Omar God!

Antisemitism’s a complicated form of bigotry. I say that because, more than others, it relies on complete, and lacking, power and influence. Jews, according to Antisemitism, are both super wealthy and incredibly poor. They control everything, and they control nothing. They’re part of the system, yet they’re also outsiders. Even minorities, who paint Jews as “white privilege”, still can’t comprehend white privilege rejecting Jewishness regularly.

Antisemitism also mutates to meet the flavour of the day: 1000 years ago, Jews were “Christ killers”. 500 years ago, they were “greedy merchants”. 100 years ago, they were “outsiders”. Less than 100 years ago, they were “parasites out to corrupt the Aryan race”. And now, they’re “colonialists in a foreign land”, except they’re referred to as “Zionists”.

This past month, a bill was introduced in American politics to combat the influence of BDS. I don’t think you need me to repeat my stance on BDS, but the bill was passed almost unanimously. It went through The GOP ranks without question, and only 6 Democrats were opposed in The Senate to it. Considering that Democrats and Republicans are known enemies, this is huge!

The bill has also seen its share of Antisemitic backlash. In particular, AIPAC, a committee whose purpose is to improve Israeli standings in The US, has been slammed as being “the puppet-master”. That alone would be cause for concern, AIPAC isn’t as influential as people claim, but what bothers me is how American critics have been handling this bill. In particular, one politician is becoming a household name due to her off-colour and tone-deaf remarks: Minnesotan Congresswoman Ilhan Omar. This isn’t the first time Omar’s made questionable comments, but it’s the first time that one has blown up in her face.

A Jewish journalist named of Glenn Greenwald openly commented on the American fascination with Israel, to which Omar, ever shrewd, responded with a “Benjamins” reference. When asked by another Jewish reporter, Batya Ungar-Sargon, to elaborate, Omar responded with “AIPAC!”. Of course, this prompted politicians from both sides of the aisle to express disappointment, but it wasn’t until House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, a well-known Democrat, publicly shamed Omar that she recanted. I like her redaction quite a bit, it sounded sincere and was phrased well, but I didn’t realize until later that she opened her mouth again and praised a Jewish activist for defending her initial position.

Politicians gonna politish, amirite?

I’m not a fan of politicians in general, as I find that even the most-sincere of them still have to be kept in-check. They are, after all, working for us, and it’s really easy for them to forget that. So whenever one of them slips up, it’s not unexpected. Especially when their slip-ups cause serious ramifications.

I’m definitely disappointed in Congresswoman Omar. I know she already gets a lot of undue backlash because of her background, backlash that’s completely-unwarranted, but like Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib, with whom Omar shares her Muslim faith, I try to focus on her policies and actions. Sadly, the issues of Israel and Antisemitism, already hot-button topics in progressive circles, occasionally surface with Omar and Tlaib anyway, since they’ve made it clear where they stand. Given that Tlaib has used the “dual loyalties” card when it comes to American Jews, I was wondering, half-afraid, when Omar would one-up her.

My issue with this mess is that, despite it never being a good time for Antisemitism, her underlying issue is one I sympathize with. The influence of lobbies in The US can’t be overstated. It’s an influence that even my Grade 12 Ethics teacher, a centre-right libertarian, had openly brought up in high school. Considering the decay of politics in 11 years, no doubt a result of the backlash Obama received for being president, it should be no surprise that the lobby influence in The US has gotten worse. Whether it be The NRA, Wall Street or The Tea Party, lobbies have money to spend, and they’re incredibly strategic in how they spend it.

What does this have to do with AIPAC? In many people’s eyes, AIPAC’s part of the problem. And I sympathize to an extent, I’m not a fan of AIPAC either, but there are several misconceptions that need debunking, too. For one, AIPAC’s a committee. They might have influence in politics, but, as Lahav Harkov has pointed out, they’re legally not allowed to donate large sums of money to politicians. At best, their biggest crime is inviting people to speak at their events, followed by angry letters when these individuals let them down.

Which leads to misconception number two: their foreign influence. Ignoring Sheldon Adelson and George Soros, because they’re not even relevant here, AIPAC isn’t allowed to take foreign money from Israel. They also, on that note, aren’t allowed to give to Israeli causes. Their influence is strictly limited to American affairs. They can express disappointment in how Israel’s perceived, but that’s about it.

Misconception number three, therefore, involves who the real financial backers in Israeli affairs are: Evangelist Christians. That’s not to say wealthy Jews don’t partake somewhat, but most are wealthy Christians who believe it’s their duty to back Israel because “the end of days”. That VICE even did a documentary on this a few years back should be a tip-off, but it bears repeating: Christians, in many ways, care more about Israel than many Jews, which is surprising. I’d add that it’s also impressive, but their motives are pretty misleading.

I say this all because it not only contextualizes the extent of AIPAC’s power, it also re-contextualizes Omar’s initial complaint. Because calling AIPAC a boogeyman is a classic, Antisemitic trope on-par with representing Africans as monkeys. Jews were frequently scapegoated via their financial power in Medieval Europe, and that’s carried to today; after all, why blame the European bourgeoise when Jews, who were often in the courts, could suit the oppressed people perfectly? It’s not as though blood libels and expulsions weren’t partly-motivated by money and influence!

This is why Jews were so mad at Omar: even ignoring her clarified response about lobby interests, which she later crapped on, her claim about AIPAC holding “the Benjamins” leans heavily into that trope. She may not have “intended” it that way, which I find dubious given her education, but it still comes off that way to left-leaning Antisemites. That’s what makes dogwhistles dangerous, as it doesn’t matter the intent. All that matters is the perception.

I probably wouldn’t be so flummoxed if progressives understood this. Yes, the right is awful and Antisemitic too. Yes, their condemnation of Ilhan Omar is hypocritical, especially since Steve King and Donald Trump are represented in The GOP. But no, that doesn’t mean Antisemitism and other forms of bigotry don’t exist in liberal circles. Because they do, and not acknowledging that’s incredibly unhelpful because bigotry isn’t a contest.

I’d be more content, possibly, if Ilhan Omar weren’t an educated Democrat. But she is, and she’s representing the people of Minnesota. If this is how a newly-elected official is going to behave, then I’m not sure I want her in politics. But I don’t know who I’d want to replace her, either, which makes it tough.

Lastly, I urge my fellow progressives to stop and reflect more about this behaviour. I get that Israel’s a difficult topic, and I’m not saying it shouldn’t be. But Ilhan Omar’s no saint. And if my Block-List on Twitter includes more liberals than conservatives because of nonsense like this, then what does that say about politics in general?

AHHH, Real Monsters!

In 1876, German composer Richard Wagner introduced the public to Der Ring des Nibelungen, a tale about female Viking warriors called The Valkyries. In it, the sisters of Brünnhilde take dead warriors to the Afterlife, or Valhalla, on a ride set to the opera’s most-famous piece of music, Ritt der Walküren. Despite Wagner later regretting the public affection of his work, his opera, in particular Ritt der Walküren, proved to have long legs, becoming the inspiration for various movies, shows and parodies in the decades that’ve followed. You’ve probably heard this piece of music under its English name, The Ride of the Valkyries, and it’s incredibly easy to hunt down on YouTube. I know I’ve listened to it myself, and I’m unashamed to call it one of my favourite pieces of music.

I mention this because Richard Wagner was a member of The League of Antisemites, an organization started by Wilhelm Marr. Wagner’s disdain for Jews was such an open-secret that Adolf Hitler considered his work an inspiration and would reference it frequently in his speeches. Considering that I’m Jewish, and should oppose all Nazi-inspired art, how can I consider The Ride of the Valkyries one of my favourite pieces of music? The answer, against all better judgement, is simple: it’s well-composed. It’s so well-composed, in fact, that I’d be remiss to discard it despite knowing who Richard Wagner was.

This past year-and-a-half has seen a drastic rethinking of consent and predatory behaviour, thanks to Harvey Weinstein and the influence of Me Too. The way in which we’ve collectively responded to predatory behaviour from influential people has caused a rethinking of the art that these predators have had a hand in. This has also led to discarding said works and re-evaluating their legacies. I’m not one to deny this outright, I’m guilty of it too, but I also think that it’s slightly wrong to engage in this form of erasure.

See, art is, and I hate this word, problematic. It’s problematic because it’s human, and, therefore, prone to the flaws of those making it. But it’s also problematic because it’s often collaborative, and, therefore, the end-result of circumstances the consumer has no control over. That our favourite works of art were created, or partly-created, by awful people isn’t surprising, but expected. And trying to erase the impact that predatory people have had in art removes not only their potentially-positive contributions, but is incredibly-dishonest. If history is anything to go with, bad people should be learned from, not ignored.

I understand that this is hard to do; after all, these people have hurt us. They’ve wronged us. They’ve set a bad precedent by suppressing the talent of individuals whose voices we may never get to know. That’s a tragedy, and it’s only natural to want to erase them. If they had to cheat to get successful, why bother feeding that success?

I’ve been struggling with this dilemma for years. It began when Mel Gibson directed The Passion of the Christ, followed by his DUI and Antisemitic rant a few years later. In the years following that, I’ve consistently struggled with comprehending how talented people can be so awful, as well as how to deal with their legacies. How can I enjoy Chicken Run, one of my favourite animated films, when Gibson voiced Rocky the Rooster? Am I crazy?

In recent years, however, this has only gotten worse as more of my favourite artists have been outed as awful: JK Rowling? She’s a TERF who’s actively pissing on the goodwill of her fans. John Lasseter? He’s a horny creep who made working at Pixar toxic for women. R. Kelly? He may have sung “I Believe I Can Fly”, but his underaged romancing isn’t a secret. And then there’s Vic Mignogna or Todd Haberkorn, VAs who’ve come under fire for their predatory behaviour towards fans.

This is all upsetting, and it’s not going away anytime soon. If anything, it’ll only get worse as more artists are unearthed as awful people. And that’ll also mean that their legacies will be re-examined, which, for many people, victims included, will take the shape of erasure. Sympathetically-motivated erasure, but erasure nonetheless.

Unfortunately, this’ll also downplay history. Like Wagner and The Ride of the Valkyries, the impact of these artists is everywhere: Rowling helped pioneer a renewed interest in children’s literature in the late-90’s and early-2000’s. Lasseter was responsible for significant advances in CGI, even directing the first, fully-computer generated film in 1995. R. Kelly helped make Space Jam big in the late-90’s, and his music is incredibly-memorable still. And Mignogna and Haberkorn have helped shaped anime dubbing in North America with their contributions to voice acting in the Texas and LA scenes.

Even if these are all people not deserving of respect, that doesn’t make their contributions any less-impactful. I know that Rowling, Lasseter, R. Kelly, Mignogna and Haberkorn were all influential in shaping my childhood, teenage-hood and adulthood, even if I now know who they really are. It’s shocking, and it’s frustrating, which is why the only way to fix that is to go back in time and change my tastes in art. But since time machines don’t exist yet, and the ripple effect of changing the past would be negative, I have to live with that not happening.

Besides, we should be using these individuals as people to learn from, not erase. Rowling’s awful? Okay, that should be a wake-up call to aspiring writers. Lasseter’s also awful? Okay, that should be a wake-up call to aspiring animators. R. Kelly’s awful too? Okay, that should be a wake-up call to aspiring musicians. Even Mignogna and Haberkorn being awful, while disappointing and upsetting, should be a wake-up call to aspiring voice actors.

I also don’t think we should be giving posthumous wins to awful people by letting their legacies get to us. Should we downplay their victims’ pain? Of course not! But pretending that they never existed loses the lessons they offer to history, and I think that that’s a crime.

Finally, I’d like to share something personal: when I was about 11 years-old, Teletoon started airing old Warner Bros. shorts through The Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show. They were all smart and funny, but one stood-out in particular: “What’s Opera, Doc?”. In it, Bugs Bunny tries outwitting Viking Elmer Fudd and loses, with the entire short set to, you guessed it, Wagner’s famous opera. It was funny, sad, and-most importantly-clever, despite its music. Even after finding out that Wagner was Antisemitic, I was upset because the short had made such a lasting impact. And isn’t that what matters most?

GhostBLEHsters!

I’m not the biggest Ghostbusters fan. I think the first film is overrated, and I have no interest in the sequel or cartoons. I saw the reboot that came out a few years ago, and I thought it was harmlessly-enjoyable. So when Jason Reitman, Ivan Reitman’s son, announced that he was working on an in-continuity sequel for a 2020 release, my initial thought was “I’m tired”. I still hold that now.

Some of you won’t get why I’m writing about something that doesn’t enthral me, but this is part-penance for my thoughts a few years back. Prior to the reboot’s release, I wrote a blog discussing my thoughts on its trailers. They were pretty mediocre, but it bugged me how people were using them as a springboard for both bigotry and white knighting. Looking back, I not only wasn’t fair to an overall decent-yet-forgettable experience, I also underestimated the toxicity of nerd-dom. Keep in mind that this was also following the arrival of Gamergate and before the 2016 election.

So why am I tired? The obvious answer, like with Ready Player One, Avatar, the newer Star Wars films and The MCU, is that people can’t stop giving their unoriginal hot-takes about something not worth it, and it’s draining. Yet, unlike the aforementioned, I don’t care about Ghostbusters as a franchise. The original movie, essentially, was lightning in a bottle and a by-product of 80’s era Reaganomics, full-stop. Trying it again, especially with what we know about Reagan’s legacy, is bound to fail. Yet since the internet refuses to let it die, I guess I can’t either.

Let’s start with the original movie: the film follows three, washed-up scientists, as well as their token, black tag-along, as they conduct illegal and highly-dangerous ghost-hunting. Along the way, they cause insane amounts of property damage, argue with an EPA member and accidentally come face-to-face with an ancient, apocalyptic prophecy. Also, something-something-Zuul-something-something-don’t-cross-the-streams. If it sounds like I’m underselling one of the biggest hits of 1984, I’m not doing it intentionally. The movie, as I said before, doesn’t interest me, even if there’s nothing wrong with it.

What bugs me is how revered it is. Wish-fulfillment fantasies aren’t necessarily evil, I’m a fan of superheroes, but Ghostbusters, like The Matrix, has become an icon of MRA incels. Simply look at the comments on the trailer for the reboot and compare them to the those on the teaser for the newest movie. The levels of toxicity are so high that you’d need to cross the streams to purge them from your mind.

Which begs the question of “why?”. Why’s this a big deal? Why does it matter if we get an in-continuity sequel, especially when the last one wasn’t well-received at the time? Why’s the rebooted film so widely-despised, when there are better targets to direct your bile? And why, all these years later, is talking about the reboot still “asking for trouble” from people who haven’t moved on?

I no longer care if the 2016 film “was awful”, or if it “tanked financially”. It’s a red herring in the overall discourse. Even if it “wasn’t great”, does it really matter when little girls were connecting to it on a personal level? Why should they be robbed of that? Have we really sunk that low?

I’m tired of arguing my way around the hot-takes, and I’m tired of explaining why these hot-takes are irrelevant. Like the internet’s thoughts on Avatar, I’m not interested in why you didn’t like this movie. It’s boring, and, honestly, I’m far more interested in hearing why you liked it instead. Arguing against the grain is far more intriguing to me.

But even outside of that, the 180-flip over the latest film in the franchise, simply because it’s canon, actually tires me out more. Does this mean I want it to fail? Of course not! But that doesn’t mean I don’t think the internet doesn’t deserve it, either. Because I don’t think they do.

I recognize that I’m generalizing ever-so-slightly, and that some people didn’t like the 2016 reboot for legitimate reasons. For that, I apologize. Even ignoring its strengths, the reboot had inconsistent jokes and story-threads that led to an unearned climax in the third-act. If that turned you off, I sympathize. This is also not directed at you.

But for everyone else, know that the levels of ire actually concern me. They concern me because they’re wasteful, and they concern me because they over-romanticize a franchise that peaked qualitatively with its first entry. They also concern me because they re-enforce a toxic stereotype that nerds are “whiney, irredeemable man-children who live in their parents’ basements”. It’s bad enough that real-world issues are already a dumpster fire, I don’t need that in my entertainment as well. But it’s there, and that makes me sad.

Despite anything else I could possibly say, I think it’s time we recognize, collectively, that whether or not a film franchise is worth talking about is subjective and not worth getting mad over. That doesn’t mean there aren’t aspects of filmmaking that can’t be objective, like the quality of craft, but the enjoyability component will vary from-person-to-person. Besides, if critically-panned movies like Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice can retain loyal and passionate fans, some of whom like them for legitimate reasons, then why can’t the 2016 reboot of Ghostbusters be the same? And why does the new film “prove” that the aforementioned movie was “trash”?

Something to think about.

Best Panther: On The Academy Awards...

The Oscars are always a contentious subject. Not because I don’t get enjoyment watching them, I do, or because I enjoy watching the internet rip into them, I don’t, but because the nominations are way too subjective. Every year, it’s the same questions: what makes X more valid than Y? What would please everyone, if that’s even possible? And, more specifically, why argue over the equivalent of horse racing?

I mention this now in light of a semi-predictable and semi-surprising nomination for Best Picture. The Oscar nominations went up recently, and it was interesting to see Black Panther as a Best Picture contender. Granted, it’s in the category alongside BlacKKKlansman and Roma, but that it got in there at all is interesting since it’s the first superhero movie to ever be nominated. But is it warranted? And will it even win at all?

This is a tough issue to dissect, so I’ll play Devil’s Advocate and argue both sides again. Here goes:

Pros:

Superhero movies get a bad rap from The Academy.

It’s true: considering how there’ve been so many greats to choose from, especially within the last 10 years, The Academy’s paying long-overdue lip-service to the sub-genre. The fact that The Dark Knight and Logan, both powerful dramas that deconstructed what their leads stood for, went unnoticed in the Best Picture category is frustrating and disappointing, so this is a nice change of pace. It demonstrates, at least superficially, that The Academy is learning from past mistakes.

It's equally great because it shows that Black Panther resonated with audience members. Keep in mind that: a. Its critical reception was excellent, the best of any MCU entry to-date. b. Its box-office numbers were amazing, generating over $1 billion in ticket sales globally. c. It got people who don’t normally see movies, people from poor, black communities, to come to the theatre. The movie earning a Best Picture nomination is the cherry on top.

Think of the ripple effect this’ll have: not only does a high-profile, big-budget superhero movie get people talking, it also gets The Academy, a group of “stuffy old people”, talking as well! Much like when Beauty and the Beast and Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King were nominated for Best Picture, that a “non-Oscar type of movie” was considered for such a prestigious award is huge! And it’s a movie dealing with content not normally discussed!

Don’t think that an Afro-futurist superhero movie getting a Best Picture nomination will be unnoticed by black filmmakers. Because while the nomination is great, that black directors and storytellers can have their fiction movies recognized by The Academy, the people that make a huge mark on the public, speaks volumes. No longer must marginalized voices hide in the shadows, hoping they’ll catch a break and, maybe, be noticed by that executive who wanted to be generous. No, an Afro-centric story getting its dues financially and critically shows that there’s real, proven money to be made from taking risks.

Cons:

Okay, and?

I don’t want to demean Black Panther. I liked Black Panther a lot, even considering it my favourite MCU entry and one of my favourites of 2018. But it receiving a Best Picture nomination, while nice, doesn’t mean much to me. I don’t need my favourite movies to win medals.

There are two issues here that need addressing. Firstly, The Academy doesn’t pick its choices based on quality, even for Best Picture. If you want proof, look at some of its winners and see what they were up against. In the case of a few of them, you’d probably wonder why they were even nominated. Is this the hill we’re ready to die on?

The Oscars aren’t about quality filmmaking. They’re supposed to be in theory, but practice is a whole other ballpark. The Academy’s as political as it is money-driven, and it’s easy to sway the voters with the right incentive. Especially since, until quite recently, most of them were old, white and male. That’s not an indictment of the system, but it highlights its biases.

A few years ago, a shocking interview showed the voter mindsets in The Academy. It highlighted unsettling truths, namely how little they cared about being fair in their opinions. (It also highlighted an anti-animation bias, but that’s for another blog.) It’s clear that they were dead-set in their ways and had made their minds up even before actually watching their assigned films.

That leads to another issue, being whether or not their choices were even sincere. Did Black Panther get its nomination because The Academy liked it, or was it to get black filmgoers to “shut up”? It sounds awful to suggest that, because racism, but knowing The Academy’s past it’s not out of the question, either. Considering how they’ve made past nominations, even progressive ones, with an underlying agenda, I doubt this was an altruistic decision. Not when movies like Green Book and A Star Is Born received nominations, too.

Even ignoring that, I wouldn’t consider Black Panther last year’s best movie anyway. I wouldn’t even consider it last year’s best Afro-centric movie, as I liked BlacKKKlansman, The Hate U Give and, yes, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse more. Being a superhero movie that’s Afro-centric isn’t enough to cut it anymore, not with the strides that Afro-centric films have made over the past few years!

Finally, and this is a generalized complaint, I think The Oscars are too subjective to be that excited. So Black Panther got nominated for Best Picture? Okay, does it need the nomination to be good? And will everyone be happy? The answer to both questions is “no”. Besides, it probably won’t win Best Picture anyway. That honour will go to a safer, more predictable choice, if we’re being honest.

That’s my take on this ordeal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to begin my compare-contrast piece.

Why in the World is Carmen Sandiego So Good?

Carmen Sandiego’s a good show. You’re welcome for the recommendation.

Courtesy of Jon Sprague.

Okay, that was mean of me. Normally I’d reserve the end of January for my usual compare-contrast piece, but that’ll have to wait. In the meantime, I’ll share my thoughts on Season 1 of Carmen Sandiego. A show based on a 1985 computer game would’ve been the last place to find a family-friendly, dark subversion story, let-alone a good one, but after 9 episodes, I think there’s enough to warrant a blog entry. (Be warned, spoilers!)

The story follows Carmen Sandiego, a Robin Hood-style thief who’s caught the eye of Interpol. We learn, through a conversation with an old acquaintance, that she’s from Buenos Aires and was abandoned as a baby outside a criminal organization called VILE. Initially a prankster, Carmen, or “Black Sheep”, becomes interested in joining VILE. Despite failing her final exam, Carmen sneaks out of VILE’s headquarters and realizes what’s actually going on. She then escapes and adopts the name of Carmen Sandiego, dedicating her life to foiling VILE’s operations.

It’s a pretty basic set-up, but it’s interesting if you’ve followed the franchise before. Carmen Sandiego’s been the focus of several games and shows, but she’s never been a “heroine”. She was always the main foil, a thief who steals out of boredom and leaves clues for the heroes to find. Here, however, she’s an anti-hero, stealing valuables from other thieves and returning them to their owners. It’s a controversial take on the character, essentially.

But it’s an interestingly one, though. While past entries were interesting, I’d never understood what made Carmen Sandiego tick. I’d never been able to pick her brain, or get a feel for who she was. Carmen Sandiego, despite being a departure from tradition, does exactly that. And it’s all-the-better for it.

This change makes for a more interesting cast. Ignoring Carmen Sandiego, franchise staples like Zack and Ivy, normally the duo trying to stop her, are now accomplices, while Player’s given a face. The Interpol agents sent to hunt Carmen, Julia and Chase Devineaux, are also fun to watch, especially with how much more competent Julia is than Devineaux. Even the VILE operatives are quirky and colourful, instead of generic grunts. I do wish that VILE weren’t another “evil for the sake of it” corporation, but that’s a minor quibble.

Aesthetically, Carmen Sandiego’s top-notch. Flash animation gets flak for being “cheap and lazy”, but the end-results can be excellent if done well. And this is easily on-par with any traditionally-animated film from Hollywood, even with its budget limitations. You can pause at any point in an episode and admire the attention to detail, a sign that lots of hard work went into it. The character models are also really pleasing, which helps.

I like the voice acting, too. Carmen Sandiego has a strong roster of VAs, including heavy-hitters like Liam O’Brien and Mary Elizabeth McGlynn, but shout-outs go to Gina Rodriguez and Finn Wolfhard as Carmen and Player respectively. Rodriguez brings an innocence and vulnerability to Carmen, while Wolfhard cranks up the confidence of Player to 11. You can tell they’re enjoying their roles, which makes watching them interact that much more entertaining.

That also helps with the show’s educational segments. The games’ focus was on teaching kids geography and world history, and it transfers over to this show. Each episode begins with Carmen and Player bantering back-and-forth about their current destination, serving as exposition for the greater objective. While this could easily get boring, Carmen Sandiego plays into this aspect with excellent visuals. I’m not ashamed to admit that I learned details about different countries that I never knew prior, and I used to study maps!

Carmen Sandiego leans on a narrative hybrid of episodic storytelling and overarching storytelling. The episodic content feels like “villain of the week” material, with Carmen and her crew foiling the latest attempt by VILE and the villain(s) narrowly getting away at the end. This feels a little repetitive after a while, more on that later, but it’s complimented by solid action and clever writing. The overarching narrative, however, is where the real meat of the show is, delving more into Carmen’s history and existential crisis:

What’s Carmen Sandiego’s real name?

Why was she adopted by VILE?

How did she develop a conscience?

And why does VILE hate her?

It’s interesting seeing the show go this route, and it opens a can of worms not touched on by previous iterations. Carmen, by osmosis, becomes the Western equivalent of Fujiko from Lupin III: The Woman Called Fujiko Mine, given that both shows tackle their respective franchise’s female lead and delve into their psyches. If you’ve seen both shows, then you’ll notice parallels. I doubt this is accidental either, and I’d be surprised if the show-runners for Carmen Sandiego hadn’t looked there, as well as Kim Possible, for inspiration.

Is Carmen Sandiego flawless? No. Aside from the repetitive nature of the episodes, more on that in a bit, the show, or its first season, feels like a “Villain of the Week” series. This is because VILE’s operatives are unbelievably-incompetent, constantly being foiled by not only Carmen, but her accomplices Zack and Ivy. I understand the former, since Carmen’s the “best of the best”, but when Carmen’s allies can fool expert thieves, there’s a problem. In one episode, Zack tells an unconvincing lie to a VILE operative to distract him…and he buys it. In another, Zack dresses like an aristocrat, goes to a dinner party for VILE’s elites, breaks character several times and still manages to foil their plans! This got to be such a running joke that when VILE operative Paperstar succeeded at her mission in Episode 7, I was relieved to see something different for a change.

The show, after the two-part introduction, can also feel, like I mentioned earlier, repetitive: Carmen goes to a part of the world to stop VILE. Carmen fights a VILE operative. Carmen wins. Carmen returns what was originally stolen, and the VILE operative escapes yet again. By the time Episode 9 rolled along, I was half expecting this to happen yet again because I was so used to it. So when the episode, instead, revealed a surprise twist involving Carmen’s relationship to Shadowsan, it shocked me.

Overall, Carmen Sandiego’s already showing lots of promise. It has its kinks and bugs, partly due to being episodic, and being family-friendly definitely holds it back a bit, but the parts that work more than compensate. Best of all, it’s subversive while being fun and educational. Not many shows can claim stake to both simultaneously, so it’s impressive when they are. I’m anxiously awaiting the next batch of episodes when they arrive later this year on Netflix!

A Series of Unfortunate Events Review

A mini-series is quite tricky to execute. On one hand, it has to contend with not being long enough to be a full show, but also too long to be a movie. On the other hand, it has to find that sweet-spot between the two. Factor in budget limitations, and you’re left to juggle good storytelling with restrictions and time-constraints. It’s a tough balancing act, one that not every mini-series can pull off.

My name is Zachary Perlmutter, and it’s my solemn duty to discuss the Netflix adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events. All pretence aside, I’ve been following this series for over three years, with my excitement beginning prior to Season 1. It had a solid premise, a strong cast, and it was being made for serialized streaming. Considering that the 13 books this show was based on were already serialized, it made more sense to adapt them into a mini-series instead of jamming them into 4 or 5 films. There’d also be more room to let the story breathe this way.

A Series of Unfortunate Events, for those unfamiliar, follows the lives of Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire, three intelligent children who are tragically orphaned when their mansion burns in a mysterious fire. Initially sent to a creepy, distant relative named Count Olaf, their situation gets worse when it’s revealed that Olaf wants to marry Violet so he can get his hands on their inheritance. The rest of the story involves the Baudelaires travelling from place to place in hopes of refuge, all-the-while being pursued by Olaf in a variety of phoney disguises. They also soon discover a secret organization that may be linked to their parents’ deaths. But what is this organization, and why’s Count Olaf so interested in their fortune?

A Series of Unfortunate Events is a collaborative effort between Daniel Handler, the author of the books, and show-runner Barry Sonnenfeld, whose repertoire includes the Men in Black and Addams Family films. Many long-running stories tend to get muddied with conflicting artists’ visions, so having everything overseen by two or three people often makes for a more cohesive end product. This is definitely the case here, as everything about this 25-episode series, right down to its aesthetic and tone, is consistent. Nothing feels wasted either, which is a plus.

The most-striking part is the cast. Ignoring the three leads, who are fantastic in their own right, A Series of Unfortunate Events has many character actors in side and primary roles, and they all bring their A-game. Whether it be famous stars, like Cobie Smulders and Nathan Fillion, or lesser-known stars, like K. Todd Freeman and Aasif Mandvi, no one is wasted or miscast. Perhaps the two stand-outs are Neil Patrick Harris and Patrick Warburton as Count Olaf and Lemony Snicket respectively. In the case of the former, Harris is clearly enjoying himself, hamming it up while simultaneously flexing his villainous chops. For the latter, Warburton breaks from his tough guy typecasting and delivers his deadpan monologues with enough grace to distract from how funny it is to hear him say them.

It helps that this show is unbelievably kitschy. Constant call-backs to espionage aside, every episode oozes with silliness, which makes it easier to swallow how dark and depressing the story is. Considering all the terrible events, tragedies, false starts and red herrings the Baudelaires regularly contend with, having no levity would make watching this show that much more unpleasant. Though, to be fair, this show is still an exercise in schadenfreude.

The intrigue is also really effective. As the episodes progress, you get a sense that there’s a much bigger picture than initially let on. The Baudelaires quickly discover that their parents were part of a bigger, more secretive organization, one with members all over the world. But who is this organization, and why did it collapse so abruptly? Each time you think you’ve learned a little more about what’s really going on, the rug is quickly pulled out from underneath you, until, like the Baudelaires, you’re left in the dark once more. It’s frustrating, it’s nail-biting and it’s brilliant.

One last point of note is the music, thanks to head composer James Newton Howard and songwriters Nick Urata and Handler himself. Their work-whether it’s the opening jingle warning to “look away”, or the tracks played in-show-makes A Series of Unfortunate Events as melodically fun as the writing. And it’s all memorable in some fashion.

That’s not to say the show’s perfect. Ignoring its cheap production value, because Netflix always puts budget restrictions on what they green-light, the writing’s incredibly on-the-nose. The characters routinely espouse what they’re feeling to the audience, which can be grating at times to sit through. Additionally, Warburton’s narration, though funny, tends to drone on. It’s not a deal-breaker, I adjusted quickly, but it could turn some viewers off.

The show can also feel padded. Because each book’s adapted into two episodes each, save for the finale, lots of filler is needed. Events that moved faster in the books take longer in the show, with ancillary material from Handler’s All the Wrong Questions filling in much of the cracks. It also doesn’t help that, after a while, the writing starts feeling formulaic.

Finally, for as dark as it is, I’d have liked if the emotional beats had more weight. Plenty of grim deaths and horrible situations occur throughout the show’s 25 episodes, yet none of them are given time to breathe. This is something that the 2004 movie, flawed as it was, understood how to do, and that was considerably shorter. Still, the finale more than makes up for it with a real heartbreaker, so it’s not a full loss.

Would I recommend A Series of Unfortunate Events? That depends on your tolerance for enjoying schadenfreude. I liked it enough to recommend it, since it kept picking my brain, and its underlying message about adversity in trying situations is welcomed, but whether or not you can tolerate the kitsch and unsubtle writing is up to you. Personally, I’m glad it exists, flaws and all.

Nostalgia Critique: Saying Goodbye to Channel Awesome

With 2018 ending, I figured I’d look at my personal life and acknowledge the pitfalls and successes. On one hand, I got a draft for a graphic novel finished, secured a decent-paying job, acquired a potential writing contact, got my finances under control for the first time and had an intake at a renowned mental health clinic. On the other hand, I was diagnosed with a mental health disorder, experienced my 13th romantic rejection, said goodbye to my psychiatrist of 17 years, found out that my job was closing in January 2019, learned that my writing style was “unprofessional” and had to be reminded, again, that I’m of a vulnerable minority group. Yet it was acknowledging Doug Walker, an internet figure I’d admired since high school, as an awful human being that really got to me. I say that sounding like a shallow buffoon, but alas!

I probably should’ve seen this coming; after all, not only were there hints of his behaviour early as a few years back, many of which I overlooked, but Doug Walker wasn’t someone I knew personally. He was an internet personality, and he was putting on a face for his viewers. Doug could’ve been a predator and have still been a marketable brand. It sucked to, therefore, have the rug swept from under my feet via former Channel Awesome employees, the site Doug helped co-found, writing an in-depth ledger detailing years of abuse and neglect they’d experienced while working for him. All those years of supporting a monster had finally come to a head, essentially.

The history surrounding #ChangetheChannel was messy and upsetting in several ways. For one, it didn’t come out of nowhere. There’d been months of speculation, and even more years of rumours. So when “The Channel Awesome Ledger” was released this past year, it wasn’t really a surprise. The shock was in the detailed mistreatment, and how incriminating it really was. It leading to a mass-exodus of followers didn’t help.

Two, this controversy was compounded by the realization that one of the site’s late and beloved creators, a man who went by JewWario, was a serial molester. In light of Me Too, that was like adding kerosene to a dumpster fire. JewWario had gained sympathy in light of his suicide a few years prior, so this information only made matters worse.

And three, Channel Awesome’s response was a mess in of itself. Ignoring all of the allegations that were lobbed, site administrator Mike Michaud, who was also one of its founders, gaslighted those complaints by openly attacking the accusers. Initially it was an unapologetic apology, but it quickly turned into a document “debunking” claims in an unprofessional manner. That alone was enough to make me feel ill, and I wasn’t alone, as evidenced by the eventual mass-exodus.

It hurts me now to even write this, even though I’ve tried before. I used to anticipate Doug Walker’s content, anxiously-awaiting his Nostalgia Critic videos when they arrived on Tuesdays. I loved listening to his thoughts on new films through Sibling Rivalry, a feature he shared with his brother Rob. I even, more-recently, looked forward to his Disneycember videos, being casual reviews of Disney classics that re-examined how I thought about them. That last one hurt giving up most, as it made my Decembers more bearable.

So now what? How do I fill my time once occupied by Doug’s content? Better yet, how do I do penance for ignoring the complaints of former Channel Awesome employees? The answer’s difficult, and it’s not like I haven’t caved three times since #ChangetheChannel started. The intense willpower it took to close that door was exhausting, especially with YouTube routinely recommending his videos to me.

A solution I’ve found helpful is to follow and support the creators who were slighted by Channel Awesome. Not all of them, but enough that I can appreciate how they were unfairly-treated. Because they, really and truly, deserved better. That alone alleviates much of the guilt, but I doubt it’ll fully go away.

Ultimately, saying goodbye was the healthiest decision I made. The few times I caved have shown that Doug Walker feels no remorse, instead pretending like nothing happened, so why cling to that? Why embrace that toxicity, especially when it makes me miserable? What could I get out of this situation? Nothing about Channel Awesome makes me feel joy anymore, so why bother?

On a final note, I’d like to apologize to those who were slighted by Channel Awesome, yet I ignored their pain until recently: I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took advantage of your suffering, and I’m sorry that I turned a blind eye to your warnings. It was wrong, and I should’ve known better. I only hope I can repair that bridge in the future, however hard it may be.

Happy New Year, and may 2019 be better than 2018.