this guy just wants to be the one to collect my bounty. We see this a lot throughout the film.

We cut (with great comic timing) from Blondie sticking a cigar in Tuco's mouth to Tuco spitting out a cigar while tied up on his horse as Blondie takes him into town -- an edit that suggests continuity, like only a short time has passed and it's the same cigar that he just hadn't had the chance to spit out yet (sort of dubious if you really think about it, since surely it would've taken a bit for Blondie to tie him up and get him onto his horse). This reinforces our initial assumptions about what's happening, where Blondie would just have tied him up before riding straight into town, but given the con they turn out to be running, there must have actually been an offscreen conversation about it and the cigar is there as a bit of cheeky misdirection for the audience.

(It probably makes sense that when Blondie put the cigar in his mouth, he was actually about to propose they run this bounty scheme together -- as the movie proceeds, we see that Blondie generally shares cigars in more of a friendly sort of way, after all.)

"I hope you end up in a graveyard!" yells Tuco. They sure do all end up in a graveyard! This is some very cheeky foreshadowing and I love it.

Tuco yelling ineffectual threats about how Blondie can still save himself by letting him go, while actually tied up and completely at his mercy, is just extremely Tuco.

Then he shifts tack very abruptly to saying he feels sick and needs water, only to then spit in Blondie's face. Later he furiously calls the deputy a bastard just for walking out of a building, only to then immediately shift to saying he's just an honest farmer who didn't do anything wrong. Tuco often does this, shifting from one approach to the next in a way that makes it really obvious he's bullshitting, but he keeps doing this, just throwing shit at the wall to see if anything sticks, even when this is counterproductive to the whole effort. He is presumably playing it up a bit here, but it's still in its own way pretty representative of who he is and what he's actually like. He's so characterful.

"Who says so? You can't even read!" says Tuco about whether it's him on the wanted poster, which is some delightful nonsense hypocrisy/projection given we will later see that Tuco himself can only barely read. I love him. (And why would reading even have anything to do with it; he's obviously looking at the plain actual photograph of him right there. Love Tuco's absolute nonsense.)

Another absurd change of tactics: "Hey, everybody, look, look! He's giving him the filthy money!" - as if he's going to rally onlookers against the sheriff and Blondie somehow on the basis that money is exchanging hands, isn't that suspicious.

Tuco calls Blondie Judas for accepting the money (referencing the thirty pieces of silver, of course), which will get a fun echo later.

"You're the son of a thousand fathers, all bastards like you!" I love that Tuco has invented compounding recursive bastardry just for Blondie. Not only is he a bastard, all one thousand men his mother slept with were also bastards. Glorious. (You can see Blondie's amused by this one; he actually smiles a little bit before throwing a match at him.)

I wonder if Blondie actively encouraged him to go quite this hard on the insults, to make them look less associated, or if he just did this. One would think it would be risky, on Tuco's end, to be this over the top in literally spitting in the face of the guy who could just let him hang if he happened to change his mind -- but then again, Tuco genuinely doesn't expect Blondie to double-cross him.

Tuco's crimes, as of this first hanging, are: murder; armed robbery of citizens, state banks and post offices; the theft of sacred objects; arson in a state prison; perjury; bigamy; deserting his wife and children; inciting prostitution; kidnapping; extortion; receiving stolen goods; selling stolen goods; passing counterfeit money; and, contrary to the laws of this state, the condemned is guilty of using marked cards and loaded dice! All this paints a picture of a pretty colorful backstory, but most of it is relatively petty; other than the murder (possibly of people like the bounty hunters we saw him dispose of in the opening), we can gather he's been scrounging up money through anything from cheating at cards up to armed robbery and kidnapping, he lied under oath (checks out), he set a prison on fire (presumably to escape), he ran off from his wife and kids and then married someone else he presumably also ran off from, and then there's "inciting prostitution" which I'm guessing means offering someone not previously engaged in sex work money for sex.

It obviously checks out that he'd do anything for money, and bigamy and deserting his wife and children rhyme with his off-hand mention at the monastery later that he's had lots of wives here and there; in general, it tracks that he would make big commitments and then just break them. So all in all, these seem like probably a bunch of genuine crimes that he actually committed. (He also nods somewhat smugly at the marked cards and loaded dice bit.)

Blondie's MO seems to be to first shoot the whip out of the hand of the guy who's meant to be setting the horse off and then shoot the actual rope (and then random attendees' hats, for good measure). Better hope that first shot doesn't spook the horse.

It really is very reasonable of Tuco to want a bigger cut for being the one running the risks; you wouldn't generally want to do a job with a significant chance of getting you killed without being very well compensated for that. Unfortunately, Blondie doing the cutting means he's the one with all the power here -- if he's dissatisfied with his share, he can just pocket all the money and let Tuco die -- which puts him at the advantage in the negotiation, and he knows it.

I enjoy how in the middle of "If we cut down my percentage, it's liable to interfere with my aim," Blondie offers Tuco a cigar, this casual friendly move in the middle of what is effectively a threat.

Tuco does a little understated, "Hmm," of acknowledgement that makes it feel like this was genuinely unexpected. But then he just returns the threat: "But if you miss, you had better miss very well. Whoever double-crosses me and leaves me alive, he understands nothing about Tuco." Which sets up his quest for revenge on Blondie after the double-cross, obviously, but is also fun to recall during the final scene: Tuco actively advised Blondie not to leave him alive if he was going to double-cross him.

Tuco why are you eating the cigar

Next time he's in the noose, it's for a whole new list of crimes that ends with, "For all these crimes, the accused has made a full, spontaneous confession." Yeah, he probably just went off spewing confessions to a string of colorful invented offenses as Blondie brought him in, didn't he, maybe hoping it would raise the bounty. (At the cinematic screening where I saw it for the first time, I missed the spontaneous confession thing due to no subtitles and spent half the movie experiencing some jarring mental dissonance over Tuco's growing goofy likability versus the offhandedly having been convicted of multiple rapes near the start thing. But it's actually pretty strongly telegraphed that the new crimes here are simply bullshit; a spontaneous confession to a variety of new things that were decidedly not on the earlier list, that he could not possibly have done in the implied presumably not very long timespan between the first and second hanging, mostly distinctly more dramatic crimes than the original set, all sounds strongly like a Tuco throwing shit at the wall thing.)

Tuco looks a lot more restless during the second hanging, where for the first one he was pretty calm -- probably a little bit nervous about Blondie's "liable to interfere with my aim" remark, even though they'd presumably come to an agreement to stick with the 50/50 split.

He notices a woman being scandalized, seems sort of put out for a second, but then growls at her to scare her more. What a Tuco.

Another minor character presumably disabled in the war: Angel Eyes' incidentally legless informant. (Whom he calls Shorty, like the guy Blondie teams up with later, who is definitely a different guy because that guy has legs -- sort of a funny aversion of the usual one Steve limit. Genuinely a bit puzzled by why they did that -- is it like that in the Italian version or just the English dub?) I wonder if the bit where he moves around by holding a couple of bricks and using them to walk on is something inspired by a real person or people at the time.

Calling him a 'half-soldier' is pretty rude, Angel Eyes.

Look, I'll accept that we're calling Blondie Blondie, sounds like that's what you'd call him in Italy, but there's really no excuse for "A golden-haired angel watches over him." The man's hair is brown. It's not even a light brown. What are you talking about, Angel Eyes.

But to not get too distracted by that part of the line: Angel Eyes obviously recognizes the con they're running. I think that's probably because he knows of Blondie and that this is a thing he does (he's presumably done it with others before), so when he notices Blondie's around at a hanging, he's like ah, yes, there's him doing his thing, guess he's running with Tuco now. My own feeling is Blondie and Angel Eyes basically only know of each other, though -- no direct evidence they're not more familiar or anything, but they don't really act like they have a personal history, I think, compared to Tuco and Angel Eyes who obviously do.

After the threat about a pay cut being liable to interfere with his aim, I originally figured Blondie missing the rope (or rather, it seems to have grazed but not severed it) might have been deliberate, meant to scare Tuco a bit and make him think twice about proposing that again. But ultimately, on a closer look, I'm pretty sure he really did just miss, both because his expressions and body language feel more in line with that and because Tuco's rant after they escape indicates that Blondie's explanation to him was that anyone can miss a shot -- if it was meant as a warning, probably he wouldn't then go on to actively make it sound like he'd just happened to miss.

(That line also indicates it probably wasn't that he did hit it dead-on but the rope was just sturdier than expected -- if Blondie said anyone can miss a shot, that sounds like he at least believes it's because he missed, and I don't see any sensible reason he would lie about that here.)

That said, I think it's fun to imagine that the reason for the miss was that that discussion really did interfere with his aim -- that little bit of tension with Tuco led to him being a little careless this time, even though he didn't mean to miss and thought he had it.

The thing that actually prompts Blondie to stop and leave Tuco is Tuco's rant about how nobody misses when I'm at the end of the rope and When that rope starts to pull tight, you can feel the devil bite your ass. For all that he explains it as being about how there's no future in this with a guy who'll never be worth more than $3000, there's a specific point where he stops his horse and decides to ditch him, and it's when Tuco's complaining turns into guilting him about missing and the experience of being on the other end. Blondie will not be guilted and does not want or need this; just going to ditch him and wash his hands of him and find somebody else. I get the sense that Blondie doesn't really want to think about that miss too hard, at this point, and Tuco won't leave him alone about it, and so he leaves him.

More echoes in Blondie and Tuco's relationship: Blondie specifically says, "Adios," when leaving Tuco in the desert, which Tuco will say back to him at the inn.

Tuco's reaction, once again throwing shit at the wall, goes from insults to angrily ordering him to cut the rope off and get off the horse (as if he has any power to make him do anything, standing there unarmed with his hands tied), to a series of hilariously off-the-wall threats ("I'll hang you up by your thumbs!"), to disbelief/desperation: "Wait a minute, this is only a trick! You wouldn't leave me here! Come back! Wait! Blondie! Listen, Blondie!" before the final ¡Hijo de una gran putaaaa! The last couple stages once again get echoed in the final scene. I enjoy the "You wouldn't" - Blondie's supposed to be better than this, even after he'd threatened his aim might suffer if he got less money. They were supposed to be friends, damn it! (Tuco really wants to believe that people actually like him, and often chooses to live in the world in which they do.)

I truly love the fact Blondie gets the freeze-frame and onscreen caption of "the good" just after ironically admonishing Tuco for his ingratitude after Blondie has double-crossed him, taken the money they were going to split, and left him in the desert with this hands tied. As I wrote in the post with my initial impressions on the movie, this is the most uncalled for, mean-spirited thing he does in the entire movie, and getting the caption right here makes it really drip with irony, which is exactly the right thing to do with it, compared to if they'd put it earlier when it might have looked like it was meant to be played straight. There's no gallant hero here, only this guy, who is kind of a bastard. Blondie genuinely grows to deserve the title more as we go on, and that's one of the fun things about the movie, but we have established that the base point is low.

Blondie's intro tells us a number of things: he's a very good shot, casually confident, silent and stoic and unruffled by most anything, happy to be a conman ripping off bounties by bringing in criminals and then freeing them again to repeat the same scheme elsewhere, willing to make oblique threats to get his way and to shoot first when anyone seems about to pull a gun on him, and enough of a bastard to leave Tuco behind in the desert. But he's definitely the most enigmatic of the three main characters; he doesn't talk or emote much, leaving exactly what's going on in his head pretty vague and open to interpretation, even as some of his actions are pretty striking and interesting. This has nerdsniped me, because I enjoy thinking about what's going on in characters' heads; please be prepared for an excessive amount of analysis of what might be going through his mind in almost every scene he's in.

Angel Eyes and Maria

The choice to open this scene with Maria getting thrown off a carriage with a bunch of drunk Confederates and the choked-up yell of "You filthy rats!" after them is probably largely just to get across the suggestion that she's a prostitute, making it easier to connect that she's the one Angel Eyes' informant told him about. But I appreciate that it gives her a little bit of a tragic existence outside the confines of the plot and makes her sympathetic even before Angel Eyes starts beating on her. (A secondary purpose for this is also probably to show some Confederate soldiers just being assholes; the film makes a point of featuring both sympathetic and asshole moments from both sides of the Civil War.)

Like with Stevens, while Angel Eyes makes his presence very threatening, he starts off nonviolently (well, relatively; the way he pulls her inside is not exactly gentle), just telling her to go on talking about Bill Carson -- but when she refuses to volunteer any information and just says she doesn't know him, the claws come out instantly. There's none of the veneer of casual friendliness he had with Stevens, though, just an intensely scary stare and threatening demands. (The scare chord playing in the background doesn't help.) All in all, Angel Eyes was already terrifying but he is even more so in this scene.

I do also appreciate that while the interrogation is brutal and deeply uncomfortable and thick with the danger of sexual violence, it does not go there -- he's physically but not sexually violent, he's only interested in the information, and once he has it, we see him just leave. This is a completely sexless film, and I think we're all very lucky for that; it's one reason The Good, the Bad and the Ugly has aged relatively well, compared to for instance some of Sergio Leone's other films. (That's not to say I have anything against portrayals of sexuality or even sexual violence in media in principle, but I've gotten the sense that back in the sixties, media that did portray it tended to be profoundly weird about it.)

Tuco returns to town

We don't get to see Tuco suffering in the desert, only making his way across the rope bridge and then stumbling toward the well and finally indulging, but I think it does get across that this was an ordeal for him, and that becomes easier to appreciate on a rewatch, after seeing Blondie go through it later. Tuco's skin has fared a lot better than Blondie's, but his lips are pretty cracked.

The gun seller looks so proud of his little selection of revolvers and is so eager to please him by showing him more. It's painful how long he keeps trying to be helpful in selling him a gun even when Tuco just grabs the bottle of wine out of his hands and dismantles half of his guns to put together a custom revolver. And then Tuco just uses the gun, with a cartridge the owner gave him, to rob him of the money he has in the till, oof.

Man, those targets just casually in the shape of Native Americans.

Sergio Leone just has a thing for characters shoving something in somebody else's mouth unbidden, doesn't he. Blondie sticks his cigar in Tuco's mouth during his intro, then Tuco puts the sign in the shopkeeper's mouth, and then it happens very memorably in Once Upon a Time in the West as well. I forget if it's in A Fistful of Dollars or For a Few Dollars More, but at this point I wouldn't be surprised.

The gun store scene is theoretically skippable (Christopher Frayling's commentary indicated it was cut in British prints of the film, though I gather it survived in the US cut), but it's pretty fun in its audacity, and is also doing some good setup work for Tuco's character. So far, apart from his intro suggesting some degree of scrappy ability to shoot before he gets shot, he's been shown in a pretty ineffectual light, getting ambushed and captured and raging helplessly with his hands tied. But here we get to see that Tuco really knows his way around guns and has implausible trick-shooting skills to rival Blondie's -- and, of course, that he really is an unrepentant bandit who thinks nothing of doing this when he wants a gun and some money, lest we were left too sympathetic to him when Blondie left him.

The cave

Tuco presumably bought the chicken with some of the $200 he robbed from the gun store; he presents it like having a single chicken by itself is amazing riches. Does say a lot.

I enjoy his very blatant talking to himself about how oh, he's so lonely, but he's rich, wonder where his friends are now. He clearly figures that Pedro/Chico/Ramon are there listening and just avoiding him. He talks like they were such great friends, but somehow the fact they don't come out until he starts loudly talking about how if only they were there he'd give them $1000 each doesn't make it seem like they ever had a relationship that went much beyond assisting each other in committing crimes to their mutual advantage -- and Tuco clearly in fact knows this, since he knows exactly what line to go for to lure them out. (But no, Tuco definitely has great friends, because he is a cool and well-liked dude who has definitely made good choices in life.)

I've seen people online suggesting that Blondie and Tuco ran their scam a lot more often than the two times we actually see, but this scene seems to make it explicit that they only did it exactly those two times: Tuco specifically indicates Blondie has $4000, which is simply equal to half of the first $2000 bounty that they split plus the entire $3000 bounty for the second time that he kept for himself.

This is one of the scenes added in the Extended Cut, despite having been cut even from the Italian version of the movie after its original Rome premiere. The primary ostensible purpose of it is just to establish where Pedro/Chico/Ramon came from (the featurette on the restoration makes it explicit that the guy overseeing the Extended Cut, John Kirk, just thought it was a plot hole and decided to reinsert the scene when he discovered it existed because of that, despite Sergio Leone himself having decided to cut it for pacing reasons). It is true I think I would probably ask myself some questions about Tuco's buddies if I'd seen a cut without it; Tuco's seemed like a lone wolf so far, and without it there's no indication at all of who these guys are or why they're working for/with him for this.

On the other hand, the scene kind of sets them up as if they're a lot more important than they are, and its internal coherence feels a little off: them only coming out when Tuco tempts them with money, despite that Tuco's been there for a bit talking at them about what good friends they were, actively suggests they don't actually like or trust him (which makes good sense!), but then it also has this dialogue about how they thought he'd been killed, which feels as if it's randomly offering up an unnecessary and somewhat contradictory second explanation for why we haven't seen them with him up to this point. The bit about them thinking he was dead doesn't actually connect to anything and seems to give undue weight and improperly conserved detail to Tuco's relationship with these guys, who are ultimately just some throwaway goons that exist in one scene before dying and never being mentioned again. I think probably the movie is actually better off without this scene, as Sergio Leone apparently concluded himself.

The inn

More of the war in the background -- this time with the innkeeper privately opining about how those rebels are cowards and it'll be better when the Yankees have beaten them as the Confederate army retreats out of the town, only to then yell "Hurray for Dixie!" as they're passing by. Not the only character in this movie who just pretends to support whichever army he's currently looking at. (We see more injured soldiers in the background here.)

Love the tension of the buildup here. Blondie's gun lying dismantled on the table at the start, the brothers approaching in the midst of all the noise, the close-up of Blondie's hand freezing and eyes narrowing at the clink in the sudden silence, straining to hear as there's nothing (the fact it stopped when the army did actively suggests someone's trying to be sneaky), then frantically loading the revolver with a second-third-fourth bullet as the background noise restarts and then juuuust managing to finish and shoot the three of them in rapid succession as they burst in. These silent close-up shots of his hands and eyes also deliver a rare moment of tangible alarm from Blondie; he's legitimately scared for a bit there and you can feel it, which is greatly appreciated from a character who spends most of the movie being stoic and enigmatic.

Enjoy Blondie choosing to explain how he knew they were coming by going, "Your spurs," just before firing the final shot (just giving this guy a little tip about where he messed up before killing him, as you do), but also I deeply enjoy that him firing that last smug bullet, which he probably didn't really need to when the guy was collapsing anyway, leaves him defenseless when Tuco draws attention to himself at the window. Blondie is very smart and competent, we've just watched him survive three people sneaking up on him while he's cleaning his gun because he managed to notice the tiny sound of a clinking spur and put together what it meant and load his gun in time, but then he makes this near-fatal mistake by getting a little too cocky about it, and that's definitely tastier than if he'd obviously needed all his bullets there.

I have seen it suggested that Tuco intentionally used the brothers as cannon fodder here, but I'm not sure the movie necessarily suggests that; presumably the idea was for them to successfully sneak up on Blondie and catch him completely unawares without the unexpected silence exposing the rogue spur clink, which wouldn't have had to involve any of them getting killed (heck, if they'd happened to be just a little earlier, Blondie would've still been in the middle of cleaning his gun). Tuco and the others had clearly talked about their approach ahead of time, so they were perfectly aware that they'd be going up there by the door and Tuco would be coming in by the window and presumably thought that sounded like a good plan. And we have no idea exactly at what point Tuco managed to make his way in, so we don't have any indication either way on whether he theoretically could have intervened to save them in some manner -- my first assumption would be he got in after Blondie had stood up, which is after he shot them. Sneaking up on him from two different directions makes sense either way. I wouldn't necessarily put it past Tuco to figure the brothers will probably get killed and do it anyway, but I don't think we can say that for sure.

Either way, I enjoy Tuco doing his quick little sign of the cross when he says "Those that come in by the door." He did in fact just get them killed by bringing them here, and while he's not going to say anything about that to Blondie, it shows him acknowledging it in a small way. Tuco's religiosity is a great little character trait that has no impact on the plot but just adds more color and dimension to him as a character -- it adds a really fun bit of visual irony to punctuate some of his various decidedly un-Christian actions, and it has a rich sense of being rooted in his background given his family was presumably religious.

Blondie's shrugging, "It's empty," feels like he's initially kind of expecting them to just talk: he takes Tuco wanting him to remove the pistol belt as a practical thing, just telling him to remove his weapon so he can put his away, and so Blondie removes it but tells him that's not really necessary because he can't shoot him anyway. Tuco could have shot him already if he were here to kill him, right? He probably expects, initially, that Tuco is just here to get his half of the money, or possibly all of it.

Instead, Tuco responds with, "Mine isn't" -- he's deadly serious and he's not putting his gun away at all.

"Even when Judas hanged himself there was a storm, too." There's Judas again! Tuco originally called Blondie that while playing it up for the scam, but as far as he's concerned now, it's true actually. Love the furious energy of him sitting there having found this Biblical parallel and decided this is the specific revenge he wants on this guy and bringing a noose to arrange that. Blondie's never had a rope around his neck, never felt the devil bite his ass? Well, now he will. And he'll make him do it himself, because Judas hanged himself.

Blondie warily (and correctly) suggests the 'storm' is actually cannon fire -- because he decidedly does not want to be anywhere near the war, and by the time cannons are getting fired in the vicinity, he thinks they should probably be getting the hell out of there, and if Tuco agrees, then perhaps pointing that out is a ticket out of this pretty alarming situation he has found himself in. But Tuco, of course, is not really interested in entertaining that just when he has Blondie right where he wants him. He's going to hang him right here if it's the last thing he does.

Blondie goes along with it, slowly, silently, looking kind of wary and skeptical more than anything. When I was first watching this movie, I kept expecting him to do something, to distract him in some clever way and then lunge at him to disarm him or something, like you'd usually expect the main character to do in an action movie. But the thing is that's just not how Blondie operates. He doesn't do bold risky action-hero feats. He can absolutely shoot a gun with the best of them, but he has no particular physical skills, never even throws a punch in this whole movie unless you count the backhand slap on the tied-up Tuco earlier; when unarmed, all he's really got is his brains. Blondie gets by on being smart and careful and analytical. When Blondie finds a gun pointed at him, and has no leverage over the other guy, he will do what he's told, make no sudden movements, and wait until he sees some kind of actual opening, because otherwise he's just going to get shot. He buys what little time he can going along with the hanging while his brain silently whirs away evaluating his options for how he can get out of this, and that's about it for what he can do.

What are his options? He doesn't have a lot. Tuco is standing too far away to reach before he shoots but too close to realistically miss, never takes his eyes off him for more than a second, keeps his gun pointed squarely at him. It wouldn't be hard for him to get out of the noose -- it's a big noose, he's barely in it, his hands are free. But if he did, Tuco would presumably just shoot him instead. Probably his best chance, once Tuco says he's going to shoot the legs off the stool, is to try to make a move just when he fires, slip out of the noose and then probably make some kind of last-ditch attempt to overpower him before he's ready to shoot again, and I imagine Blondie was getting ready to attempt just that before they were interrupted. But even then, it's very questionable whether he could have actually escaped like that. All in all, things are looing pretty dicey for him by the time the rogue cannonball comes to his rescue -- but once it does, he's out of there fast, grabbing his chance now he's got it.

Either way, as little as he gives away as it's happening, Blondie's genuinely staring death in the face here for this whole sequence, and this experience clearly left enough of an impression on him for him to make a point of turning this specifically back on Tuco in the final scene, even though Tuco's going to torment him in a much more extended and agonizing way in the desert, so I'm enjoying the quiet implication there.

The cannonball is kind of interesting because this is absolutely a textbook deus ex machina. Usually I like the rule that a contrived coincidence can get the characters into a situation but ideally not out of it. This is definitely getting Blondie out of a situation, and definitely has that sense of being a little unsatisfying as the answer to how's he going to get out of this one. And yet, the fact Blondie really was helpless to do much about it is kind of the point here. If Blondie had actually won out in this encounter, it wouldn't have nearly the same meaning when he finally ends up turning the situation around in the desert, nor when he tells Tuco to get in the noose at the end -- narratively, we need this to be an instance of Tuco beating out Blondie and then toying with him for it to have the right impact, and hence, since he can't actually die here, he needs to get out without winning.

(It does also help a bit that the ongoing cannon fire was already set up and established, even if it just happening to hit the building is purely coincidental.)

Being saved by a cannonball, of course, is again the constant insistent presence of the war in the background, now coming into the characters' lives just a bit more directly.

Meanwhile, Tuco in this scene, man. He is finally the one in the position of power, just relishing having control and being able to order Blondie to do things and have him actually do them and the grim sense of justice in seeing him be the one in a noose for once. Cheerful lines like, "It's too big for your neck, huh? We fix that right away." Grinning as he explains that he'll shoot the legs off the stool. But then when it comes to actually doing it… he takes an extra breath, with this kind of hesitant expression on his face, before echoing Blondie's "Adios." As he points the gun, it's shaking a bit. Tuco doesn't feel totally right here and I love it a lot.

Tuco does absolutely want to see Blondie suffer right now -- we're about to see him chase him down again so he can torture him in an even more drawn-out and awful way, after all. But once he actually kills him it'll all be over, and he just goes back to his usual shitty bandit life, one more person that he'd once thought was a friend gone. This has been a couple of minutes of mildly satisfying catharsis, but not totally satisfying, too brief, too easy -- and there's probably some basic squirm of empathy there, when he's been in that position, can vividly remember the squeeze of the rope -- but the bastard deserves this for betraying him, so he's doing it anyway.

All in all, this is possibly the scene I have rewatched the most. This is significantly because I happen to have a big dopamine whump button in my brain labeled 'HANGINGS', but it's also just a sequence of masterful tension leading up to this delightfully twisted, tense and thoroughly loaded character interaction following on the previous scenes between Tuco and Blondie in fun specific ways that build up to even more fun things later. What a character dynamic.

The fort

I don't have too much to say about this one. It's a very impressive set, the war is brutal, the sarcasm of the Confederate captain Angel Eyes talks to and the ease of bribing him with some booze is nice foreshadowing and a parallel for the poor Union captain Blondie and Tuco will meet, but ultimately this scene is mostly about filling in how Angel Eyes learns about Batterville. (Or is it Betterville? The subtitles say Batterville and that's what it sounds like everyone's saying, but Christopher Frayling and the subtitles on him say Betterville.) This is a restored scene in the Extended Cut, which exists in the Italian version but was cut from the International Cut.

Angel Eyes pauses and swallows looking at the injured soldiers and later lets the captain keep the booze he brought, vaguely suggesting a glimmer of sympathy for their plight, which is sort of interesting but also a little divorced from the rest of the movie. Villains having different sides to them is neat, but I don't think we get a great sense of why Angel Eyes would be sympathetic to these men but also treat the prisoners at Batterville -- who are soldiers from the Confederate army just like these ones -- how he does later with zero remorse, so I'm not sure this is actually doing much for the movie on a character level in the end, and if anything may be a little counterproductive to the kind of extremely cold-blooded villain that Angel Eyes is otherwise set up to be.

I suppose the idea might be that Angel Eyes is theoretically capable of sympathy, but also capable of simply discarding it the moment it's useful to him. Alternatively, the idea could be that at the moment he feels in some sense that if the war catches up with him he could be in these soldiers' place, but then he goes on to enlist with the Union army to get into Batterville, at which point he's on the winning side so who cares. Angel Eyes does display nerves later at the truel, once he's in a situation he's not in control of where he might very well die, so maybe it checks out that while he feels not totally secure in not winding up like these men himself, their grim conditions get to him a bit.

I do think it is kind of nice to have this scene in terms of keeping Angel Eyes' storyline going and maintaining the sense that he's still out there looking for Carson, even aside from the added plot clarity; without it, he'd just kind of not exist for a very significant chunk of the film.

I've also seen it argued that it brings out the horrors of the war too early, given the film's slow progression from the war as simply backdrop for the plot to eventually spending the leadup to the climax with it in stark focus. I think that's a legitimately interesting point, but also that it didn't stop me absorbing that progression just fine when first seeing the film as the Extended Cut -- soldiers are injured here, yes, but they aren't truly lingered on, and all in all it felt mostly just like a logical part of the established war-as-backdrop at this stage.

All in all, I have some mixed feelings on this scene and what it contributes, but I'm tempted to conclude the film might be better without it overall.

The desert

Tuco tracking down Blondie by finding his cigars at every campfire is pretty hilarious. Imagine what Blondie could have avoided if he just stopped smoking like a chimney.

(It's sort of surprising Blondie got so far ahead of Tuco to begin with -- he wouldn't have had long to get downstairs and to his horse while Tuco was recovering from the fall and getting out of the rubble, so one would've thought Tuco could've been basically right on his heels. I guess Tuco went in the wrong direction initially and had to catch up.)

Tuco forbidding Blondie to shoot down Shorty, oof. Once again Tuco is fundamentally out for himself, and right now he wants to deny Blondie this more than to let this stranger live, so down he goes. (Nonetheless, he flinches watching it, again bit of instinctive empathy despite that he mostly suppresses it -- it hits pretty close to home.)

Blondie continues to comply with the orders of the guy who's pointing a gun at him, but he clearly doesn't feel great about this, apologizing, gaze lingering on Shorty even as he's preparing to stand up. Clearly his moral line lies somewhere between leaving Tuco to fend for himself (where he might die, but sometime later in the desert where Blondie would never know) and letting Shorty hang, dying right in front of him when he was expecting a rescue. Perhaps Blondie didn't even know he had this line until now.

A moment of silence for Blondie's original horse, whom he probably rode out here, but who is presumably just left behind as Tuco takes him away and never seen again. This movie does not really give a damn about individual horses -- the characters' horses repeatedly disappear and go unmentioned only for them to later manage to get a different horse somewhere without comment -- but as a former horse girl this is the sort of thing I notice and wonder about.

Blondie presumably initially figures Tuco's just taking him somewhere a short distance away to try to make him hang himself again or something. But then Tuco shoots the canteen out of his hands, and the hat off his head for good measure (love Tuco casually replicating Blondie's little hat-shooting trick just to rub it in), and it starts to sink in that no, that's not it, is it. Where are they going? On a nice walk of a hundred miles through desert. "What was it you told me the last time? Ah, 'If you save your breath, I feel a man like you would manage it.'" Tuco's not taking him anywhere; this is just torture, once again a very specific torture. Blondie made Tuco walk seventy miles through the desert? Tuco'll make him walk a hundred miles, or however long it takes before he dies a slow and agonizing death, and that'll show him. I deeply enjoy how in this movie, between the two of them, it's never just generic revenge, but always this hyperspecific replication of the other's previous cruelties.

Tuco's cute pink parasol is such a choice.

He's so utterly gleeful watching Blondie helplessly stumbling until he faceplants in the sand. Tuco relishes power and control when he can get it, not only for the Blondie-specific reasons (Blondie had all the power from beginning to end in their bounty scheme, and exercised it to leave Tuco helpless) but probably also because of his background -- poverty sure is a way to feel perpetually helpless and subject to external whims, and escaping it through banditry probably represented a sense of freedom from all that, where he can just go out and take what he wants and other people can be subject to his whims for once.

In the sequence added in the Extended Cut, the collapsed and dehydrated Blondie looks at Tuco's boot right beside his face, swallows, tenses for a heave of effort -- and then grabs the boot, only for it to just be the empty boot, Tuco cheerfully bathing his feet a short distance away. (Blondie is definitely suffering from the "characters can't see anything out of frame" thing here, but I kind of enjoy the literal implication that his eyes can just barely even focus and the boot manages to be all he can make out in his field of vision, even if it stretches plausibility a bit.) I do quite like this bit, not least because this is the one time we actually properly see Blondie attempting resistance. He silently went along with the hanging and he silently goes along with the desert walk, too -- which makes sense, because he's being ordered to at gunpoint, and as I went into earlier, he doesn't have action hero armor that'd let him do much to fight back in these situations without just getting shot, and he's generally too careful to try under the circumstances. But it means that he feels very passive in these sequences, and seeing this moment where he finally does think he has a chance to strike back, and the hate in his eyes and how painstakingly he gathers all of the energy he can muster to grab it, helps a lot to contextualize the rest and make him more tangibly an active character who cares what's happening to him for this. With this bit, it's easy to extrapolate that he has been waiting for any chance to take him down this whole time, and this is the one time he (seemingly) finds one. Without it, his character just has no sense of agency at all the entire time he's being tortured, which would mute the whole thing a bit.

(Well, okay: a little before this, there is this wide shot, where we can see Tuco stationary on his horse and Blondie walking towards him -- then stopping, extending his foot a little further forward and sort of pathetically lunging for that last step, at which point Tuco's horse just moves further away, and Tuco laughs. This might be, and is on closer examination probably meant to be, Blondie making some form of stumbling attempt to sneak up on him. But it's a wide shot so you can barely see him, it goes by in seconds, and it's hard to tell what he's actually doing -- he could just be trying to catch up to Tuco, which is how I think I'd mostly been taking it before I started squinting at this -- which makes it not really serve the same purpose.)

(I gather the script had a bit, which was filmed and possibly in a version of the Italian release in 1966 but lost today apart from a small fragment, where Blondie slides down a hill into an animal skeleton lying there and grabs a bone that he could use as a weapon, but Tuco shoots it out of his hand and warns him not to try that again. That would have also provided that bit of agency, but given that was cut, the boot scene was all that was left, and I do maintain that cutting that too is bad for the movie.)

After he realizes it's just the boot, and of course Tuco's not letting him get close, and he has no hope of getting one over on Tuco at this point, Blondie sort of slumps in defeat for a moment, and then looks up, and then starts to crawl towards the water. It's pretty painful to watch; the utter helpless humiliation of being so thirsty and drained of defiance that he would drink the water Tuco just washed his feet in is its own grotesque flavor of torture, and then Tuco won't even let him have that.

After that, Blondie manages to push himself onto all fours, looks at Tuco for a moment -- probably realizing that even if he tried to rush him right now it would accomplish absolutely nothing other than entertaining Tuco more -- and then just crawls away, finally going somewhere of his own volition. He's not going to make it far at this point, and if it looked like he might Tuco would just shoot him, but maybe he can at least die somewhere a bit further away from him.

Tuco stands up and initially reaches for his gun as Blondie crawls off, but then he just laughs, seeing that there's absolutely no danger of Blondie making it very far or shaking him off -- he can just casually pack up his stuff and then follow him at a leisurely pace.

In the Italian/Extended Cut, Blondie rolling down the hill is continuing from this, whereas in the International Cut, Tuco had just gotten off his horse to approach him after he initially collapsed, suggesting that collapse wasn't quite as bad and that he was just sort of continuing but on all fours -- gives it a little bit of a different air.

I do appreciate just how pathetic Blondie's crawl/roll down the hill is. He sort of picks himself up again after the initial stumble but then just collapses on his back, admitting defeat. He's going to die here and he doesn't have the energy to do anything about it. Tuco lets that bottle roll down and come to a stop by his head and he doesn't even react.

Tuco spends a moment just looking at him down there before bringing out his gun to put him out of his misery. Probably less out of desire to actually put him out of his misery and more out of seeing he's not going to be able to make Blondie walk anywhere further right now, and he's not going to sit around waiting, and definitely not leaving him alive.

Blondie barely moves as Tuco points the gun at him, just closing his eyes again and swallowing and accepting that this is it. At the inn he had a chance but this time is a full-on definitely thought he was going to die here and was powerless to stop it, and this is also something that Blondie turns back on Tuco at the end.

(And yet Tuco keeps pointing his gun to kill him and taking a while to actually fire it, doesn't he. Part of this is just the movie doing dramatic timing but part of it is a genuine slight hesitation on his part, as shown more obviously at the inn.)

But then comes runaway carriage ex machina, just in time! Tuco not just shooting him first before checking on it is another notable moment of hesitation on his part. Once again, we actually need a deus ex machina, because Blondie needs to have been totally helpless here or it would completely change the implications for what's being set up.

This is another good scene that I enjoy a lot, particularly Blondie getting ready to grab the boot, although I'm also just a big fan of exhausted, dehydrated men stumbling around deserts. It's very merciless and ugly (gotta love the energy of getting Clint Eastwood at his handsomest for your movie and then absolutely fucking up his face with the gnarliest-looking sunburn makeup), really thoroughly parses as torture where the hanging scene was more quiet buildup, and Tuco's absolute cruelty here versus Blondie's exhausted helplessness is very important in viscerally setting up why Blondie does what he does at the end. But I also enjoy how strongly Tuco's actions here are still rooted in the specifics of how Blondie treated him. I just really love the twisted, fucked-up way the whole chain of revenge is built up between the two of them, and how interestingly their relationship then develops with all that hanging over it.

The carriage

I appreciate that we see Blondie juuust prop himself up to look as Tuco goes to intercept it -- he goes on to discreetly crawl all the way to it during the sequence that follows while we're focused on Tuco, and briefly seeing that he takes an interest and has mustered a tiny bit of energy again helps set that up.

More of Tuco's religiosity as he does the sign of the cross multiple times over the corpse of the soldier who initially falls out… and then immediately loots the corpse. Oh, Tuco.

I remembered the amputee informant's description of how Bill Carson was missing an eye, so as soon as we saw one of the apparently-dead soldiers in the carriage wearing an eyepatch I was like ohhhhh!! The storylines are connecting!! (And we're more than an hour into the Extended Cut when it happens. This movie very slow-paced compared to a modern film and yet so thoroughly enjoyable.)

You can juuust see Carson starting to blink a bit as Tuco searches him.

Tuco standing there glancing to the right out of the corner of his eye when he hears a noise from the wagon, while by the rules of the movie he can't actually see anything over there, is very funny. He even waits a bit before turning around to point his gun, as if knowing whoever is there can't see him either until he turns.

Tuco interrogating Carson about the $200,000 while the latter begs for water is another truly painful scene; Tuco's only invested in the dollars and anti-invested in saving Carson's life ("Don't die until later!"), straining to get him to talk first for as long as he possibly can, until he figures the guy is going to straight-up croak before talking, at which point of course he switches tack. Presumably he thinks if he actually gives him water Carson's liable to change his mind about telling him anything, so he has to get it out of him first if at all possible.

I also enjoy his annoyance with Carson telling him about his name and having been Jackson before but now Carson; the audience needs him to say his name, and it's probably also helpful to mention he used to be Jackson, but to Tuco it's just a waste of time. "Carson, Carson, yeah, yeah. Glad to meet you, Carson. I'm Lincoln's grandfather. What was that you said about the dollars?"

Tuco repeats the name of the cemetery near the very end of the exchange with Carson: "Sad Hill Cemetery, okay. In the grave, okay. But it must have a name or a number on it, huh? There must be a thousand, five thousand!" - which means that, since Blondie doesn't know the name of the cemetery (unless Blondie did know it the whole time and just pretended not to, which I guess we can't really rule out), he can't have been listening in by this point. Directly after this, Tuco tells Carson not to die and goes to get water. So Blondie pretty much can't have caught any of the stuff about the cash when Carson said it originally, and can't have known the full strategic significance of talking to him beforehand.

Instead, Blondie probably quietly crawled after Tuco with the aim of maybe being able to get the jump on him while he's distracted with whatever this is, and he only got close enough just at the end to see Tuco talking to Carson and telling him to not die. Then, as Tuco ran off for the water, Blondie obviously could not follow him back there, but instead crawled the rest of the way to the back of the wagon to see who Tuco's so desperate to keep alive, where Carson managed to gasp out something about a grave marked 'Unknown', next to Arch Stanton, and that it had money in it (Blondie does definitely learn there's money, since he then knows to use that as leverage). This is supported by how Blondie just refers very nonspecifically to having been told a name on a grave. He's really pulling a bit of a bluff here since he doesn't (presumably) know what cemetery this grave is in, so if Tuco hadn't happened to have learned that bit (which Blondie can't know), this information would not actually be that useful to either of them. But so long as he can make it sound like he can lead Tuco to riches right now, he has an actual shot at surviving.

I enjoy the way Blondie manages the tiniest wisp of a victorious smile to Tuco's "What name?!" just before passing out. The moment he sees Tuco's furious desperation to learn the name he's talking about, he knows he's won and that Tuco's going to do whatever he can to ensure his survival. He can pass out in peace.

Tuco's shifty eyes and expressions as he has to reevaluate everything are great. Eli Wallach really, really just makes this movie with his performance. I love Blondie and all, and Clint Eastwood in his thirties is very attractive, but I think it's criminal that I had heard about this movie and about Clint Eastwood being in it but had never heard Eli Wallach's name. He's so good and singlehandedly makes Tuco the best thing about it. I love him.

And there comes the Tuco tack-switch! He's not just invested in keeping Blondie alive for the money; he's his friend! As if this is somehow going to be persuasive to the man he's just spent hours torturing and toying with.

I love this absolutely bonkers goddamn character dynamic. First Blondie saves Tuco from the bounty hunters, then he apparently turns him in for the bounty, then you learn actually they're running a scam together, then Blondie screws over Tuco in a way that makes you kind of root for Tuco to get back at him, then Tuco painstakingly, cruelly labors to punish him for it in the most specific twisted ways until you're anxious for how Blondie's going to get out of this, then this happens… and because Tuco is the character he is, of course it works. He is already the guy who switches tack on a dime when it seems to serve him in the moment. We've just spent this whole carriage scene building up how singlemindedly fixated he is on this money once he hears about it. There are already so many striking layers going on in the interplay between these two guys and it makes it delicious to realize we've just added yet another layer and the rest of the movie is going to involve them having to work together after all this. And because it's the cash box from the Angel Eyes storyline, we're following up on that too in the process, with the also-delicious implicit promise that that's how they're going to bump into him. This is just such a gleefully fun and satisfying moment where everything comes together and I love it.

(Continued in part two! Thanks for reading if you got this far.)

[annymation]

What things annoyed and infuriated you the most in Wish 2023 (or Canon!Wish)?

OOOOH BOY! You just gave me permission to open a whole can of worms! Let's gooo!

Okay so here's a list:

I don't like how weak the reveal of what Magnifico actually does is. Asha finds out that he doesn't grant all the wishes, awesome, that would be a cool reveal, except, it's not a reveal, she freakin KNEW THIS! Asha herself said to a kid "It could be you someday" COULD! Asha, you said COULD, as in, there's the POSSIBILITY he'll grant that kid's wish, not a certainty! Not to mention if he only grants ONE wish per month then OF FREAKING COURSE not all wishes are granted. Okay, case in point, there's no grand reveal that the king is doing something no one knew, Asha apparently just forgot how their kingdom works.

Now hear me out, I am NOT one of those people that says Magnifico is a hero and Asha is a villain, I wanna make this clear, because although I find people who legit think like that kinda funny and I reblog their takes from time to time, I also find it frustrating that Disney managed to make a STRAIGHT, WHITE, MAN, IN A POSITION OF POWER, MORE LIKABLE THAN THEIR SECOND BLACK PROTAGONIST! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? IT'S SO EASY TO MAKE US HATE HIM!!!-ahem- But, although Magnifico is the most likable character in the movie, I do not see him as a hero, no no no, keeping the wishes away from the people of Rosas is bad, pretending that he'd grant Sabino's wish only to say SIKE was bad, saying he'd never grant Asha family's wishes was bad. So, am I saying Magnifico is a villain?... No. That's topic number 2, Magnifico wasn't a villain, he was a jerk. A jerk does not a villain make. I didn't feel threatened by that man for not a single minute, and that's including when he was possessed by the evil book, speaking of which.

That dang book both ruined and saved the movie honestly, because yeah, although it's a stupid way to make Magnifico an actual villain, but in a way that makes us sympathize with him since he's not in his right mind, and the last thing you want is for the audience to feel bad for your villain... Well, there's exceptions of course, but that's a whole other subject. But even though the book caused all this damage, it also gave us King unhinged, campy, straight up evil, fruity, voiced by Chris Pine having the time of his life Magnifico, and I loved every second of it, I ate possessed Magnifico up, I was living for every cringe cliche evil dialogue that came out of him, like hell yeah, that's what I've been waiting for, that's what it's all about WOOOOOO!!! I loved him so much I just copy pasted his personality into the Magnifico in my rewrite, although, my version is actually willing to kill teens, while Canon Mag seemed more hesitant for some reason, my headcanon is that Magnifico was fighting the curse deep down, and that's why his magic actually didn't hurt anyone, so... That's sad, hope he breaks out of the mirror and kills them all Idk

We're on topic 4 and this is not even half of my problems oh my... Anyway, Asha is boring. And I mean like, in a way that feels intentional, how did they do it? It's fascinating how she has nothing going for her, she doesn't stand out, doesn't have any internal conflicts at the start of the movie, something ALL Disney princesses have: Belle doesn't fit in with her village, Mulan struggles to make her family proud, Mirabel struggles to make her family proud x10.000, Moana wants to explore the sea but can't, Ariel wants to explore the land but can't, Jasmine wants to get out of the castle but can't, Cinderella is a victim of domestic abuse, ya'll get the idea, all these girls get their struggles that make them compelling, what's Asha's struggle that has been with her for most of her life?... Uh... Her grandpa, this dude we just met and seems pretty happy... Doesn't have his wish granted yet... Ok, what else? Oh yeah everyone in town seems to love her and dance along with her to show tourists how cool the kingdom is... Uhum... So yeah she has no compelling struggles that hook us with her from the start, and the conflict she DOES get, as I explained before, feels underwhelming.

The setting, oh the setting. Like, don't get me wrong, the architecture is pretty, but nothing about it screams SPAIN to me, where is the cultural food? Where are the bulls? Where's the stuff we associate with the Iberian Peninsula? They did such a good job in Encanto, what the heck happened? Oh and did I mention that most of the animals that appear in the forest are not even native to the Iberian Peninsula, there would be no racoons in a medieval setting there, considering they're an invasive species that was brought there from North America, something that, I assume, wouldn't be possible back then, as I don't think the americas were even discovered yet, but anyway, there they are, racoons hanging upside down from their tails, something they can't even do. Sorry for expecting biology accuracy from my disney movie guys, but you can't just make Encanto, that was freaking amazing with it's inclusion of so many gorgeous latin American animals, and then do whatever Wish is, like bruh where were the Lynxes??? They're an endangered species there, Disney could've raised awareness!!!

The music...

Valentino was absurdly annoying, and it would be SO EASY to make a baby goat cute! Baby. Goats. Are. Cute. SO WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM UNFUNNY GOAT THAT MAKES BUTT JOKES???

Characters were unmemorable, Asha's mom didn't do anything, Sabino, whose supposed to be the backbone of the story, is barely a character, and again, it's not like Disney hasn't made likable elderly people before, Moana's grandma, Mama Coco, but my guy Sabino was just... There.

Aaaand I probably could go on and on but I can't think of anything else, feel free to share your own problems with the movie yall.

[unnecessary-dinosaurs]

*Long, exasperated sigh*

Ok. Chaos Theory season two review.

Spoilers below the cut. This might be a long one.

When this show was first announced, I was thrilled. The characters that meant so much to me would be coming back in a new series. I almost cried once after the first teaser leaked because I was just so excited to see Darius again. I was admittedly a little nervous too. Camp Cretaceous ended on such a good note. Did we really need a continuation? Going into the first season, I was cautiously optimistic.

Then it came and went. I liked it fine, but it wasn’t the same as Camp Cretaceous. In the following months I felt the years long grip JWCC had on me start to loosen. So by the time this season two came around, I was the least excited I ever had been for a new season.

For all of its run, Camp Cretaceous was so good because it simply refused the flaws of the current Jurassic movies. Where the JW trilogy prioritized action, JWCC prioritized the characters and their bonds. Where JW treated dinosaurs like scary monsters, JWCC treated them like animals. Where JW didn’t know when to end, JWCC ended when its story was finished.

Chaos Theory feels like this side story finally adhering to the rules of the franchise. The characters take a backseat to convoluted plots and mature dinosaur action. The story continues even though it doesn’t need to.

I’m not saying the season is horrible or even bad. I just feel like this show, despite its many strengths, hasn’t yet justified its existence to me. If you’re going to uproot the amazing ending of the first show, it has to be for good reason. And I’m just not convinced yet.

First, what I liked about the season:

-The first episode was genuinely so good. Like seriously amazing stuff. Great atmosphere and tension and sets up the rest of the season nicely.

-Brooklynn!! My least favorite camper in JWCC was my favorite this time around. Her flaws were layered and interesting and her motivations were compelling. Her flashback episode was my second favorite. Her relationship with Ronnie was good, and I consistently found myself drawn more to her side of the story.

-This kind of goes without saying but the art direction is still just so good. The lighting is so perfect, the models and the way they move are perfect, everything is just really nice visually.

-I liked the ending. I was worried that everyone would be happy and reunited by the end of the season and it would be too easy, so I’m glad they’re stretching out the conflict.

-The video call scene in episode three. It was just really cute. Good cute moment.

Ok. And now what I didn’t like so much:

-I feel like nothing happened this season? Like all the information in these ten episodes could have been condensed to five. Just really frustrating pacing. Felt like a lot of filler (a whole season of filler).

-I’m just really upset with how the characters were written. Why were none of them (except Brooklynn) interesting? Who even are these people? Why do they have the most generic dialogue ever? Like, I’m expected to care about Kenji, but that’s just literally not Kenji. He doesn’t look, sound, talk, or act like Kenji. Why is his character just being angry and making bad puns now? Why is Ben so boring? Arguably the most interesting character in JWCC is just some guy now? I know a lot of people will disagree with me on this but I can hardly be convinced to feel for these versions of the Nublar Six.

-The new characters were ok at best. They were all serviceable and likable, but I just couldn’t really understand why they were there. Zayna was completely fine, but I saw no reason for her to tag along the entire season. I really just don’t think she contributed much besides acting as a tour guide. The scientist guy was just completely one dimensional. Evil scientist. That’s the character.

-And the best new character from last season just never came back. Where was The Handler? She was such a highlight last season and she had one scene. Bummer.

-The Camp Fam finding out that B is alive was so underwhelming? It felt random and undeserved. There was little build up so what should’ve been a really important moment didn’t have much gravity for me.

-I get what they were trying to do with the hippos and lions but I just don’t really care, sorry. I’m watching Jurassic World, I want to see dinosaurs. I at least appreciate the thought though.

-I wish Brooklynn’s plot hadn’t been faking being bad to get cozy with Santos. It felt like a rehash of Darius pretending to be with Kash in season four of JWCC. A much better rehash, yes, but a rehash nonetheless. I just wish they’d done something more interesting there.

-There were several plot points from last season that were hardly/never brought up. Darius’s crush on Brooklynn, Ben’s girlfriend, Sammy and her family, etc. Why?

I have more stuff I could say but I don’t want it to seem like I think this is the worst season of tv ever. Or even the worst season in JWCC/CT. There’s a lot of genuinely good stuff in here, I just feel like it gets meddled with all the junk being in a franchise comes with. Camp Cretaceous avoided it to an extent, but eventually, it caught up. I know a lot of people like this show and I’m happy for them, but I’m just not one of them. I hope my complaints are addressed in future seasons, but honestly, I won’t count on it.

[poppitron360]

One thing I felt like HoO really dropped on is the characterisation of the Argo II itself.

Where a lot of shows like Star Wars, Firefly, Doctor Who, and Star Trek really shine is where the ship itself becomes it’s own character.

I’m gonna use firefly as an example here, because I started re-watching it today, and this is something that’s a VERY key theme.

I think Joss Wheadon (the creator of the show) talked a lot about Serenity (the ship) actually being the “ninth cast member”. “Serenity” is the name of both the pilot episode and the follow-up movie, it’s name-dropped in the theme song, and the show is called firefly because it is a “Class-3 Firefly Spaceship”. And we as an audience really connect with the ship- despite the show being only fourteen episodes long (If I was only able to throttle 20th Century Fox… I answer to no god)- and I think the reason we do so is because every single character has their own personal connection with the vessel. Wash being the pilot (Also, if I remember it correctly, it being the place he met Zoë), Kaylee being the engineer, for Simon, it being a safe space to hide his sister from the totalitarian government trying to do experiments on her brain, and Mal and Zoë starting the ship together- Mal naming it “Serenity” after the battle of Serenity Valley which he fought in with Zoë (I could lore-dump about this show ‘til the gorram cows come home). And the whole premise of the show being about surviving with your rag-tag crew on this piece of shit that you love dearly, and just… keeping flying. Ugh, there’s something so magical in the writing that makes you adore the ship itself.

Other examples, like the Millennium Falcon, the TARDIS, and the USS Enterprise, are also good for this.

Now, onto how the Argo II itself:

The only person who really has a personal connection with the Argo II is Leo. The rest of the Seven just feel like they’re… on Leo’s boat. All the food is provided by the magic plates from Camp Half-Blood. Most of the piloting/engineering is done by Leo, and a little bit by Annabeth and sometimes Percy when they’re on the water. You never get the sense that any of the others really love the boat, or have any connection with it at all.

I think that’s the reason why the Seven never felt that close in my opinion. There was never a sense of community. Of people united by a common location.

I think, just love for a place in fiction is something really powerful to me. That’s where Harry Potter most thrived, not necessarily the plot, but wanting to be in the world, go to Hogwarts.

Camp Half-Blood had that charm and homeliness. So did the Waystation in TOA. Camp Jupiter didn’t for me, but I think that was kinda the point. But I never really got that from the Argo II, because of the way it was set up so that Leo was the only one who could really bond with it. And this is what makes Leo so compelling to me, is that he actually connects with his flying ship. I just feel like the Argo as its own character, similar to Serenity from firefly, could’ve been so good if it had been written right and was such wasted potential. It would’ve strengthened that bond between the Seven, and made that “familial” dynamic feel a lot more natural.

In conclusion? Everyone should go watch Firefly on Disney plus. It’s just fourteen, forty-five minute episodes, plus the movie. But man, is it worth it. You will cry at the deaths (why do all the good ones get impaled?). You will laugh at the jokes. You will probably say, “Wait- is that a young Zac Effron?” When a young Zac Effron has a cameo. You will wish you were as badass as River.

Idk, it’s 3:03am and this is basically a good idea of what the inside of my brain looks like most of the time. I’ve mentioned at least six obsessions of mine in this post.

[charcubed]

I'm curious, what are the main reasons why Dean is your favorite canon bisexual in media? Love your meta and that video btw

Ooooo, anon, thank you for the kind words and for giving me an excuse to talk about my love for bisexual icon Dean Winchester <3

I'm going to be really annoying (sorry) and quote part of my meta first. It summarizes and articulates many of my thoughts on this. And then to further answer your question I'll add a bit under it!

From the very beginning, Dean Winchester has been a character tied to classic elements of American masculinity. He was introduced with a superficial veneer involving those elements, but almost immediately the early episodes provide a look at the complexity of his character underneath it. Over the years, that complexity was further explored, and he came to embody a study in things society would often have us think should be incompatible contrasts: the gruffness and grit of hunting life and its associated masculine iconography, paired with his open and deep emotional care for the world; unabashed love for classic rock, superheroes, and horror movies, as well as unabashed joy connected to TV dramas, chick flicks, and childhood favorites like Scooby-Doo; life on the road with a muscle car, but the desire for a home base with creature comforts he can make his own; motivation to always help people, but the clear longing for balance with personal domesticity and relaxation so he could save not only others but also himself.

As a whole, his character functions as an effective deconstruction of toxic masculinity and stereotypical American heroism. And while much of Dean’s most masculine traits and interests are said to come from his father’s influence, part of his journey is loving those parts of himself on their own merit not because he ever had to but because he wants to. He is not his father, and he redefines those valued parts of his identity so they are his and his alone. He also crucially learns to recognize and joyfully embody that those masculine traits were never all that he had to be, working through and overcoming shame and hesitancy along the way. The result? He’s “good with who he is.”

He and the audience are encouraged to see that there are no rules his identity and interests must subscribe to, on a micro or a macro level. The message is to disregard predetermined destiny or duty. Free will means his life is his to determine, his family can be what he makes of it and how he defines it, and what he needs and wants do not ever have to be mutually exclusive. Dean’s journey is about freedom from outwardly-imposed limitations–whether those limitations come from his father’s example and the God altering his story, or from the pervasive societal ideals and network/executive interference outside of it. Dean can and should contain multitudes, all at once.

In this way, Dean’s story is a powerfully queer narrative that acts as metacommentary. In the fullness of its execution, it is also specifically a deeply bisexual narrative.

The not-so-hidden truth is that Dean is canonically a bisexual man. His story was afforded something that’s rare for most characters and almost nonexistent for queer ones: fifteen years of lengthy, nuanced development.

[...]

Again: Dean’s identity journey is about how he can and does contain the capacity for multitudes, and it’s part of what makes him such a compelling character. He can like “this” and “that.” He can be attracted to women and men. Or, as writer Ben Edlund and director Phil Sgriccia said in a DVD commentary, Dean has “the potential for love in all places.”

I wanted to include the above verbatim because it spells out something specific: Dean's narrative is bisexual in its bones. Supernatural evolved to become a queer text, but the specific ways the show and Dean as a character evolved are very intertwined with and informed by the fact that Dean is a masculine bisexual man. SPN is a story that was not meant to be about being queer, but as it became about freedom through free will, those themes were then leveraged and emphasized in connection to queerness because of Destiel. And by the end, the free will narrative and Dean's journey as a bi man are utterly inseparable, because Dean's fight for true freedom is tied to his love for a man and their untraditional family in a way that higher forces are trying to hinder.

You cannot cut out or edit or remove Dean's bisexuality from the story, or several narratives and plot lines (not just Destiel) would at minimum be misunderstood or at maximum fall apart. And yet, simultaneously? Dean's bisexuality is also far from being the sole important thing about his character because he is written with such nuanced complexities and across so many years of material.

Of course, add onto this the overall unique situation that surrounds Supernatural as a piece of media. People talk at length about how there will never be anything like it again, including me; that's obviously true from multiple different angles and for multiple different reasons, with Destiel being prime amongst them. But a related yet distinctly significant branch of that topic is there will never be another bisexual character who is written and evolves quite like Dean.

Was Dean supposed to be bisexual from the very start, out of the mind of Kripke? Who can know for sure, but probably not. Were certain writers and members of production deliberately putting more queercoding and subtext into Dean's character/story from the very start? Who can know for sure, but potentially yes, and certainly the answer becomes unarguably definitely yes the farther you get into the show. That's part of my love and passion for him too, because all of that is deeply unique and incredibly cool.

Dean's bisexuality evolved in a way that (against all odds) actually feels organic, seamless, and like it's simply a part of his character that's been there all along. The effect when you look at Supernatural as a whole body of work is that Dean's always been bi, and his expressions of and acknowledgements of that part of him ebb and flow depending on situation–which is a very relatable notion for many queer people. And as those writing the show became more committed and certain about that piece of who Dean is, so did he, in nuanced and subtle ways skillfully embedded into his story by design. It's bafflingly, impressively cohesive; gives him an incredibly realistic feel; matches his overall character growth; and rings true to his demographic, age, personality, and experiences.

Dean and his story and the situation(s) surrounding both are simply incomparable, and that will be true forever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

...also. Well. I simply love him, y'know? For even more reasons unconnected to this. How can you not, right? :')

Thank you for asking, and thanks for reading this bi Dean manifesto!

Putting my video that you mentioned here for anyone who's not watched it:

My new magnum opus, please stream, etc.

(or watch on Tumblr here)