Free Your Mind?

I feel awful for writing this. My life experience is complicated, and I don’t need another target on my back. But I’ve never been good at hiding my true feelings about anything. And so, I’ve decided to shoot my credibility in the foot. It’s time for the big grenade:

I don’t think The Matrix: Resurrections is a good movie.

To be fair, I don’t think it’s bad either. There’s real sincerity in the writing and directing, and its dialogue is even better than the films that preceded it. I also like how the characters sound like real people now, as opposed to computers emulating human speech. This is something the original movie, for all its strengths, couldn’t nail. But enough of that.

Let’s address several claims in defence of this movie that I think are “bullshit”:

“Anyone who doesn’t like this movie is transphobic!”

No.

I’m sorry, but that’s not how this works. Plenty of minority/marginalized artists have made bad films. Steven Spielberg, a Jewish man, directed Hook. Joel Schumacher, a gay, Jewish man, directed Batman and Robin. Even Chloé Zhao, who’s Chinese, gave us Eternals. Being a minority doesn’t mean everything you’ve made is good. Saying otherwise is tokenism.

“Anyone who prefers Free Guy is transphobic!”

I assume this is a reference to YouTuber Jeremy Jahns. And, again, that’s not how this works. Film is subjective, and Free Guy, a movie about self-actualization in a system that oppresses and regiments your life, being “better” than The Matrix: Resurrections to one person isn’t a damning indictment of him. Nor is it be a damning indictment of anyone else. Also, I agree with him.

“You’re only hating on this movie because it’s cool!”

Seriously? Not only did I acknowledge that I don’t think this movie’s bad, you don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve gone through over my own identity. Saying I’m a band-wagoner is, therefore, dishonest and demeaning. It also ignores how this movie has flaws that aren’t being addressed.

“The action in this movie is supposed to be subpar!”

Remember how The Matrix brought on a martial arts choreographer for its fights? He’s not present here, but that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have done the same for this movie. Lana Wachowski has enough credibility at Warner Bros. that she could’ve easily hired one. But ignoring that, calling an action movie “bad” as a defence is a serious self-own. You’d think that’d be obvious…right?

“The meta-textual references are a deliberate jab at studio cynicism and the excesses of modern Hollywood!”

Cool! They’re also annoying. While I appreciate the gutsiness of calling out studio higher-ups for restricting creativity, especially since this was-allegedly-going to happen regardless, I’ll be honest when I say that The LEGO Movie already did that in 2014. It also did it better. But who am I to judge?

Okay, now for the meat and potatoes!

I understand why this movie means a lot to so many people. A lot has happened since 1999, and the original allegory of The Matrix has been coopted by toxic individuals since then. I even pointed this out when I deconstructed the movie in 2019:

“Remember how I said this film helped many isolated youth? It also became a rallying cry behind the MRA (or Men’s Rights Activism) movement who took the ‘red pill’ scene too literally. The term ‘red-pilled’ is now so synonymous with hate that it’s been mocked and meme’d online.”

Despite my wording being a tad aggressive, I stand by my claim that the film has done as much damage as good. I appreciate The Matrix: Resurrections acknowledging this ripple effect by using it as the cornerstone of the first act: The Matrix is an in-world computer game with plans for an unexpected sequel. Neo, who’s reverted back to Thomas Anderson, is under pressure to outdo his brilliance. The software team brought on-board openly spells out what the Wachowskis intended with their banter about The Matrix’s themes.

It goes further, too. The software company Neo works for? It’s owned by Warner Bros. Neo’s own creation is based on people he encounters regularly. His psychiatrist openly proscribes blue-coloured pills to “stabilize” his mind, which is fitting given what the blue pill represents. None of this is subtle, and none of it’s supposed to be. Lana Wachowski’s calling out the toxic fans who ruined her vision, and it’s pretty funny!

The problem, however, is that the movie cross-cuts clips of the first three movies constantly. It’s annoying. I don’t need to be shown montages to understand something, because less is more. Yet it never lets up, retreading moments that were done better before for the purpose of hammering it in.

Fortunately, the second-half of this movie is significantly better. Despite some of the editing and pacing being skewed-the real villain’s reveal comes out of left-field and doesn’t mesh with what was established prior-you can tell Lana Wachowski was more comfortable with it. There are plenty of concepts and modern updates that are utilized to wondrous effect: I especially like how Io, the new Zion, has humans and AI working in harmony.

Unfortunately, this is where the limitations with the action sequences begin. Whereas The Matrix had clean, crisp fight choreography, The Matrix: Resurrections has conventional action scenes that aren’t even that interesting. They’re jumbled, choppy and frequently resort to the “Neo can stop bullets/send people flying back with an energy field” schtick that was done better in The Matrix: Reloaded and The Matrix: Revolutions. I got tired quickly. Like, this movie has the benefit of over two decades of technology! Couldn’t it have been a little more creative?

There are other issues with the storytelling. For one, it’s weird to still have a white saviour, even if it’s subverted. For another, the movie should’ve picked one antagonist and stuck with it, instead of two and juggling them awkwardly. And while I appreciate the meta-text, the end-credits scene is awful. It’s easily the worst one I’ve seen a long, long time. Let that sink in.

This all ties in with a longstanding frustration I’ve had with Lana and Lily Wachowski post-The Matrix: yes, they’re interesting. Yes, their core concepts are brilliant. And yes, I appreciate that they’re given free-reign to do as they so please. But no, that doesn’t make their movies since “masterpieces”. A good movie isn’t good simply because its core idea is solid. No, it’s good because it can execute it, even when it shouldn’t work, well. There’s a big difference, and I wish people understood that.

Does this mean you shouldn’t like The Matrix: Resurrections? No! There’s plenty of meaningful commentary, and I don’t begrudge anyone for finding it impactful. But I wish that love came with an acknowledgement that it won’t be for everyone. Because that’s not happening, and it’s frustrating.

You can shout at me now, I’m ready.

Deconstructing Cinema's "Sins"

The internet has many follies. Aside from being unregulated and promoting anonymous hatred, it encourages shock reactions to scandals that lack context. Additionally, it utilizes outrage and clickbait to remain SEO relevant. And if you don’t jump on something immediately, even if it’s senseless, you risk becoming irrelevant. In other words, the internet’s a place of immaturity and misinformation.

Confession: I used to watch CinemaSins regularly. I was young, naïve and thought that “film criticism” meant being edgy while deconstructing stuff. I also believed the channel’s critics were being unfair and obtuse in their criticism, and I defended Jeremy’s videos whenever they were brought up; after all, CinemaSins reminded people that they didn’t take anything seriously, so why criticize a joke channel? It didn’t make sense, none of it did.

About 5 years ago, I had a culture shock from someone I Follow on Twitter: bobvids. Bob was an ardent critic of CinemaSins, but it wasn’t until he made YouTube videos explaining why that it finally clicked: CinemaSins wasn’t about genuine love for the craft, but rather generating clicks for revenue. As this video showed, the channel was a brand:

See what I mean? (Courtesy of bobvids.)

Despite Bob releasing a follow-up video recently, I don’t want this to be solely about CinemaSins and why they’re bad. Plenty of more-informed individuals have already done that. Instead, I’d like to discuss the implications of nitpick-level film criticism mistaking the forest for the trees. Because while CinemaSins is the face of that, it didn’t create it. The problem’s been embedded in social media culture for over a decade and a half.

See, the internet loves hot-button outrage. It thrives on it, and so it appeals to the amygdala response of flight or fight. Outrage sells, after all, so why not capitalize on that? The SEO won’t generate itself, right? Right?!

This is where film comes in. Want to express disdain for something? Create a rant ripping movies apart. Want to tear into a movie’s problems? Waste X amount of time on it. Want to generate controversy? Pick a hot-button movie topic and watch the fireworks.

I’m not innocent here. Plenty of my Blog entries, especially the earlier ones, involve that. But while I deconstruct movies because, say, I don’t like them/like them as much as others, I try to acknowledge the good too. I strive for balance, essentially. It’s harder to do that well, but it pays off long-term.

I don’t see that with most internet film criticism. Like CinemaSins, it relies on cheap deconstruction or unoriginal sentiment to drive its point home. There’s no nuance present, which saddens me. It saddens me because it misses the point of film as an art-form, and it saddens me because it’s not healthy. But it also dissuades legitimate criticism, which gets lost in the noise. (It even leads me to write impassioned defences of Avatar and Frozen.)

I’m not happy with the state of internet film criticism. On one hand, there’s everything I’ve said above. But on the other hand, this bad-faith criticism has spilled into professional film criticism. In order to stay relevant, publications accept shock reviews about how “something popular is bad”, while editorials criticize a franchise for “ruining cinema”. It’s even impacted film aggregate sites, with dishonest reviews being accepted on sites like Rotten Tomatoes (which, by the way, the internet misunderstands anyway). Like, it’s one issue to criticize The MCU for its pro-military advertising, but it’s another to call its inherent popularity “bad” because of that. And that’s only one example.

This is why CinemaSins gets the rap it does. Apart from being lazy, dishonest and hypocritical, their presence has even bled into how films are made. Disney’s live-action remakes feel like responses to CinemaSins-style criticism, all while missing the point of what they’re based on. Let’s also not forget how people treat CinemaSins as legitimate, using them to “prove” non-existent issues. When the problem’s this prevalent, it’s worth addressing.

So how do we remedy it? It’s hard to pinpoint one solution. I, honestly, think bad-faith criticism like CinemaSins should be drowned out altogether, but that’s the internet’s modus operandi. Maybe we should be promoting alternatives by promoting content like CinemaWins instead? Or, if we need to be critical, we can balance that by addressing what the film in question does well? I can’t fix this issue permanently, but discussing alternatives is a start.

I get it: I’m coming off as “whiney” and “butt-hurt”. I fully own up to that, because it’s true. But my whining isn’t shameless defensiveness. It’s coming from love of the craft. I respect films for instilling values, even if not all of them are “healthy”. And it’s because of that that I’m hurt by the degradation in discourse.

I’ll end this with something personal: for the past two years I’ve taken workshops to become a better novelist. Aside from being eye-opening artistically, I’ve come to appreciate that there’s no one right way to discuss art. Every story has flaws, or “plot-holes”, even the great ones. But sometimes, for the sake of a better story, those have to be excused or ignored. Simply put, immersion’s more important than flaws. And the sooner we recognize that, the better.

Unless you’re CinemaSins, in which case you avoid accountability altogether.

Warner on Trial

Guess I’m discussing The DCEU again, huh? *Sigh*

A few years ago I wrote a piece titled #ReleasetheTiredCut. In it, I mentioned that a director’s “true vision” being the only one that matters is exhausting and not true. And now, several controversies later, I’m discussing Justice League again. I should start charging people for slowly zapping my sanity…

I haven’t seen either cut of Justice League. I have no intention to subjugate myself to grim-dark filmmaking, irrespective of whether or not it’s a hack-job edit, or a full piece from a “visionary”. My time is precious, and while I’m not against grit or length, I don’t want to stress myself out like that. But this isn’t about either.

Joss Whedon was put under the ringer by Cyborg actor Ray Fisher on Twitter recently. Fisher called out his racism and abuse on the set, leading to him being blackballed for it. Since then, more of his co-stars have discussed their mistreatment, including Gal Gadot on how Ezra Miller was directed to gab her breasts without her consent, and Ben Affleck stating how Justice League turned him off from Batman. This is damning stuff.

It gets worse! In a recent interview, which you can find a link to here, Whedon clapped back at the criticism, calling it untrue and redirecting blame at the actors. It’s pretty revealing, but, among the other revelations, this part bugs me to no end:

“‘We’re talking about a malevolent force,’ Whedon said. ‘We’re talking about a bad actor in both senses.’”

…What?

I know Fisher’s decided to not address this further, but it speaks volumes that a director’s response to repeated claims of inappropriate behaviour by someone risking their job to share them is downplaying the talent of said person. I know Joss Whedon’s had his share of “less than savoury” moments, but I wouldn’t call him “talentless” for it. I don’t think he is! But that doesn’t excuse him abusing his power. It also doesn’t help to address criticism like this.

Obviously, Whedon’s behaviour drew plenty of ire from DCEU fans. In particular, Zack Snyder die-hards leveraged this as an opportunity to slam Warner Bros. for replacing him partway through filming of Justice League. This is despite Zack and Deborah Snyder leaving to grieve over their daughter’s suicide. The revelations about Whedon’s behaviour only fuelled the desire for a restored “Snyderverse”. And I’m sorry, but that ship has long sailed.

This incident has been eye-opening for many reasons. It’s been eye-opening for how Whedon’s reputation has shielded him from accountability. It’s been eye-opening for how Warner Bros. knew about this and didn’t care. And it’s been eye-opening for how, despite Me Too gaining traction, we have a long way to go with helping victims of abuse. Because that’s what this is.

It’s no surprise that other stories of Whedon’s behaviour have started surfacing. Stories about his time on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly have been making headlines, with cast members from both shows being comfortable sharing their stories. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dollhouse was next! Even Kevin Feige knew to part ways with Whedon following The Avengers: Age of Ultron!

I don’t think this should stop at Whedon. Geoff Johns, the creative head of The DCEU, clearly knew and either turned a blind eye, enabled this, or both. And Walter Hamada, the studio president, also probably knew. Whenever there’s a power imbalance, it doesn’t stop with one person. So while Whedon might be “gone”, they deserve blame too.

What now? It’s tough to say. Ray Fisher got the ball rolling on “A > E”, or “Accountability > Entertainment”, but I think more needs to be done. A full-on investigation, one that’s un-interfered with, has to happen from an outside, neutral source. Most-importantly, and this won’t happen without real pressure, anyone who was involved should resign. Because that’s how the healing starts.

I know some fans are demanding Warner Bros. be boycotted. Aside from what that entails being far-reaching (Time Warner controls a lot more than you’d think), it’s also best to take the cues from those harmed. I don’t believe Fisher and his colleagues want us to stop watching movies produced by Warner Bros., but they do want acknowledgement and rectification for the future. If this doesn’t happen, and this escalates further, then I’ll support a potential boycott. (It’s not like I’m watching many new movies these days...)

Regardless, this makes me embarrassed that I once wrote a piece defending Whedon. Like with Vic Mignogna, I was so concerned about not punishing everyone else that I never stopped to consider how bad the situation was. For that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I downplayed what was going on, and I’m sorry I didn’t take it seriously. And while I won’t pretend Whedon was never talented, it’s unhelpful, I’m definitely sorry I turned a blind eye because I liked some of his work.

Ultimately, this needs addressing before we can move on. That comes in two ways: first, Warner Bros. and DC need to acknowledge they did something wrong, then prove they can do better. And second, the DCEU fandom needs to move on from Zack Snyder. Ignoring how several cast members don’t want to return, it’s clear that this is too toxic to return to. Besides, we’ll be happier when the path that’s forged in the wake of this is better-appreciated. That much I promise!

Under the Surface...

Who here’s seen Encanto? While I admire it tackling unhealthy familial expectations, its premise was done better in Coco. However, its songs were solid, utilizing Lin-Manuel Miranda’s American/Latin-American Hip-Hop flair effectively. I’m not alone there, as there’s talk of “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” missing in 2022’s Oscar buzz. I don’t want to detract from the brilliance of that piece, but there’s one song that’s as good, if not better, yet isn’t discussed as much. Let’s talk about “Surface Pressure”.

FYI, mild spoilers for Encanto.

To give context, Encanto follows a Columbian family and their magical house. While Abuela Madrigal maintains its integrity, the remaining family has gifts that are used to help the surrounding townsfolk. Everyone has one…except for Mirabel. For the most part it doesn’t bother her, but when her youngest cousin’s given his gift, she sees premonitions of the house crumbling. From here, she causes undue strain on her family. And nowhere is this more-apparent than with her sister Luisa:

This is quite the bop, isn’t it? (Courtesy of DisneyMusicVEVO.)

Before I discuss why I love this song, I have a disclaimer: I won’t discuss how Luisa “doesn’t conform to the stereotypes of strong Latina women”. I’m neither Latina nor female, so that wouldn’t be honest coming from me. Besides, there’s more to this song than bucking stereotypes. Luisa’s also a middle child, and that’s definitely in my wheelhouse. Anyway…

The song begins with Mirabel confronting Luisa while she’s rounding up donkeys. According to their cousin, Dolores, Luisa was bothered heavily by Mirabel’s premonitions, yet she’s refusing to show it outside an eye twitch. Luisa even denies that her nerves are getting to her, but when Mirabel points out that her eye’s still twitching, she begins to crack and sing about her woes.

The opening verse is probably the most jarring intro to a Disney song ever. Most songs in their catalogue usually have some buildup, but “Surface Pressure” starts out of nowhere and actually trails off for a few seconds after the first verse. Even Mirabel’s surprised by this, something she mentions immediately. Yet it continues, and we see more of Luisa’s shell crack. She states that she’s as tough as the Earth’s crust, which is ironic because that’s the thinnest and most fragile layer of the Earth.

The song really gets going, however, when Luisa discusses how she feels “under the surface”. Her analogies to describe her insecurities are excellently realized: for her reference to tightrope walking, we have her and Mirabel on a literal tightrope. For her reference to fighting Cerberus, we have Hercules running off screaming while Luisa battles the three-headed dog. Even later on, when Luisa references the Titanic’s collision with an iceberg, we have her and Mirabel driving head-on toward it.

The song itself is also pretty catchy! Mixing Latin-American style rumba and underground Hip-Hop, complete with snapping and clapping, it’s on-par with Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” for most-hummable bop in decades. This is complimented by Luisa speed-singing her woes to Mirabel. Woes that-like I said-are brilliantly visualized.

I should make note of Luisa’s singing voice. Jessica Darrow has an unusual register for a Disney heroine-a deep Alto. Yet her gruffness isn’t overplayed, leaving plenty of room for vulnerability. This is most-apparent when she sings about what she’d rather do while in the clouds (literally), as that’s when “Surface Pressure” switches to a more somber, melancholic ballad. It’s brilliant.

Even outside that, the stresses of expectation are conveyed beautifully. I’m not sure if Darrow’s a middle child, but you’d think it based on how well she conveys what it’s like to be one. Personally, I find there’s an expectation, if unspoken, in my family to model after my older brother while simultaneously setting an example for my younger brother. I’m indirectly singled out for trailing behind both siblings financially and academically, constantly told to “monetize my skills”. As someone who hates being chained to someone else’s leash, this is daunting. I’ve even experienced burnout because of it.

That’s something “Surface Pressure” addresses. Ignoring the middle child component of Luisa’s personality, which can’t be overstated, Luisa’s the “ox” in her family. She’s big, she’s buff and she does a lot of the heavy lifting. And yet, the demands of her role often make her feel inadequate; after all, what if she collapses like the straw that breaks the camel’s back? That’s something that even people who aren’t middle children confront.

“Surface Pressure”, essentially, is a rebuke of unhealthy, societal expectations on talented people. We’re told to keep up the façade for everyone else, even if it harms us. Speaking as a writer, there was a reason I cut back on my content for The Whitly-Verse last year, as 2020’s excess had tired me out. Sure, my Views dropped, which I wasn’t thrilled with, but it was necessary for my mental wellbeing. (We’re also still in a global pandemic, by the way.)

If I have to nitpick anything, it’s when the donkeys start dancing on their hind legs. I know that it’s Disney, so I’ve seen weirder, but the donkeys were never capable of anthropomorphism prior to this. As a result, it’s jarring to watch. Then again, Disney numbers stretch reality anyway: if Luisa’s fears include fighting a mythological monster and steering a ship that doesn’t exist in this movie’s universe, then maybe donkeys dancing like pop stars isn’t so farfetched? I dunno.

It’s a shame “Surface Pressure” isn’t being discussed like “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”. Again, this isn’t to disparage anyone, but the former tackles a more universal problem. Not every family has a weird, estranged member, but every family conforms to unrealistic expectations. It’s like my aunt once said: “It takes an expensive portrait to make a family look this good.” We all have our moments of doubt, and “Surface Pressure” acknowledges them.

You know what the real testament to “Surface Pressure” is? Jessica Darrow rerecorded the song in a Jazz rendition last Christmas, and it was equally as excellent:

That ending… (Courtesy of Jess305.)

Here’s to you, “Surface Pressure”. May you be the anthem of stressed-out artists everywhere! And remember, “No cracks, no breaks, no mistakes, no pressure!”

In Defence of Serialization

A while ago I watched a satirical news video discussing the horrors of The MCU. It ended with the presenter breaking character to vent about the “excess of Marvel content”. It was fun, if overly long, but it got me thinking about how media has become serialized in the last decade. It’s been on my mind for a while, so it’s time to discuss my thoughts in detail. Because, simply put, I don’t think it’s entirely bad. And it boils down to three reasons for why.

Before I get hate-mail, note that franchising everything isn’t good. Not every story needs serialization to be done properly, we’ve seen that with the short-lived trend following Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. It’s also a money pit that doesn’t always yield results. So I get some of the pushback. But anyway…

The first benefit to serialized storytelling is, of course, room for a longer narrative. One of the downfalls of some stories being adapted in one go, especially grander ones, is that they can’t be done justice. We’ve seen it before: a big, ambitious story gets crammed into a 3-and-a-half-hour film, losing a lot of the substance of the source material in the process. It happened with David Lynch and Dune, and it’s happened with other properties since. Simply put, some stories need longer methods of storytelling.

This is what serialization does well. Because one of the advantages is that it’s ongoing, allowing for the grander arc to be told in smaller, more segmented arcs that intertwine. It’s a way for the audience to become more invested, as it means that if it’s “incomplete” one day, assuming it continues, then it’ll be finished later down the road. This works especially well with world-building, as it allows everything to expanded slowly.

The second benefit of serialized storytelling, especially compared to condensed storytelling, is generating hype for the next entries. Let’s face it, serialization’s designed to get you to come back. We want to know what happens next, see what happens next, even live what happens next! And by serializing a story, especially if it’s given a teaser for the next instalment, you can do that.

Think about it: what’s the most-anticipated part of the end credits in an MCU movie? It’s the clips that tease the upcoming film(s). We’re so invested in what we’ve watched that, simply put, we want more. By giving us these “sneak peaks”, that’s what we’re getting. Some might call these “franchise IOUs”, and I can see that, but there’s no denying its effectiveness.

Perhaps the biggest advantage to serialized storytelling is getting more invested in characters’ plights. There’s a reason why, despite being telegraphed, Han Solo’s death at the hands of Kylo Ren is shocking. Similarly, there’s a reason why Iron Man’s death in The Avengers: Endgame hits me so hard. With the former, we had 4 movies to get to know him. With the latter, he kicked off The MCU in 2008, and we’ve gotten to see him grow and mature over the next 11 years.

This last point can’t be overstated. Martin Scorsese bemoaned the theme park ride nature of superhero movies, but he misunderstood the power of spending several, interconnected films about getting to know specific characters in the process. Like the plays of Ancient Greece, swapping out old characters in place of new ones lets audiences switch their sympathies over time. Seeing Hawkeye pass the torch to Kate Bishop means something because we’ve grown attached to him.

But this isn’t news. TV shows, particularly dramas, have been doing serialization for decades. So why is it an issue now? Why is it bad that films are following in their footsteps? And why is that inherently “ruining cinema”, so to speak?

I think part of it could be resentment. After all, while serialized, pulpy entertainment existed in the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s, it was largely in small chunks and cheaply-made. You had characters like Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon before movies played, and they were fun, but they were cheap, campy and only took up a few minutes of the audience’s time. They were fluff entertainment, essentially.

In contrast, the modern-day versions of these serials are big-budget, full-feature affairs. What’s more, they dominate the market shares in box-office revenue. And while I won’t deny the issues of action-heavy serials crowding out smaller, more independent features, that’s not automatically the fault of these movies. If anything, it’s the fault of the studios making them. But that’s for another day…

I know some people will never be happy with serialized storytelling; after all, it forces you to “do homework” to stay invested. But if it can make me excited for a movie about a talking tree, or bring me back to a world about magical, sword-wielding space wizards, then who am I to complain? As long as I’m engrossed in your storytelling, then does it matter if it’s part 30 of an ongoing narrative? Not really!

The Goblin Den

I was hoping to never discuss JK Rowling again. On one hand, it’s stressful beyond belief. And for another, she’s mobilized a base who’ve been incredibly toxic to her critics. I don’t need that on The Whitly-Verse, but I guess it won’t leave me alone. So let’s discuss Jon Stewart and Goblins.

Two caveats: one, I’m not the biggest fan of Jon Stewart. He can be funny and insightful, but his stances occasionally rub me the wrong way. This is most-apparent in, ironically, his defence of Dave Chapelle over his transphobia regarding JK Rowling. It’s bizarre that people have forgotten that. But the internet has a short attention-span, so who am I to judge?

And two, I find it disturbing that this moment has riled people up and reignited the Antisemitism discourse. Let’s face it, Antisemitism isn’t a partisan issue. It doesn’t hold allegiances, and it takes many forms. Some aren’t even so obvious! So while this is worth mentioning, the conversation on Jewish ally-ship shouldn’t end there.

Anyway, Jon Stewart and Goblins.

A while back, Jon Stewart started a podcast titled “The Problem With __”. It’s received plenty of critical buzz, reminding audiences that he’s never skipped a beat since leaving The Daily Show. But while Stewart’s commented on more serious topics, it’s his clip on Harry Potter and the Goblins of Gringotts Bank that set everything alight. In the name of fairness, I watched it. And you can too:

I still can’t believe this was worthy of a debate. (Courtesy of The Problem With Jon Stewart.)

Now, Stewart’s a better mouthpiece for this criticism than a gentile, as he’s Jewish. I also like how he has a diverse panel, including a black person who calls out the racism of House Elves. This should’ve been the end of it: Stewart joked about an Antisemitic caricature, got a few laughs, made people think and moved on. However, because nuance is dead, outlets immediately claimed he thought JK Rowling was Antisemitic. This is despite later clarifying his opinion.

Honestly, Goblins are rooted in a coded history. There’s actually a dark underbelly to them, one you don’t normally question. Think about it: Goblins are diminutive, dirty creatures with weird accents, hooked noses and a penchant for being greedy. Conversely, Jews in Europe were often depicted by Christians as diminutive, dirty creatures with weird accents, hooked noses and a penchant for being greedy. Even if you believe in “coincidences”-I don’t-this is too on-the-nose to be accidental.

I loved the Harry Potter books growing up. And when I reread them as an adult…well, I binged them in a week. The prose is fantastic, the characters are multi-faceted and there’s a message about the follies of authority figures that’s still relevant. They’re also one of the few book series to make me cry. Considering that movies, not books, usually get tears from me, that’s saying something.

That said, they’re festered with bigoted stereotypes. Whether it’s the House Elves acting and speaking like black slaves, the Irish student being good at blowing stuff up, the Half-Giants being quirky and overweight, or the scheming reporter being a masculine woman who shape-shifts into a cockroach to spy on girls, this is hard to overlook. I haven’t even gotten to the only Asian character of note, Cho Chang, having a gibberish name. These books, which were intended for children, are blatant in their piss-poor representation, even if they’re not spelled out. That’d be an issue on its own…but then there’s JK Rowling.

See, Rowling’s been on a one-woman crusade in recent years against trans women. Whether it’s her Tweets, or her weirdly off-putting manifesto, Rowling’s made it her duty to “champion women’s reproductive rights” against “dishonest men who’d devalue them”. She’s sullied whatever good graces she’d had by targeting people who don’t know her. And it’s tiring. It’s especially tiring because it’s forced fans to re-evaluate not only her as a person, but also her work.

I won’t say that “Rowling was never a good writer”. That’s false. I think her writing, despite its problems, is excellent! But while I’ll defend her Harry Potter-related material, I can’t do the same for her as a person. She simply won’t let me. She’s become a bad dream who opens her mouth every once in a while and Trends, except that if you criticize her, her diehards will pile on you.

I’d normally end with that, but it gets worse. Jon Stewart’s commentary became so heated it led to Jewish organizations and publications coming to Rowling’s defence. I don’t get it. Or, rather, I only partly get it (she’s a “pro-Zionist ally”, despite her ally-ship never sitting right with me). Still, when The Forward makes my eyes roll, something’s amiss. Doubly-so when JK Rowling’s reputation matters more than Emma Watson’s, the latter of whom has expressed solidarity for a Palestinian state. And yes, that’s a whole other can of worms...

One of the talking points here is whether or not JRR Tolkien and Roald Dahl should be scrutinized for their overt and covert bigotry too. To that, I groan and ask why this is being brought up. Yes, Tolkien and Dahl’s use of stereotypes should absolutely be scrutinized! That doesn’t mean their influences should be discounted, and nor should Rowling’s, but that doesn’t mean this should be swept under the rug. This is bigger than them, and it’s for sure bigger than Rowling!

If you’ve ever encountered a novel from Western history, chances are you’ve come across some less-than-pleasant content. With Tolkien, any characters who aren’t Wizards, Elves or white men have unfortunately-racist/demeaning coding. The Orcs and Uruk-Hai are bad portrayals of black people and Jews, the Dwarves are bad portrayals of Jews, the Hobbits are stock tropes of children, and the dark-skinned men who ride elephants into battle are bad caricatures of Middle Eastern and Indian people. With Dahl, his Oompa-Loompas in particular are uncanny to African slaves. This doesn’t include his open disdain for Jews.

I’m not saying this to retroactively erase their impacts. That’d be bad-faith criticism. All I’m saying is that, as Jon Stewart has pointed out, these harmful portrayals, even if subconscious, should be acknowledged if they’re to be remedied in the future. History should be learned from, not ignored. And defensive arguments about how “they’re not really racist, you’re overreacting” aren’t the way to do it.

That said, I’ll give the backlash the upper-hand in one area: phrasing. He might not have stated that JK Rowling’s Antisemitic, but he seemed to imply it. If we’ve learned anything from Donald Trump, it’s that a well-known figure can say anything, but if they’re not clear in their intentions, or even if they are, people will misinterpret their words to mean something else. We saw it with the “Very fine people on both sides” statement following the Charlottesville riots: despite referring to tearing down Confederate statues, people thought he was exonerating the neo-Nazis who marched with their Tiki torches and shouted “Jews will not replace us!”.

So yes, Stewart should’ve known this’d happen. But that doesn’t mean his critics weren’t also overreacting. They were. And it’s that defensiveness that harms more than it heals. (Remember, JK Rowling’s active on Twitter…)

Ultimately, this is why internet discourse is so toxic. Because if you zig, people will claim that you zagged. This is especially true with statements, both true and false. Besides, the internet has enough problems without adding to them. Jon Stewart could’ve been more tactful, but we should also acknowledge his truths and move on. Trust me, we’ll be better off!

Into the Tolkien-Verse

2021 was a busy year. Not only did I adjust to my new job, I also returned to my pre-COVID job. I enrolled in a 12-week, intensive workshop where I had my novel manuscript intensely scrutinized. I had a record number of Zoom meetings, and I returned (though briefly) to seeing movies in theatres. And while my output on The Whitly-Verse dropped from 2020, the quality of my work improved. Overall, I’d say 2021 was quite productive!

Nevertheless, I neglected some longstanding personal goals. Chief among these was revisiting The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, which I hadn’t watched in almost a decade. It’s not like I didn’t want to, but so much had piled on my plate that it simply wasn’t feasible. Still, it was the 20-year anniversary of its debut in theatres, so I wanted to be able to refresh my memory. It was tight, but I managed to watch all three films in time for the new year.

So…do they hold up?

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? One frustrating aspect of adulthood is recognizing that not everything from your youth stands the test of time. This is most-obvious with my re-watch of The Matrix, since much of my fondness for it has faded as I’ve gotten older (though I still enjoy it). That was definitely on my mind as I grabbed my boxset that I’d purchased from HMV brought it to my still-functioning Blu-Ray Player. Knowing I’d need to dedicate several hours to each movie, I spent three nights watching them.

The experience has been eye-opening. Beginning with the opening exposition dump, and ending with an end-credits sequence that looks like an art-book come to life, the 9+ hours spent on these films was as magical as it was refreshing. Because yes, they’re still amazing. In some ways, they might even be better than I remember! And while some parts could’ve been improved, that confirmation was helpful. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The most-important reason for why these movies work is the casting. Elijah Wood’s a revelation as Frodo Baggins, utilizing the youthful optimism of being a teenager during filming. He brings the naivety and vulnerability needed for Frodo, never skipping a beat. He’s complimented by Sean Aston’s Samwise Gamgee, who’s really the heart and soul, as well as Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan as Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck respectively. Even the other characters are cast wonderfully, practically leaping from the pages of JRR Tolkien’s world.

And you know what? I respect that. Large ensemble casts are often tricky to pull off, as you need people who can fit their roles while making them their own, and it can backfire if one or more pieces of the puzzle don’t fit. But bless Peter Jackson and co. for making it work, and bless Jackson for knowing how to guide his actors. You wouldn’t have thought an indie-horror director could pull off a fantasy epic successfully, but he does!

As far as the films go, this is a standard “let’s destroy this purely evil object before the baddies get to it first” plot. The books were known for their allusions to WWII and environmentalism when they debuted, and that’s retained even with the films’ darker tone. Tolkien wore his sincerity on his sleeve, with absolutely no subtlety, and Jackson captures that. He captures it so well that the schmaltziness that the films’ writing can be overlooked or ignored. That’s not easy when the first entry has one of the worst lines ever in film history.

Even the visuals and costume designs reflect this. Sauron, the big baddie, is as over-the-top a villain as possible, complete with horns in his true form and a reptilian eye in his diminished one. The Orcs and Uruk-Hai are incredibly goofy, complete with deformities reflecting their bizarre accents. Even Gollum, one of the most-impressive creations of CGI in the 21st Century, walks like a clumsy toad and speaks like a snake, rolling his words and snarling often. In a lesser-movie this’d feel fake, but here it’s treated with sincerity.

The music’s also noteworthy. Howard Shore scores all three films, and I think it’s his best work to-date. It’s possible that I’ve heard relatively little of his compositions, but his musical arrangements felt muted in his other works. Here, however, they get a chance to shine, and they’re even more memorable than some modern-day blockbusters. I especially like the motif for the Nazgûl; even as an adult, the ominous, dark chorus that accompanies them gives me goosebumps!

I know these films have received their share of criticism. Their length, in particular, has gotten plenty of flak, and, combined with their pacing, can be a turn-off. While I sympathize, you need to be in the right headspace, I still think it works. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, after all, is an epic, a grandiose tale about good and evil. Such an operatic story needs to be long-winded. Besides, the first two movies are shorter than The Avengers: Endgame. (Unless you factor in the Extended Director’s Cuts, in which case I don’t think the complaints are unreasonable.)

That’s not to say the movies don’t have issues. Some of the race-coding of the antagonists is tone-deaf. The movies also have the usual, fantasy-esque “plot-holes” the internet likes complaining about (including one about the eagles), though that doesn’t bother me too much because “fantasy”. I also find the editing in the first film awkward, while the climax of the second film, though excellent, drags on for too long. And although I get the thematic reasoning behind the decision, the third movie has too many endings.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter. The films are too engrossing to care. I’m too busy focusing on how Lady Galadriel never wears shoes to think about how little screen-time she has, or how Arwen and Aragorn’s romance is sincere enough to distract from how forced it is. I don’t even care how cheesy Éowyn’s line to the Witch-King is before she stabs him, as Miranda Otto says it so gracefully that it’s fun to hear! You can overlook plenty in a story, especially a fantasy, when the characters are engaging.

Overall, I was thoroughly entertained. And also impressed by how well they hold up. Sure, the special effects can feel dated, especially compared to modern-day action movies, but for what was accomplished? I couldn’t have asked for better. Too few action spectacles are considered worthy of an Oscar for Best Picture, but that’s exactly what happened! And given the calibre of content, I can’t fault The Academy for appealing to reason. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy’s one of the best filmgoing experiences ever, and I can’t recommend it enough!

Cowboy Bebop (Anime) VS Cowboy Bebop (Netflix)-Which is Better?

Despite being still relatively niche, anime’s home to some of the most interesting stories. One example is Cowboy Bebop, a 26-episode show from 1998 that’s often regarded as one of the best. It currently has a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an 8.9/10 on IMDB, both of which prove that. It’s also used frequently as a gateway recommendation into anime, and even many non-anime lovers like it. It even, not surprisingly, is one of my favourite shows.

A live-action remake had been in the works for over a decade, going through many format changes and production delays. It wasn’t until 2018 that a Netflix series was finally announced, bringing on the original series’ director as a creative consultant. Three years later, it debuted with 10 episodes. Unfortunately, it also was also poorly received, currently holding a 47% of Rotten Tomatoes and a 6.7/10 on IMDB. The reception was so harsh that Netflix cancelled it a month after premiering, ending on unresolved cliff-hanger.

Talks of both iterations were renewed because of this. But while they’re currently on Netflix in their entirety, it seems like the debate over which is better is a nonstarter; it’s obviously the anime, right?

Well, to answer that question properly, the two series need to be analyzed in-depth. Be prepared for spoilers.

Let’s start with the…

Story:

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The premise of Cowboy Bebop is pretty straightforward: the year’s 2071, and corporations have taken over space colonization. Amidst the rampant corruption and lawlessness, bounty hunters, or “Cowboys”, traverse the galaxy and make an honest living. One group of Cowboys, the crew of The Bebop, includes a former assassin, an ex-cop, a gambling addict with amnesia, an eccentric hacker and a rare corgi, all of whom struggle to eat because they’re bad at their jobs. It doesn’t help that the assassin, Spike Spiegel, has to contend with his past, no matter how hard he tries moving on. But is that the right choice, or is facing it the only way to peace?

What makes this premise unique is how it blends sci-fi and the Western into an episodic format. In the anime’s case, there’s also a blending of filmic inspiration with musical inspiration. Each episode borrows from a different classic/genre of film-Alien, Thelma and Louise, Desperado, film noir, blaxploitation-and mixes it with a title that directly references music (“Heavy Metal Queen”, “Asteroid Blues”, “Jamming with Edward”, and so on). Even the episodes are called “Sessions”. It’s interesting, but it works. As the show’s mission statement, which it plasters over the intro in English, suggests, the purpose of this series is to create a new genre in and of itself.

While most of the anime’s episodes are self-contained, enough general details are present that jumping around would cause you to miss plot or character details. This is especially true with the 5 story-centric episodes, all of which focus on Spike, his past, his nemesis and his inability to escape his former life fully. We don’t get a complete picture-only bits and pieces through the aforementioned episodes, the opening montages of Sessions 1 and 6 and the show’s end credits montage-but we don’t need one. Cowboy Bebop’s anime original trusted its audience enough to let them piece it together themselves. It’s a level of sophistication not present in most contemporary television.

This writing motif carries over to the Netflix adaptation…at least, in theory. The episodes still contain Session names, and they’re episodic, but there’s also an overarching narrative about Spike’s nemesis, Vicious, and him taking over The Syndicate. It pops up frequently, and it feels like padding. I suppose that’s deliberate, each episode’s double the length of the anime, but it routinely pulls your attention away. And yet, the show feels it’s worth it, as it routinely drags itself into the main stories too.

To be fair, there’s definitely something there. It’s not a bad story on paper, feeling like a hybrid of Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad and The Sopranos, but it isn’t Cowboy Bebop. And it lacks the restraint of the anime, violating “less is more” while fulfilling “show, don’t tell”. Even Spike’s backstory becomes a full-on episode. And it’s distracting.

The dialogue in the two iterations is also different. The anime made a conscientious decision to weigh its spoken lines carefully. Every word, even the silly ones, has weight, revealing character and often containing subtext. There are even times when the characters don’t say anything, letting the visuals do the talking instead. It’s a subtle touch that’s lost in the Netflix show, which is littered with contemporary dialogue, piss-poor quips and lines that’d feel at home in a bad sitcom.

Perhaps the best example of this is in “Black Dog Serenade”, or Session 16 of the anime. In it, Jet’s backstory is revealed, as well as how he lost his arm during an encounter with an assassin named Udai Taxim. We get a brief clip of the exchange before the incident, but it cuts away equally as quickly. All we see is a spotlight on Jet’s face, the line “A set-up!” and the sound of a gunshot. But that’s all we need.

The Netflix series does that same scene in excess. Not only is the light held on Jet’s face, but the gunshots are shown in succession. It’s violent, bloody and over-the-top, driving its point too well. I know the anime had to fit its stories into 24-minutes, hence the writers had to be concise, but the Netflix series goes overboard. It doesn’t help that the episode’s main conflict takes up a third of its runtime, with the rest alternating between Vicious and a metaphorical pissing match between Spike and Faye aboard The Bebop.

I’ll give the Netflix show the upper-hand in one area: Episode 7. While a remixed version of “My Funny Valentine” and “Speak Like a Child”, both Faye-centric episodes, it keeps the earned pay-off of the anime even as it recreates the ending nearly shot-for-shot. It’s one of the only times where the Netflix series understands, and perhaps improves upon, the anime’s brilliance. It never rises to the level of “Boogie Woogie Feng Shui”, often touted by fans as the worst episode in the anime, but it comes close.

That being said, I’m giving this to the anime, hands-down. Not only does it do a lot with so little, but it doesn’t go overboard. Every scene, every line, is layered with meaning and double entendre. It also sticks the landing in its final episode, but we’ll get to that eventually.

Winner:

But a story’s only as good as its characters, which leads to…

Cast:

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This’ll be tougher to assess. Both shows have spot-on casts that elevate their respective shows. In the case of the Netflix series, they improve on their writing as well…with two exceptions. One of them is Vicious, played by Alex Hassell. Anime Vicious was pretty one-note, a power-hungry sociopath who’d even betray his own pet to get what he wants. Netflix Vicious, though more human, is also badly-acted. The idea’s that he’s a tormented, abusive and power-hungry sociopath with daddy issues who wants control of his life, and it works on paper. The problem is that there’s a certain restraint and nuance that needs to go into that performance, and Hassell can’t pull it off. His line reads are frequently wooden or hammy, often simultaneously, and it’s jarring to watch.

The other exception is Eden Perkins as Radical Edward, who makes a cameo at the end of Episode 10. I know this is Perkins’s first role, and I appreciate the fact a non-binary actor was chosen for the character, but, and I mean no disrespect, it doesn’t work. At all. Anime Ed was quirky and high-energy, but she knew when to show restraint. Netflix Ed, despite Perkins’s efforts, feels like the hyperactivity of anime Ed with none of the restraint. Like Hassell’s Vicious, it’s jarring.

It’s a shame, because everyone else really works. I especially like John Chu, Mustafa Shakir and Daniella Pineda as Spike, Jet and Faye. Faye even being reworked into a bounty hunter from the get-go is made palatable by Pineda, while Shakir’s pitch-perfect as Jet. And they share excellent chemistry, really coming off as dysfunctional comrades.

One rare improvement in the Netflix series over the anime, however, is Elena Satine’s Julia. Anime Julia, like Lady Jagura in one of head writer Keiko Nobumoto’s other shows, is barely a character. She’s a plot point, a MacGuffin for the show’s story-centric episodes, and her death, while tragic, barely holds weight as a result. It’s unfortunate because every other female character, even the minor ones, has weight to their presence, making Julia stand out even more. It’s a missed opportunity, essentially.

That’s precisely why Satine’s Julia is so good. Whereas anime Julia was a plot-point, Netflix Julia is a character. Whereas anime Julia barely had depth, Netflix Julia is a singer trapped in a loveless marriage. And whereas anime Julia dies, Netflix Julia lives. It’s a shame that Netflix Julia’s ruined in Episode 10 with a “Girl Boss” heel-turn, but it’s still an improvement over anime Julia.

This’d appear to be even-keeled, but the anime has something the Netflix show lacks: character subtext. Director Shinichirō Watanabe was careful to not include a single character that didn’t enhance the world or make a statement, and it shows. His show has characters of various, sometimes mixed, races, even including Indigenous and queer characters at a time when that was still taboo. One character, Gren, even has gender dysphoria, and while him hitting on Faye is gross and creepy, he’s never an empty punchline.

The Netflix adaptation is also diverse, an oddity even by modern Hollywood standards, but much of that feels hollow given the social progress since 1998. When the anime, for example, features a moment where Faye barges in on two males having sex, it’s shocking. When the Netflix show has Faye and a female mechanic having sex, it’s more passé. Even Netflix Gren now being gender non-conforming, while valid, loses its bite because they don’t do all that much in comparison. The Netflix show also feels like it’s ticking off diversity boxes because it’s expected, rather than to make a point.

So yeah, the anime wins again.

Winner:

But these characters need something to work with, which leads to…

Aesthetic:

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This one will be really tricky.

One of the strengths of the anime was that it felt “lived in”. It took the Star Wars approach to sci-fi, meaning that technology constantly broke down and nothing ever went according to plan. Different planets also had societal issues, such as poverty, crime and government corruption. In fact, many of the bounties were really about injustices that society was too apathetic about to fix. It’s something you don’t see all that much.

But it doesn’t stop at the bounties. The episodes often had underlying messages that you wouldn’t notice unless you thought about them. “My Funny Valentine”, the episode about Faye’s cryosleep past, is a commentary about privatized medicine, predatory lending and how both of those take advantage of people. “Mushroom Samba”, aside from being one of the funniest episodes, is pro-decriminalization, taking a hard stance on Japan’s strictness about drugs. Even “Brain Scratch” and “Mad Pierrot Le Fou”, which are wildly different tonally, are about how society takes advantage of people, be they cults in the former or eugenics in the latter.

The Netflix show, while remixing these episodes, loses that bite in translation. Many of the bounties feel like mishaps, while pointed commentaries from the anime, like how law enforcement promotes and encourages corruption, are toothless as a result. It’s unfortunate, because there’s potential for updated commentary here. One episode, which features sex workers, could’ve had a biting commentary on how society abuses prostitutes, but it’s never followed up on. Instead, the show uses it as a mild inconvenience on the way to getting Jet’s daughter, a Netflix-only character, her birthday present.

Perhaps the biggest difference between the two shows comes in at their visuals. The opening being remixed in the Netflix show is a great example of this, but it goes further than that. The Netflix show wants to have its cake and eat it too, and it crams in as many references to the anime, sometimes lifting shots directly, as possible. In the process, however, they lose their meaning.

This is most-prevalent in Spike and Vicious’ fight atop the church cathedral. Both series have Spike defenestrated in slow-motion, but the anime also shows Spike having the last laugh with a pipe bomb he detonated pre-toss. In the Netflix series, however, Spike’s shot out the window by Julia, which makes no sense thematically or narratively. Essentially, what was intense and shocking in the anime is now actively frustrating in the Netflix series.

This’d seem like an easy win for the anime, but some of the animation is dated. I understand that it had to contend with the limits of TV and early CGI, but both aspects don’t emerge unscathed. With the latter, it even looks jarring now, despite taking the Jurassic Park approach and keeping it minimal. The Netflix series, while less-impressive visually than the anime’s hand-painted animation, has an unfair advantage there, being backed by contemporary technology. So yes, as bizarre as it sounds to say, the Netflix series edges out here.

Winner:

Moving on to something less-controversial, we have…

Sound:

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This one’s a no-brainer.

It’s true that composer Yoko Kanno returns to score the Netflix series, porting over the jazzy style from the anime, but, with a few exceptions, you can’t hear a lot of it in the Netflix show. That includes her new stuff, which is even more insulting! And this is because the anime let the characters stop talking on occasion and have the music set the mood, something the Netflix series seems to be allergic to. Characters now routinely talk over tracks in excess. And that’d be fine…if that weren’t antithetical to what made Cowboy Bebop so special to begin with.

This is best illustrated with both shows’ opening episodes. In both series, Spike’s bounty had stolen a drug called Red Eye and, together with his girlfriend, wanted to seek refuge on Mars. Both episodes also end in tragedy: Spike tries reasoning with the girlfriend, but fails. She chooses death over his help, and the police blow up her and her boyfriend’s ship as they’re exiting the planet. It’s a no-win situation for everyone involved, and it’s depressing to watch. So how is it handled in both versions?

In the anime, the climax is images and music. No words, no in-episode sound effects, nothing but pure score. In the Netflix series, not only does the episode introduce both Faye and The Syndicate, further upping the stakes, but it has the same ending spelled out with muted music. The bounty’s girlfriend even says “It’s time to wake up!” before she and her boyfriend are shot, robbing us of Kanno’s score. It’s maddening.

This one’s no contest. I like that Julia has her own vocal solo in the Netflix series, instead of a music box jingle, but that doesn’t excuse butchering Kanno’s score. The anime wins.

Winner:

And now for the finale!

Entertainment factor:

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It feels like overkill to include this, but I’ll try being fair.

Both shows have appeal. The Netflix series, despite any flaws, has a vibe going until its finale. If you ignore the bad dialogue, the call backs to the anime and the muting of the music, it’s a decent series with moments of greatness for most of its run. If Episode 7’s indication, it could’ve even been excellent! The problem is that the Netflix show is actually two shows vying for attention, with the Cowboy Bebop content being the weaker content.

That all changes in Episode 10. Suddenly, what was once an enjoyable series turns in a metaphorical middle finger. Why did Julia need to take over The Syndicate? And why did she defenestrate Spike? Yes, seeing her alive at the end was nice, and I appreciate her shooting Vicious, but this completely contradicts everything that’d been established prior. There weren’t hints that Julia was power-hungry, as that’d show consistency! It’s a shame, as the Netflix series fixes a longstanding problem with the anime’s finale, that being a severe lack of Faye coming to help Spike.

It’s especially disappointing because the anime never has this problem. Even “Boogie Woogie Feng Shui”, which has excessive narration and a resolution that makes no sense, knew how to be consistent with its character writing. And every other episode, especially the story-centric ones, was deliberately crafted, such that you could enjoy it both solo and together with the rest. It’s not like there weren’t details that couldn’t have been improved, it tosses around a slur against The Romani people like candy, but they don’t compare to lines like “Welcome to the ouch, motherfuckers!”, or how one of Jet’s contacts was blackmailing him because, “[He’s] black, and [he’s] male”. That doesn’t include character updates, like Gren as a secretary, that butcher their original meaning, or even Vicious’ subplot about overthrowing The Syndicate dominating the Netflix adaptation.

I feel bad at this point! Ignoring its finale, the Netflix show could’ve been improved with a second season, something it’ll never receive thanks to its reception. Like I said, there’s potential there! It simply needed to fix its writing and be its own show, as opposed to a half-baked mishmash of the anime. But I guess it’s too late now…

Whatever, the anime wins. I know it’s flogging a dead horse, but the anime has multi-demographic appeal that the Netflix series lacks. I’m sorry.

Overall winner:

And that about does it. Feel free to disagree, and I’ll see you next time!