Smash Reflections: Super Smash Bros. Brawl

(Part 1 can be found here.)

(Part 2 can be found here.)

At E3 2005, Nintendo announced their latest console. Dubbed “The Nintendo Revolution”, the console featured wireless controllers and an interface that focused on interactive gameplay. Several titles were announced as possibilities, but key amongst them was a Smash Bros. game. This news surprised Masahiro Sakurai, who wasn’t kept in-the-loop about this, but he went to work on the game shortly afterward. The one condition Sakurai had was that this next entry would be his baby, with him having complete control over the finished project. Nintendo granted him that request, but due to Sakurai’s ambitions, the game, later dubbed Super Smash Bros. Brawl, kept getting delayed, until it released in early-2008 for the Wii.

Despite this, the game received immense hype. This was further compounded by The Smash Bros. Dojo, a site that frequently provided updates on the game’s progress. I remember sitting at my computer every day after school, clicking on the site and checking to see the latest development. Whether it was a character introduction, a stage announcement, or even a sound clip, Super Smash Bros. Brawl would be the biggest and most-epic Smash Bros. game in history! There was no way it’d disappoint, right?

Confession time: my thoughts on Super Smash Bros. Brawl have come full-circle in the years since its release. Initially, I was pumped, thinking it’d be the best game ever. As the hype faded, however, disappointment kicked in, and I started to notice, or over-notice, its flaws. It was only once I realized how toxic the gaming community’s reactions were toward it that I started appreciating it more, and it became a favourite again. Even now, 10 years later, I still have immense respect for the game.

The most-obvious upgrade was the visuals. Super Smash Bros. Melee was a clear improvement over the original game’s low-polygon count, but this game really upped the ante. Everything looked crisp and detailed, with an attention to detail normally found in modern-Final Fantasy. Additionally, the game also had a gritty, lived-in feel, with many of the characters looking somewhat edgy. It was unique to the franchise at the time, and it still is now.

Perhaps the best showcase of the visual enhancement was its opening cinematic. If Super Smash Bros. felt like a stage play and Super Smash Bros. Melee a short film, then Super Smash Bros. Brawl was the equivalent of going to the opera. Not only was the opening cinematic, but it had full-on orchestrations and a choir singing in Latin. Some might even call it excessive, given how this was a fighting game and not a grand epic. Then again, when you have Nobuo Uematsu composing, you have to let him do what he does best:

The intro feels like a Final Fantasy game, no? (Courtesy of Alfonso’s ALT.)

The story-heavy feel of this opening linked to the game’s newest feature, a fleshed-out, single-player campaign dubbed “The Subspace Emissary”. This was quite unique to the franchise at the time, feeling like the Adventure Mode from Super Smash Bros. Melee that Sakurai had wanted for years. Here, however, he had full reign to do as he wished, and The Subspace Emissary was its own beast. I know fans are divided on it, especially since it unlocks all of the characters without having to earn them, but I liked it.

On the subject of divisive, Super Smash Bros. Brawl slowed down the fighting mechanics quite a bit. Whereas Super Smash Bros. Melee played fast and slippery, Super Smash Bros. Brawl played slow and floaty. The game was clearly designed with casual gamers in mind, and-between that and “tripping”-that polarized competitive gamers. It polarized them to the point where a modified version of the game, dubbed Project M, was created to “fix” everything.

This is where I started drifting away from hardcore gamers. I’d grown up on the Smash Bros. games, having played the original when I was 9, but I was never a “pro”. I was decent with Kirby, but Kirby’s not exactly the best fighter. The fact that I stood a chance against a pro in Super Smash Bros. Brawl made me feel a lot better, but it also got me into many pointless fights whenever I opened my mouth. 6 years before GamerGate took off, I was experiencing doses of gaming toxicity in the numerous debates I was having over the quality of Super Smash Bros. Brawl’s game mechanics.

It wasn’t all bad, though! For one, online functionality was finally an option. Sure, it was laggy, slow and had a tendency to disconnect without warning, but it allowed for me to test out my endurance with strangers. Or friends, as I became “Brawl buddies” with someone in my Grade 12 English class. The online was flawed, and future games would only improve on it, but it was a step in the right direction.

Speaking of “steps in the right direction”, Super Smash Bros. Brawl also introduced a custom stage maker. This allowed me, within reason, to create new stages to fight in, and I took full advantage. Unfortunately, my ability to build stages was embarrassing, and the end-results were archaic and lacklustre. But at least my best creation, a level consisting entirely of springs, was fun in an annoying kind of way!

As a final kudos, Super Smash Bros. Brawl introduced two staples that’d become mainstays in future entries. The first was the option of using Gamecube controllers instead of Wiimotes. This was great because the latter didn’t feel as natural as the former for a game like this. It also extended the half-life of my Gamecube controllers long after the Gamecube was discontinued, a plus considering how expensive they are online these days. And it helped to remind me of the franchise’s humbler origins.

The second was the game’s introduction of specialty items. These included the Final Smash, the Dragoon (which came in 3 pieces) and the Assist Trophy. The items allowed for varied gameplay, as they were all about racing to get to them first. Were they sometimes cheap? Maybe, but they were also lots of fun.

It’s tough figuring out if Super Smash Bros. Brawl is overrated, or really that good. People have been arguing this for 10 years, with passionate fans on both sides. Personally, though, I happen to love it. It’s not perfect, but neither was Super Smash Bros. Melee. And if people really love that entry, then why can’t I love this one?

Of course, there’s also the sequel, but, as always, that’s for next time…

Smash Reflections: Super Smash Bros. Melee

(Part 1 can be found here.)

With a surprise hit in the form of Super Smash Bros., Nintendo knew they’d have to follow it up for their next console. The 6th generation was well-underway by the year 2000, and Nintendo was incredibly self-conscious about their now 4 year-old N64 hardware. They needed a dazzler, and come Space World 2000 they had something ready to demo. Amongst the offerings for the then-Dolphin were a tech-demo of Link and Ganondorf duking it out, a prototype for Pikmin dubbed Super Mario 128, and an almost-completed Kirby’s Air Ride, which was originally an N64 hopeful.

But it was the announcement of a sequel to Super Smash Bros. that really got fans excited. Slated for a Christmas window the following year, the game, Super Smash Bros. Melee, was to be everything the original was, but better. Masahiro Sakurai and his team were given an enhanced budget, but only 13 months to develop. Despite the impossible, the game released mere weeks after the Dolphin, now known as the Gamecube, launched in North America in 2001. To say that it was the biggest hit of that season is an understatement, as Super Smash Bros. Melee helped keep the Gamecube alive in its troubled, 5 year run.

I first saw the game at a carpool buddy’s house in late-2001. I’d recently switched schools because of my learning disability, and with that came a new set of expectations, teachers and carpool schedules. While most of the week was typical, Friday afternoons, because of my Sabbath, were the wildcard, and I usually ended up waiting at someone’s house after school. It was there that I was introduced to new friends, the Gamecube and, of course, Super Smash Bros. Melee. It looked similar to its predecessor, but better, and I immediately became a fan.

It sounds hipster to say this, but I was a fan of Super Smash Bros. Melee in my immediate circles before everyone else. Even my cousin didn’t get the game until months later, which gave me bragging rights. I kept boasting about how good I was at the game, only to be let-down when he eventually won a single match. I put up a pretty good fight as Kirby, but I learned a valuable lesson that day.

One of the more-interesting moments was trying to convince my brothers of the game’s pronunciation. “Melee” is a French word for “battle”, but its correct pronunciation is “Mah-lay”. Or was it “May-lay”? We kept bickering until the game’s commercial set everything straight: it was “Mee-lee”, which made absolutely no sense. Regardless, I rolled with it.

Another interesting feature that I took note of was its opening cinematic. The original game had one as well, but it felt more like a stage play introduction. It was a montage of the game’s 8 initial characters, set to limited-yet-impressive music, and it felt like that. Super Smash Bros. Melee, however, was a completely different beast, with an opening that, to-date, remains my favourite:

They’re not hiding anything, are they? (Courtesy of fredfredfred.)

The best part about the opening, aside from being really well-made, is it introducing me to two characters I wasn’t already familiar with: there’s an Inuit couple? Or are they siblings? What’s the deal with them? Popo and Nana, as I came to find out, were from the NES classic Ice Climber, long-forgotten about for almost 20 years. They weren’t the only new additions, Marth and Roy helped pave way for the Fire Emblem series in North America, but they were the ones that piqued my interest the most.

Super Smash Bros. Melee expanded on everything the original had to offer: it doubled the fighting roster, had more unlockables and introduced new modes that were integral to 100% completion. Event Matches were skill-based, forcing you to complete objectives that progressively got harder, while Home Run Contest gave you something to vent your frustrations with. Then there were modes like Multi-Man Melee, which was an endurance test, All-Star Mode, where you faced-off against every fighter on three recovery hearts, and Trophy Mode, which was a machine that won you trophies. But the biggest addition to single-player was Adventure Mode, serving as a tour of the fighters’ worlds with occasional platforming segments. It’s not as advanced as future games’ story modes, and it’s a tad repetitive, but it was still lots of fun. It also compensated for the slightly-diminished Classic Mode, a returning feature from the first game.

Yet the bread-and-butter was its multiplayer component. Not only were the roster and options expanded, but there was a Tournament Mode that’s become a favourite for competitive gamers. The latter has even helped to extend the half-life of the game’s popularity post-Gamecube!

Looking back on the game, however, it’s easy to see cracks in its armour. Super Smash Bros. Melee, while fun, isn’t perfect, with numerous in-game glitches that make it easily exploitable and not as fun for a casual gamer. Wave Dashing and L-Cancelling, while neat, feel like the parkour tricks in Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time: great if you can figure them out, but unnecessary for a full-experience and frustrating when exploited. As someone who likes the Smash Bros. games and hated the unfair combos in the Mortal Kombat franchise, these glitches also felt like the game was mocking me.

Also, I really hate Event Match 51. It’s necessary to unlock Final Destination as a playable arena, but it feels like the game is purposely trolling me for being unable to beat Giga Bowser and his goons. I’ve used every character, even Jigglypuff and her Rest move, but I’ve given up trying, as have my brothers. I’ve so given up, in fact, that when the next game in the series was released, it tweaked the fight so much that I was disappointed when I beat it so quickly.

Super Smash Bros. Melee also has instances where it feels like it could’ve been better. Adventure Mode retreads the same formula with slight modifications for unlockable characters, and it feels like Sakurai wanted more time to expand on its potential. Classic Mode returns, but feels slightly less-special. The game also has “clones” of starting characters, and Mr. Game-and-Watch feels incomplete (his Shield, for example, doesn’t cover him fully.) And the game also has looser controls than I’d have hoped, with characters moving too fast for an inexperienced gamer to compete with a pro.

Also, side-note, the game lacks an online feature. But that’s hindsight talking.

Super Smash Bros. Melee feels the most “hardcore” of all the entries in the franchise. That’s not to say that it’s bad, quite the opposite, but it feels like it was made under a time-crunch. A lot of little features feel incomplete or wonky, and while that makes it unpredictable, it’s also aged less gracefully than its direct predecessor. Then again, part of me is saying that because the hardcore gaming scene drives me crazy, and I can’t pass up an opportunity to roast them.

In the end, a fine entry that expanded on the previous game. It’s too bad the next entry was so divisive, but that’s for next time…

Smash Reflections: Super Smash Bros.

The year was 1998. The Nintendo 64 was struggling to compete with its direct rival, Sony’s Playstation. And HAL Laboratory’s most-famous programmer, a then 28 year-old Masahiro Sakurai, was working on a fighting game for the console. Initially, Sakurai pitched it as a Namco-style arcade fighter, dubbed Kakuto-Geemu Ryouh, only to have it rejected by the higher-ups at Nintendo. Desperate to have his idea gain traction, Sakurai reworked it from the ground-up in less than a year, added Nintendo characters and pitched it once again.

It’s no surprise that Super Smash Bros. would become a hit, as it had all the trademarks of a classic game: a simple, easy-to-use roster. Basic, well-constructed stages that are fun to revisit. 4-player capabilities, then a novelty exclusive to the N64. A story mode that doubled as a semi-tutorial for how to play the game. Unlockables that allowed for multiple play-throughs of said story mode. And, most-importantly, fun gameplay.

All of the above gave Super Smash Bros. a certain degree of Nintendo polish in spite of its bare-bones aesthetic. N64 games in general haven’t aged all that gracefully, with a few exceptions, but they pushed the limits of what the console was capable of. Super Smash Bros., even by N64-standards, was pretty low-end, such that 9 year-old me thought the game was designed using cardboard cut-outs. That it didn’t end up mattering was proof that even a cheaply-made, rushed product could be good if everyone involved in its creation cared about it.

It helped that Super Smash Bros. had an excellent ad campaign in North America. This was apparent in its wacky promo, which, to this day, is one of the best ads Nintendo’s ever put on TV:

Dat Pikachu, tho… (Courtesy of PSNDarKnight01.)

I could go on about why this is a great commercial, but that wouldn’t do it justice. Especially since the intro’s been covered before by me on Infinite Rainy Day. No, instead I’d like to share my experience with the game, and its sequels, in honour of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, as well as how they’ve shaped my childhood, adolescence and adulthood.

I first discovered Super Smash Bros. at the same place I discovered most N64 games: my neighbour across the street’s house. Having kids who were quite a bit older than everyone else on the block, they usually had the coolest toys first, and that included video games. But while I’d usually be present with them when they’d play their newest N64 games, here I only had exposure to the game because I was shirking my responsibilities to the house’s owners: I was supposed to be looking after their golden retriever, but when playing with a hyperactive puppy got boring I started exploring the house for something to do. I eventually made my way upstairs to one of the bedrooms, where I noticed their N64 tucked away with a TV and an unfamiliar-looking game top-loaded in the console.

Sufficed to say, it quickly become one of my favourite N64 games.

I have many subsequent memories of Super Smash Bros. in the years to follow. For one, two of my cousins had N64s, and I’d spend many occasions playing the game with them. And two, my next-door-neighbour had the game as well, and I even got to play it at his house during his 10th birthday celebration. Super Smash Bros., while technically a fighting game, was, at its heart, the perfect party game, so it made sense that I’d routinely return to it. Even my dentist’s office had the game, which was a great way to pass the time and a frustrating experience for my mother when she had to drag me away from it.

I even developed short-hands for experiencing the game more-efficiently. Everyone had a favourite fighter, and mine was Kirby. To this day, I’ve used the pink creampuff enough to know his entire move-set by heart: B allows Kirby to inhale enemies, which could be copied with A. Down + B in midair allows Kirby to turn into a brick. A + Up repeatedly allows Kirby to float in the air. Up + B activates Kirby’s sword. Even holding Z and grabbing an enemy allows you to flip them and do immense damage. I’ve become so experienced with Kirby that, to-date, I still use him as my go-to character in every entry.

Speaking of, Super Smash Bros. succeeded because its character variety. The original game had 12 fighters, 8 from the get-go, and they were all pretty well-balanced. You could pick a favourite, familiarize yourself with their moves and become a pro in relatively-little time. The game was practically made for me because of its simplicity, and I can’t say that for other fighting franchises.

The game also allowed you to unlock special characters and stages via in-game objectives. These days, it’s easy to figure out how to 100% a game because of the internet, but back in the late-90’s/early-2000’s this wasn’t a luxury I had available to me. The limitations of the world wide web had forced me to go by word-of-mouth and trust others with how to unlock characters/stages, which made doing so surprising. I still remember figuring out how to unlock Ness and Captain Falcon, let-alone The Mushroom Kingdom stage. The joy that brought to me was priceless.

Super Smash Bros. was a crucial step in the evolution of console fighting games. Whereas most fighting games prior utilized a “deplete your opponent’s health” formula, the Smash Bros. franchise broke tradition by making the gameplay free-for-all. You didn’t deplete health, you added to percentage bars. You didn’t knock out your opponent, you knocked them off the screen. Whether it was a timer or stocks, the unique ways that the game kicked fighting game traditions in the face, even utilizing items from various Nintendo franchises, was refreshing. We take it for granted now, but this was huge in 1999!

Ultimately, the game’s ability to party-up the fighting genre has given it legs. Whether it’s a quick round with your buddies, or a drunken match of endurance, there’s no competition for the Smash Bros. games. Not that other games haven’t tried, Power Stone for the Dreamcast came close, but none have outcompeted Nintendo’s juggernaut. Like the Game Boy and the handheld market, Nintendo was king, and they’d continue to be king with its sequel on the Gamecube.

But that’s for next time…

On Timeless Storytelling-Lessons Animation Taught Us

You sure didn’t make this easy, did you Mikey?

I’m a huge fan of animation. I’ve been one since I first watched The Lion King in theatres at the age of 4. 24 years later, I anxiously await each newest theatrically-released animation, hoping it’ll be worth my time. There’s simply too much to not respect and love, and when Mikey Neumann issues a challenge to get the conversation rolling, you’d better expect me to jump on the bandwagon…even if I’m several months late.

Why did it take so long? Well, I’ve been attempting a response ever since his video debuted this Summer. I’ve gone through about a dozen ideas, scrapped three or four false starts and have contemplated giving up a few times. To be frank, Mikey’s video on Thanos, which he published later, was an easier response than what I’m attempting now, as it’s not as personal. It helps that The Avengers: Infinity War is also more straight-forward…

In truth, the “lessons animation taught us” concept isn’t new. The late-Roger Ebert had an entire episode of his beloved TV show dedicated to this exact topic, and that was in the 90’s! If adults were getting the ball rolling two decades ago, then chances are that it was already something worth taking note of. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I didn’t know what to talk about for the longest time. I initially wanted to discuss the dramatic comedy of Monsters, Inc. and Finding Nemo, and how they utilize both to critique the underpinnings of society. Then I wanted to discuss Studio Ghibli and how they’ve shaped my adult years. Then I wanted to discuss Avatar: The Last Airbender and how it’s still my favourite show 7 years after I first watched it. Most-recently, I wanted to focus on imagination in animation.

But all of those ended up being scrapped when I couldn’t find an angle to approach them with, which leads me to Attempt #5. So, what lessons has animation taught me? It’s hard to pick one, but I think I’ve finally found a bone with meat on it. That’s right, if animation has taught me anything, it’s that it’s timeless.

Let me explain.

Allow me to say something incredibly-controversial right out the gate: animation has always been a few steps ahead of live-action. The latter’s made some amazing strides in the last 40-odd years, but it’s still an incredibly-limited art-form that’s only progressed because of its integration of animated components (like stop-motion and CGI). Any idea live-action can achieve animation’s been capable of for far longer, even before computers. For live-action, the challenges of the medium’s capabilities restrict what it can pull off, like a puzzle with a pre-set number of pieces, while animation’s only real limitation is the creator’s imagination.

Even outside of that, animation has many more possibilities because of its lack of restrictions. We laud films like Babe for making animals talking look easy, but a seasoned nitpicker can find “fake” details that don’t match the illusion. With animation, however, this is irrelevant because, well, everything is “fake” to begin with, so the creators are forced to immerse the audience from the ground-up. This makes for a greater suspension of disbelief, allowing you to get away with a lot more:

Want to make animals talk? It’s possible.

Want to make the animals sing too? It’s also possible.

Want to make them anthropomorphic? Again, also possible.

Want to do all of that at once? Do I even need to answer that?

The level of creative freedom doesn’t even have to be that drastic. Concepts like food and drink, which are known to be a hassle in live-action because they go bad, can fit naturally into animation. In live-action, techniques have developed over time to help prevent waste and spoilage, like how ice cream is usually mashed potatoes mixed with food colouring, but with animation? If you want food, go ahead! No restrictions necessary!

This freedom even extends to action scenes, more-specifically fight scenes. I’ve seen many great fights, but in live-action lots of time and care has to go into making them perfect: you have to pick the right people. You have to subject them to training. You have to hire a fight choreographer. You have to know how to film the fight. And then you have actor fatigue, which is bound to kick-in at some point. Even when you use stunt-doubles, there are still the aforementioned limitations.

Animation has none of that. Not only is everything built directly from the ground-up, but you even can bend the rules. No need for fit actors and actresses, simply draw a skinny or heavyweight character. No need for tight prep-work, simply animate the fights as you go. This isn’t to say that planning isn’t required, it is, but you aren’t working with the limitations of real people.

These advantages also make animation an ideal format for more timeless effects work. Live-action special-effects have a tendency to date themselves really quickly, especially given how fast technology advances. I have immense respect for the classics and what they were able to pull off, but what looks fresh and new will be dated in 5-10 years. Animation, on the other hand, doesn’t have that problem because it’s not restricted as heavily by the technology of the time.

It helps that, being a medium (especially in the West) often associated with family entertainment, animation usually picks more general and overarching themes than live-action. Disney, in particular, has capitalized on this with fairy-tales, many of which are considered classics decades later. It’s true that some of the concepts presented might not fly by 2018 standards, but the artistry and general themes resonate enough that you can forgive the missteps. You don’t have that level of forgiveness with live-action, even when the films in question have aged wonderfully.

Ultimately, I think that’s why animation has captured my imagination so well: because it reinforces that timelessness is the key to storytelling. True, it’s always important to comment on society in art. But when your ideas are too narrow, or limited by the technology of the time, then who’s to say that it’ll still resonate in, as I said, 5-10 years? And while it’s true that there are awful animations that’ve aged poorly as well, I honestly think that animation is more timeless than people give it credit.

Farrakhan't: On Performative Wokeness

The phrase “performative wokeness” has been on my mind ever since I first heard it in a lecture. Said phrase describes anger or shame directed at social justice outlets that’s motivated solely by selfish self-worth, instead of a legitimate desire to improve the situation. More specifically, performative wokeness is interchangeable with feigned sympathies for an oppressed group, or “being a fake ally”. People often attempt performative wokeness to better their own image, even if it means patronizing others. Especially when they’re from a different minority group.

I mention this because one such an example emanates from a well-respected leader. Enter Louis Farrakhan, a prominent black minister who’s come under scrutiny for his beliefs. Farrakhan has been notorious for his bigoted speeches, most-notably his rabidly-Antisemitic ones, much to his denial. And it’s this that, as a Jew myself, has really piqued my ire for the man.

Before I delve further, I want to point out that Farrakhan being chastised by conservatives is hilarious. The right, especially in recent years, has a history of bigotry that’s made it hard to take any of their critiques seriously, so them calling this out reeks of hypocrisy. That being said, they have a valid point about Farrakhan: if the left is calling out the right’s racism, sexism and homophobia, then perhaps they could stand to lead by example. And they’re not with Farrakhan, which is disappointing. But I’ll put a pin in that for later, because we’ll be coming back to it.

Louis Farrakhan’s claims are disgusting when you distill them to their essence. Ranging from calling Jews “termites”, to claiming that Jewish doctors “give AIDS to black babies”, he’s a sore spot for many Jews in North America. Particularly, he’s a sore spot for many Jewish progressives in North America, who’ve routinely struggled to be taken seriously because of…well, y’know. So many Jews have been excluded by the platforms of Black Lives Matter and The Chicago Dyke March as is, but having a well-known and overtly Antisemitic figure stir up these movements by association is the real cherry on top. I definitely find myself struggling to call myself a queer ally and BLM supporter when these groups don’t feel like I can truly be one of them.

I’m sure you’re all wondering why I didn’t speak up earlier about Minister Farrakhan’s appalling views. Truth be told, there are many reasons. For one, I was scared. I was scared that my concerns would be used against me, and I was scared because I didn’t want to be perceived as racist. But I guess there’s no turning back now.

Additionally, I was far from quiet on Twitter. Much like my stance on Jeremy Corbyn, which I might cover in the future, I’ve been incredibly critical of Louis Farrakhan’s behaviour in my Tweets, even when it felt like I was shouting into an empty void. And the only people who listened to me, when they did, were far-right weirdos who assumed I was one of them, so that was a big turn-off. Plus, where to start? Farrakhan’s Antisemitism stretches back quite far, after all!

Ultimately, what got me to open my mouth was, well, Twitter. More-specifically, Twitter’s CEO, Jack Dorsey, a man who’s routinely updated the site’s hate-speech rules in order to appear helpful, yet has consistently failed to enact them on actual offenders because…God, who even knows? That Jack has sat on real abusers, like neo-Nazis and white supremacists, and done nothing as they’ve Tweeted hateful remarks is bad enough. The fact that he took forever to ban InfoWars creator Alex Jones is even worse, but now that he’s reaching over the aisle and taking no action against Louis Farrakhan too? I couldn’t stand by any longer.

It’s not like Minister Farrakhan hasn’t already split liberals and progressives. People like Chelsea Clinton (yes, that Chelsea Clinton) have condemned his behaviour, but others haven’t been as quick to jump on the train. I’ve yet to see a statement from Women’s March founder Linda Sarsour, nor have I heard a statement from The Chicago Dyke March. More-specifically, I’ve yet to hear an apology from Twitter activist Shaun King for endorsing Farrakhan earlier this year, and that really annoys me as someone who appreciates his work. Even in regular, progressive circles, Farrakhan seems to have as many apologists as detractors.

This goes back to my initial concerns about performative wokeness and the inability of the left to unanimously condemn Louis Farrakhan as a person. Because while Twitter might’ve removed his Verified status, he’s yet to be banned. And his support doesn’t seem to have completely-diminished either. Like I said earlier, the right has no right to be calling out Farrakhan for his Antisemitism, but they’re right about the left’s inability to own up to the stinkers in their own camps.

Besides, it’s not only Antisemitism that Minister Farrakhan’s espoused. He’s also gone after women and queer people. Which makes me wonder: what if a Jewish lesbian were to be impacted by his words? Would they be triply-screwed? Or would they have to accept that they’re “inferior by default”?

I feel like I’m in a no-win situation. People already assume that I’m “white privilege” because of my skin colour, not understanding what it means to live as a Jew. I’m routinely bombarded with Antisemitic insults because of my yarmulke, and people frequently assume that I’m super-wealthy because “Jews and money”. I also have to endure Donald Trump’s Antisemitic attacks on Schumer/Feinstein while hearing “but Ivanka and Jared” from apologists, all-the-while praying that a synagogue, cemetery or UJA billboard doesn’t get sprayed by some punk who doesn’t know how a Swastika’s supposed to look. And I haven’t even touched on the complicated subject of Israel, which so many people claim to be an expert on despite knowing almost nothing about it!

So having Louis Farrakhan, who’s openly Antisemitic, be openly embraced by groups advocating for social change isn’t only counter-intuitive, but detrimental to their image! Aren’t BLM, The Woman’s March, The Chicago Dyke March and the likes supposed to be all-encompassing? Isn’t the only criteria “justice for all”? Why bother if someone like Farrakhan’s welcomed with open arms?

I’d like to think I pay my social justice dues regularly. I’d like to think I promote their ideals, even when I can’t attend rallies. I’d like to think I’m one of them, even! So why not reciprocate? It doesn’t take that much effort to condemn someone for misbehaving, so why not do it? What are people afraid of?

This is why it’s so hard for me to fully-sympathize with progressive movements: you demand I take you seriously, but you can’t reciprocate? What kind of chutzpah is this? To quote Netta, “I’m not your toy!” You can’t expect Jews to feel welcomed in your home if you don’t respect them as guests. Jews don’t ask for anything other than to be listened to, and part of that listening involves taking the time to hear them out. And if they tell you that Louis Farrakhan’s bad news, then you’d better believe them!

I’ll end this with a mention of a recent conversation I had on Twitter with a close-friend. Said friend, who’s not Jewish, was equally as annoyed by Farrakhan and Jack’s refusal to do something about it. But while I believed that Farrakhan was more symptomatic of a bigger problem on the left, that being the inability to call out respected figures for their bigoted behaviour, said friend considered it an exception. We debated back-and-forth, eventually coming to a stalemate, but I think my point stands. Especially since the left loves calling out the right’s overt Antisemitism, faux-Zionism included!

My Top 12 Favourite Studio Ghibli Movies

It’s October, and you know what that means?

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…That’s right, it’s Autumn! Some of you were expecting me to state the obvious, but I’ve never felt comfortable embracing Halloween as an adult. For one, I’m Jewish, so I’d be celebrating a pagan holiday. And two, Halloween, while fun, is all about scaring people for candy, which runs antithetical to my religious roots. So while I’ve thrown out a satirical piece or two on the holiday during my Infinite Rainy Day days, or even this post that I did last year, in the end it doesn’t click with me. Sorry.

That’s not stopping me from doing something to celebrate, albeit in an odd way: I’m making a Top 12 list! On Studio Ghibli films! That’s right, I’m ranking my favourites from the Japanese powerhouse in honour of both their legacy and Hayao Miyazaki’s decision to come out of retirement again! If I haven’t already written tough lists, then this’ll definitely be tough now! It also won’t be easy because, with two exceptions, I’ve enjoyed every Studio Ghibli film on some level. So this’ll be like prioritizing something too close to my heart. Yay!

I’ll skip the introduction to Studio Ghibli, because I assume you already know them in passing, and instead-to quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail-get on with it. I’ll also keep my list as spoiler-free as possible, but be prepared for any that creep through.

12. Only Yesterday

Beginning this list is a movie representing the best and worst of Isao Takahata as director. Takahata never got the love and respect of his more-famous colleague while alive, which is a shame because he really was talented! I think part of that was his infrequent role as director, as well as being incredibly-demanding, but the 5 movies he made under Studio Ghibli were unique and interesting…even if not all good. Though I’m getting ahead of myself.

Only Yesterday stands out from other slice-of-life/coming of age hybrids in the way it approaches the concept. The story follows a 27 year-old woman named Taeko, who takes 10 days off from her city job to pick safflowers in the country. Once there, she reminisces about her childhood in the mid-60’s, as well as the challenges her 10 year-old self experienced as the youngest of three girls. Between learning about menstruation and being slapped by her father for wandering outside in socks, Taeko starts wondering what her past is telling her. What is it about her childhood that made her how she is? And why is she scared of her feelings for country bumpkin Toshio?

This one’s had to grow on me. If you’ll recall from Infinite Rainy Day, I wrote a review stating this this film was “the most 7/10 movie in the history of 7/10 movies to ever 7/10”. I still stand by that, but I feel like its strengths are increasingly outweighing its flaws. It’s still incredibly-slow and drawn out at points, and I feel like the ending’s a tad forced, but the contrast between the grounded, present-day scenes and the dreamier sections of the 1960’s definitely makes this worth watching for sheer production value alone. Nothing Takahata includes is accidental, and the dual animation styles are no exception!

What makes Only Yesterday so captivating, however, is that it turns the mundane into the magical. Cutting a pineapple to serve is a hassle and nothing special, but this movie makes it feel like you’re experiencing it for the first time. Even in how it tackles school life, though seeped in Japanese culture, resonates with me from my childhood. I remember school assemblies and sports games, as well as struggling with math and acting in badly-made plays. I yearn for my own nostalgia, which is why the pullbacks to adulthood cause me to sympathize with Taeko’s reluctance to grow up. This is a movie that hits harder as you age, making it worthwhile despite being slow.

11. The Secret World of Arrietty

I’ll admit that of all the entries here, this one’s not as fresh an experience as some of the others. I, basically, last watched it for a podcast episode that never ended up being finished. While that makes me sad, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy the film. It helps that this was the first from Studio Ghibli’s catalogue that I saw in theatres, thanks largely to a solid marketing campaign by Disney. And even if I were to re-watch it, I’m sure I’d enjoy it equally.

The Secret World of Arrietty centres around Arrietty, a tiny human who lives in the floor of a cottage with her mother and father. The family spends most of their time exploring and “borrowing” useless items “that people won’t miss”, as per custom of borrowers. But when a mission with her father leads her to accidentally get spotted by a boy named Sho, who’s come to rest before his heart surgery, the family realizes they’re in danger and decide to move. Complicating matters is the house’s owner, Haru, realizing that something’s wrong, and when she decides to investigate, it’s up to Arrietty and Sho to make everything right.

This movie’s biggest strength is factoring in scale with size: a stalk of grass? That’s a tree for Arrietty. An open draft? That can blow Arrietty away. Even the inevitable borrowing mission, which is pretty mundane when you think about it, plays like a stealth mission, simply because of how much bigger everything really is for Arrietty. I like how creative the movie has to be for its premise to work, perspective frequently being its greatest asset.

Above all, it’s the dynamic between Arrietty and Sho that really sells the experience. The Secret World of Arrietty is a quiet film with not a lot happening, but that’s more than compensated for by the two of them. It’s sweet, believable, occasionally emotional, really hooks you in, keeps you invested and doesn’t relent until the end. It also has its share of intense moments, which I won’t ruin despite them being obvious. Overall, definitely one worth watching several times.

10. Grave of the Fireflies

The controversial ranking. Before you crucify me for not putting this higher, I want to state that putting this film at #10 wasn’t anything personal; in fact, ignoring that Takahata came out later to state that the movie was an indictment of Gen X-ers, Grave of the Fireflies is, in many ways, a great film. Some of it, dare I say, is brilliant! However, as I’ve stated before, I take issue with certain facets of its storytelling. My issues are few, but they’re big enough to knock the experience a bit.

The story follows two siblings, Seita and Setsuko, as their lives fall apart in late-WWII Japan. Beginning with Seita dying from starvation in the opening (which isn’t really a spoiler), the film goes back in time and shows the events leading to the demise of our protagonists. We see them become orphaned, temporarily live with their aunt, run off to go live alone and, eventually, perish. The entire time, we’re left wondering: is Seita really that great an older brother? Or is his stubbornness a symptom of Japanese society’s greater apathy for its citizens?

The greatest praise I can give the movie is that, at the end of the day, it leaves those questions to the viewer to decide. We’re never told that what Seita’s doing to Setsuko is wrong, especially when other people are doing the same to him, and we understand why he behaves that way. At the same time, he’s not absolved from the consequences of his actions, as evidenced by the well-being of his sister. Considering the original book this was based on was its author expressing survivor’s guilt, it’s easy to see how that translates to the movie. And, rest-assured, those tears are worth it!

I still have my issues with the movie, though: it’s too long and slow-paced for my liking. The opening scene also alleviates a lot of the tension of the climax, and I think it’d have been more-effective to keep it a mystery until the end. And, in true Takahata fashion, there’s lot of unneeded padding. The film could’ve been trimmed down to roughly an hour and still worked, but that’s me. Nevertheless, Grave of the Fireflies is excellent. Bring the tissues, though, as you’ll need them.

9. When Marnie Was There

It was tough picking which of the Hiromasa Yonebayashi films under Studio Ghibli to place higher. Both are small, quiet movies based around mundane conflicts. And both movies are incredibly beautiful to look at, really taking advantage of what animation’s capable of when tackling slice-of-life. I think what won me over to When Marnie Was There, however, is that this is the lesser-talked about and more-often maligned of Maro’s works, when it shouldn’t be. Because it’s great, especially coming from someone who has mental health issues.

When Marnie Was There focuses on Anna Sasaki, a pre-teen with asthma and depression who spends time at a country cottage in order to recuperate. While there, Anna keeps getting visited by a lonely girl in the nearby marsh house across the lake. Her name is Marnie, and the two form a bond. But why can no one else see Marnie? And who is Marnie?

This movie excels at atmosphere. I initially thought this was the anime version of an E.A. Poe story when the trailer first debuted, and it’s easy to see why: it has all the markings of a classic ghost story, right down to the tragic backstory. It doesn’t end up going that route, but it’s still really sad when you realize what’s going on. And boy, is there a lot going on! I’d go into more detail, but it’s best if you experience this one blind.

People are overly-critical of this one. I know that my initial review was pretty critical itself, but time has softened me on the film. I still see some of the complaints, like the anticlimactic twist, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t judge it for yourselves. Especially since the movie was Studio Ghibli’s last film for a while, and there are surprisingly overt parallels between it and the studio’s legacy. I’d say more, but-again-it’s best if you go in blind. And I definitely recommend seeing it, if only to say that you didn’t think it was good.

8. My Neighbor Totoro

The movie that retroactively made Studio Ghibli a household name, this is the one Miyazaki movie where my outlook has changed significantly in the years since my first viewing. Why? Because while I initially enjoyed it, I also thought it was a little overrated. Only once my dad had his heart attack did I fully-appreciate it. It’s still not the studio’s best, or even my favourite from director Hayao Miyazaki, but is it worth watching? Yes.

The film, essentially, contains episodic vignettes. It details Mei and Satsuki Kusakabe’s adventures in the country, where they moved to be closer to their ailing mother. The film has them meeting soot gremlins, encountering nature and befriending a giant forest spirit named Totoro. It really only gets to a narrative in the last 25-minutes, but by then you’re so invested in what’s going on that you forgive it. Also, the narrative part, without giving anything away, is heartbreaking.

It’s really hard to explain why you should watch this without giving anything away, but it’s easy to explain its appeal given that Totoro made a cameo in Toy Story 3. My Neighbor Totoro, essentially, is the Japanese answer to the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, even containing plenty of thematic similarities: childhood, the innocence of youth and the fragility of life. It also doesn’t cheapen out on its themes, getting pretty heavy on occasion. It’s something kids can appreciate, but adults can appreciate more. As someone who’s experienced what I have in my life, I can attest to that.

It’s possible that My Neighbor Totoro won’t be for everyone. Some of you might even find it boring, especially since not much happens until the end. But that’s okay! Not all movies need to be grandiose adventure stories, sometimes the simple vignettes will do! And in the case of this movie, it opts for the latter. So give it a chance, pop it in and decide if it’s for you.

7. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya

Every Studio Ghibli fan has an Isao Takahata movie that they inevitably call “his best”. For many, that’s Grave of the Fireflies. While I definitely enjoy that film, my pick has to be his last feature before his death, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya. I wasn’t initially expecting to be blown away, even though the trailers were promising, but I was. And part of that wasn’t only that it was a total departure for the late-director, but also because of its premise.

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya’s about an elderly bamboo cutter and his wife, whom are blessed with a mysterious child from the heavens. Growing at an alarming rate, the child, later named Kaguya, brings the couple gifts by proxy, leading the absent-minded bamboo cutter to believe that his daughter’s royalty. Eventually they move to the city to marry Kaguya off and earn riches, much to Kaguya’s disapproval. But the more she tries to worm her way out of her situation, the worse it gets, until she falls into despair. What results is misery, regrets and, true to form, a heartbreaking finale.

In my initial review for the movie, I mentioned that The Tale of the Princess Kaguya was a scathing indictment on the Japanese education system. I still hold this to be true, as it never stops beating down on how Japan raises its youth to be miserable and obedient slaves to the system. While Grave of the Fireflies’s also a scathing indictment on society, what separates the films is that that one openly blames the youth. This film, in contrast, places the brunt of its attack on the system, demanding that it change first if anything’s to be fixed. It’s something I understood right from the get-go, and it’s something I recognize even more now. It’s a brilliant, if not upsetting, watch.

I also have to commend the movie for its water-brush aesthetic, really driving home its fantastical, dreamlike nature. Not that The Tale of the Princess Kaguya’s necessarily a hard fantasy, though it does have some of the familiarities of the genre, but the movie really lends itself well to the change in visual format. Because it’s really an allegory for society at large, and even people in the West can appreciate that on some level. I can’t say some of the pacing doesn’t feel off, especially as the longest movie from the studio runtime-wise, but it’s minimal enough to not really bother me. And I’m usually critical of Takahata’s work for that.

6. Kiki’s Delivery Service

Now we get to the more personal entries. Kiki’s Delivery Service took me completely by surprise when I first watched it. I was in a bad place mentally, and I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. I ended up buying it alongside another entry that we’ll cover later at my then-local HMV and watched it immediately. To say it delivered is an understatement. To say it over-delivered sounds more realistic.

The movie follows Kiki, a 13 year-old witch who leaves home to go train abroad. She ends up in a small city named Kuriko, where she befriends the owner of a bakery. Having nowhere to go, she agrees to stay at the bakery and start a delivery service to make ends meet. As expected, hijinks ensue, friendships are made, and maybe hearts are melted? The latter’s anyone’s guess!

Kiki’s Delivery Service gets better with each successive viewing, as I end up appreciating it more. I gravitated to it initially because of how it speaks to the creative experience, especially since I’m a writer who frequently struggles with dry spells. But now that I have a part-time job as a courier, I appreciate Kiki’s struggles even more. They say walking a mile in someone else’s shoes is a good way to empathize with them, and I guess I do that literally for Kiki. Who knew?

The movie’s biggest-strength is its more laidback narrative. It has a story, but the story feels like a more-cohesive My Neighbor Totoro in execution. It’s also really atmospheric and relaxing, save for the hectic climax. I’m especially amazed at how well it flows and works as a movie, especially since it almost never came to be. I still recommend watching it. You really can’t go wrong!

5. Whisper of the Heart

This one’s the most personally-affecting of all the entries. Not because it’s the best, because it’s not. Not because it’s the easiest to watch, because it’s not. Not even because it’s the most-timeless, because-again-it’s not. What makes Whisper of the Heart so personal is that it captures the creative experience like no other Studio Ghibli film, not even Kiki’s Delivery Service, does. And it makes it look easy.

The movie centres around Shizuku Tsukishima, a teenaged bookworm who discovers that a mysterious boy has been checking out books from the library before her. Initially, she thinks that the boy’s a bit of a jerk, but the two break down their insecurities and become friends. They even start to fall for each other, much to their surprise. Unfortunately, the boy, named Seiji, is in the process of deciding to pursue his passions in Italy. Even so, inspired by his determination, Shizuku begins writing a novel she’s been interested in for some time, hoping that it’d be finished once he returns.

The real meat-and-potatoes of this movie isn’t its story, but its underlying content. Like I said, Whisper of the Heart’s about the creative experience, most-notably the ups and downs of it. Creating something takes time, passion and a lot of failure to pull off, and this movie doesn’t glamourize that. It shows how much of a personal toll a passion project can have, and as a writer that speaks to me. It speaks to me even more than Kiki’s Delivery Service, and that movie already speaks to me a lot!

The film also has a running-motif of music playing an important part in the story proper, even revising a specific song several times. As someone who’s jammed with relatives on several occasions, this also resonated with me. It’s also upsetting that not many people know about this movie, as it was the magnum opus of its late-director, Yoshifumi Kondō, before his untimely death in 1998. For now, people largely think of as another Hayao Miyazaki movie, which is disgusting. You should totally fix that by seeing it, even if it’s not your cup of tea.

4. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

I know this isn’t technically a Studio Ghibli film, but the company wouldn’t exist without it so I’m including it here. Also, it’s largely considered to be an unofficial-official film in its library. Not to mention, Studio Ghibli has grandfathered it into their library. And it has the studio’s logo cemented on its box-art. In other words, suck it!

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind takes place in a post-apocalyptic world, thousands of years from now. The world is overly-polluted, and the remaining pockets of civilization are fighting for resources. Amidst the chaos, a tiny kingdom, The Valley of the Wind, has thrived thanks to good irrigation and strong wind currents, and its beloved leaders, King Jihl and Princess Nausicaä, have helped keep it that way. Unfortunately, The Valley of the Wind is caught in a crash-landing of foreign ship one night, only to be invaded the following morning by the warmongering kingdom of Tolmekkia. Its ruler, Princess Kushana, plans to use The Valley of the Wind for her own war against Pejite, and wishes to do so with an ancient weapon long-thought dead. Amidst the chaos, Nausicaä must make the choice of prioritizing her kingdom over the enemies abroad.

This is a movie that I once, many years ago, said I love more than I respect. I still hold that to be true. The film’s littered with bizarre contrivances, rushed pacing and ham-fisted writing, such that it’s hard to take it seriously. And many people don’t, even calling it “overrated”. But I’m not one of them. And I think that’s because it’s not a movie rooted in logic, but rather emotion.

Ignoring that, it’s still an immensely well-strung experience. I’d even call it excellent, especially in how it ties together themes of war and environmentalism. No doubts that that’d resonate more now than in 1984, especially with the current shape of the planet. It’s also a draining experience emotionally, such that, more than any other Miyazaki film, it borders on overkill. But that’s never stopped me from loving it, so what do I know?

3. Princess Mononoke

I’m gonna get lots of crap for putting this not at #1. While Princess Mononoke’s a masterpiece in every sense of the word, I haven’t been shy about my problems with it in the past. I think it takes a while to get going, is overly-dense and sidelines much of its massive cast in favour of overarching themes that, while important, feel a little too blunt. Also, one of its characters doesn’t get the comeuppance she deserves. However, this is supposed to be me telling why you should see the movie, so I’ll stop with the criticism.

Princess Mononoke’s about Prince Ashitaka and his quest to find balance in a world full of conflict and chaos. After having his arm cursed while fending off a demon boar, Ashitaka goes into exile and journeys to the west to find a cure. He finds a mining town run by Lady Eboshi, a woman who’s both a compassionate leader and a blood-hungry tyrant. Eboshi’s indebted to the emperor of Japan, and she figures the best way to pay her debts is to obtain the unthinkable. As Eboshi and the gods of the forest, led by San, duke it out for supremacy, it’s up to Ashitaka to set it right. But can he do the impossible, or will his curse kill him first?

This is the closest you’ll get to an animated film epic on-par with some of the greats in live-action. It’s also one of the few, mature animations that don’t feel overly gory or edgy for the sake of it, as many of its counterparts tend to be. Every choice in Princess Mononoke is earned, right down to its violence, which is important given its subject matter. It’s also densely-packed with lots happening in it. So yeah, not for kids.

One of the movie’s biggest accomplishments is conveying a heavy subject without feeling cheap or tacky: environmentalism. Princess Mononoke isn’t exactly subtle, but unlike other movies dealing with the subject it takes its time fleshing-out both sides. It gives weight and nuance to both civilization and nature, even while it still picks a side. That’s really refreshing, even though I’m not completely against pro-environmental stories. I’m still hesitant to call it flawless, but I whole-heartedly recommend the experience to anyone willing to give it a chance.

2. Castle in the Sky

The film that started it all, Castle in the Sky’s one of the few films in the pulp-serial adventure sub-genre I not only tolerate, but love. It’s interesting saying that because the movie’s direct influences, Star Wars and Indiana Jones, I’m not nearly as big on. Ignoring how I went into this initially without any expectations and was still blown-away, that it’s managed to outdo its direct predecessors is nothing short of a miracle. And, what’s better, it’s self-contained. Eat your hearts out, Lucasfilm!

Castle in the Sky tells the tale of two pre-teens, Pazu and Sheeta, and their quest to find the mythical, flying city of Laputa before a gang of pirates and the military. For Pazu, finding Laputa is a personal venture, as it’d mean clearing the name of his late-father. For Sheeta, however, Laputa’s her birthright, as evidenced by her mysterious pendant. But while they both have reasons for finding the city, their journey forces them to decide what’s more important: glory, or the fate of the world?

It’s really easy to guess everything in this movie, right down to its third-act twists and reveals, but like so many others in the sub-genre, it doesn’t end up mattering. Castle in the Sky knows that it’s goofy. It knows it’s littered with plot-holes. It even knows that its premise, even by 1986-standards, is cliché! But it embraces all of that as part of its aesthetic. And isn’t that what matters?

This is the kind of movie I can pop-in at any moment and be satisfied with. It’s also the kind of movie that I’d recommend to friends and family-alike, which I have. Why? Because it’s fun! If that’s not the heartiest of recommendations, I don’t know what is!

1. Spirited Away

You saw this one coming from a mile away. Considering that I can never shut up about it either, you knew it’d be my #1 choice. And why beat around the bush? It’s that good! I’m not joking!

In Spirited Away, 10 year-old Chihiro Ogino’s moving to her new house with her parents. She’s already bitter about it, but when they stop in an abandoned theme park along the way, she decides to mope on her own as her parents gorge on an open food stand. Unfortunately for her, the theme park is actually a bathhouse for the spirits, and when Chihiro returns to her parents, she discovers them turned into pigs. Desperate to save them from being eaten, Chihiro takes up a job at the bathhouse. The job is cruel, tedious and unwelcoming, but so long as she does what she’s told, she at least has a chance at surviving this.

Hayao Miyazaki’s later works routinely get chastised for “not being good” by fans. I don’t think that’s entirely-fair. I find that late-Miyazaki’s excellent, irrespective of quality! And nowhere is this more apparent than this movie, which is, arguably, the pinnacle of his career. I don’t care about the debate with Princess Mononoke fans, this is my pick for best Miyazaki movie!

I think most of that falls on Chihiro. Not only is she the most-realistically portrayed 10 year-old ever, but she’s forced into a horrible situation against her will and manages to rise above it! They say bad times bring out who we really are, and this definitely holds true with Chihiro. Fictional or not, she’s everything admirable about children under pressure, and we get 2+ hours to see why. I’d take that any day over films that patronize children! So check out my favourite Studio Ghibli film, I guarantee you’ll enjoy it!

And there you are: my Top 12 Studio Ghibli movies! Feel free to comment if you choose, and have a Happy Hallo-I mean, wonderful Autumn!

Chekov's Gunn

A couple of months ago, James Gunn, known for directing the Guardians of the Galaxy films, was fired from Marvel Studios after Mike Cernovich brought to Alan Horn’s attention a series of Tweets from Gunn’s past joking about pedophilia. Despite making amends for said Tweets, his sudden dismissal, and indefinite pause of production on Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. III, riled many fans. To-date, Horn has yet to renege this decision, and it’d seem, from the outset, that it’s time to move on. At least, I would say that…but recent news dropped that Gunn was in talks to direct and write Suicide Squad 2 for DC.

Cue the celebration.

For those unaware of my stance on the matter, which you can find here, I think this is great news. I felt Gunn’s firing was completely unwarranted and reflected poorly on Disney as a whole. Additionally, the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, while not my personal favourites, are easily the most-personal of The MCU’s filmography, dabbling in themes of death, abuse and forgiveness in ways many of its peers have yet to do. They’re also fun and funny, with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments amidst some killer tunes. So to see Disney fall prey to an orchestrated, online attack on one of their best filmmakers is upsetting, which is why I’m pleased that there’s now closure to this story in some fashion.

It’s also another of DC’s smarter moves in recent months. Anyone who’s been following the incredibly-messy trajectory of The DCEU knows how, save Wonder Woman, much of a disaster, both in-front of and behind the camera, it is. It’s been a series of bad decisions in succession, and it’s about time the franchise started over. That WB execs have been attempting course-correction is good, but getting an accomplished director like James Gunn to helm the DC-equivalent of a “Guardians of the Galaxy team” is nothing short of brilliant.

It'll also boost DC’s reputation in the filmic world. Keep in mind that DC’s been struggling with its brand for 6 years now. The company, up until recently, had been trying to merge Christopher Nolan’s dark grit with Zack Snyder’s inept filmmaking, resulting in a mess that seemed almost like DC was intentionally trolling its fans. It’s not like long-standing franchises aren’t bound to eventually have flops, Marvel had two in one year with Season 1 of Iron Fist and their incredibly short-lived Inhumans series, but three in-a-row? And then one more right after its only success-story? And almost all of them from the same director?!

I won’t bag on Snyder too much, especially considering his family tragedy, but this wasn’t a good look for DC. In an attempt to be the “edgier MCU”, The DCEU was slowly digging its own grave. It was as if the project was dead from the start, which is why I’m glad WB are starting to course-correct and differentiate themselves from the competition. Their trailers for Aquaman and Shazam! show promise, but hiring Gunn really drives that home. It’s also a smart business decision, given Gunn’s ability to work well under studio mandates.

Which is why the few people that are angry over this baffles me so much. For one, this is DC making good on their promise of “director-led films” from the beginning of The DCEU’s inception. Though Snyder has a unique voice, he’s not a coherent filmmaker. He might’ve started out promising in his early days, but his biggest successes, Dawn of the Dead, 300 and Watchmen were more the result of the screenwriters: 300 and Watchmen were written by people other than Snyder, while Dawn of the Dead was one of Gunn’s earliest, big-budget writing credits. Even in the case of Watchmen, which I’ve seen, the movie didn’t understand its source material. By having Gunn write and direct Suicide Squad 2, you’re ensuring a greater chance of success.

Two, why does it matter if alt-right trolls are offended? They’re the ones responsible for Gunn’s removal from Marvel, let them be unhappy! The best revenge you can have here is to see your target show you down by remaining successful. And isn’t that what matters, even more than him directing for Marvel’s competition?

And three, it’s good for both DC and Marvel. It’s good for DC because they now have such a talented man working for them, and that’s something they need at the moment. It’s also good for Marvel because it’s a lesson in bad decision-making that they need to learn from. They let their biggest ace in the hole go over something petty, and there are consequences to doing that. That’s not to say they’ll suffer terribly in the long-run, they probably won’t, but considering that Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. III is now in limbo, well…I think this is coming back to bite them. (Which it should!)

Ultimately, this gives The DCEU the competitive edge they so desperately crave, especially with having to play catch-up. And as much as I love what Marvel’s doing with their brand right now, I like DC’s heroes more. They hit broader themes, hence they appeal to a broader crowd. Besides, I’m desperate to see a Flash movie done right, let-alone a Superman movie done right for the first time in almost 40 years!

It’s possible that this’ll go terribly-wrong, and that Gunn’s efforts will be in-vain. But until WB tries, what’ve they got to lose?