#but louis being actively hostile to daniel is a no no for him

[island-in-the-shadows]

I'm probably not going to verbalise this appropriately but I find it fascinating that the 2 occasions on which Louis has been actively hostile to Daniel in Dubai...

1- It's been due to a highly sensitive subject for Louis (Claudia; still being hung up on Lestat despite a 77 year marriage)

2- Armand has stepped in to get in between them in some way or another.

[snicketsleuth]

Slackin’ with the Sleuth: reviewing Netflix’s “The Vile Village”

After two sluggish double-episodes, we are now headed to the three best two-parters of the second season, nay, of the entire show until now. Today, we’re going to talk about direction. “A Series of Unfortunate Events” has suffered not only from being overwritten, but also from being under-directed.  Not an unfortunate consequence of the original writer being involved in the production of the television series, but rather of the other writers not controlling him enough. Episodes written by Daniel Handler get a bad rep amongst the fandom, but from their structure it’s pretty clear that he was more than willing to change his own outlines and listen to the contributions of other people. That being said, it’s hard to criticize the guy who came up with the work you’re supposed to adapt. Which is why episodes written by other people and peer-reviewed by Handler tend to fare better, as his role is to remind everyone of what made the story so successful in the first place.

We’ll see how this contributed to the improvement in direction in the latter half of Season 2. Most of it comes from the production team finally treating the series not only as an adaptation, but also as its own cinematic work. Let’s determine why below the cut.

DISCLAIMER (NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REVIEW):

I missed you guys, it’s been a while.

I apologize for abandoning the blog for so long, to the point that some of you people started worrying about me. I do appreciate the concern, so thank you. Most of my absence can simply be explained away by the many hours I’ve had to put into my day job. This has led to difficult choices regarding my hobbies and extra-work activities, writing for this blog being one of them. Truth be told, I don’t feel this blog fulfils as interesting a purpose as it did before. I’ve already talked about most book theories I cared about, and the books have been discussed to death at that point. As to other types of analyses, there are plenty of talented people on Tumblr who do it as well as me, so I didn’t feel the need to add much to the debate. But I’ve had time to think about plenty of Snicket-related topics during my absence, so no, the blog isn’t dead, just… much less active as it was a few years back. Stay tuned for more, my love for the books and their associated material is very much alive and kicking.

With all due respect (and affection) for our community, your duly devoted Sleuth.

This is the most atmospheric episode to date, and a beautiful one at that. While episodes of the first season certainly had their ambiance, most of it came from the introduction of new musical themes. The second season tries to bring the direction to the next level by fashioning each double-episode after a certain genre, which influences the entire aesthetic of the piece from its writing, colors and camera work. This is perfectly in line with the tone of the original series: each book focuses on a vivid and peculiar location which becomes a character in and of itself, and also parodies specific literary tropes. In keeping with this tradition, the televised version of  “The Austere Academy” mocks coming-of-age teen movies, “The Erstaz Elevator” has shades of musical romantic comedies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, “The Vile Village” pays homage to Westerns, “The Hostile Hospital” is a straight-up horror exploitation flick and “The Carnivorous Carnival” is a neo-expressionist drama. Or rather that’s what we were supposed to infer. In reality, “The Austere Academy” and “The Erstaz Elevator” don’t have anything special in terms of direction to truly allude to their models, and while “The Carnivorous Carnivale” is a blatant remake of “Freaks”, so was the book in the first place. Only with “The Vile Village” and “The Hostile Hospital” do we see the direction add a substantial commentary on the original aesthetic of their respective book. So while the intention is laudable, the execution is somewhat lacking as far as the entire season is concerned. More on that in the next review.

But for now let’s just gush over the gorgeous visuals of “The Vile Village”. Westerns describe the struggle of civilization in a lawless territory, a perfect setting for the crux of a book concerned with legality and mob psychology. While the introduction of the Nevermore tree leaves something to be desired, we do eventually get some fantastic shots. The integration of the CGI and the digital matte paintings significantly improves from this episode on, although whether the artificiality of previous episodes was an intentional choice from the directors is anyone’s guess. The scene of Hector’s first flight aboard the self-sustaining mobile home is a work of beauty. One must regret his line about crows being too “scary”, though. Not only is this an unnecessary change to his character (he is fascinated by the crows in the book), it doesn’t even make sense as the adaptation does not portray Hector as being scared of crows in any shape or form otherwise. He actually has a line about admiring them in the first part of the episode! What on Earth were the writers thinking?

The feels of Western movies is well-rendered, with an impressive focus or lighting. What the director seems to have forgotten is how dusty the Village of Fowl Devotees should look. This is pretty unforgivable given that the book insists on the unbearable feeling of dirtiness which permeates the town. There’s an egregious continuity error where the Baudelaire orphans escape from prison in a massive cloud of debris… then come into the next shot with immaculate clothing. This is a major sin as far as immersion goes.

Another blatant directorial choice is the tendency to film scenes across a two-dimensional space, with characters moving from one side of the screen to the next. This ever-present horizontal axis gives the series a somewhat stiff aspect, with characters not being able to express themselves in a dynamic body language in action scene. There are two possible reasons for this camerawork. Firstly, it makes certain scenes easier to follow (we must not forget that the series is expected to remain watchable for small children), although a little boring on the visual side. Secondly, it does imitate the format of a theater stage, and the theater world plays an important role in Snicket’s world, from “The Marvelous Marriage” to “La Forza del Destino”. I do think the showrunners went a little too far in this direction, though. If they’re so deadest on reproducing the feel of a theater production, maybe they should just pitch the series as a Broadway show rather than a television series. The chase sequences in this double-episode look more like a Street Fighter screen than a cinematic production.

But by far the greatest contribution of this episode is the merciful introduction of SILENCE. What a relief to hear the godforsaken concertina shut up for one minute and let us enjoy the dialogue! The heart of the double-episode comes from the back-and-forth dynamic between Jacques and Olaf (or, to a lesser extent, Esmé and Olivia). Truly a battle between blind, hopeful idealism and cynical nihilism. Major props to Nathan Fillion, who remains possibly the best actor in the entire series, and Neil Patrick Harris who should ruin the seriousness of the scenes with his constant bebopping but somehow doesn’t.

This however comes as the expanse of the Baudelaire orphans themselves, whose presence is somewhat secondary in this episode. The symbolism of them escaping the town in a fire truck is a strike of genius… but the Isadora couplet subplot is drastically skipped over and the unnecessary introduction of Mr Poe drastically reduces their screentime. It’s more forgivable than in “The Erstaz Elevator” as most scenes between the adult characters do help move the plot forward and provide interesting information, but it’s still one of our major criticisms for this season. The writers are clearly infatuated with the adult actors, which hurts the pacing of the story. It’s a shame as the child actors’ acting shows major improvements in the second season. Louis Hynes comes into his own in the prison scene, but the breakneck speed of the scene’s direction does not leave him enough room to grow. We will however concede that Jacquelyn and Larry don’t overstay their welcome in this episode, and that Jacques and Olivia’s romance is sweet to look at. While we disagree with the changes made to Olivia’s character on the whole (we’ll get to that in my review of “The Carnivorous Carnival”), it did produce some well-written, well-acted scenes. Less appreciated is the unnecessary and overstated introduction of a Violet/Duncan romance subplot… this is what happens when you base 90% of an adaptation on what admittedly amounts to fan-pandering. It’s sweet, then it’s sweeter, then you’ve got diabetes.

As far as character development goes, it’s pretty hit-or-miss. Esmé is as usual fantastic. The writers have managed to attain a difficult equilibrium regarding her character dynamic: she obeys enough not to overshadow him, but she also acts as her own antagonist, pursuing her own goals and betraying him if the need arises. The rest of the troupe also has an interesting dynamic with her and her integration in the crime family feels pretty seamless.

But so far we’ve saved the worst for the last paragraph, and as you’ve probably guessed, we’re going to have to speak about Hector. Gods almighty, what a waste of a perfectly good character. Josephine’s death was shot in a very disrespectful manner, but at least her character remained mostly the same. Here the Hector from the books, a tragic and heartbreaking portrayal of peer pressure and social anxiety, is reduced to a joke. To add insult to injury, it’s not even a funny joke: his constant fainting gets tedious quickly. And the ultimate twist about his mom’s fate not being the source of his trauma after all basically reduces his arc to a complete waste of the viewer’s time. If the writers hated him so much, why not just cut his screen time instead of demeaning his entire existence? This does not bode well for a potential adaptation of “All The Wrong Questions”, as Hector’s outlook on family loyalty and peer pressure is somewhat of a plot point in this series. I truly cannot begin to understand these choices as Hector plays a similar role to Hal, Charles and Jerome, who also have likewise personalities… but the writers have adapted Hal, Charles and Jerome faithfully and cleverly, so what gives?

[snicketsleuth]

Slackin’ with the Sleuth: reviewing Netflix’s “The Ersatz Elevator”

At this point in my review of Netflix's adaptation, I feel like I should clarify something: in spite of everything, I love the show so far. As negative as my observations can be, they also reflect how tricky the original work was to adapt. Some polarizing choices were made, but we have yet to see or watch anything that would make us doubt the dedication and talent of its production team. The writing team has obviously spent sleepless nights trying to understand the point of the books, and the reason for their success.

Most Hollywood adaptations consist in superficial copy-pasting of "memorable" plot points, conglomeration of cliff notes devoid of any themes or commentary, stripped of all depth and substance. Mercifully this was not a case for "A Series of Unfortunate Events". In fact, the directors have repeatedly agreed to transgress unwritten rules of television writing and to push the boundaries of their format in order to deliver a satisfying adaptation. Fans whine, and they snicker, but that's their social function. Criticism hurts the most when it comes from people who know you the best and are actively trying to like you.

"The Austere Academy" was somewhat of a dud, so let's try to begin our analysis with something more positive. I have two questions: what is this second season's greatest accomplishment and why is it Esme Gigi Geniveve Squalor?

The answer, in both cases, actually owes to the books themselves. Watching the final result, it becomes obvious that Esme was actually easier to adapt on screen than Olaf, for one reason and one reason only: Count Olaf is not funny.  Yes, you heard me, and it bears repeating: Count Olaf is not "funny". That's a revisionist narrative (to which Daniel Handler sometimes adheres himself). Olaf makes jokes, jokes are made about him, and he has ridiculous moments, but that's true of ANY character in "A Series of Unfortunate Events". He's no more farcical than, say, Justice Strauss or Violet Baudelaire. We'll get back to that in my review of "The Hostile Hospital". Olaf as portrayed by Jim Carrey and Neil Patrick Harris is a perfectly fine character, who works within his setting, but it's essentially a new antagonist. Esme, however? Now that's a laugh riot. Whenever she's not being terrifying, she's being ridiculous and delivers some real gems in terms of ridiculousness. All in all, Esme, throughout the books, was already delivering what the Netflix writers needed and wanted. No adaptation necessary.

That's why Lucy Punch does justice to her book counterpart in a way Neil Patrick Harris and Jim Carrey never could. The fandom's reaction to her casting was, to put it fairly, lukewarm: there had indeed been a strong demand for a big-name actress to play the part. But as much as I dreamed of Lady Gaga embracing the role she was born for (if "American Horror Story: Hotel" is any indication), there is no room for improvement in Lucy Punch's performance. Actually, the casting of a too-well-known actress could have been a distraction: as hard as Neil Patrick Harris works to give Olaf his own personality, it's sometimes difficult not to see Barney Stinson or Doctor Horrible through his facial expressions. He does share an excellent chemistry with Punch, however, and her comical timing is golden. But most impressive, I think, is her ability to give that awful woman some manner of warmth and congeniality in her most despicable lines. Her upper-class flair and superficial, glossy smiles fully sell the viewer on the character. You can fully believe that Esme would thrive and gain popularity in the right circles, and heap praise for being an awful person.

Punch's successes almost outshine the presence of Jerome, which may be the entire point. Tony Hale is genius casting, but thankfully he seems to have toned down his usual persona, focusing more on Jerome's genuine kindness and crippling self-deprecation rather than his gullibility and cowardice. Painting Gunther as a parody of Karl Lagerfeld is also pretty on-the-nose, but it makes for hilarious scenes. One does wonder why Olaf doesn't just spend his entire life as Gunther, though. He seems to be everything Olaf aspires to be. With Esmé to support his career, why not just become a handsome foreigner? It's also noteworthy that the young actors' casting does improve in this episode, particularly in the elevator shaft. Klaus' girlish screaming and Violet's mixture of exasperation and panic as she lands into the net are especially memorable. The Baudelaire orphans are not written as typical teenagers: it's understandable that their stiff, overly intellectual lines are usually delivered in a likewise manner. And therefore, it's in the more comedic moments that Louis Hynes and Malina Weissman feel allowed to come out of their shell.

But enough with the niceties: alas, the subplot regarding the V.F.D. investigators once again rears its ugly head... with terrible pacing. To its credit, this episode attempts to tie in the conspiracy to events directly related to "The Ersatz Elevator" itself, rather than the disposable seasonal arc regarding Olivia. But this is somehow undermined by the outright futility of these distractions: Larry and Jacquelyn force us through an interminable lunch scene, which showcases Neil Patrick Harris' most gratuitous and unnecessary musical number to date. The entire scene is a shameless repetition of the Anxious Clown diversion in "The Wide Window". These long scenes of witty banter, where characters sit at a table and do nothing, are bizarrely reminiscent of Quentin Tarentino's worst indulgences. As pleasant as "Keep chasing your schemes" sounds, it's barely diegetic and mostly serves as a vanity project. It takes the viewers out of the entire experience. We do not see Olaf, but rather Neil being showcased as a singing prop. There is such a thing as Emmy-baiting, after all.

To add insult to injury, the ordeal only exists to justify a "rescue attempt" of the Quagmires by Jacques and Olivia... which is bound to fail as the Baudelaire orphans investigate the scene at the exact same time and find them on their own anyway. What are we supposed to think of this? That Jacques and Olivia peeked into the penthouse, never saw the Baudelaire orphans hard at work, went through a few rooms and climbed down the 667's facade to have a milkshake? I would call them incompetent volunteers, but Jacquelyn and Larry seem to have already taken that crown. I had not anticipated to address my annoyance at this show-only addition so soon, but the fact is that this experiment in narration really struggles to prove its relevance. I had thoroughly enjoyed Jacquelyn's adventures in Season 1, as they streamlined the handling of the Baudelaire will in a more satisfying manner. Here, however, her presence seems to add more plot-holes than it solves.

Baffling choices in direction also continue to elude me: "Dark Avenue" has been renamed "Dim Avenue". Apparently, all it takes to evoke darkness is to dip the pellicle into a sepia filter. An especially egregious example comes to mind as light becomes "in" and the curtains of the penthouse open up, revealing sunlight... except the lighting of the scene doesn't change in the slightest, it was already bright as day! The sets are gorgeous as always, however. The director has successfully conveyed the pomposity and immensity of Jerome's apartment, which suggests a lack of supervision on the director's part: it seems that the directors keep latching onto one aspect of set design they like and tend to forget about the rest. Take the Quagmires, who look positively chipper and clean for people who have supposedly spent days locked into a dusty cage with the same raggedy uniform. I would argue that Duncan and Isadora are so far the worst adapted characters. They're admittedly pretty bland in the books, but the Netflix team has somehow managed to give them even LESS material. The depiction of the trauma they suffered down in the elevator shaft is one of the series' most horrific moments, and another emotional scene from which we were robbed.

The Netflix series also seems to drop the ball on the tantalizing return to the Baudelaire mansion. It's a shocker in the books, but here it's almost an afterthought. Instead of seeing the scene through the Baudelaire orphans, we're first introduced to... Jacques and Olivia flirting. Not nearly as heartbreaking, isn't it? It's about as off-key and off-tone as the episode's music.

And yet it's all fine. And why? Because Daniel Handler wrote this double episode, which proves I'm wrong about all of this. Or maybe he is, who knows? Sometimes a book is so great it escapes his own author. There is not one definitive version of "A Series of Unfortunate Events", but several, each revealing a different facet of an untouchable and intangible diamond. The Netflix version is simply the only one which happens to have been filmed in its entirety.

[if-i-look-straight-look-again]

My exact thoughts on this fr

I'm probably not going to verbalise this appropriately but I find it fascinating that the 2 occasions on which Louis has been actively hostile to Daniel in Dubai...

1- It's been due to a highly sensitive subject for Louis (Claudia; still being hung up on Lestat despite a 77 year marriage)

2- Armand has stepped in to get in between them in some way or another.