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marmie-noir · 1 month ago

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The Gang goes to a Gala

Gif credit: @stannyramirez (also reblogged, they are doing the ENTIRE second season so far as gifs and OH MY GAWD. Also shoutout to @little-earthquakes-rp for making sure I saw this amazing creator)

Warnings: Bad editing, the usual. I had a specific picture of a dress for Sunny but you can imagine whatever you want. Linking it feels very Wattpad XD.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating signaling I had a call. I put down the washcloth, swiping to answer when I saw it was Mitch. “Hey handsome.” “Hey Sunshine.” He sounded good, even over the phone, and I couldn’t help but smile as I finished wiping the table off before moving to the next one, free hand holding my phone. “You busy?” “Well you are my boss, I suppose that is a question for you. Am I busy?” I teased, slipping behind the bar to dunk the washrag in the sanitizer, drying my hands off.

Mitch laughed, that rumble that had me preening, smiling like a fool behind the bar as I glanced around, glancing at the few tables that were in for some midday gambling and some food. Certainly wasn’t busy and really I was just filling my time knowing that Mitch was busy today. “I suppose not. Tell you what,” He started, background sounds making me wonder what he was up to. “Why don’t you grab Ann and go out? You need a dress.” “A dress?” “Mhm. A nice one. A gala dress.” I let out a laugh this time. “Mitch Keller, why on earth would I need a gala dress?”

“Well, darlin’, cause we are going to a gala tonight.”

That had me leaning on the bar, glancing around to make sure no one was lingering around. The bar was fairly empty except an older man near the end, a table off to the side had a couple, and the casino had a few stragglers as well but they were being taken care of by the casino staff Dwight and Mitch had hired. “Forgive me, but I must have misheard you. Didn’t Dwight just get arrested? And we are going to a gala? For what?”

Mitch made that amused sound, the one that I knew vibrated from his chest like a hum when I did something he found either funny or cute. “That is right, and he just got out. And was invited to a gala. So stop asking so many questions and let me get dressed up with my girl.” I contemplated for a moment. The idea of dressing up with Mitch, sipping on expensive drinks and spending some time with our friends. After the night we had last night I wouldn’t mind relaxing a bit. “I’d need Ann’s help.” “Naturally.”

“Is there a theme?” “No idea.” That had a small laugh bubbling past my lips because of course he didn’t know, he just was excited to go. “Alright. Fine. I’m convinced. Will I see you beforehand?” “Ah, no. I’ve got some things to do before the party, but I’ll meet you there?”

“Sounds good, handsome. See you tonight.”

I had been picked up by Dwight and Michael, who I was still refusing to call Bigfoot. Yes, he was a mountain of a man, but he was also Mitch’s cousin and Bigfoot just sounded ridiculous. I didn’t plan to vocalize it, I’d just smile and nod if he told others to call him that, but he was practically my family in a way and Michael wasn’t a bad name. He was also surprisingly sweet and considerate, especially after we parked and he left the driver’s seat to open the back door and offer an arm for support.

I accepted the help happily, not wanting to flash anyone getting out of the vehicle in a dress, as well as have a moment to steady myself in heels. I wasn’t horrible in them, but I didn’t wear them often so it took me a moment to adjust. The dress I picked out was pretty and I liked it more than I thought I would. I had gone to a few different stores with Ann trying to find something to wear and we’d settled on this black dress, the style a classic black dress but with a thigh slit and only one arm. It left my other shoulder and arm bare and the thigh slit showed a bit of skin without being scandalous or get in the way of walking like a few of the other dresses had. Ann had twisted my hair into an updo, leaving my collarbone and back exposed, a few bits of simple jewelry on my skin but nothing too flashy. I didn’t really have much in terms of jewelry beyond a pair of diamond earrings from my grandmother and a necklace Mitch had gotten me a few months ago as a surprise.

“So, what is this gala for anyway?” I asked, smoothing my skirt before slipping my hand into Michael’s offered arm and looking to where Dwight had walked around the front of the car, lighting up a cigar and waiting for us. We began to move down the driveway, oddly away from the house before I saw a familiar van. So everyone else was outside still, probably waiting for Dwight. “No idea.” He said with a small half shrug, unbothered. “Just enjoy yourself tonight, Sunny. Have a few drinks, dance a little. I heard you pulled it together after I got carted away. You deserve a little fun, don’t you think?”

I let out a small sigh through my nose but didn’t say anything, my heels clicking against the asphalt of the driveway as we drew closer to the van. I was busy glancing down at my dress to make sure that it was sitting correctly and hadn’t shifted on the drive over, I didn’t even notice someone had rushed up to us. Arms wrapped me up in a hug and a familiar cologne filled my nose, making me let out a small laugh and release Michael’s arm to wrap my own around Tyson. “You look money, lady.” He said, pulling back to grin at me. Before I could return the compliment he leaned in slightly, tone dropping. “Tell him he looks good, he’s been preening all afternoon, stressin’ about what you are going to say.”

My brows knit together in confusion but he simply gave me another smile and stepped aside. Mitch was there, not so patiently waiting for Tyson to move so he could take the space, hands immediately on my hips. “Look. At. You.” He breathed out, bright blue eyes sliding up and down my form, not yet pulling me into a hug so he could look his fill. I rested my hands on his biceps, busy taking him in too. And damn if he didn’t look far too good, all dressed up in a black suit with a red patterned undershirt, the top few buttons undone to show a little chest and his necklace. But the most prominent change was his hair. “Look at me? Look at you!” I said with a grin, reaching up to slide my fingers through his hair. It looked good, the sides cut short and the top left longer, fluffed up and styled in a way that looked effortless but I knew couldn’t be. Mitch hesitated, clearly having forgotten his own appearance upon seeing me. It was cute, and I couldn’t deny it made me a little proud I could still distract the man. “Do you like it?” While he didn’t sound unsure exactly I knew Mitch enough to understand he was genuinely a little worried about my opinion on the change to his appearance. That had my chest warming up a little bit, the fuzzy feeling of raw adoration for this man softening my expression. “Yeah, baby. It looks good, you look really good. That suit too.” I told him, reaching out to adjust his jacket. My fingers slid under the blazer for a moment, feeling the expensive fabric of his shirt and the warmth of his skin underneath. “Makes me wanna ditch this party and drag you home.” That had Mitch lighting up, pulling me closer by my hips, his head ducking to look down at me. “Well we should stay for a drink. It’s only polite.” He teased. He leaned in, lips brushing mine gently enough, mindful of my make up, before someone cleared their throat. He pulled back and I grinned, leaning around him to spot the others leaning against the van, clearly not in the most patient mood. “Aw, Bohdie! Don’t be jealous, you look very nice.” I teased as Mitch shifted, moving to stand beside me with an arm around my middle. “Yeah yeah, can we go inside?” The grumpy tech guru muttered, looking away with an almost pouty expression.

“Armand isn’t even here yet. Oh, Fred, you look good too!” I complimented the other man, earning a smile and a little nod of his head as he stood a little taller, straightening his jacket. Really all of them looked good, it wasn’t empty compliments to friends. We all cleaned up pretty good. “Speaking of, where is-” The crunch of a bumper had me jumping slightly, Mitch’s hand on my hip giving me a small reassuring squeeze as we all looked over to see an obviously intoxicated Armand stumble out of the offending vehicle, having rear-ended a parked car. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I whispered, not believing this. I knew he was going through some things but to show up drunk, here of all places? Mitch didn’t comment but just gave my hip another small squeeze, watching on as Dwight stepped forward to smooth out the issue with the valet.

“Alright.” Dwight said, clapping his hands, smoking cigar bobbing between his lips. “I need you all to be on good behavior. There are a lot of high-level people with high-level money here tonight. I’m gonna work on meeting Thresher, you all rub some elbows and be polite to anyone who looks interesting.” “Who the fuck is Thresher?” Tyson asked. I’d never heard of the name before so I was curious too. “Thresher is who we wanna be. He runs the oil business, and he is the largest weed distributor in Oklahoma.” Dwight answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “That is one guy we want to be friends with. Now let’s go.” It prompted Bohdie, Tyson, and Fred to push off the side of the van.

We all walked up the long drive, my hand resting on the crook of Mitch’s elbow, a little in awe at the sprawling estate. The house was huge, the lights nearly twinkling, and I couldn't imagine having so much space. The inside of the home was just as opulent as the outside. Staff wove between dolled up women and cleaned up men with trays of food and fresh drinks.

I was instantly relieved to see I wasn't over dressed, relaxing a little more as the group of us hesitated in the entryway. Not that I particularly wanted to come to more of these things but it didn't feel bad getting all done up and having the arm of my mighty fine looking man. He had the top buttons of his shirt undone, hand sliding through his hair as if still getting used to it.

“It looks good, hot stuff.” I reassured with a smile, leaning into his side. He smiled back at me, relaxing a bit more, arm moving around my middle to keep me pressed close in the bustling gala.

“Alright,” Dwight spoke, turning to face us. “Go have some drinks and food. Have fun.” He ordered, waving us off.

I was all too happy to have Mitch lead us away from the entrance with Bohdie trailing behind, the three of us intent on finding a few drinks. I ended up with a delicate flute of champagne, sipping on the bubbly as I glanced around the home. Things like this just seemed so old money, familiar people and families rubbing elbows, not used to newcomers. We had gotten some appraising looks but no one had approached yet.

“Would you ever want to live in a house like this?” Mitch asked, still at my side as he sipped his drink.

I hummed, thinking it over with another sip of my sweet drink. “I don't think so. It feels like… like too much. Too much house to a few people. It would get lonely.” I liked that I could smell when Mitch put the coffee on, hear pops yelling at the game in the living room, the taps of Scruff’s nails on the tile. All those things made the house a home, and if our space was too large I think I would get lost in the halls.

“How did Dwight even hear about this?” I asked the men.

“The lady that boards Dwight’s horse. She is apparently some bigshot in the charity world.”

Bohdie made an amused sound into his glass. “That is putting it lightly. She has deep pockets, knows a lot of important people.” His voice was low, eyes scanning over the crowds of the rich and wealthy. “Lot of people like that here. Important people with a lot of money.”

I wasn't surprised Bohdi knew, I knew he was really into tech so I assumed he went electronically snooping. A lot of that was over my head but I was curious if he has looked into all of us. And if so, what he has found.

“So what I am hearing is that these are not our kind of people.” Mitch commented lowly, his hand flexing on my hip, his other still holding his drink. Bohdie hummed confirmation and I rolled my shoulders to try and dispel some of the tension, unsure what to do.

“How is the new shop coming along? Grace told me the space is amazing.” I changed the subject, looking back at Bohdie. I hadn't had a chance to stop by and look into it but Grace and I kept in contact. I kind of wish she was here right now, wanting a little more girl power on our side.

“Good, it is good. Fairly central so we should see an uptick in foot traffic. I actually was wondering if you would be free to swing by, Grace mentioned wanting your opinion on somethings.”

“Only if there is more of that apricot jam.” Mitch cut in with a grin, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of my gown at my hip. I felt my cheeks heat up, glancing away with a sip of my drink. The last time I had that jam had been on the back porch and it had lead to a bit more than a simple bedtime snack.

Mitch’s chest rumbled in a low chuckle at seeing my reaction. Before he could tease me Tyson came back to us, an odd look on his face.

“What?” I asked, brow quirking.

“They are serving pidgeon.”

“Okay?” I said, confused. Rich people seemed to enjoy eating small birds so that didn't sound so weird.

“And cicada.”

“Like… locusts?” I clarified, concerned now.

“Uh- yeah.” Tyson said, thankful that I was finally on his side of rich people, weird food.

“I gotta see this.” I said, releasing Mitch. Tyson shrugged, offering me his arm to be polite, and I accepted it with a little wave to Mitch as our friend led me further into the party. We wove through little clusters of guests, all the glitz and glamor distracting.

“Bohdie said big money was here. You think Dwight is trying to expand more?” I asked, voice low. Tyson might know something I didn't as his driver after all.

“Not sure, nothing concrete. But you know how the boss is, always a plan.”

That is what I was afraid of. Men like Dwight were capable of amazing things, but enough was never enough. He wasn't even my boss. Mitch was, and Mitch was his partner and the underboss. Not that I really knew what that was but Dwight had been sure to communicate that so it must be important.

I didn't vocalize my worry. Tyson worshiped the ground the older man walked on. I had faith in Dwight myself but not the blind faith these men seemed to put in him.

The pidgeons were easy to spot, the cicadas less so. I glanced at the large table laden with food, eyes lingering at the pile of brownish goo in a beautiful crystal dish. “No.” I whispered, looking up at Tyson.

“Yep.” He answered, the two of us skillfully avoiding the eye contact of the server. We peeled away from the table, stepping into a side room. I went to take another sip of my drink but found it empty, frowning at it. “I will get you another one, hang here.” Tyson said, smiling at my expression and leaving me at the small table.

I busied myself, hands smoothing down my dress to ensure it was still sitting correctly. It fit perfectly but I was a little anxious, not wanting it to shift and make me look foolish in such a public place.

“You look stunning.” A voice interrupted my subtle hands and I glanced over, the voice unfamiliar. A tall, handsome man stood there in a dark blue suit, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a crystal tumbler of booze. He has blonde hair, more dirty blonde, falling slightly across his forehead, eyes so dark blue they were almost black in the low lighting of the party.

“Oh, thank you.” I said politely, smiling at the stranger.

He held a hand out, drink set down at my table. “Aiden. I don't believe I have seen you at one of these events before?”

“Sunny.” I greeted back, giving his hand a small shake. “And that would make sense, it is my first.”

“Well you fit right in.” He said, grin going up a mega-watt, the toothpaste commercial perfect smile I was sure won him lots of hearts. I gave a small nod in thanks, not wanting to stir up problems by being rude. “Are you part of a corporation or here independently?”

What a good question. “Oh, I was invited by a friend.” I said, unsure what the correct answer was exactly. Something about this man had me a little on edge, like being near a dog you were sure was friendly. He was handsome, charming, but that didn't mean he was safe.

“A friend? Who are they, maybe I know them?” He asked, voice dropping an octave as he leaned in.

Tyson appeared at my side then and I felt relief, flashing him a smile. “Tyson, just in time. This is Aiden.” I introduced.

Tyson looked at the other man, handing me my drink with a small nod, hand extended. They shook hands, Aiden’s smile dimming a bit with the company.

“Anyway, we should probably get back to our group. It was so nice meeting you Aiden.” I said, slapping on my charming smile. I leaned in, free hand hugging him quickly before pulling back and taking Tyson’s arm.

He seemed surprised at the touch but not off put by it, one hand settling on my lower back a moment before righting himself with a small nod. “You as well. Hope to see you at the next event.”

“We’ll see. Take care.” I said, squeezing Tyson’s arm as he got the hint and led me away. He seemed a bit stiff but I didn't comment on it, pulling him around the corner and out of sight. I didn't say anything until we found a private little nook.

When we stopped I set down my drink on the ledge, producing a dark leather wallet. “Thank god.” Tyson sighed in relief, shoulders slumping slightly. “You scared me there Sunny.”

I raised a brow in question, opening the wallet and snooping in the contents. “Did you think I was getting fresh with a rich stranger?” I teased, lips curling into a little amused smile. I pulled my phone out, snapping a few pictures of his ID, as well as a few scribbled notes tucked away next to the crisp hundreds.

“I had no idea you were pulling a James Bond, I was terrified I would have to tell Mitch you were getting fresh with another guy.”

I glanced up from the ID of one Aiden Michael Thresher, meeting Tyson’s dark eyes. “You would tattle on me?” I questioned. I had no intention of cheating on Mitch but hadn't thought about how others would react if I did, the interpersonal loyalty between us all a bit convoluted. “Not very bestie of you, Ty.”

“Hey now, don't do me like that.” He said, hand pressing to his chest. He looked almost as though he was pouting, adjusting his jacket next. “I would tell you if I thought Mitch wasn't acting right.”

“Even though he is an underboss?” I asked quietly. I dropped the wallet, giving it a little kick with the heel of my toe. It slid easily across the floor, stopping near a table. I smoothed a hand over my hair before grabbing my drink, reaching to take Tysons arm again.

He offered it willingly, looking down at me with a stubborn set to his brow. “You my ride or die, Sunny. Can't forget that.” I hummed, giving his arm a little squeeze with a smile. After the shoot out we were a lot closer and I wasn't going to forget that either. “What you do that for anyway?”

“He just- he felt weird. I want Bohdie to look into him. And his last name is Thresher, think it is the one Dwight was talking about?”

“No idea.” Tyson admitted, leading me back to Mitch and Bohdie.

Sunny and Mitch masterlist here

My lovely taglist: @beepage, @itspdameronthings, @queenslandlover-93, @triplefrontierbabe, @nebulastarr

If you want to be part of the tag list it is here.

#mitch keller #tulsa king #garrett hedlund #fanfic #mitch keller fanfiction #female oc #garrett hedlund fanfiction #sunny and mitch #thank god they gave him a haircut so early that WIG #he is so pookie #Also Fred was FEELING himself in his outfit #Love that for him

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dweemeister · 5 months ago

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Mars Express (2023, France)

When it came out in 1988, Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira was one of the first Japanese anime films to have a seismic impact beyond its home nation. For many soon-to-be anime fans, it was their first experience with Japanese animation. Akira, along with Ghost in the Shell (1995, Japan), scared off feature film animators from even considering cyberpunk science fiction for decades. Was it a self-consciousness of attempting to make a sort of animated film that the Japanese had seemingly cornered? Or was it a lack of funding and knowhow? In any case (and I will surmise it might be all of those aforementioned reasons), stepping into that extremely limited animated tradition comes Jérémie Périn’s stellar Mars Express.

The film, surprisingly to me, comes from an original screenplay he co-wrote with Laurent Sarfati, and not from, as I thought while watching the film, any graphic novel, comic series, or any preexisting material. Périn and Sarfati are both best known for the 2016 adult animation television series LastMan (an adaptation of the French comic series of the same name) and music videos for electronic dance music (EDM) artists. For them, Mars Express represents a breathtaking leap in narrative ambition, pulling influences from its animated cyberpunk predecessors and classic film noir, as its story unfolds hurriedly in less than a half-hour. And in its mixture of hand-drawn and computerized animation, the seamless effects make the film one of the most fascinating animated works for a mature audience in some time.

By 2200, androids of different forms are an irreplaceable part of human society, which straddles between an impoverished Earth, a metropolitan Mars, and various other colonies. We first meet our two protagonists, private detectives Aline Ruby (Léa Drucker) and android partner Carlos Rivera (Mathieu Amalric), on Earth. Carlos is a “backup”, as he possesses the consciousness of Aline’s deceased partner of the same name. The duo (the film confusingly distinguishes the boundaries between private investigators and police) apprehend a robot hacker, Roberta Williams, who is wanted on a number of charges. But when they are going through Martian security just after landing, the warrant for the hacker disappears – forcing Alina and Carlos to release Roberta.

Soon after, on Mars, Aline and Ruby must find a cybernetics student named Jun Chow. Jun has illegally “jailbroken” androids (freeing androids from human control, a civil rights issue of 2200s human society). Instances of jailbroken androids can lead to the deaths of innocents and wanton destruction, and the very fear of jailbroken androids leads to widespread prejudice and preemptive violence. Before Aline and Carlos realize it, Jun Chow's disappearance and the case behind Roberta Williams' seemingly dropped charges have a connection – one that threatens the coexistence of human and android existence, their separate and shared societies.

Mars Express breaks no ground narratively, and many of its larger themes of android self-determination and human-automaton relations will not be new for science fiction fans. What separates Mars Express from its peers across artistic mediums (television, comics/graphic novels, literature, video games) is its fully realized world. Périn and Sarfati, without any source material to guide them, have constructed a futuristic society that always feels plausible, consistent, and alive. Residential interiors seldom look like a real estate listing photograph, laboratories have wires and machinery strewn about, and crime scenes involving destroyed androids are mechanically gruesome (almost all androids have some sort of purple hydraulic fluid that enables movement), with bolts, screws, and scrap metal mangled and twisted. Human capitalism extends its hand across society and, presumably, politics. Rather than explain the technology that surrounds our characters and comprises this futuristic society, Périn and Sarfati prefer instead to keep Aline and Carlos’ investigations moving. Explanations of how all of this technology works is kept to a bare minimum, keeping the film’s pacing brisk and allowing for the film’s most violent moments to retain an elevated sense of peril.

By this point in human history, technology is approaching a level where robots are nearing indistinguishability from humans. However, the androids in Mars Express range from the brand-new to noticeably outdated. They have a variety of appearances – from the most humanlike (Carlos, the nightclub androids), to something out of Boston Dynamics, to boxy clunkers – and functions. From backups like Carlos to industrial workers to sexual companions, the robots in the Mars Express universe form a fundamental aspect of life in the far future – separate, but not fully free from human demands and impulses.

Embodying this tenuous balance is Carlos. Despite his death, Carlos’ consciousness, now housed inside a machine, carries on while his previous life moves beyond him. Though Carlos remains in his old job as a private investigator, he cannot continue seeing his ex-wife and daughter. The details of their estrangement are murky – did it occur before or after Carlos’ death? – and his wife’s new boyfriend is openly hostile to him. The latter’s hostility is such that Carlos’ relationship to his daughter crumbles. Indirectly, this troubled family life leads Carlos to stray from his humanity and better comprehend the desires of his fellow robots.

By film’s end, perhaps reluctantly, he accepts that humans – at an individual and collective level – might never see him as a full being. Often in modern science fiction, a narrative will present sentient robots and humans coming to a partial or full understanding about the former’s sense of personhood. While this plays out between Aline and Carlos (Aline treats “backup” Carlos essentially the same as her late partner), we see little desire to move beyond using these robots for human self-interest. This lends Mars Express its tragic dimensions – one felt by both humanity and robots (and with very light sprinkles of satire) – and places Carlos as the primary conduit of that tragedy.

Aline, as written, is not as complex as Carlos, but her craftiness and street sense makes her a worthy addition into the line of private detectives in film noir and films derived from noir. Her inner demons are difficult to parse. Yet, as a recovering alcoholic who has a subdermal sobriety chip that is easy to override), she too represents a future imperfect. She has a total dearth of companionship outside her line of work, possibly afraid of commitment, and carries about her a cynicism that rubs her coworkers and others she encounters on the job the wrong way. This is no Star Trek-like utopia as Gene Roddenberry might have envisioned it while he was alive (to the consternation of his fellow producers who saw even the cosmopolitan United Federation of Planets as a future imperfect). Nor is Mars Express a fully dystopian narrative. Surrounded by endless amounts of fellow humans, computers and robots providing luxury that modern viewers can only dream of, and not wanting for anything, Aline remains jaded about her very existence. She would find emotional company in the private detectives that Humphrey Bogart, Glenn Ford, and Dick Powell played on-screen.

In general, any humans of human-appearing characters in Mars Express are 2D while any androids or backgrounds bustling with activity (the car crash scene) are CGI. CGI animation allows to more efficiently render the diversity of robots across the film – very few of them look alike. The 2D/CGI differences are perceptible, but the effects, miraculously, do not clash (as they might have had this film been released ten or twenty years earlier). The heavily CGI backgrounds of the Martian capital, Noctis, fuse well with the nervy electronic score from Fred Avil and Philippe Monthaye. And in moments where the filmmakers juxtapose 2D and 3D animation, the slight variances between the two can be psychologically unsettling and increase the tension in the film’s many violent moments – most notably the opening scene and the climax. Full credit to the animators for achieving such an outstanding visual (and aural) continuity among the two styles.

Jérémie Périn and his fellow crewmembers note that they made those decisions of 2D and CGI animation in respect to the film’s tight budget. European feature animation lacks the commercial foundations and stability seen among the major American and Japanese studios, and requires various public and private funding sources from across the European Union. In French animation (and this applies to live-action French cinema, too), regional subsidies provide a lifeline. Splitting work across five animation studios allowed the Mars Express production to acquire more subsidies, raising the budget (still modest in comparison to those major American and Japanese studios) to coincide with the larger staff necessary to animate the film.

Despite its breakneck speed to cram in all of its narrative and thematic ideas, Mars Express still finds time for reflection and consideration. It may not necessarily slow down to allow the viewer to collect themselves, but Aline and Carlos’ professional relationship and habits are enough for one to feel the weight of the film’s most pressing questions. Can even the most enlightened humans in a futuristic, interplanetary society ever see sentients robots as beings independent from human selfishness and desire? How does rampant capitalism and indulgence play into such a society? In science fiction and, more specifically, cyberpunk sci-fi, these topics are well-worn. Other works in this genre and subgenre provide answers with eerie prescience and compelling optimism. The manner in which Jérémie Périn and Laurent Sarfati approach and depict their society, however, distinguishes itself through its excellent characterization and worldbuilding. Mars Express is a worthy addition to the exploding science fiction milieu, in no small part due to lack of animated works daring to venture there.

My rating: 8/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Mars Express #Jérémie Périn #Laurent Sarfati #Léa Drucker #Mathieu Amalric #Daniel Njo Lobé #Marie Bouvet #Sébastien Chassagne #Marthe Keller #Geneviève Doang #Thomas Roditi #Usul #Fred Avril #Philippe Monthaye #GKIDS #My Movie Odyssey

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