#its about the power of an charismatic ego cult

[ofcourse-leaves]

One Piece is insane because the main cast can't trust the protagonist to be alone for more than 10 minutes but the second he says jump, they say "how high", and the second he says "perform miracles for me", they say "yes captain, of course captain, I will achieve this feat no living human has ever done and if I fail, I don't deserve to stand beside you. To die trying isn't enough. The miracle must be accomplished even if I achieve it beyond the grave". And the guy in question picks his nose in public.

[loving-n0t-heyting]

my rough impressions of the major political parties in south africa:

anc: has not only degenerated into a condition of sellout cronyism but has actively prostituted itself to the right wing in order to preserve its grip on power as the dominant force in a grand coalition

da: not worth the dignity of an assessment

mk: an attempt to vindicate every cliche about the bogeyman of the "populist party" from liberal propaganda: run as a personal vehicle by a former strongman ruler guilty of atrocities against his countrymen, running on a "give em what they want" platform marrying a grab bag of soft socialist economic promises to a thoroughly retrograde social agenda, and facing the world with an image crafted around what is basically boomer revolutionary nostalgia

eff: where to even begin? even more straightforwardly than the mk party aiming for a cult of personal loyalty to a single charismatic leader, to the severe detriment of his internal party democracy and ability to retain high level leadership, with an ego to make kanye look like the image of modesty and a temper that leaves trump levelheaded in comparison. wedded as a matter of inviolable principle to an ambitious redistributive founding charter that, if ever actually implemented, would mire south africa in a hopelessly inefficient and uncompetitive agricultural economy and probably require smth on the order of a civil war to bring to fruition. probably the only party in the country worth dedicating any time or energy to

[iamafanofcartoons]

No , RWBY is neither misogynistic nor homophobic...it is every bit the opposite

Rwby not written for the male gaze. Redesigns made by critics focus on sexualizing women.  RWBY has women show much less skin than the typical fairy tail woman. Also their clothes have pockets and pouches. Rwby is not written for the patriarchy.

So Personally I've always felt like misogyny was always made by the critics. A common thread in a lot of that group's criticisms seems to come down to not liking that some of the show's villains embody male power fantasies, and that the positive male characters it has aren't the main characters, with the female characters being a harem for them.

It's a female-centered story whose true focus is its main characters' growing and supporting each other through their weaknesses and struggles, and a lot of men can't stand it.

Rewrites and AUs focus on men, on straightwashing women, on validating edgelords, on telling women that they suck. And more importantly,  rewrites are obsessed with not letting women be right about anything or important unless they're tied to a male protagonist story.

But Rwby is about giving women roles typically held by men. Women not requiring men for authority, or guidance, but instead being men's equals. Or in the case of the female antagonists? Having mental superiority over deconstructed edgelords like Adam taurus or the "ends justify the means" deconstruction of ironwood.

They have girlfails like Cinder, who you can hate, but also admire that she keeps coming back and refusing to give up.

They have badass grannies like Maria Calavera.

They have autism-coded women.

And unlike Naruto? Women can actually WIN a 1 on 1 fight against a male opponent.

Edgelord is what incels see themselves as. Incels also see themselves as victims of women. They also see themselves as tragic,  misunderstood,  or entitled to an ego.

Adam is the example of the incel: "I was hurt by society, so I am going to make it everyone's problem! I am a hero of justice, for I am giving the world the justice it deserves! I am an underdog!"

That's how incels, conservatives, otakus see themselves.

They saw Adam as a Vergil Sparda. A dude who murders countless innocent lives for the sake of power.....who believes that power is the only thing matters. He ain't morally grey, he's evil. But he's cool, and to a lot of very emotionally immature people, coolness means morally grey or anti-villain/anti-hero. Adam was introduced trying to rob a train and blow up innocent people....people accused blake of being a murderer and trying to blow up the train, then running from adam. Adam was shown in volume 2, as a cult leader neglecting the deaths of his people. As with "Burning the candle" Yang and Blake scene, RWDE and RWBY Critics disregarded that because it ruined their headcanons of what they wanted Adam to be.

How many Adam fanfics have you seen where Blake is written as the one abusing adam?

Male abusers see themselves as victims of women.

Coffeehouse Crime, Danielle Kirsty, Eleanor Neale. Look them up on Youtube. They cover multiple cases of murderers and abusers. And the details that go into emotional and mental abuse/gaslighting? They cover them all. Including how society turns a blind eye to abuse if its not physical. Which is what Adam fans do.

Btw, if you want an example of a murderer who was an IRL abuser? Just look up OJ Simpson, who got away with both thanks to his fans.

RWBY covers emotional abuse, shows the damage it can do, and shows through Blake the recovery.

Arryn has been a victim of IRL cyberbullying from blacksun fans, BobxEliza fans, and Adam fans.

To where she's had to deactivate her social media.

Art imitates life....RWBY Critics harassing voice actresses. Though thefloofartist actually sent CRWBY gore fanart of Bumbleby and tauradonna ntr fanart, that was horrific.

Roman Torchwick is an example of charismatic sociopaths being the criminal: Society was mean to me, so I'm going to be racist, steal from the elderly, and hurt kids. Sure he has charisma as a character....does that excuse racism, calling Emerald a Street Rat, trying to rob old men, and shooting teenage girls

Jacques emotional abuse and gaslighting, something many people refuse to acknowledge unless its clearly spelled out from A to Z. One Adam taurus fan on twitter made death threats to a woman trying to explain that emotional abuse is real.

Raven is a bandit. A bandit is a killer and a thief. You don't romanticize killers and thieves. One piece paints an unrealistic view of pirates. 

Ironwood and Atlas represent the American Macho mindset and the nationalism issue Americans have. Illegally occupying foreign nations with military force as a means of "peacekeeping"? Removing leaders from power who don't respect your authority or your ideas? My way or the highway? Unwilling to compromise? Willing to work with capitalist Corporations so long as your war machine is funded? The ends justify the means? Only villains say that! Merging the police with the military to have unlimited power? Putting the good ethical cop "Marrow" under pressure and mockery? Treating the poor people as acceptable losses to cut and cutting all aid and support to the 99%? Arresting or threatening good samaritans who try to help the impoverished and underprivileged because they're not recognized by your licenses? Refusing to accept checks and balances because you see yourself as above the law and being the only one with the big picture? Seeing it as your duty to police others?

People were willing to consider Ironwood a sussy baka so long as they could consider Atlas to be like Germany. But the moment CRWBY pointed out how Atlas was too much like America? The "patriots" got furious...because it was too much like looking into a mirror, and the Ironwood fangirls did not like what they saw.

Less character bloat compared to shounen anime. Shounen has thousands of character. RWBY barely has 200. But they focus more on women's characters than men, and that upsets the Cardin fans and fanfic writers. If I had a nickel for every youtube channel that decided to make the racist incompetent bully into some "gigachad", I'd have two nickels, which isn't much, but still weird that it happened twice. Meanwhile, let a man have 3-5 minutes of screentime, the critics will say that Team RWBY don't act like the main characters. Protagonist centered morality only in shounen. Team rwby do face consequences and are forced to evaluate their decisions. The women are the protagonists, and they can spend more than 10 minutes without breaking the Bechdel test. Something that, once again, adam and cardin and jaune fanfics fail within a paragraph.

"A man and a woman can spend several seasons together and be just friends at the end"

Ichigo and Rukia from Bleach, One Piece Live Action, Naruto and Sakura from that Gay Ninja Series.

Or in RWBY's case, I'm referring Blake Belladonna and Sun Wukong

Neither showed romantic attraction towards either gender for the majority of the show. Blake and Sun's arcs in V4 and V5 were about Blake learning to accept help, and Sun learning to recognize and respect people's boundaries. Neither Blake nor Sun actually made serious advances, and simply stayed good friends. Also if lesbians cannot exist without being fan service to you, that just means you're a pervert and need to touch grass.

Anyway, whomever said that RWBY Writers have no idea how to write women need to take a look at how their critics make video after video bashing women and LGBT.

Oh, and twitter calls RWBY post v3 "pandering to tumblerinas".

Given how Tumblr has no pedophiles/lolicons, less conservatives and terfs, and is very feminist? I'll take that as a compliment.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 0

Hearing positive feedback on my last post absolutely made my day. So here's some more. A distraught y/n confides in Dr. Lecter about her upbringing. Takes place before previous post.

Trigger warning: discussions of emotional manipulation by a parent figure, implied death of parent

"The truth is, sir." You looked down at your knees, acutely aware that the intimidating man sitting across from you was hanging on your every word. "...I really don't want to be an engineer."

To your therapist, this wasn't the earth-shattering secret you built it up to be. "What do you want to do?"

"This is going to sound stupid, but..." you began, slumping back in your seat. "I want to study cults."

“That doesn’t sound stupid whatsoever, dear.” Dr. Lecter assured you, in the most comforting way he could. “Cults are fascinating. Why do you want to study cults, Miss [L/N]?"

"I dunno." You said, shrugging. "You tell me. Maybe it's because that new HBO docuseries about Keith Raniere was super interesting. Or maybe it's because I recently discovered Steven Hassan's BITE model and got scared at how many boxes my family ticked off."

He leaned forward. "Interesting, Miss [L/N], that the first time you use the word 'family' with me, it’s to compare it to a cult. Why do you think that is?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you these questions?" You huff. "I don't know, because my grandma uses a lot of emotional manipulation to make me fall in line?"

“Can you give me an example?” Dr. Lecter probed. 

“Well,” Your eyes darted around the room. “She sent me to this fancy STEM high school and anytime I so much as bring up changing my major, she guilts me out of it by saying how expensive it all was. She compares me to my cousins all the time, saying shit like ‘but Theresa makes six figures as a petroleum engineer for Halliburton.’ Oh, and this one time-” 

“And you understand that she is emotionally manipulating you?” Dr. Lecter cut you off. 

“It’s not like she’s trying to hide it.” You rolled your eyes. “I feel stupid for not catching on sooner.” 

“Have you ever been told to ask yourself,” Dr. Lecter began. “why she’s still in your head, still dictating what you can and can’t do even two years into college?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “It’s because she’s an evil genius and I’m an idiot.” 

“No.” His voice hardened as if to take offense on your behalf. “Her understanding of how to subjugate people is surface-level at best. Tell me, does she yell at the waitstaff at restaurants?”

You nod and crack a small, amused smile. “All the time.” 

“Can you tell me, Miss [L/N],” Dr. Lecter said. “What is one of the most recognizable aspects of a cult?” 

You thought for a minute. “A charismatic leader.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And is there anything less charismatic than an old woman throwing a temper tantrum like a child over a minor inconvenience?” 

You smothered a giggle with your fingers. “No, I suppose not.” 

“You see, it’s easy for a parent figure to manipulate their child.” Dr. Lecter explained, leaning towards you. “The work of creating an uneven power dynamic is already done. That's where the difference lies, Miss [L/N]." 

“That...” You said to yourself. “...actually makes a lot of sense.” 

“You’re not doing yourself any good seeing your grandmother as Keith Raniere. All you’re doing is inflating her ego.” He concluded. “She’s no evil genius. She’s a self-serving old woman with a god complex.”

“But if she’s not Keith Raniere, that means I’m just...” You felt yourself shrinking in your seat. An uncomfortable laugh forced its way out of you. “I’m just dumb.” 

“You were a child.” Dr. Lecter said, his voice and expression softening. “You weren’t supposed to know you were being manipulated. You were supposed to be able to trust the adults in your life.”  

"That's right..." You felt a knot in your throat. "...a child."

"I want you to go straight to your academic advisor and tell her you intend to change your major." Dr. Lecter instructed. "Throw yourself into a new, exciting field of study even if it means you have to start all over again. No more excuses, Miss [L/N]. You need to be in control of your life."

“And what about my grandma?” You asked, your voice trailing off. 

“What about her?” Dr. Lecter tilted his head. “Your schooling is being paid for with your mother’s savings, correct? Legally speaking, it’s your money.” 

“I guess.” You shrugged. His passing mention of your mother made you tense up. “It shouldn’t be, but I guess.” 

Dr. Lecter paused for a second, taking note of your discomfort. “Miss [L/N], you’ve been in therapy for four months and you routinely avoid discussion about your mother. We both know there’s something unresolved there.”

“What’s to resolve?” You said, a defensive bite in your voice. “You can’t miss what you never had.” 

“Is that how you really feel?” 

“Yes.” You said with enough conviction to even fool yourself. “If the point of therapy is to get to a point where you’re comfortable with something, we shouldn’t waste our time talking about this. Cause I’m already comfortable with it.” 

“Okay, Miss [L/N].” Dr. Lecter nodded. “I trust you.” 

And in that moment, you knew you were lying to each other. 

But you made a point to call your academic advisor that afternoon. 

[positively--speculative]

If you think Harley Quinn is not a victim of abuse just because she “willingly” went with Joker who showed her who she “truly was,” then you probably haven’t watched any documentaries about cult survivors or have personally witnessed someone you know get swept away by a toxic person.

In many accounts of cult survivors, there’s a consistency that stands out: The leader of said cult was incredibly charismatic and told their victims what they wanted to hear. Many of these survivors were down on their luck and all it took to get swept in was someone who almost seemed otherworldly convince them that they were, in fact, special and part of some “plan” to save the world. Or maybe this person told them that they were “chosen” by some divine being. In any case, you have a lot of very smart and decent people getting swept in, and what ends up happening is these people end up changing every aspect of their lives for the “cause.” However, when and if common sense starts seeping back into their brains, they often keep quiet. They’re in too deep. If they start questioning anything, they are subject to all sorts of abuse at the hands of their leaders.

And sometimes it’s not something as extreme as joining a cult. Sometimes it’s just a single person who is able to manipulate another single person. I, personally, have witnessed this happen to someone I really care about in the last year or so. My friend changed every aspect of their life for this one person even to the point of cutting off his entire family. Everyone else recognizes that this person is toxic, but she tells him everything he wants to hear and builds on his ego, so he’s completely blind to it. Unfortunately, there is nothing anyone can do, because he is making the choice to choose her. I want to point out that he’s always been a good person, never lied, was always financially responsible, etc. However, he was always a bit insecure. When it came to dating, he rarely even tried, but would feel lonely and devalue himself over not being in a relationship. Imagine the power someone could have by making him feel special. It only took a year or so for him to start lying to his family (and because he’s never been a liar, he’s not good at it) and become less financially responsible. He practically throws away his money for her. It’s sad, but the hard truth is, if and when he realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll be in too deep and it will be very difficult for him to get out.

That’s why I’m a bit bothered by the idea that Joker showed Harley who she “truly was.” There are so many people out there who are at least halfway decent who are easy targets of master manipulators. These people aren’t showing them who they “truly are.” They’re just really good at what they do.

Like, from a storytelling perspective, I get the appeal of Joker and Harley as a couple, but I feel like some people get very defensive when people point out its toxicity and try to rewrite canon to feel justified.

[cinemavariety]

The Director’s Series: Paul Thomas Anderson

The director series will consist of me concentrating on the filmography of all my favorite directors. I will rank each of their films according to my personal taste. I hope this project will provide everyone with quality recommendations and insight into films that they might not have known about. Today’s director in spotlight is Paul Thomas Anderson

#8 - Hard Eight (1998) Runtime: 1 hr 42 min     Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1             Film Format: 35mm

John has lost all his money. He sits outside a diner in the desert when Sydney happens along, buys him coffee, then takes him to Reno and shows him how to get a free room without losing much money. Under Sydney's fatherly tutelage, John becomes a successful small-time professional gambler, and all is well, until he falls for Clementine, a cocktail waitress and sometimes hooker. 

Verdict: One of the most impressive feature film debuts ever blessed to American cinema. Paul Thomas Anderson was only 25 years old when he broke into the scene and directed this (almost three years younger than me now, how depressing). While it is consistently thrilling and entertaining, Hard Eight oftentimes wears its influences on its sleeve too much. You can see how much inspiration Paul got from Tarantino with this film and it’s one of the 90s best independent movies. The star studded cast doesn’t hurt either.

#7 - Phantom Thread (2017) Runtime: 2 hr 10 min Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

Renowned British dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock comes across Alma, a young, strong-willed woman, who soon becomes a fixture in his life as his muse and lover. Verdict: It’s safe to say that Phantom Thread is PTA’s most lavish and decadent film. It feels like a piece of ancient Hollywood golden-era cinema brought back to life. Johnny Greenwood’s orchestral score is the best sound work he’s ever done, it sweeps you off your feet when it goes along with Anderson’s signature arresting imagery. I’m in the minority who places this near the bottom of Anderson’s filmography, simply because Daniel Day Lewis’s character is so insufferable that it was hard for me to empathize in many ways. It still manages to be one of the most beautiful pieces of modern cinema.

#6 - Inherent Vice (2014) Runtime: 2 hr 28 min Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

In Los Angeles at the turn of the 1970s, drug-fueled detective Larry “Doc” Sportello investigates the disappearance of an ex-girlfriend. 

Verdict: Inherent Vice is Paul Thomas Anderson’s most underrated gem. I’ll admit, when I first saw this film, I didn’t really dig it that much and immediately cast it aside as his weakest effort. However, after some maturity, a few more viewings, and also not 100% adoring Phantom Thread, I have developed an immense appreciation for this nonsensical Thomas Pynchon adaptation. Pynchon as a writer is known as being basically unadaptable, but PTA revels in the absurdity of the film’s labyrinth of a plot. It also brings PTA back to his former glory days of ensemble casts and stoner drug fueled mayhem.

#5 - Punch-Drunk Love (2002) Runtime: 1 hr 35 min Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

A psychologically troubled novelty supplier is nudged towards a romance with an English woman, all the while being extorted by a phone-sex line run by a crooked mattress salesman, and purchasing stunning amounts of pudding.  

Verdict: Punch-Drunk Love plays out like a symphony of color, texture, and absolutely off-putting social interactions. I understand that Adam Sandler had his comeback last year with Uncut Gems, but this film is actually without a doubt the best performance he’s ever pulled off. And I credit that largely in part to the brilliance of Paul who was working behind him. It’s what I would say one of the most unconventional romantic comedies of all time. It’s nerve wracking, a little sad, super awkward - but also somehow manages to be endearing as well. The percussion heavy score brings manic energy to the whole film. Punch-Drunk Love is also a powerful statement on loneliness, unchecked mental illness, and the power of human connection.

#4 - Boogie Nights (1997) Runtime: 2 hr 35 min Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1 & 1.66 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

Adult film director Jack Horner is always on the lookout for new talent and it's only by chance that he meets Eddie Adams who is working as a busboy in a restaurant. Eddie is young, good looking and plenty of libido to spare. Using the screen name Dirk Diggler, he quickly rises to the top of his industry winning awards year after year. Drugs and ego however come between Dirk and those around him and he soon finds that fame is fleeting. 

Verdict: How this film possibly came from a director who is my age now is almost hard to believe. Boogie Nights is one of the quintessential 90s films. It has one of PTA’s best ensemble casts. Anderson’s sophomore effort was a result of the auteur finding his footing and his directorial voice that went on to enthrall audiences over several decades. PTA’s early visual motifs were lengthy and expertly choreographed tracking shots. Please refer to the scenes in the disco as well as the pool party scene pictured above for some of the best camera operation every committed to celluloid. Boogie Nights could possibly be hailed as PTA’s most consistently entertaining and audience friendly works. It’s a great story of the rise and fall of stardom.

#3 - There Will Be Blood (2007) Runtime: 2 hr 38 min Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

A story of family, religion, hatred, oil and madness, focusing on a turn-of-the-century prospector in the early days of the business. 

Verdict: Most critics and audiences would agree that There Will Be Blood is the director’s most impressive masterpiece (but who’s counting?). On a storytelling and technical level, I do have to agree that this is probably Paul Thomas Anderson’s best achievement, even if it isn’t exactly my personal favorite. This is the film where PTA really matured with his directorial vision. He abandoned a lot of his earlier flashy work with large casts and a constantly moving camera for something more grounded and more of a character study. There Will be Blood is the story of America in many ways. It’s the story of Capitalism. And how this system leads to so much bloodshed, greed, and hatred as man and man compete to have the most and be the best. This movie will surely stand the test of time and is a shining example of how groundbreaking modern American cinema can be.

#2 - Magnolia (1999) Runtime: 3 hr 8 min Aspect Ratio: 2.39 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

An epic mosaic of interrelated characters in search of love, forgiveness, and meaning in the San Fernando Valley.

Verdict: Paul Thomas Anderson’s third film found the director taking everything he had learned on his previous two, and expanding on that knowledge and developing more layers to his characters who have never felt so fully realized. Magnolia is the director’s magnum opus. It is epic in its length - clocking in at a little over three hours, making it his longest film by far. It is ambitious in its storytelling approach. Many films utilize the style of a variety of seemingly unrelated characters who connect to each other, oftentimes in a synchronistic fashion as they go about the trials and tribulations of their lives. However Magnolia is one of the few that did it first, did it the best, and set the bar for all of the subpar imitations that would soon follow. It’s also profoundly beautiful in the statements that PTA was trying to make. Paul, just barely 30 years old at the time when this was released, most definitely had an emotional and intellectual maturity that is rarely seen within a director of that age range. Magnolia is about redemption, loss, forgiveness, love, and trying to keep your head above water as frogs rain down on your head.

#1 - The Master (2012) Runtime: 2 hr 18 min Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: 35mm & 70mm

Freddie, a volatile, heavy-drinking veteran who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, finds some semblance of a family when he stumbles onto the ship of Lancaster Dodd, the charismatic leader of a new “religion” he forms after World War II. 

Verdict: I’ve always been drawn to films about cults. Something about social behavior and social roles within a cult organization is a really interesting study on a sociological, psychological and anthropological level. The Master takes the cult formula and turns it on its head in many ways, never once foraying into the territory of exploitation or tropes. It instead takes a wholly original approach to the story. I mean, it is Paul Thomas Anderson that we’re talking about here. Joaquin Phoenix delivers his most unhinged, and certainly his most impressive, performance of his career as a mentally damaged alcoholic war veteran with pretty severe PTSD. The Master is also in many ways the story of the founding father of Scientology - L. Ron Hubbard. However, let’s just say it is a Scientology movie “in disguise” as no real historical names are ever spoke, the word “Scientology” is never uttered once, and even the director himself refuses to admit that’s what it is about (I mean who can blame him? He once had to work with Tom Cruise). It is one of the most fascinating character studies I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, it is PTA’s most beautifully shot film in my opinion and Johnny Greenwood’s musical contributions to the score elevate this film to ultimate masterpiece status. By the end, I felt like I had just undergone a transcendent experience of sorts. I hope one day PTA can make a film that “wows” me ever more than this one does.

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

Paul Thomas Anderson’s THE MASTER and what it may teach us about  mind-control vs freedom Post-Covid

So last night I watched The Master. It was a most pleasing way to spend a Saturday evening; alone, with two cats draped on the sofa and windowsill respectively, and it rounded off a pretty pedestrian Saturday mostly spent mowing and raking the lawn and scattering grass seed whilst *Boo finished reading Jacqueline Wilson’s Rose Rivers whilst occasionally appearing at the back door to yell; ‘mama, you’re driving me nuts with your gardening!’ Somehow I’d been looking forward to scattering my grass seed all week - the promise of moist new green growth on our dusty brown patches. Thing is - and there is a lesson in here somewhere - the grass seed box said it covered 10m square - I guess I got a bit carried away and basically I ran out after one corner. So one corner of my lawn will look like Eden, and the rest will continue to look like some deserted Sicilian scrubland... That’s life, baby, I guess. 

So anyway, The Master....dear God. There are many ways I could go with this...Firstly undiluted, scope, wonder, singular sensitivity, impossible mastery, extreme importance and sheer exalting, agonising beauty of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films is the subject of another post. (I’m still on a high from the explosive visceral experience of watching Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood and that was, what, 5 years ago? 10 years ago?) Then The Master came out in 2012 and P.T.A. raised his game even more. 

I could, and will another time, talk about the astonishing gift Joaquin Phoenix afforded the world with his embodiment of his character, Freddie Quell. (I say ‘embodiment’; ‘performance’ always strikes me as an incorrect way of describing an actors full immersion in an imagined character’s inner life.) To my mind, Freddie is one of the most affecting, heart-breaking, occasionally funny and downright truthful portrayals of a ‘broken’ man; an exiled, psychologically damaged, wild and lonely spirit who roams the world, desperate for love and acceptance, clearly one of the great ‘un-belonging’ of the post-war world in America. In one the open scenes he simulates fucking an over-sized figure of woman carved in sand on a hot beach, for the amusement of his army pals. In the final scene of the film, after his long long incredible journey , we see him caressing this sand woman again, resting his next to a large sandy breast. Oh poor dear Freddy Quell; my tears ran with him last night; knowing myself in this second viewing of the film, to be so like him. Perhaps one day I will be able to shake Joaquin Phoenix’s hand and say ‘thankyou so much for Freddie.....’ I often feel like that with actors work that resonates through the bones. 

I could also talk about how Philip Seymour Hoffman was possibly the greatest screen actor of his time, and how crazy it was that the world didn’t seem to mourn his tragic early death. Was it perhaps because he died of an accidental heroine overdose? - and this, well, didn’t sit very well with Hollywood. His embodiment here of Lancaster Dodd, charismatic leader of philosophical cult movement The Cause, is breath-taking. But then all his performances were breath-taking. I had a dream about him once (whole other post entitled CELEBRITY DREAMS coming your way); we were kind of friends even though I knew he was dead and his face kept appearing on billboards all over London. If, when; I meet him in the spirit world, I’d like to shake his hand and thank him for Lancaster Dodd and Brandt in The Big Lebowski, and Truman Capote, and also for providing me with one of the most pivotal theatre experiences of my life. August 2001, Edinburgh Festival, I witnessed his production of Jesus Hopped The A Train at The Gilded Balloon; this was running gold theatre. Within half a second of the play ending the entire full house erupted to it’s feet like we’d all been tasered from the floor. Thank you Philip...you gave me faith then that theatre is important; that art comes from dark places and revives...

I could talk about the astonishing crashing score composed by Radiohead’s guitarist Jonny Greenwood.

I could also talk about Amy Adam’s terrifying portrayal of Lancaster’s icy wife Peggy and her utterly brilliant final put-down to Freddie: “you either do this for a billion years, or not at all...” (she’s referencing Freddie’s abandonment of the cult she’s set up with her husband, but this line, I feel, could apply to motherhood...….)

                                                  * * * * * * * * * *

 It usually takes me two viewings for a films deeper meaning to seep in, and last night I was struck by what I see as the heart of the film. The core of the film is relationship between Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd; it’s an uncompromising study of male vulnerability and the cosmic search for ‘a father figure’...  On a bigger scale, its about how those in positions of assumed power and influence ( Dodd) rely on the adoration and worship of those whom society deem ‘worthless’ (Quell). It’s about the fragility and corruption of a society whereby a man promises freedom and empowerment to his followers (Dodd devises a system of ‘processing’ whereby he takes initiates back to past traumas through a curious mixture of interrogation and hypnosis and ‘cures’ them; he posits that his vision can cure leukaemia and will bring about world peace) and how those ‘disadvantaged’, the great ‘unloved’ can be absorbed into such an attractive lifestyle. In one painful scene, Freddie is taken to a party at a mansion, filled with monied people and luxurious things. Freddie is dressed smartly for the occasion; but is sweating with nerves and orders a scotch at the earliest opportunity, before hiding away in a side room and stealing an ornament. It took me back to my own exile, when, at the age of 17 I landed at Brentwood Boys School in Essex, and cut off from my parents, shattered from my sister’s suicide and a lifetime of confusion, I nonetheless attended many a glorious party; a perfect size 10 and top of the class, I knew how to say all the right things. But, like Freddie, I knew I didn’t and wouldn’t ever fit it. Like him, I would often sneak off to the side rooms, get off my head drunk to hide my shame and hopeless, and cause some fight..

In the end, despite himself, Freddie starts to see through Lancaster’s bullshit and returns to his life on the road. Though The Cause had given him a home, suits and ties, friendship, respect and a certain ‘standing’ that he could only have dreamed of, as he confesses to Peggy at the end, before returning to his own brand of personal lonely freedom; ‘it’s just not how I look’.  

                                                        * * * * * * * 

“Don’t you know, They’re talking about a revolution it sounds like a whisper Don’t you know you’d better run run run run run run run run.....” Tracey Chapman 

Talkin’ About A Revolution

What I find heartening and deeply exciting about these early post-Covid times, as the first chinks of sunlight pour in through windows that have separated us from friends, lovers, fellow man for so long, is that people are choosing freedom. In small ways, perhaps, but I get the overall sense that for many people, fear has had its day. As my dear friend said over tea the other day; ‘people are thinking fuck this, fuck it, we wanna fuck’....well, exactly. 

It was this dear friend I met up with in her wood a few weeks ago; we hugged each other day, and it was such a joyous relief to see her I told her that if I got the virus and killed me, oh fuck it, it would be worth it, just to sit next to her by a river on a sunny day...

I’ve had two other conversations lately to support my little theory; a particularly cheerful friend of mine turned up with her daughter unannounced on my doorstep couple of weeks back  - they had a bag of clothes; would Boo like them? Initially we did the ‘2 m’ thing, paying homage to THE RULES as dictated by the blessed government of this land; I hovered on the threshold of my kitchen - she stood outside by the flower-pots. Then I broke the rules; ‘look, do you wanna come in?’ - That was it. The ice was broken - and she stood, blond, beaming and glorious with her big sunglasses on, in my little kitchen - along with her daughter and mine, and I could literally have feasted forever on the sheer joyous fleshiness of having three other living homo sapiens near me. That sunny day in early June, two women in a small village in Sussex chose freedom. ‘I’ve just had enough of all this virus stuff’ she said ‘I’m even dreaming about it! I’ve just had enough’. 

Then last week a friend came over with her three glorious girl children and told me how her youngest, a endlessly sweet six yr old, had ‘hidden behind a tree with her friend so that they could have a hug’. Lets think about that for a moment; six years olds hiding behind trees to have a hug. Its pretty damn sad. And weird. This friend had been on full on paranoid lockdown due to one of the children’s potential serious health issues - but she’d reached breaking point. ‘I’ve had enough’ she said. And that day her girls and my daughter raced up and down the stairs and around the garden in glorious flagrance of any state prescribed social distancing rules. 

                                                * * * * * * * * * * * 

In the end, Freddie breaks free from his master’s and The Cause’s control and continues - we assume -  his lonely drift around the world. In their final agonising meeting, Lancaster reveals the smashed ungenerous ego of a despot thwarted by his adoring lover: ‘if I meet you in a future life I will show you no mercy, you will be my sworn enemy’. Freddie, emaciated, tearful and ever desperate to belong, asks Lancaster to reveal to him how and where they’d met in a previous life... He knows it’s bullshit, in the way I knew my father was incapable of loving me, but when you’ve got a Krakatoa sized hole in your heart, you just can’t stop hoping somehow...pledging allegiance to a resplendent asshole is somehow better than our greatest fear; the abyss of loneliness and isolation. Lets face it; freedom is pretty terrifying after such a long stretch of captivity. 

That’s the thing in these Covid times; we always have a choice. We have a choice now, whether to be continue to be afraid or whether to choose freedom. Whether to cut loose and go racing into the desert on a motorbike back to his first love, like Freddie does, following his own destiny, not succumbing to control forces that on the surface entice him into a richer more glamorous life. 

And I’m not talking about being an complete idiot and denying there’s a serious virus still on the loose, or hugging scared people in the street to prove a point, and I’m not denying  that many people are extremely vulnerable - I’m talking about something entirely different; that deep inner decision that calls in all of us - whether to choose the uncharted waters of freedom, or rest in an all-too familiar fear zone. 

To conclude, my dear friend Matilda sent me this book ‘Big Magic - Creative Living By Fear’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love (I’ve just watched the film its rather good I think...) Anyway, there’s this great chapter called Fear Is Boring which rang through me, growing up as I did drenched in the anxiety of a Munchausen Syndrome-by-proxy mother (WHOLE other post...) - but here’s what she says about the time, age fifteen, she ‘wised up’ to fear and chose another way: 

“I noticed that my fear never changed, never delighted, never offered a surprise twist or an unexpected ending. My fear was a song with only one note - only one word, actually - and that word was “STOP!” 

Dear reader, I’m shitting myself with the best of them, but I’ve had enough of fear. I’m not stopping. I’m going. What do you say?..... xxxx 

Big love from Christine 

[uglyducklingpresse]

Backlist Bulletin #7: TV Sutras

Catching the zeal for Dodie Bellamy’s The TV Sutras was slow at first, and then total. I grazed tentatively through the first half of the book, which is made up of 78 sutras, or aphorisms of received spiritual knowledge. In the preceding note, “The Source of the Transmission,” Bellamy claims that her process was not an attempt at “irony, cleverness or perfection — or art. The TV Sutras are totally in-the-moment sincere, even if that sincerity makes me cringe afterwards” (14). The text challenged my modes of reading; the sutras aren’t poems, but I wasn’t sure that I should internalize them as honest advice. The received knowledge, after all, was transmitted via television broadcast and written into the form of an ancient Indian scripture. In an interview with David Buuck, Bellamy cites Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, a book of aphorisms on the practice and theory of yoga, as the base for her form, and a bad therapist who recommended yoga and meditation at home as a catalyst.

For each day of her 78-day sutra practice, Bellamy includes both a divinely inspired soundbite and its human-filtered interpretation. Both parts reach into their own well of images: for the sutras, a broader cultural subconscious as refracted through the commercials and melodramas of daytime television; for the commentaries, the store of spiritual language within Bellamy herself:

#16

Who says you have to have 12 periods a year on the pill.

Montage of young women repeating, “Who says.”

COMMENTARY

Each of us progresses, unfolds at our own speed. There is no set route. Acknowledge and follow your own rhythm. Trust your own experience/authority over societal expectations/programmatic doctrine.

— p.32

The commentary reflects central concerns of the book: how subjective experience is located in time, how spiritual authority is conferred, what boundary we can possibly draw between self and culture. In the essay that follows, “Cultured,” Bellamy unwinds the spiritual autobiography that formed the conduit to these sutras — in particular, she discusses her ten years as a member of a New Age cult. Dodie as narrator recounts events in a chatty, semi-fictionalized, often otherworldly manner, laced with fantasy.

Bellamy grabs hold of pieces of memory, allowing them to glisten with the sense of bliss found in her spiritual devotion. On a trip to Jacksonville, Florida, for a cult convention — Dodie’s first trip out of the midwest — she describes a potted plant: “a series of waxy green banana peels stacked one inside the other, and from the center pokes a trumpet of magenta, too intensely magenta for this world, its ‘petals’ sharply pointed — like razors — the incandescent dentate of an alien vagina” (111). Images of “other realms” and archetypal spiritual authority are superimposed over her young adult life. Delusion and euphoria bounce off of each other: “With my Teacher/sixth initiate boyfriend, high in the air, surrounded by treetops and light, life from then on would be one long spiritual retreat; I’d be like one of those ancient naked yogis who lives on a platform on stilts, wooden fence all around to hide his enlightened cock and balls as he waves to his devotees” (136). If the first section of the book is an even-paced, methodical, and procedural sequence, the second part is an unfurling, spiraling, high-entropy revelation. It is delicious prose, like listening to someone you love gossip. I eat it up and I’ll believe anything she says.

Throughout “Cultured,” memories work like sutras, accessed as the smallest possible unit that holds itself together, “terse, easily memorized, but […] intended to be expanded and explained” (207). Bellamy writes, “I’m reminded of the way that anyone from my past is reduced to a discrete set of images — and one fragment will emerge” (207). Memory is encountered from a new vantage point, again and again.

*

I want to convince everyone I know to read this book. If I told everyone that it was about cults, charisma, abuse of power, desire, sex, and bliss, everyone would read it. I put my head down when cultists in the subway station offer me literature, but I want to know who they are and what their lives are like. Sometimes they look at you with gentle ease spread across their faces, sometimes alarming concern for your soul. I remember being a Christian mega-church attending pre-teen filled with desire to bring everyone into the envelope of love I’d found in my bible study group. Years later, I still answer the door and talk to the evangelists about the Lord for too long, before my roommate makes me politely move on with a fake obligation. Faith — even others’ faith — can be so bright. I know better.

In the beginning of “Cultured,” Dodie is in a nail salon where Oprah is playing in the background, airing an investigative montage on Tony Alamo, an apocalyptic cult leader and sexual abuser. Last month, I watched a new documentary on Bikram Yoga in which toned and optimistic women gleefully enmesh themselves into a pyramid scheme/fitness club, under a verbally and sexually abusive leader. Like in Dodie’s cult, where a plagiarism scandal rocks the foundations of their leader’s authority, the appropriation of Eastern spiritual traditions into an American profit machine is foundational. The drama of the cult is consumable because it allows us to see an intensification of commonplace power dynamics, made into something recognizably perverse.

*

In Barf Manifesto (UDP, 2010), Bellamy celebrates writing that moves through the body and makes a mess, through a discussion of Eileen Myles’ essay “Everyday Barf.” Of this aesthetic, Bellamy writes:

The Barf is an upheaval, born of our hangover from imbibing too much Western Civ. The Barf is reflective, each delivery calls forth a framing, the Barf is expansive as the Blob, swallowing and recontextualizing, spreading out and engorging. Its logic is associative, it proceeds by chords rather than single, discrete notes. Hierarchies jumble in the thrill, in the imperatives of purge.

— p. 32

“Cultured” unfolds in this logic. After Bellamy disentangles herself from the cult, the same patterns resurface in different forms — in her entry into an experimental writing scene in San Francisco of the 1980s, specifically the “cult of New Narrative” to which she belonged, in the endless options for spiritual healing she engages in, in the pyramid scheme of teaching creative writing professionally. In this jumble, the draw of a charismatic spiritual leader who makes it all cohere is strong. But those figures are counterbalanced by moments of meditative clarity, the internal authority of Bellamy’s “bullshit meter,” her perception. Each paragraph delves into one of these modes, building on one another until they reach a crescendo. As she remembers sitting in a park with her girlfriend in Bloomington, Indiana, Bellamy writes, “No one told me that moving closer into what I perceived on a daily basis, the swingness of the swing, was the key to spiritual writing.” (230)

Towards the end of the essay, the “I” becomes increasingly destabilized, moving fluidly between the perspective of Dodie and a charismatic, frenetic guru alter-ego. The TV Sutras creates fertile ground for a curious, shifting perspective, allowing both writer and reader to enact the roles of spiritual leader and acolyte. As Bellamy writes, “The sutra process is the opposite of accepting things as they are, highlighting instead the instability of knowing.” (207)

— Paige Parsons

TV Sutras is available directly through Ugly Duckling Presse (here), through our Partner Bookstores (here), and through Small Press Distribution (here). Purchases made directly through Ugly Duckling Presse on March 6th are 50% off, use discount code CHARISMA at checkout.

The backlist bulletin is a column on titles from UDP’s back catalogue, curated and written by Apprentices.

[sociopath-analysis]

Sociopath Profile: Arrowverse Zoom

Real name: Hunter Zolomon Other Aliases: Jay Garrick, The Flash Appearances: The Flash (2014-present[valid as of early June 2020]) Played by: Teddy Sears (pictured right), Ryan Handley (masked, pictured left) Masked voice by Tony Todd

Zoom personifies a genuine case of antisocial personality disorder. In fact, his actor actually described him as a sociopath and everything about him really shows that. In fact, he is not only the darkest antagonist to appear on The Flash, he may be the darkest antagonist of the entire Arrowverse! Yes, even more so than the likes of, the Reverse-Flash, Prometheus, and Vandal Savage. And since he is such a fitting example of a low-functioning sociopath, I’m going to give him my common profile model of showing you each of the symptoms and telling you how he fits.

[SPOILERS BELOW]

Aggressive behavior. This guy really likes murder and destruction. Hunter was actually already a serial killer in Earth-2 before getting his powers. He’s so unstable that when given the chance to indulge in his violent behaviors, it’ll be hard for him to hold back. Every other appearance involves him pummelling, injuring, maiming, or outright killing someone; or threatening and/or attempting to do at least one of those things. Hunter even kills Barry’s father to incite that same rage that he feels. He also seems to have many time remnants of himself that he will just murder whenever it’s “necessary” and all of them have agreed to it. He even goes so far as to plan to destroy the multiverse! Jeez, dude! You need to take a (metric ton of) chill pill(s).

Pathological need for excitement. Tying in with his love of violence, he tends to do many things simply because he can. Him being a serial killer was to sate his bloodlust. And as Zoom, he takes so much pleasure in crushing everyone around him both physically and psychologically. Him going on a hero stint as Jay Garrick was because he got bored of being the villain. And he only gave people hope as the Flash just so he could take it away from them by destroying that image. He also plans to take over Earth-1 and further expand the scope of his reign of terror across the multiverse because he has already brought Earth-2 to its knees.

Glibness and superficial charm. Despite how much of an unstable maniac he is, Zoom can genuinely be pretty jovial and laid-back when he wants to be. Often during battles, he will playfully mock his opponents. Even in the middle of beating someone up. As proved when he does this to Harrison Wells. And he’s definitely charismatic enough to lead a cult of metahumans and speedsters into his crusade. He is quite the persuasive speaker. Not to mention his time as Jay Garrick. He was able to put on the guise of a hero for so long that even Team Flash thought that he was a good guy. They were horrified and shocked to see Zoom murder Jay only to see the same face under Zoom’s mask.

Conning and manipulation. This is one thing he uses his superficial charm for. As Jay, he plays Team Flash for fools the whole time while secretly being the monster they’ve been chasing. When not directly using that charm, he’ll be using threats by either holding their loved-ones hostage or threatening to kill them. He does this to Wells in order to get Barry’s Speed Force.

Consummate Liar. Aside from what’s mentioned in the last two paragraphs, he definitely drops a lot of falsehoods when he is trying to get what he wants. When he killed everyone in a bank, he left only one alive and promised to spare him if he sent the warning that Zoom was going to be coming for Barry. The man did exactly that… and Zoom still killed him anyways.

Grandiose sense of self-worth. This arrogant motherfucker takes every opportunity to knock down his opponents and laud his superiority over others. In one of his first appearances, he boasts that he is truly the fastest man alive and drags an injured Flash around Central city to discredit him. Even as Jay, he personally describes Zoom as “an unstoppable demon with the face of death “ All things considered, with how shamelessly evil he is, that is most definitely him complimenting himself. And many things he does are just because he can with the knowledge that no one can stop him being a huge ego boost.

Pathological selfishness. When confronted about this by Barry, he openly, and emphatically, confirms that he has no concern for the lives that he destroys in his pursuit to improve his condition. And his supposed love for Catlin can also come off as this (as mentioned in the next paragraph).

Lack of empathy. Most of the empathy Hunter ever had died with his mother. As you can see above, he does most of these things to people on a whim without any concern for anyone else. He is woefully incapable of forming any genuine attachments to people that aren’t faked or severely warped due to his trauma. His disturbing affection for Caitlin Snow is one show of this. He does seem to love her in his own sort of way (at least as capable as he is of loving another person), but he will still be aggressive with her when she doesn’t do what he wants and has threatened to outright kill her. Even in a trap set for him with a fake image of her that claimed to want to join him, he still tried to murder her while still believing it was the real deal.

Lack of remorse. Have you been reading this profile? Not only does he show no concern for the atrocities he has committed, but he openly identifies himself as the villain. Though between his dark and scary-looking suit, his often black and soulless eyes in his mask, and his very demonic-sounding voice, you’d have to be an idiot to look at Zoom and think he’s a good guy. But he takes pride in being the villain of Barry’s story and does not cast a shadow of a doubt that he is a complete and utter monster.

Note: Black Flash is not Zoom, so he’s not included in this profile.

Arrowverse Sociopath List

[fuckblizzardbearlover]

people like to act like Thrall deliberately put the Horde in the hands of a mad king, looking at the events of cataclysm and pandaria with 20/20 hindsight. completely ignoreing the context of the situation. So for those who dont know, this is how it went, From “The Shattering”. It addresses: Why he didnt choose Cairne, why he had to pick an Orc, Why it was Garrosh, Why it wouldnt fail, why it might go badly, why that doesnt matter when the world is at risk, and the thing Thrall is hated most for, the horrible, ‘evil’ action of having faith in someone becoming a better person.

Yes Thrall bears the RESPONSIBILITY of giving power to Garrosh but he is NOT responsible for Garrosh’s actions, Garrosh is. And Jaina does have every right to hold him accountable, because he DID make this decision having faith that things would be ok, but realizing that even if he was WRONG about Garrosh that the war that would ensue would mean a loss of life far greater than...the entire planet being destroyed. So yes, Thrall did put the lives of billions over the lives of thousands, and the people who died have every right to resent him for it. But frankly the responsibility of warchief should never been forced upon such a young and broken man.

“He closed his eyes for a moment. handing over control of the Horde that he had founded was like entrusting the care of a loved child to another. What if something went wrong?

But something WAS going wrong. terribly wrong. Another would have to  lead the Horde for a time. He nodded his head once, firmly , and felt his soul and heart settle somewhat. Yes, this was the right thing do do. There was no longer a question of if he should go, or even when-as soon as possible. The only question that remained was to whom would he surrender care of this loved ‘child”

HIs first thought was Cairne. His oldest friend here in Kalimdor, Cairne and he thought alike on many things. He was wise and ruled his people well. But Thrall, like Cairne himself, knew there were those who thought him old fashioned and out of touch with what was needed. If there was slight unrest in the form of the Grimtotem in Cairne’s own city, then there would surely be unrest and murmuring if Thrall appointed an elderly tauren to lead the Horde now.

No, Cairne would definitely have a part to play, but it could not be as the role of leader. An orc would be better. One the people knew and liked already.

Thrall sighed deeply. The perfect choice was one he could not have-Saufang the Younger. Youthful, charismatic, and yet wise beyond his years, he had been the brightest star in the sky of Horde warriors before the Lich King had slain him. His father, though not quite broken, had been emotionally devastated by the recent events. Too, the orc was to old, as was Cairne, as was the deeply trusted Eitrigg. Thrall realized that there could only be one choice, and he made a sour expression.

There was only one who could do it. Only one who was young and vibrant, who was well known and loved, who was a warrior without equal. Only one who could on such short notice bring the disparate factions of the Horde together and keep their spirits high and proud.

A perfect Figurehead.

Thrall’s glower deepened. Yes, Garrosh was loved and a fine fighter, but he was also rash and impulsive. Thrall was about to deliver him the ultimate power. A word floated to his mind, “usurper”, but he did not truly believe such a thing would happen. Garrosh needed something to placate an ego as mammoth as his legend-an ego that Thrall now realized he might have unwittingly helped to inflate. He had been concerned when he learned that Garrosh despised his father, and had wanted to show the son of Gromm that Hellscream had done great good. But perhaps he might have made Grom look better than he was. If so , then the younger Hellscream’s arrogance might be, at least in part, due to Thrall himself. He had not been able to save Grom’s life; he had hoped to inspire and guide his son.

Still, Eitrigg would be there to temper Garrosh, as would Cairne, if Thrall asked it of his old friends. Thrall would not be gone long. Let Garrosh sit in his place temporarily in Grommash Hold, with Cairne and Eitrigg on either side. If the rumors were true, Garrosh had already tipped his hand with the ashenvale incident, and Thrall knew Cairne would sit on the orc before he’d let anything like that get by him, now that he knew to be watchful of it. There wouldnt be a lot that Garrosh could do, really, to harm the Horde and--thrall had to admit--there was much Garrosh COULD do to inspire it.

Their leader would be gone. They would be worried and afraid. Garrosh would remind them that they were proud and fierce and unconquerable, and the Horde would cheer and be content until Thrall returned with the real answers to the problems that besieged them. Calm the land, and all would have a chance to become better. Ignore the land, the elements, and no glorious victory in battle could ever make up for the disasters that would inevitably follow

Yes thrall made a mistake..because he isnt magic, cant see the future and , god forbid, had faith in someone. by the end of cataclysm Garrosh had already gone to far and couldnt simply ‘come back’ without political strife. He chose to have faith that while there would be political unrest and even war that it was inevitable. One of the primary themes around this is the fact that Thrall has been aware, in each book he’s in , that he is an outsider. raised by humans he doesnt have the mindset of his people. the reason the orcs loved Garrosh so much was because he pushed imperialist ideas like they loved. In this book he even tells jaina that his people are prone to violence and that when desperation comes they are more than willing to do so. As a child slave and someone who didnt grow up with parents he started to think that maybe it was wrong to try to force his ideas, those of an unorcish orc, on his orc people. Maybe it was wrong to just...let them be as savage as they want. but to be frank, i disagree. its unfair to ask one man to bear the burden of the violence and prejudice of millions of people. if the Horde, between the imperialist orcs, the prejudiced and haughty elves , and the plotting forsaken (or rather, sylvanas’s cult), if they Want so desperately to be free of Thrall, then he should give them what they want.

[grigori77]

2018 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 1)

30.  MANDY – easily the weirdest shit I saw in 2018, this 2-hour-plus fever dream fantasy horror is essentially an extended prog-rock video with added “plot” from Beyond the Black Rainbow director Panos Cosmatos. Saying that by the end of it I was left feeling exhausted, brain-fried and more than a little weirded-out might not seem like much of a recommendation, but this is, in fact, a truly transformative viewing experience, a film destined for MASSIVE future cult status. Playing like the twisted love-child of David Lynch and Don Coscarelli, it (sort of) tells the story of lumberjack Red Miller (Nicolas Cage) and his illustrator girlfriend Mandy Bloom (Andrea Riseborough), who have an idyllic life in the fantastically fictional Shadow Mountains circa 1983 … at least until Mandy catches the eye of Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache), the thoroughly insane leader of twisted doomsday cult the Children of the New Dawn, who employs nefarious, supernatural means to acquire her.  But Mandy spurns his advances, leading to a horrific retribution that spurs Red, a traumatised war veteran, to embark on a genuine roaring rampage of revenge.  Largely abandoning plot and motivation for mood, emotion and some seriously trippy visuals, this is an elemental, transcendental film, a series of deeply weird encounters and nightmarish set-pieces that fuel a harrowing descent into a particularly alien, Lovecraftian kind of hell, Cosmatos shepherding in one breathtaking sequence after another with the aid of skilled cinematographer Benjamin Loeb, a deeply inventive design team (clearly drawing inspiration from the artwork of late-70s/early 80s heavy metal albums) and a thoroughly tricked-out epic tone-poem of a score from the late Jôhan Jôhannsson (Sicario, Arrival, Mother!), as well as one seriously game cast.  Cage is definitely on crazy-mode here, initially playing things cool and internalised until the savage beast within is set loose by tragedy, chewing scenery to shreds like there’s no tomorrow, while Riseborough is sweet, gentle and inescapably DOOMED; Roach, meanwhile, is a thoroughly nasty piece of work, an entitled, delusional narcissist thoroughly convinced of his own massive cosmic importance, and there’s interesting support from a raft of talented character actors such as Richard Brake, Ned Dennehy and Bill Duke.  This is some brave, ambitious filmmaking, and a stunning breakthrough for one of the weirdest and most unique talents I’ve stumbled across a good while.  Cosmatos is definitely one to watch.

29.  THE GIRL IN THE SPIDER’S WEB – back in 2011, David Fincher’s adaptation of Stieg Larsson’s runaway bestseller The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo became one of my very favourite screen thrillers EVER, a stone-cold masterpiece and, in my opinion, the superior version of the story even though a very impression Swedish version had broken out in a major way the year before. My love for the film was coloured, however, by frustration at its cinematic underperformance, which meant that Fincher’s planned continuation of the series with Millennium Trilogy sequels The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest would likely never see the light of day. Even so, the fan in me held out hope, however fragile, that we might just get lucky.  Seven years later, we have FINALLY been rewarded for our patience, but not exactly in the fashion we’ve been hoping for … Fincher’s out, Evil Dead-remake and Don’t Breathe writer-director Fede Alvarez is in, and instead of continuing the saga in the logical place the makers of this new film chose the baffling route of a “soft reboot” via adapting the FOURTH Millennium book, notable for being the one released AFTER Larsson’s death, penned by David Lagercrantz, which is set AFTER the original Trilogy. Thing is, the actually end result, contrary to many opinions, is actually pretty impressive – this is a leaner, more fast-paced affair than its predecessor, a breathless suspense thriller that rattles along at quite a clip as we’re drawn deeper into Larsson’s dark, dangerous and deeply duplicitous world and treating fans to some top-notch action sequences, from a knuckle-whitening tech-savvy car chase to a desperate, bone-crunching fight in a gas-filled room.  Frustratingly, the “original” Lisbeth Salander, Rooney Mara, is absent (despite remaining VERY enthusiastic about returning to the role), but The Crown’s Claire Foy is almost as good – the spiky, acerbic and FIERCELY independent prodigious super-hacker remains as brooding, socially-awkward, emotionally complex and undeniably compelling as ever, the same queen of screen badasses I fell in love with nearly a decade ago.  Her investigative journalist friend/occasional lover Mikael Blomkvist is, annoyingly, less well served – Borg Vs McEnroe star Sverrir Gudnasson is charismatic and certainly easy on the eyes, but he’s FAR too young for the role (seriously, he’s only a week older than I am) and at times winds up getting relegated to passive observer status when he’s not there simply to guide the plot forward; we’re better served by the supporting cast, from Lakeith Stanfield (Get Out, Sorry to Bother You) as a mysterious NSA security expert (I know!) to another surprisingly serious turn (after Logan) from The Office’s Stephen Merchant as the reclusive software designer who created the world-changing computer program that spearheads the film’s convoluted plot, and there’s a fantastically icy performance from Blade Runner 2049’s Sylvia Hoeks as Camilla Salander, Lisbeth’s estranged twin sister and psychopathic head of the Spiders, the powerful criminal network once controlled by their monstrous father (The Hobbit’s Mikael Persbrandt).  The film is far from perfect – the plot kind runs away with the story at times, while several supposedly key characters are given frustratingly little development or screen-time – but Alvarez keeps things moving along with typical skill and precision and maintains a tense, unsettling atmosphere throughout, while there are frequently moments of pure genius on display in the script by Alvarez, his regular collaborator Jay Basu and acclaimed screenwriter Steven Knight (Dirty Pretty Things, Locke) – the original novel wasn’t really all that great, but by just taking the bare bones of the plot and crafting something new and original they’ve improved things considerably.  The finished product thrills and rewards far more than it frustrates, and leaves the series in good shape for continuation.  With a bit of luck this time it might do well enough that we’ll finally get those other two movies to plug the gap between this and Fincher’s “original” …

28.  ISLE OF DOGS – I am a MASSIVE fan of the films of Wes Anderson.  Three share placement in my all-time favourite screen comedies list – Grand Budapest Hotel, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and, of course, The Royal Tenebaums (which perches high up in my TOP TEN) – and it’s always a pleasure when a new one comes out.  2009’s singular stop-motion gem Fantastic Mr Fox showed just how much fun his uniquely quirky sense of humour and pleasingly skewed world-view could be when transferred into an animated family film setting, so it’s interesting that it took him nearly a decade to repeat the exercise, but the labour of love is writ large upon this dark and delicious fable of dystopian future Japanese city Megasaki, where an epidemic of “dog flu” prompts totalitarian Mayor Kobayashi (voiced by Kunichi Nomura) to issue an edict banishing all of the city’s canine residents to nearby Trash Island. Six months later, Kobayashi’s nephew Atari (newcomer Koyu Rankin) steals a ridiculously tiny plane and crash-lands on Trash Island, intent on rescuing his exiled bodyguard-dog Spots (Liev Schreiber); needless to say this is easier said than done, unforeseen circumstances leading a wounded Atari to enlist the help of a pack of badass “alpha dogs” voiced by Anderson regulars – Rex (Edward Norton), King (Bob Balaban), Boss (Bill Murray) and Duke (Jeff Goldblum) – and nominally led by crabby, unrepentantly bitey stray Chief (Bryan Cranston), to help him find his lost dog in the dangerous wilds of the island.  Needless to say this is as brilliantly odd as we’ve come to expect from Anderson, a perfectly pitched, richly flavoured concoction of razor sharp wit, meticulously crafted characters and immersive beauty.  The cast are, as always, excellent, from additional regulars such as Frances McDormand, Harvey Keitel and F. Murray Abraham to new voices like Greta Gerwig, Scarlett Johansson, Ken Watanabe and Courtney B. Vance, but the film’s true driving force is Cranston and Rankin, the reluctant but honest relationship that forms between Chief and Atari providing the story with a deep, resonant emotional core.  The first rate animation really helps – the exemplary stop-motion makes the already impressive art of Mr Fox seem clunky and rudimentary (think the first Wallace & Gromit short A Grand Day Out compared to their movie Curse of the Were-Rabbit), each character rendered with such skill they seem to be breathing on their own, and Anderson’s characteristic visual flair is on full display, the Japanese setting lending a rich, exotic tang to the compositions, especially in the deeply inventive environs of Trash Island.  Funny, evocative, heartfelt and fiendishly clever, this is one of those rare screen gems that deserves to be returned to again and again, and it’s definitely another masterpiece from one of the most unique filmmakers working today.

27.  VENOM – when Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man saga came to a rather clunky end back in 2007, it felt like a case of too many villains spoiling the rumble, and it was pretty clear that the inclusion of bad-boy reporter Eddie Brock and his dark alter ego was the straw that broke that particular camel’s back.  Venom didn’t even show up proper until almost three quarters of the way through the movie, by which time it was very much a case of too-little-too-late, and many fans (myself included) resented the decidedly Darth Maul-esque treatment of one of the most iconic members of Marvel’s rogues’ gallery.  It’s taken more than a decade for Marvel to redress the balance, even longer than with Deadpool, and, like with the Merc With a Mouth, they decided the only way was a no-holds-barred, R-rated take that could really let the beast loose. Has it worked?  Well … SORT OF.  In truth, the finished article feels like a bit of a throwback, recalling the pre-MCU days when superhero movies were more about pure entertainment without making us think too much, just good old-fashioned popcorn fodder, but in this case that’s not a bad thing.  It’s big, loud, dumb fun, hardly a masterpiece but it does its job admirably well, and it has one hell of a secret weapon at its disposal – Tom Hardy. PERFECTLY cast as morally ambiguous underdog investigative journalist Eddie Brock, he deploys the kind of endearingly sleazy, shit-eating charm that makes you root for him even when he acts like a monumental prick, while really letting rip with some seriously twitchy, sometimes downright FEROCIOUS unhinged craziness once he becomes the unwilling host for a sentient parasitic alien symbiote with a hunger for living flesh and a seriously bad attitude.  This is EASILY one of the best performances Hardy’s ever delivered, and he entrances us in every scene, whether understated or explosive, making even the most outlandish moments of Brock’s unconventional relationship with Venom seem, if not perfectly acceptable, then at least believable.  He’s ably supported by Michelle Williams as San Francisco district attorney Anne Weying, his increasingly exasperated ex-fiancée, Rogue One’s Riz Ahmed as Carlton Drake, the seemingly idealistic space-exploration-funding philanthropist whose darker ambitions have brought a lethal alien threat to Earth, and Parks & Recreation’s Jenny Slate as Drake’s conflicted head scientist Nora Skirth, while there’s a very fun cameo from a particularly famous face in the now ubiquitous mid-credits sting that promises great things in the future.  Director Ruben Fleischer brought us Zombieland and 30 Minutes Or Less, so he certainly knows how to deliver plenty of blackly comic belly laughs, and he brings plenty of seriously dark humour to the fore, the rating meaning the comedy can get particularly edgy once Venom starts to tear up the town; it also fulfils the Marvel prerequisite of taking its action quota seriously, delivering a series of robust set-pieces (the standout being a spectacular bike chase through the streets of San Fran, made even more memorable by the symbiote’s handy powers). Best of all, the film isn’t afraid to get genuinely scary with some seriously nasty alien-induced moments of icky body horror, captured by some strangely beautiful effects works that brings Venom and his ilk to vivid, terrifying life.  Flawed as it is, this is still HUGE fun, definitely one of the year’s biggest cinematic guilty pleasures, and I for one can’t wait to see more from the character in the near future, which, given what a massive success the film has already proven at the box office, seems an ironclad certainty.

26.  SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY – the second of Disney’s new phase of Star Wars movies to feature in the non-trilogy-based spinoff series had a rough time after its release – despite easily recouping its production budget, it still lost the $100-million+ it spent on advertising, while it was met with extremely mixed reviews and shunned by many hardcore fans.  I’ll admit that I too was initially disappointed with this second quasi prequel to A New Hope (after the MUCH more impressive Rogue One), but a second, more open-minded viewing after a few months to ruminate mellowed my experience considerably, the film significantly growing on me.  An origin story for the Galaxy’s most lovable rogue was always going to be a hard sell – Han Solo is an enjoyable enigma in The Original Trilogy, someone who lives very much in the present, his origins best revealed in the little details we glean about him in passing – but while it’s a flawed creation, this interstellar heist adventure mostly pulls off what was intended.  Like many fans of The Lego Movie, I remain deeply curious about what original director duo Phil Lord and Chris Miller could have achieved with the material, but I wholeheartedly approved Disney’s replacement choice when he was announced – Ron Howard is one of my favourite “hit-and-miss” directors, someone who’s made some clunkers in his time (The Da Vinci Code, we’re looking at you) but can, on a good day, be relied on to deliver something truly special (Willow is one of my VERY FAVOURITE movies from my childhood, one that’s stood up well to the test of time, and a strong comparison point for this; Apollo 13 and Rush, meanwhile, are undeniable MASTERPIECES), and in spite of its shortcomings I’m ultimately willing to consider this one of his successes. Another big step in the right direction was casting Hail, Caesar! star Alden Ehrenreich in the title role – Harrison Ford’s are seriously huge shoes to fill, but this talented young man has largely succeeded.  He may not quite capture that wonderful growling drawl but he definitely got Han’s cocky go-getter swagger right, he’s particularly strong in the film’s more humorous moments, and he has charisma to burn, so he sure makes entertaining viewing.  It also helps that the film has such a strong supporting cast – with original Chewbacca Peter Mayhew getting too old for all this derring-do nonsense, former pro basketball-player Joonas Suotamo gets a little more comfortable in his second gig (after The Last Jedi) in the “walking carpet” suit, while Woody Harrelson adds major star power as Tobias Beckett, Han’s likeably slippery mentor in all things criminal in the Star Wars Universe, and Game of Thrones’ Emilia Clarke is typically excellent as Han’s first love Qi’ra, a fellow Corellian street orphan who’s grown up into a sophisticated thief of MUCH higher calibre than her compatriots.  The film is dominated, however, by two particularly potent scene-stealing turns which make you wonder if it’s really focused on the right rogue’s story – Community star Donald Glover exceeds all expectations as Han’s old “friend” Lando Calrissian, every bit the laconic smoothie he was when he was played by Billy Dee Williams back in the day, while his droid companion L3-37 (voiced with flawless comic skill by British stage and sitcom actress Phoebe Waller-Bridge) frequently walks away with the film entirely, a weirdly flirty and lovably militant campaigner for droid rights whose antics cause a whole heap of trouble.  The main thing the film REALLY lacks is a decent villain – Paul Bettany’s oily kingpin Dryden Voss is distinctive enough to linger in the memory, but has criminally short screen-time and adds little real impact or threat to the main story, only emphasising the film’s gaping, Empire-shaped hole.  Even so, it’s still a ripping yarn, a breathlessly exciting and frequently VERY funny space-hopping crime caper that relishes that wonderful gritty, battered old tech vibe we’ve come to love throughout the series as a whole and certainly delivers on the action stakes – the vertigo-inducing train heist sequence is easily the film’s standout set-piece, but the opening chase and the long-touted Kessel Run impress too – it only flags in the frustrating and surprisingly sombre final act.  The end result still has the MAKINGS of a classic, and there’s no denying it’s also more enjoyable and deep-down SATISFYING than the first two films in George Lucas’ far more clunky Prequel Trilogy.  Rogue One remains the best of the new Star Wars movies so far, but this is nothing like the disappointment it’s been made out to be.

25.  AQUAMAN – the fortunes of the DC Extended Universe cinematic franchise continue to fluctuate – these films may be consistently successful at the box office, but they’re a decidedly mixed bag when it comes to their quality and critical opinion, and the misses still outweigh the hits.  Still, you can’t deny that when they DO do things right, they do them VERY right – 2017’s acclaimed Wonder Woman was a long-overdue validation for the studio, and they’ve got another winner on their hands with this bold, brash, VERY ballsy solo vehicle for one of the things that genuinely WORKED in the so-so Justice League movie.  Jason Momoa isn’t just muscular in the physical sense, once again proving seriously ripped in the performance capacity as he delivers rough, grizzled charm and earthy charisma as half-Atlantean Arthur Curry, called upon to try and win back the royal birthright he once gave up when his half-brother Prince Orm (Watchmen’s Patrick Wilson), ruler of Atlantis, embarks on a brutal quest to unite the seven underwater kingdoms under his command in order to wage war on the surface world.  Aquaman has long been something of an embarrassment for DC Comics, an unintentional “gay joke” endlessly derided by geeks (particularly cuttingly in the likes of The Big Bang Theory), but in Momoa’s capable hands that opinion has already started to shift, and the transition should be complete after this – Arthur Curry is now a swarthy, hard-drinking alpha male tempered with a compellingly relatable edge of deep-seeded vulnerability derived from the inherent tragedy of his origins and separation from the source of his immense superhuman strength, and he’s the perfect flawed action hero for this most epic of superhero blockbusters.  Amber Heard is frequently as domineering a presence as Atlantean princess Mera, a powerful warrior in her own right and fully capable of heading her own standalone adventure someday, and Wilson makes for a very solid and decidedly sympathetic villain whose own motivations can frequently be surprisingly seductive, even if his methods are a good deal more nefarious, while The Get Down’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II is more down-and-dirty BAD as David Kane, aka the Black Manta, a lethally tech-savvy pirate who has a major score to settle with the Aquaman; there’s also strong support from the likes of Willem Dafoe as Curry’s sage-like mentor Vulko, Dolph Lundgren as Mera’s father, King Nereus, the ever-reliable Temuera Morrison as Arthur’s father Thomas, and Nicole Kidman as his ill-fated mother Atlanna.  Director James Wan is best known for establishing horror franchises (Saw, Insidious, The Conjuring), but he showed he could do blockbuster action cinema with Fast & Furious 7, and he’s improved significantly with this, delivering one gigantic action sequence after another with consummate skill and flair as well as performing some magnificent and extremely elegant world-building, unveiling dazzling, opulent and exotic undersea civilizations that are the equal to the forests of Pandora in Avatar, but he also gets to let some of his darker impulses show here and there, particularly in a genuinely scary visit to the hellish world of the Trench and its monstrous denizens.  It may not be QUITE as impressive as Wonder Woman, and it still suffers (albeit only a little bit) from the seemingly inherent flaws of the DCEU franchise as a whole (particularly in yet another overblown CGI-cluttered climax), but this is still another big step back in the right direction, one which, once again, we can only hope they’ll continue to repeat.  I’ll admit that the next offering, Shazam, doesn’t fill me with much confidence, but you never know, it could surprise us.  And there’s still Flashpoint, The Batman and Birds of Prey to come …

24.  THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI – filmmaker brothers Martin and John Michael McDonagh have carved an impressive niche in cinematic comedy this past decade, from decidedly Irish breakout early works (In Bruges from Martin and The Guard and Calvary from John) to enjoyable outsider-looking-in American crim-coms (Martin’s Seven Psychopaths and John’s War On Everyone), and so far they’ve all had one thing in common – they’re all BRILLIANT.  But Martin looks set to be the first brother to be truly accepted into Hollywood Proper, with his latest feature garnering universal acclaim, massive box office and heavyweight Awards recognition, snagging an impressive SEVEN Oscar nominations and taking home two, as well as landing a Golden Globe and BAFTA for Best Picture.  It’s also the most thoroughly AMERICAN McDonagh film to date, and this is no bad thing, Martin shedding his decidedly Celtic flavours for an edgier Redneck charm that perfectly suits the material … but most important of all, from a purely critical point of view this could be the very BEST film either of the brothers has made to date.  It’s as blackly comic and dark-of-soul as we’d expect from the creator of In Bruges, but there’s real heart and tenderness hidden amongst the expletive-riddled, barbed razor wit and mercilessly observed, frequently lamentable character beats.  Frances McDormand thoroughly deserved her Oscar win for her magnificent performance as Mildred Hayes, a take-no-shit shopkeeper in the titular town whose unbridled grief over the brutal rape and murder of her daughter Angela (Kathryn Newton) has been exacerbated by the seeming inability of the local police force to solve the crime, leading her to hire the ongoing use of a trio of billboards laying the blame squarely at the feet of popular, long-standing local police Chief Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson). Needless to say this kicks up quite the shitstorm in the town, but Mildred stands resolute in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds, refusing to back down.  McDormand has never been better – Mildred is a foul-mouthed, opinionated harpy who tells it like it is, no matter who she’s talking to, but there’s understandable pain driving her actions, and a surprisingly tender heart beating under all that thorniness; Harrelson, meanwhile, is by turns a gruff shit-kicker and a gentle, doting family man, silently suffering over his own helplessness with the dead end the case seems to have turned into.  The film’s other Oscar-winner, Sam Rockwell, also delivers his finest performance to date as Officer Jason Dixon, a true disgrace of a cop whose permanent drunkenness has marred a career which, it turns out, began with some promise; he’s a thuggish force-of-nature, Mildred’s decidedly ineffectual nemesis whose own equally foul-mouthed honesty is set to dump him in trouble big time, but again there’s a deeply buried vein of well-meaning ambition under all the bigotry and pigheadedness we can’t help rooting for once it reveals itself.  There’s strong support from some serious heavyweights, particularly John Hawkes, Caleb Landry Jones, Peter Dinklage, Abbie Cornish and Manchester By the Sea’s breakout star Lucas Hedges, while McDonagh deserves every lick of acclaim and recognition he’s received for his precision-engineered screenplay, peerless direction and crisp, biting dialogue, crafting a jet black comedy nonetheless packed with so much emotional heft that it’ll have you laughing your arse off but crying your eyes out just as hard.  An honest, unapologetic winner, then.

23.  RED SPARROW – just when you thought we’d seen the last of the powerhouse blockbuster team of director Francis Lawrence and star Jennifer Lawrence with the end of The Hunger Games, they reunite for this far more adult literary feature, bringing Jason Matthews’ labyrinthine spy novel to bloody life.  Adapted by Revolutionary Road screenwriter Justin Haythe, it follows the journey of Russian star ballerina Dominika Egorova (Lawrence) into the shadowy world of post-Glasnost Russian Intelligence after an on-stage accident ruins her career.  Trained to use her body and mind to seduce her targets, Dominika becomes a “Sparrow”, dispatched to Budapest to entrap disgraced CIA operative Nate Nash (Joel Edgerton) and discover the identity of the deep cover double agent in Moscow he was forced to burn his own cover to protect.  But Dominika never wanted any of this, and she begins to plot her escape, no matter the risks … as we’ve come to expect, Jennifer Lawrence is magnificent, her glacial beauty concealing a fierce intelligence and deeply guarded desperation to get out, her innate sensuality rendered clinical by the raw, unflinching gratuity of her training and seduction scenes – this is a woman who uses ALL the weapons at her disposal to get what she needs, and it’s an icy professionalism that informs and somewhat forgives Lawrence’s relative lack of chemistry with Edgerton.  Not that it’s his fault – Nate is nearly as compelling a protagonist as Dominika, a roguish chancer whose impulsiveness could prove his undoing, but also makes him likeable and charming enough for us to root for him too.  Bullhead’s Matthias Schoenarts is on top form as the film’s nominal villain, Dominika’s uncle Ivan, the man who trapped her in this hell in the first place, Charlotte Rampling is beyond cold as the “Matron”, the cruel headmistress of the Sparrow School, Joely Richardson is probably the gentlest, purest ray of light in the film as Dominika’s ailing mother Nina, and Jeremy Irons radiates stately gravitas as high-ranking intelligence officer General Vladimir Andreievich Korchnoi.  This is a tightly-paced, piano wire-taut thriller with a suitably twisty plot that constantly wrong-foots the viewer, Lawrence the director again showing consummate skill at weaving flawlessly effective narrative with scenes of such unbearable tension you’ll find yourself perched on the edge of your seat throughout.  It’s a much less explosive film than we’re used to from him – most of the fireworks are of the acting variety – but there are moments when the tension snaps, always with bloody consequences, especially in the film’s standout sequence featuring a garrotte-driven interrogation that turns particularly messy.  The end result is a dark thriller of almost unbearable potency that you can’t take your eyes off.  Here’s hoping this isn’t the last time Lawrence & Lawrence work together …

22.  WIDOWS – Steve McQueen is one of the most challenging writer-directors working in Hollywood today, having exploded onto the scene with hard-hitting IRA-prison-biopic Hunger and subsequently adding to his solid cache of acclaimed works with Shame and 12 Years a Slave, but there’s a strong argument to be made that THIS is his best film to date. Co-adapted from a cult TV-series from British thriller queen Lynda La Plante by Gone Girl and Sharp Objects-author Gillian Flynn, it follows a group of women forced to band together to plan and execute a robbery in order to pay off the perceived debt incurred by their late husbands, who died trying to steal $2 million from Jamal Manning (If Beale Street Could Talk’s Brian Tyree Henry), a Chicago crime boss with ambitions to go legit as alderman of the city’s South Side Precinct.  Viola Davis dominates the film as Veronica Rawlings, the educated and fiercely independent wife of accomplished professional thief Harry (a small but potent turn from Liam Neeson), setting the screen alight with a barely restrained and searing portrayal of devastating grief and righteous anger, and is ably supported by a trio of equally overwhelming performances from Michelle Rodriguez as hard-pressed mother and small-businesswoman Linda Perelli, The Man From UNCLE’s Elizabeth Debicki as Alice Gunner, an abused widow struggling to find her place in the world now she’s been cut off from her only support-mechanism, and Bad Times At the El Royale’s Cynthia Eriyo as Belle, the tough, gutsy beautician/babysitter the trio enlist to help them once they realise they need a fourth member.  Henry is a deceptively subtle, thoroughly threatening presence throughout the film as Manning, as is Get Out’s Daniel Kaluuya as his thuggish brother/lieutenant Jatemme, and Colin Farrell is seemingly decent but ultimately fatally flawed as his direct political rival, reigning alderman Jack Mulligan, while there are uniformly excellent supporting turns from the likes of Robert Duvall, Carrie Coon, Lukas Haas, Jon Bernthal and Kevin J. O’Connor.  McQueen once again delivers an emotionally exhausting and effortlessly powerful tour-de-force, wringing out the maximum amount of feels from the loaded and deeply personal human interactions on display throughout, and once again proves just as effective at delivering on the emotional fireworks as he is in stirring our blood in some brutal set-pieces, while Flynn help to deliver another perfectly pitched, intricately crafted script packed with exquisite dialogue and shrewdly observed character work which is sure to net her some major wins come Awards season.  Unflinching and devastating but thoroughly exhilarating, this is an extraordinary film (and if this was a purely critical list it would surely have placed A LOT higher), thoroughly deserving of every bit of praise, attention and success it has and will go on to garner.  An absolute must-see.

21.  JURASSIC WORLD: FALLEN KINGDOM – Colin Trevorrow’s long-awaited 2015 Jurassic Park sequel was a major shot in the arm for a killer blockbuster franchise that had been somewhat flagging since Steven Spielberg brought dinosaurs back to life for the second time, but (edgier tone aside) it was not quite the full-on game-changer some thought it would be.  The fifth film, directed by J.A. Bayona (The Impossible, A Monster Calls) and written by Trevorrow and his regular script-partner Derek Connolly (Safety Not Guaranteed and JW, as well as Warner Bros’ recent “Monsterverse” landmark Kong: Skull Island), redresses the balance – while the first act of the film once again returns to the Costa Rican island of Isla Nublar, it’s become a very different environment from the one we’ve so far experienced, and a fiendish plot-twist means the film then takes a major swerve into MUCH darker territory than we’ve seen so far.  Giving away anything more does a disservice to the series’ most interesting story to date, needless to say this is EASILY the franchise’s strongest feature since the first, and definitely the scariest.  Hollywood’s most unusual everyman action hero, Chris Pratt, returns as raptor wrangler Owen Brady, enlisted to help rescue as many dinosaurs as possible from an impending, cataclysmic volcanic eruption, but in particular his deeply impressive trained raptor Blue, now the last of her kind; Bryce Dallas Howard is also back as former Jurassic World operations manager turned eco-campaigner Claire Dearing, and her His Girl Friday-style dynamic with Pratt’s Brady is brought to life with far greater success here, their chemistry far more convincing because Claire has become a much more well-rounded and believably tough lady, now pretty much his respective equal.  There are also strong supporting turns from the likes of Rafe Spall, The Get Down’s Justice Smith, The Vampire Diaries/The Originals’ breakout star Daniella Pineda, the incomparable Ted Levine (particularly memorable as scummy mercenary Ken Wheatley) and genuine screen legend James Cromwell, but as usual the film’s true stars are the dinosaurs themselves – it’s a real pleasure seeing Blue return because the last velociraptor was an absolute treat in Jurassic World, but she’s clearly met her match in this film’s new Big Bad, the Indoraptor, a lethally monstrous hybrid cooked up in Ingen’s labs as a living weapon.  Bayona cut his teeth on breakout feature The Orphanage, so he’s got major cred as an accomplished horror director, and he uses that impressive talent to great effect here, weaving an increasingly potent atmosphere of wire-taut dread and delivering some nerve-shredding set-pieces, particularly the intense and moody extended stalk-and-kill stretch that brings the final act to its knuckle-whitening climax.  It’s not just scary, though – there’s still plenty of that good old fashioned wonder and savage beauty we’ve come to expect from the series, and another hefty dose of that characteristic Spielbergian humour (Pratt in particular shines in another goofy, self-deprecating turn, while Smith steals many of the film’s biggest laughs as twitchy, out-of-his-comfort-zone tech wizard Franklin).  Throw in another stirring and epic John Williams-channelling score from Michael Giacchino and this is an all-round treat for the franchise faithful and blockbuster fans in general – EASILY the best shape the series has been in for some time, it shows HUGE promise for the future.

[stacks-reviews]

New Releases 10/17/17

Happy New Release Day! 

In Books --Nekogahara: Stray Cat Samurai Volume 3 by Hiroyuki Takei “Stray cat samurai Norachiyo wants nothing more than to leave his cruel past behind and live his nine lives in peace, but there are some cats he just can’t get off his tail. After joining forces with an unlikely duo—the son of a catnip drug lord and his fellow feline warrior-in-training—Norachiyo comes face-to-face with an old foe: Shiriya Abyhei, the malicious member of the secret police who’s been in pursuit of Norachiyo from the very start. Can the three samurai make it out with their tails intact, or is it purr-tains for them…?”

It is exactly what it sounds like: Samurai Cats. It is surprisingly violent. I enjoyed reading the first two volumes; though there was a moment in volume two that I wish I could forget and hope to never see again. But aside from that it feels like a cross between Lone Wolf and Cub and Samurai Champloo.

The main character is a stray who was once a ‘kept cat’ until the death of his master. All the characters are cats except for their masters who are referenced to as humans though no humans have yet to make an official appearance. And yes. There is much word play involved.

--Rat Queens Volume 4 by Kurtis J. Wiebe, illustrated by Owen Gieni “The Queens are back! Palisade is still a rat infested hell hole and the only hope of saving it are Violet, Hannah, Dee, Betty and the brand new Queen, Braga! It’s been a long time since they’ve done a good slaughter, so join them as they get back to the basics of killing monsters and drinking away the profits!”

The first full volume of the Rat Queens soft reboot with the new artist, Owen Gieni. The Rat Queens have returned to Palisade after the events in volume 3. There’s a new cult in town, Hannah’s father is currently crashing with the Queens and Violet’s brother stops in for a visit. 

I really enjoyed the new volume. If you haven’t checked out the series yet I would highly recommend you do. It’s a hilarious, violent, and just fantastic series.

--Tokyo Ghoul: re Volume 1 by Sui Ishida “The Commission of Counter Ghoul is the only organization fighting the Ghoul menace, and they will use every tool at their disposal to protect humanity from its ultimate predator. Their newest weapon in this hidden war is an experimental procedure that implants human investigators with a Ghoul’s Kagune, giving them Ghoul powers and abilities. But both the procedure and the newly formed Qs Squad are untested. Will they become heroes…or monsters?!

Haise Sasaki has been tasked with teaching Qs Squad how to be outstanding Investigators, but his assignment is complicated by the troublesome personalities of his subordinates and his own uncertain grasp of his Ghoul powers. Can he pull this ragtag group together as a team, or will Qs Squad’s first assignment be their last?”

The first volume of the second series and it’s a good start. I do have several questions which I’m sure will slowly be answered. Though right now I’m mainly wondering how much time has passed in the world. I’m guessing at least a few years. And what happened to everyone who was alive at the end of volume 14 of the first series. 

In Movies --Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle, Princess Mononoke, Kiki’s Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, and Ponyo. The first wave of the Studio Ghibli rereleases by GKids and Shout Factory. I’m pretty excited for these though I’m going to start with the ones I don’t own yet. In this wave that would be Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service, and Ponyo.

--American Gods S1 “Ex-convict Shadow Moon roams a world he doesn't understand, left adrift by the recent, tragic death of his wife. Little does he know his life is about to change after he meets a crafty, charismatic con man named Mr. Wednesday, who offers Shadow a job as his bodyguard. As their journey begins, Shadow encounters a hidden America where magic is real and fear grows over the ascending power of New Gods like Technology and Media. In a grand plan to combat the threat, Mr. Wednesday attempts to unite the Old Gods to defend their existence and rebuild the influence that they've lost, leaving Shadow struggling to accept this new world and his place in it.”

I still need to check out this show. I read the book in 2016, I think, so I was pretty happy to hear that it kept pretty close to the book. Though it did deviate later on. Though to be honest about the book. I was a little disappointed it in. I expected more. I really need to give it a reread sometime. I think I had its rep. built up pretty high so maybe next time I’ll like more.

--Hunter x Hunter P3 “Gon and Killua head to Heaven’s Arena to train the higher a fighter advances there, the tougher their opponents become! Moving up quickly, the two friends soon meet Zushi, who tells them about the power of Nen, and they begin training under his mentor, Wing, to harness their potential. But the duo hits a wall on the 200th floor of the tower their Nen-using foes are strong, and soon Gon is injured. Will Gon and Killua gain the strength they need to advance further?”

Episodes 27-50 of Hunter x Hunter. It covers all of the Heaven’s Arena arc and part of or half of the Phantom Troupe arc. I’ve really been enjoying this series though I’ve only seen a few episodes past where P3 ends. As with the first and second parts if you order from Rightstuf it comes with a replica of the Hunter License. Though this one looks similar to the one that comes with the second part. The first part license has a different look than both of them.

--Samurai Jack S5 and the complete series box set “Long ago in a distant land, I, Aku, the shape shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil. But a foolish samurai warrior wielding a magic sword stepped forth to oppose me. Before the final blow was struck, I tore open a portal in time, and flung him into the future where my evil is law. Now the fool seeks to return to the past and undo the future that is Aku.”

The final season of the hit series Samurai Jack. I deeply regret not watching this show when it first aired. I caught a few episodes here and there but just didn’t fall into it. I did start watching it on Netflix, at least until it disappeared, and understood just how good it is. 

--Spider-Man Homecoming “Peter Parker balances his life as an ordinary high school student in Queens with his superhero alter-ego Spider-Man, and finds himself on the trail of a new menace prowling the skies of New York City.”

A pretty enjoyable Spidey standalone film. Peter and Ned are just so pure, we must protect them. I am really happy that Tony was kept out of the limelight, giving most of the screen time to Spider-man.

In Video Games --South Park: The  Fractured but Whole “In the quiet mountain town of South Park, darkness has spread across the land. An entire squad of superheroes will rise to combat this evil, led by a nocturnal scavenger sworn to clean the trash can of South Park society.”

I still need to play The Stick of Truth. It’s been on my list for a while but I haven’t picked it up yet. Still trying to cut back on some of my game purchases until I can beat some of my other games I haven’t even started yet. I will probably pick up this one sometime soon, soon-ish, since it comes with a free download of The Stick of Truth. Or at least it did. I’m not positive if that was for all copies; now and future, or just when it first came out.

[heroesandvillainsofmbti]

ENFJ: Dukat, “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”

ENFJ – the Giver, the Mentor, the Believer

I’ve no idea if it says anything about the franchise that the biggest nemeses in two different Star Treks are ENFJs. Even TNG had Lore, the ENFJ cult leader. Seems like Star Trek may have a running theme about the dangers of following crazed, charismatic leaders with big but empty promises.

(P.S. I feel really gross using my cheesy terms like “Believer” and “The Garden Fountain” for someone like Dukat, but that’s the format.)

Dominant Function: (Fe) Extraverted Feeling, “The Garden Fountain”

Gul Dukat needs to be loved. We all do, of course. Dukat, however, lives and breathes off the adoration, honor, praise, and hero-worship of others—which he never gets.

Back when he was made Prefect of Bajor during the Occupation, Dukat believed a gentler approach was needed. He enacted policies to ease the burden on labor camp workers, but strangely, the Bajorans failed to show appreciation for his compassion. They seemed to dislike being occupied by an invading force no matter how nice he was about it. They continued to resist him, and Dukat felt compelled to strike back and punish their ingratitude.

This cycle describes much of Dukat’s life and career. He wants to lead, but when his subjects or fellow leaders don’t like him, he struggles. He either overcompensates and looks desperate, or lashes out and becomes the angry tyrant he claims not to be.

Dukat is ready to kill Ziyal, his secret half-Bajoran daughter with a Bajoran woman, to preserve his reputation in the Union. He makes a hard choice to keep her alive and accept the disgrace, and then spends the rest of her short life trying to make sure she knows him as a good man. She falls for it (largely, I believe, because she is an ENFJ as well, as least in her final incarnation), and when she’s killed, Dukat loses the last attachment he had to any kind of innocence.

Nevertheless, Dukat is a skilled orator who can see which way the political wind is blowing and talk his way into positions of influence and power. He works his way up from disgrace as the Prefect of Bajor, then again after the reveal of Ziyal, this time masterminding Cardassia’s alliance with the Dominion. He gives fantastically inspiring speeches to the Cardassian people, promising a return to greatness and a purifying of the Union from the presence of its enemies.

And when that role fails him, he appoints himself leader of a cult of gullible Bajorans in the ways of the Pah-wraiths. His final con finds him seducing the Kai herself into believing he’s a simple Bajoran farmer, leading her down his dark path with flattery and appeals to her ego. The two Fe-doms decide that Bajor is worthy of neither of them, and must be destroyed.

Dukat gets exactly nowhere trying to seduce the two Fi-dom leaders of DS9. He makes continued creepy advances on Kira, hoping to win her heart, but she resists (especially when he reveals that he had a relationship with her mother, which makes him more attracted to her and her more disgusted by him). He straight up kidnaps a wounded Captain Sisko and pretends to care for him on a deserted planet, hoping that Sisko will finally see how wonderful a person he is; but Sisko isn’t having it, ultimately deciding that there is nothing redeemable at all about the man.

Auxiliary Function: (Ni) Introverted Intuition, “The Labyrinth”

Dukat survives despite repeated failure thanks to his ability to see a way forward in any situation. No matter how far he falls, Dukat has a vision to climb back to power—crusading against rogue Klingons in order to avenge the honor of Cardassia, or allying the Union with the Dominion, which temporarily makes him the leader of one of the greatest powers in the Quadrant. He believes in the superiority of the Cardassian people, and their sovereign right to rule the galaxy, which justifies any decision he makes that causes harm or distress to inferior races like the Bajorans.

He’s completely deluded about his own importance, idealizing all his actions into a mythology of a great man unappreciated in his time. Any criticism that cuts at that vision makes him defensive and angry. While his foresight can sometimes make him a canny political strategist, his overconfidence can also blind him to his enemy’s moves—for instance, when he’s stranded on DS9 by a security program left there by his superiors, who distrusted his loyalty.

Dukat’s final ploy involves following the path of the Pah-wraiths, the devils of Bajoran religion, in an ultimate grab for cosmic power.

Tertiary Function: (Se) Extraverted Intuition, “The Kitchens”

Dukat’s Se sometimes leads to him running through aggressive loop behavior, enacting more extreme measures and harsh punishments to gain control of his image. He can make ruthless decisions in the moment, and fight his way out of a corner. Despite being a devoted husband and father, he enjoys the company of Bajoran comfort women, which leads to his affair with Kira’s mother and his illegitimate daughter. He’s wily and quick, and survives no less than five assassination attempts during his tenure as Prefect of Bajor.

Inferior Function: (Ti) Introverted Thinking, “The Laboratory”

Like all Cardassians, Dukat was raised with strict mental discipline, and can even resist the intrusion of a Vulcan mind meld. That said, he lacks the ability to examine his obsessions critically, and melts down rather quickly when robbed of his goals. After Ziyal is killed, he loses his mind and can no longer function as anything but a purely emotional, rage-driven creature.

His biggest personal breakthrough is to realize at last that the Bajoran people will never love him. He decides they are weak, inferior creatures who don’t deserve his love. It’s their fault—and Sisko’s, and Kira’s, and everyone else’s—for not understanding him.

Dukat enacts a plan to wipe out Bajor, eventually ending up defeated by Sisko and knocked into some sort of cosmic hellscape, where he no doubt spends eternity blaming everyone in the galaxy for his failures.

[wknc881]

ALBUM REVIEW: BLACK FLAG- My War

BEST TRACKS: My War, Beat My Head Against a Wall, Nothing Left Inside, Scream

  Though Black Flag was already a widely popular west-coast punk band with an affinity for harder, faster, and more experimental music than virtually any of their contemporaries, it was the addition of Henry Rollins that defined the band’s distinct sonic and aesthetic composition.  “Damaged”, the first album with Rollins as frontman, was simultaneously one of the first definitively “hardcore” punk records ever created and the inception of the young movement’s most charismatic frontman. For these first few years at the turn of the decade (“Damaged” was released 1981), Black Flag echoed other hardcore pioneers such as Minor Threat in their rampaged delivery of staccatoed screams under the banner of a disciplined, straight-edge lifestyle.  But just as Minor Threat disbanded in 1983 amid founder Ian McKaye’s realization that playing incredibly fast and loud was limiting, Black Flag was forced to reflect on how the band could move forward without relying solely on uber-aggression (which was becoming increasingly violent). The result: Black Flag became an art punk band. Well, I guess that’s not fair to say. Black Flag was actually always known for their intricate posters and album covers designed by Raymond Pettibond, and they had always demanded that their listeners take their music more seriously than some of LAs earlier punk bands which had become incredibly silly by the end of the 1970s.  But when faced with the crossroads brought on by the end of basic hardcore punk, two distinct voices emerged within Black Flag. Greg Ginn, the guitarist, founder, and only consistent member of the group began experimenting with free jazz and doom metal in what became the invention of the classic “anti-solo”, and Rollins began his descent into poetry and spoken word performance of bleak, basic lyrics hinged on frustration and alienation. Unsurprisingly, the two ended up tearing the band apart with their separate aggro-insistences on the future of alternative music, but the albums that were released prior to this inevitable fracture are some of the most interesting and crucial in any punk library.  And nowhere is that more clear than on “My War”, the punk rock equivalent of Johnny Marr and Morrissey dueling with their equally insufferable voices and somehow creating a musical texture unlike anything else. Ginn and Rollins are rarely in step together, their ideas flowing out from vastly different channels. But, somehow, as if a flash of congruency lined up beneath the band for the recording of the album, “My War” is Black Flag’s magnum opus.

  California’s most important contribution to punk rock was birthed in 1976 by father Greg Ginn, in the vein of typical influences like the Stooges, MC5, and, of course, the Ramones.  Ginn’s role as the band’s guitarist and primary creative force meant that there was more of a focus on what Ginn could make his guitar do rather than having it purposefully act as the simple engine for pounding aggression. Ginn quickly established his new band, freshly named “Black Flag” (“Panic” was taken) as distinct from punk contemporaries in the sheer work ethic he required from every member of the band.  While this was partially a conscious effort to avoid the excess which killed off many members of punk’s first wave, this work ethic was also necessitated by LA’s lack of (figurative) underground infrastructure. With no punk-friendly clubs or distribution avenues, Black Flag created America’s most impressive DIY music network. As Ginn boasted a plethora of posters advertising each performance (a minimum of 500), self-booked shows at picnics, schools, and abandoned warehouses, a list of punk-friendly fans who could host the band to stay the night, and a comprehensive map of every all-you-can-eat buffet in within their touring scope, Black Flag as an entity required its members to commit every fiber of their being to punk rock.  And it paid off. Fans all over the country were enamored with what was then the least compromising sound or image of any other American band, and Black Flag’s cult status propelled them to underground stardom sans support from anything that even resembled mainstream music institutions. That’s where Henry Rollins comes in. In 1980, when Ginn’s rotating array of vocalists signaled that it was time to find the newest iteration of Flag’s frontman, Washington D.C. superfan, and Haagen-Daz manager Henry Rollins was tapped to join the band. Packing up his custom-built muscle T-shirt and nothing else, Rollins moved to California so the band could record “Damaged”. The shaved-head muscle bound Rollins was visually antithetical to everything that punk initially promised, in his ratty jeans and vocal abstention from anything vice-related.  But he soon embodied what would become “hardcore punk”. Their second full-length album instantly cemented them among the Gods of the movement’s newest wave with acts like Bad Brains and Minor Threat (led by Rollins’ DC friend Ian MacKaye). The reliance on pure, inflamed rebellion proved unsustainable, though, and rather than become irrelevant or force off their wheels, Black Flag turned to more experimental sounds and, well, lifestyles. While Ginn remained relatively the same whip cracking band leader (albeit with a little more interest in avant-garde jazz), Rollins began his transformation into his most unbearable form. Often performing in just his boxers, Rollins insisted on opening ‘83 and ‘84 era performances with lengthy readings from his journal. He was visibly larger, becoming a devout bodybuilder and frequent aggravator of crowd violence. He would carry around a pool ball that he would grind in his palm for nearly an hour before the set started, staring down the crowd with an ever-more concerning insistence on brute masculinity.  He and Ginn grew their hair out, alienating them from the classic Black Flag skinhead fan base. They no longer committed themselves to hectic live performances focused on pure energy, but would rather let the audience stew in silence while Rollins prowled in near nudity. At the time, it was confusing. And “My War” was the final nail in the coffin which forever broke Black Flag from standard hardcore. The album’s slowed down, meandering, tempo-shifting landscape was hated by fans of the original straight edge scene. However, despite an inevitable backlash brought on by the band’s abrupt shift to more experimental and brooding tones, it is this experimentation and willingness to break from a sound which they helped originally establish for the sake of artistic integrity that makes “My War” Black Flag’s most daring and interesting album.

  It’s fair to point out that not every song on “My War” was destined to be placed on a Black Flag greatest hits compilation.  The titular song was a pretty standard Flag romp, with Ginn’s classic mid-drenched overdrive pulverizing a single riff while Rollins peeled his throat to paranoia drenched lyrics like “My War/You’re one of them, you said that you’re my friend/ but you’re one of them.” So, immediately, the greasy shaved head fans of the band’s earlier material were at least momentarily satisfied.  Though the intro may have deviated slightly from “Damaged” era speed-power just because it acted as a pressure build to elevate Rollins’ eventually shriek, it supplemented the breakneck pace of the rest of the song quite well. Great, so this is Black Flag’s new sound? Skinheads could handle their violent tempos occasionally coupled with a dissonant platform for Rollins to thrive if that’s what they needed. But after the album’s titular track, songs begin to drift further from any resemblance of original hardcore punk.  “Beat My Head Against the Wall” is a bizarre combination of classic Sex Pistols abrasion, pop music, and experimental west-coast noise bands like Flipper. Adopting doom-metal tempo shifts, the song shifts between Rollins screaming about ramming his head on a wall before switching to a sugar-coated pop chorus garnished with a heavy Ginn line, before switching again to a blisteringly dissonant free-jazz guitar solo and then leading into a final sludgy riff to end the song. In a span of two minutes, Black Flag recorded what is probably the worst song I’ve ever heard in my life.  But it’s genius. Once the initial disgust has worn off, it becomes evident that to remain relevant within a molting scene, Black Flag was forced to continually subvert expectations even within punk rock etiquette. The result is almost unlistenable at its worst but thought-provoking when it gets it right. And “My War” gets this formula right more so than any other late-stage Flag album. “Nothing Left Inside” is a seven minute, doom metal march of a song where Ginn does his best Black Sabbath meets Miles Davis impression as Rollins groans endlessly of self-hatred and agony. “Scream” takes “Nothing Left Inside” a step farther and, while still relying on slow methodical drum patterns and punk jazz heaviness, features Rollins literally screaming and croaking for seven minutes straight.  If you were to judge punk rock strictly off of how distant it drifted from the Ramones, then Black Flag would certainly be disqualified by this point. But “My War” has the sheer ability to drive every person who listens to it up a wall, something that no other genre drives to do.

  In the years following “My War”, Black Flag released three more studio albums before calling it quits.  By the end of the legendary Punk band’s demise, Rollins had become drowned in his own ego, forcing too much conflict with Ginn’s long-established control freak attitude.  “Family Man”, “Loose Nut”, and “In My Head” all contained the warring personalities which first butted heads on “My War”, but each suffered more from a bitter disconnect.  “My War” might be an accident in its beauty, but hardcore punk’s transition into darker and weirder territories has never been exposed in its naked horror more than on this Black Flag classic.

- Cliff Jenkins 

[anthonybialy]

Big Jerk, Bigger Country

The country is bigger than the president. The last two pompous dopes to hold the job prove it. I should apologize for insolently suggesting that election results are not determined by divine right. Yet I'm skeptical enough to think the person who makes it to the top in Washington is not only no better than the rest but also a phony suck-up. If you seek confirmation, check who's won.

Those we let be in charge tend to be as crummy as the average human with the additional charming aspect of messianic arrogance. Take the present and previous presidents, who have more in common than they'd care to admit. Each has accomplished much if getting factions to blindly follow counts, which it does not. At least one of the two is not the savior by definition, so we better worship neither to be safe.

It's hard to sign bills while running a cult. Both the current executive and his predecessor combine to spend more time in charge of their fan clubs than the government. I blame democracy. It's our fault leaders suck, and that's no fun. The devotion to severely flawed politicians is a worse reflection on the zealous zombies than their leaders, although the heads are as diseased. Whatever the guy I voted for does is right, according to those who are really into representative democracy. Pouting leaders must be thriving at consensus if they expect wholesale allegiance.

Decreeing by whim is a true sign of loving America. The rules are all written down, you know. The most prominent elected official ought to at least skim the document. Strolling to the Archives would be a good way to get fresh air after a stressful day. A true leader would reduce his burden by discovering he's not supposed to be doing this much work. Tap on the nuclear suitcase whenever in a room with foreign leaders to remind them who's not to be messed with, and let the economy purr on its own.

But presidents who think they can will prosperity into existence set poor examples. Look how much both Barack Obama and Donald Trump have made off crummy books to see why they misunderstand how wealth is created. I blame anyone who bought a horrendous copy by either for enabling. Did you not know there are other tomes available? Including ones that don't have presidential titles like Think Big and Kick Ass?

Happiness needs to be commanded into existence. Executive orders are for wannabe strongmen who can't get the legislature to agree. If recent presidents were as charismatic as they believed, they should be able to attract congressional votes.

Two men whose respective egos are wrapped up in claims they can get puny humans to bend to their wills sure get frustrated easily. Different methods don't conceal identical strategies. One used ingratiating charm with the other relying on slimy browbeating, but both view themselves as rulers elected by fate to save us riffraff.

It might be more convincing if they had better ideas. Both Obama and the followup act see government as the solution to the problem of life. Trump has retained much of what was installed by the pushy guy who last held the job, which is part of his effective fearless outsider shtick. We're still going to be sunk by Social Security if you were looking forward to enjoying retirement.

Things are still fine. Sort of. I mean, we'd be evicted if we had the government's credit rating, and the same spendthrift putzes extend control over lives they think they're qualified to run, namely everyone else's. But a secret sect of underground Americans are still ticked off about being hassled.

The fact we’re not defined by who was voted to the most obnoxious office is a blessing. Some ingrates stubbornly refuse to treat it as such. Properly loathing the president would require admitting politics shouldn’t dominate our lives, which would be an intolerable admission for a disturbingly large percentage of our fellow citizens.

Quit acting like we're being bossed around by a royal no matter the party. Ending a childish argument would be a good start. Noting Trump is “Your president” is a classy taunt reflective of the times. Sure, those who deny the claim are as petulant as Spike Lee after not winning an Oscar. But the opposite is also untrue in a sign that contemporary binary thinking leads to two rotten choices.

Those proud to claim any president as their own personal governmental savior are truly a credit to independence. Stop seeing the executive as the person in charge of your life or the country. The bumbling jerk occupying the chair is the head of state in a deliberately divided government. Conflating said government with the country presumes America's power lies with what we're told to do. The genuflection toward coercion is a particularly noxious belief for those who claim to be opposed to federal overreach. Silly orders don't become okay if you voted for the person issuing them.

[doctorwhonews]

Torchwood: Believe (Big Finish)

Latest Review: Writer: Guy Adams Director: Scott Handcock Featuring:John Barrowman, Gareth David-Lloyd, Eve Myles, Naoko Mori, Burn Gorman, Arthur Darvill Big Finish Release (United Kingdom) Running Time: 3 hours Released by Big Finish Productions - April 2018 Order from Amazon UK "We're responsible for everything we do, Val. Every book you've written for money that tells people what to think, every DVD you've produced for money that tells people what to change about their lives. Every speech, every assembly, every word - you don't get to do that and shrug away the responsibility." Upon learning of Big Finish’s successful acquisition of the Torchwood licence back in 2015, fans the world over – this reviewer included – immediately began drafting their personal wish-lists for the franchise’s impending audio continuation. What happened next after Miracle Day? Could Owen and / or Tosh return to the fold despite their demises in 2008’s “Exit Wounds”? Was it time to learn the fabled secrets of Torchwood Two? And no, seriously, when were we moving on from Miracle Day so as to get that failed US soft reboot’s sour taste out of our palettes? Perhaps the most pressing point on the agenda, however, was just how swiftly the studio could reunite Captain Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper for any lost missions beyond those we witnessed on-screen in Seasons One and Two. Well, we’ve waited three years – the Owen-less 10th anniversary celebration The Torchwood Archive notwithstanding – to discover the answer, but it comes in the form of perhaps the range’s most satisfying boxset to date, Torchwood: Believe. Isolating his latest scripts from both the sinister activities of the Committee in Big Finish’s monthly releases and Cardiff’s present apocalyptic state in Aliens Among Us proves a genuine masterstroke on Guy Adams’ part. Rather than forcing newcomers enticed by the return of all five Torchwood Three members to hit pause and purchase past releases in order to decipher what’s occurring here, the regular range contributor delivers a totally standalone affair, albeit one which still packs no shortage of emotional punches thanks to further exploring many thematic and character strands first established in the original show. Part of what makes this approach so successful from the outset is how comfortably familiar Believe’s opening moments will seem to those fans who’ve followed the show in all its forms since Day One (episodic pun fully intended). At first, we’re presented with a run-of-the-mill debrief led by Owen into the ongoing exploits of the Church of the Outsiders, a seemingly innocuous religious cult whose efforts to hasten humanity’s ascent to meet – and interbreeding with – alien species include stealing classified UNIT data, dabbling in illegal cyber augmentation as well as setting up their own TV channel, community centres and full-fledged indoctrinatory academy. It’s a quintessential sequence that feels ripped straight out of the TV show, with each cast member helping to remind us of the lead ensemble’s witty rapport: Owen (Gorman) righteously assured of his every move’s necessity, Toshiko (Mori)’s reserved tendency to serve as the voice of reason, Ianto (David-Lloyd)’s still-growing confidence within the team dynamic, Gwen (Myles)’s often gung-ho attitude tempered by the personal grounding that she brings to the agency and Jack (Barrowman) as enigmatic as he is charismatic. So far so Torchwood, then? Clearly, we’re in for three hours’ worth of Avengers: Infinity War-style crossover banter, right? Not exactly. As Adams and producer James Goss accurately highlighted in the midst of Believe’s pre-release marketing campaign, the show – in its on-screen incarnation – would often split up the team to achieve different goals within the context of the wider mission, thereby allowing time to explore how each character’s individual passions and flaws affected their outlook on increasingly hostile situations. Indeed, the same rings true here as Ianto pairs himself with one of the Church’s devoted disciples to further investigate their goals, Tosh pursues the sect’s resident accountant Frank Layton (brought to life with self-titled and loathsomely complacent aplomb by ex-Doctor Who companion Arthur Darvill) and Gwen meets Church leader Val’s introverted daughter Andromeda, all while Owen oversees operations from the Hub and Jack heads off to pastures unknown. Yet to simply describe Believe as but a scattershot collection of plot threads which eventually converge would severely undermine the scale of Adams’ achievement, not least in challenging each member of the team with dilemmas the likes of which they’ve arguably never faced before. The Church’s interstellar ambitions resonate in extremely different ways for each of our protagonists, with Jack for instance earnestly admitting his yearning to travel the stars as he once did with the Doctor, Ianto – as with The Last Beacon in April – once again forced to consider whether his ties with Torchwood Three threaten to rob him of any soul, hope or life meaning, and most notably the show’s beloved unrequited romance between Owen and Tosh taking the most disturbing detour imaginable. For make no mistake, the scribe who showed us Suzie’s darkest inhibitions in Moving Target and took Gwen on a high-octane car chase with her local counsellor in More Than This has no qualms about taking further bold risks this time around either. Much as Gorman and Mori looked overjoyed to reunite their wayward almost-lovers when posting about their recording experiences on Twitter, the pair – both as actors and characters – are put through the dramatic ringer and then some here, Tosh’s efforts to extract any key intel possible from Layton about his supposedly selfless church-turned-charity soon developing into Children of Earth-level territory which could uproot her budding romantic tension with Mr. Harper forever. Think of a fall from grace on the scale of a Greek tragedy and you'll only just scratch the surface what's in store, as one of the pair colossally oversteps their reach to devastating effect. Thank goodness, then, that both stars knock the ball out of the metaphorical park with captivating, psychologically intricate and often downright heartbreaking performances. We’ll avoid spoilers here for the sake of preserving your listening experience, save for that the Tosh-Layton storyline builds to an extremely unsettling crescendo, to a place where this reviewer isn’t entirely sure even the TV show would’ve dared to tread on BBC One / Two / Three. Heck, Big Finish themselves rarely tend to stray into territory as macabre as this, barring some of their early Doctor Who Main Release excursions like Colditz or the Doctor Who: Unbound range, but when the results are so painstakingly powerful and haunting as this, one almost wishes that they’d take the leap of faith more often. Such narrative ambition on Adams’ part doesn’t end there – it pervades Believe on a conceptual level as well. Ever since juggling verbose duck companions with religious satire in The Holy Terror, Big Finish have shown their complete willingness to interrogate faith, its cathartic and chaos-inducing consequences for its followers / opponents, as well as whether anyone has the right to brazenly dispel theistic beliefs. Believe takes this contemplation to another level altogether, as Jack’s met with the profound existential dilemma of knowing that the Church’s desire to have humanity mingle with aliens will eventually come to pass, while Owen considers whether he’s fuelling the mission out of mere ego or indignation at religious groups’ naivety surrounding the afterlife, and Ianto undergoes an epiphany surrounding that aforementioned intervention by Torchwood into the beliefs of others without any consideration for the victims left behind come the mission’s denouement. Rhian Blundell's superb work as Ianto's endearingly sincere and passionate guide Erin helps immeasurably in the latter regard, with her and David-Lloyd's characters striking up a quaint college romance of sorts that won't fail to take even the biggest Jones-Harkness shippers off guard. Two questions might justifiably have occurred to readers of this review by now: why didn’t Torchwood Season Two’s final episodes make mention of these character moments if they’re so pivotal, and where does the inevitable alien antagonist factor into processes? Let’s tackle those in linear order – unlike Believe’s refreshingly non-linear structure, with Episode 1 in particular zipping cleverly between Owen’s initial debrief and each teammate’s consequent mission. Considering that Adams’ exemplary three-part tale situates itself explicitly between the events of “A Day in the Death” and “Fragments”, that it’s so intent on progressing arguably unresolved threads from the show such as the extents of Tosh’s loyalty, Ianto’s increasingly challenged worldview and Jack’s tendency to withhold the truth even from his comrades might stretch the credibility of its status as a ‘canonical’ in-between-quel for some. Nevertheless, just as some of Big Finish’s finest Who productions took slight liberties with continuity in the name of ambitious storytelling, so too does Believe admirably follow that route so as to truly test our perceptions of these evolving characters in fascinating, often remarkably unsettling ways. That also brings us onto its aforementioned extraterrestrial presence – again, staying clear of spoilers, Torchwood’s finest hours frequently arose from dealing with the worst of humanity rather than alien foes, which affords Adams the creative licence here to pit the team against fallible but equally rational members of their species whose sympathetic motivations only further the personal stakes for both factions. So in spite of bringing together the Famous Five as well as temporarily restoring classic elements from the show such as the fully-operational Hub and – of course – the SUV, Torchwood: Believe fast cements itself as anything but your average all-guns-blazing detective drama. There’s no denying that its audacious character arcs, unspeakably heartrending performances from Gorman and Mori, and realistic shades of moral greyness will result in a challenging listening experience for long-term fans, but those elements also set the boxset apart as an awards-worthy tour de force in truly provocative science-fiction. Between the masterful Beacon and the game-changing Believe, 2018 could be the year where everything changes for Big Finish’s Torchwood range; if that’s the case, then one thing’s for sure – Guy Adams and his entire lead cast are ready. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2018/05/torchwood_believe_big_finish.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr