They're About WHAT?!

I was initially going to discuss Disney laying off 1000 employees. I still want to at some point, but something else came up that was more pressing. Jonathan McIntosh, host of YouTube channel Pop Culture Detective, released a short video on a left-field topic. In it, he discussed the possibility that both Superman and Zootopia 2 are Palestine allegories. I’m as shocked as you are.

I don’t mind McIntosh’s work. Like Anita Sarkeesian, he holds a valid space in pop culture discourse. I don’t agree with everything he says, but every so often he posts something that gets me thinking. I’ve even mentioned one of his videos in another piece. So what I’m about to say isn’t a critique of him in general.

That said, he’s reaching.

Honesty time: Palestinian self-determination matters. For as much as Palestinians have gotten the raw end of the deal, they’re human and deserve the same basic dignities as other humans. I don’t consider them monolithic either, and there are voices within their ranks worth listening to. However, The West has largely used them as pawns to further their own goals. And nowhere is this more-apparent than the aforementioned claim.

When you stop and think about them, even for a minute, the parallels fall apart. For Superman, which I’ve covered before, the people of Jarhanpur being Palestinian stand-ins, while cute, doesn’t work because they could be any number of minority groups screwed by neighbouring powers: Armenians and the Turks. Rohingyas and Myanmar. Indians and Pakistanis and the British Empire. The list goes on.

Boravia doesn’t fit neatly with Israel, either. Yes, Benjamin Netanyahu sucks, preferring to flex his ambitions over leading his people. And yes, Israel’s an American ally. But Boravia’s leader isn’t a 1:1 parallel, since Israel, while badly carrying it out, didn’t invade Gaza for no reason. It did so to eliminate Hamas and prevent another October 7th.

Zootopia 2’s parallels fall even flatter. For one, Israel wasn’t built on “stolen land”. Jews lived there for millennia, predating Palestinians. And two, the situation between Israel and Palestine is a byproduct of European interference, notably Britain and The USSR. Britain chopped up what they acquired from The Ottomans haphazardly, completely ignoring the people living there already. Meanwhile, The Soviets were willing to weaponize Arabian nationalism against the Jews as “punishment” for not living up to their Socialist ideals, even creating the Palestinian identity.

This isn’t to diminish the power imbalance between Israelis and Palestinians, particularly regarding settler violence. Nor do I wish to diminish how Israel’s current coalition has passed laws making the lives of Palestinians unbearable. This is real, serious and worth addressing. But claiming that Israelis “stole the birthright of” and “exiled” Palestinians misses how the Palestinian leadership has thrown them under the bus repeatedly. Not to mention, Palestinians have been persecuted by Israel’s neighbouring countries for roughly as long as Israel’s been independent.

I haven’t even mentioned how the Palestinian leadership isn’t the peaceful entity people believe. And yes, “The Death of the Author” is real. But so is reading into what isn’t there. It might feel good to make these parallels, but unless they hold up to scrutiny, they’re essentially head-canons. They’re not reality.

The parallels between Season 3 of The Mandalorian and the Jewish struggle in history are weightier anyway. Think about it: an exiled creed of warriors fight to reclaim their ancestral homeland from an imperial army. Sound familiar? I can go on all day here with examples, but it’d be redundant. Especially when I’ve already done that.

However, even those parallels have holes, particularly in how Mandalorians serve as mercenaries. Comparing them to Jews on that front sells Jews short. Besides, Star Wars, like Superman and Zootopia 2, is fiction. It might have real subtext, but that’s good storytelling. It’s not an absolute parallel.

By making flawed parallels like this, you not only miss the actual text, you also miss how the text can represent other conflicts too. Because that’s the beauty of fiction: it doesn’t have to be about a specific event. It can be about many, vastly different events. By rooting fiction in a specific event, you inevitably date it. Unless that’s what you’re going for…

I want to circle back to a specific point McIntosh brings up: that anyone calling out these reads is a conservative reactionary. That’s false. It’s actually offensive that he’d insinuate that, as Jewish history isn’t “inconvenient” when it doesn’t fit a narrative. History can’t be boiled down that way. McIntosh should know better, and I’m disappointed.

I know Palestinian identity gets the short end of the stick, even now. And I know people have gotten in trouble for expressing solidarity, whether legitimately or illegitimately. But geopolitical conflicts, particularly ones with history, can’t be boiled down to “right and wrong”. It’s reductive, and it’s a Western way of avoiding accountability for adding fuel to the fire. It also ignores nuance. So please, try to do better. I promise you’ll understand the world more effectively.

As for Jonathan McIntosh? I’ve said my piece. He’s entitled to feel what he feels, and I don’t begrudge his analysis. But he’s really off-base. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch his videos, but perhaps he’s bitten off more than he can chew here? I think so.

When Heroes Age...

One of the difficulties of serialization is the passage of time. On one hand, franchising’s profitable and allows for multi-film storytelling. On the other hand, actors age. And while Hollywood tries slowing down and reversing aging, making it a multi-billion dollar industry, you can only delay it so much. Additionally, the camera doesn’t lie, and audiences take note.

In recent years, there’s been an attempt to try and work around this. Known as “the legacy sequel”, these movies use stars aging as a way of passing the mantle to newer, younger generations. However, like any gamble, it doesn’t always pay off. And sometimes it can be divisive, as in the case of two IPs with entries released in The 21st Century. They’re also Lucasfilm IPs that purchased by Disney that’ve accrued massive backlash because of decisions fans have deemed “incorrect”. But is that backlash warranted?

The first of these franchises is Star Wars. Ever since Disney purchased it in 2012, it was inevitable that they’d milk the property for all it’s worth. It makes sense, as Star Wars has plenty of potential for serialization. However, there were early growing pains here. And nowhere was that more apparent than in The Sequel Trilogy spanning from 2015 to 2019.

I don’t need to go too in-depth here. Despite two of the entries being critical darlings, longtime fans remain divided. This division centred on many areas, but chief among them was Luke Skywalker. Luke, according to canon, had become a hermit who rejected The Force after failing Ben Solo and accelerating his turn to The Dark Side. When Rey attempted to have him confront The First Order, Luke was resistant and resentful. It was only after a conversation with Force Ghost Yoda that he projected his essence, apologized to his nephew and faced down The First Order.

While a unique and bold take on the “elder mentor” trope, many fans weren’t happy. Some considered it a “betrayal of what Luke Skywalker stood for”, claiming Disney had “murdered Star Wars”. I definitely think it’s dark and risky, but it does fit in with Luke’s human side. After all, Luke in the original films wasn’t flawless. He was whiny for two whole movies, even confronting Darth Vader before he was ready and losing his hand. And while he matured for the finale, he also snapped and nearly killed Vader because Vader had threatened to harm Leia.

Essentially, Luke wasn’t the pariah people remember him as. This is especially true because Luke didn’t even end up trying to murder Ben. He felt the urge, let it pass, and was unfortunate enough to have Ben sense it. It was a moment of weakness, and a failure of restraint, but it, while clunky, adds layers to his confrontation with The First Order and ultimate redemption. Isn’t that what good character writing’s about?

I know I’ll probably get crap for saying this, but this backlash, aside from being partially walked back with the next film, led to the Darktrooper hallway fight in The Mandalorian. That’s a fun moment, showcasing Luke’s strength in his prime, but it’s not new for Luke. It’s not new period, being a retread of Darth Vader’s massacre at the end of Star Wars: Rogue One. And while it’s cool to see Luke fight enemies not even Dinn Djarin could take on, the lack of new material is concerning. Why are we opposed to Old Man Luke being a regretful hermit, yet find this exciting?

I like Disney’s Star Wars content. I like Star Wars in general, even when I’m lukewarm on it. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker massacring Darktroopers is fun, and on some level satisfying. But Old Man Luke Skywalker going from jaded mentor to Crait hero is more fun, because it’s grounded in character growth. It also allows Mark Hamill to flex his acting chops in an age-appropriate manner. Because he’s getting older.

On the flip side, there’s Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which I watched for this piece. I’ve made known my thoughts on the Indiana Jones movies before, but this installment, more than any other entry, tackles how its star is getting older. Harrison Ford was 81 years old when it debuted, and Indy’s age is a primary focus. The film even uses de-aging technology for the flashback scene in the beginning. Said flashback doubles as the opening act.

I won’t discuss the Uncanny Valley aspect of seeing a young Harrison Ford with an older Harrison Ford’s voice. Plenty of more accomplished individuals have done that justice. However, tying in Ford’s advanced age in general with a commentary on Indiana Jones was wise. Without sounding too ageist, there are some stunts Ford can’t do anymore. That’s not to diminish how much he loves this character, but he needs to acknowledge his limitations.

Perhaps the best example is when he and his goddaughter, Helena Shaw, are climbing a cliff and Indy starts complaining. He states that he has a metal plate in one leg and screws in the other. He also points out that Helena is “half his age”, a subtle jab at youthful vitality. Here, the film interrogates if Indiana Jones still has what it takes. Should he persevere, or hang up his hat?

This movie would’ve been a great vehicle for Helena, but there’s a problem: she’s not likeable for most of it. She flip-flops between two modes: smarmy know-it-all, and obnoxious show-off. I don’t blame her actress for this, either. Phoebe Waller-Bridge co-wrote No Time to Die, and she was great as L3-37 in the Star Wars franchise. She does her best here, but she can’t save the character. Not even in the finale, where she and Teddy are forced to play hero.

It’s a shame because the movie isn’t even that bad. It lacks some of the franchise’s more overtly-racist overtones, and director James Mangold definitely cared while making it. Considering Steven Spielberg has admitted that his heart wasn’t really in it with the previous entry, that passion’s an asset. But it’s not enough. Not when your co-lead isn’t fun for most of your runtime.

The blame doesn’t lay on Harrison Ford either. Despite his age, he clearly still cares. But people picking on Ford’s age, especially when he’s not ready to give up the mantle, is a problem. De-aging software’s getting better every day, but is it enough? And will it ever give the authentic performance of a real actor?

I know the solution for many people is to do what Star Wars did: have a younger actor as a stand-in, then graft Ford onto the body. After all, punching Nazis is entertaining! But while this sounds fun superficially, it rings hollow and might even be objectionable. Because getting older is interesting. Staying youthful forever, however, isn’t.

If an actor wants to age out of a character, it should be their decision. Let them leave naturally, as opposed to CGI continuing it indefinitely. Because the audience knows. Executives can claim otherwise, but you can’t fake authenticity. It doesn’t matter how much digital makeup you cake on.

That’s really the dilemma here: what’s the appropriate way to be respectful to aging action stars? Better yet, what’s the appropriate way to be respectful to aging actors, period? People don’t live forever, and part of the fun of life is growing older. Besides, the character of Peter Pan, while beloved, was meant as a cautionary tale. Unfortunately, many people don’t heed that warning. And it’s a shame.

If all else fails, I guess Blade Runner 2049 shows how to properly tackle this approach. Seriously, give it a watch. It’s that good! And if you’re disappointed? Well, at least it respects its aging star, right? I think so.

Best. Passover. Tradition.

Let’s get this out of the way: The Prince of Egypt’s a Jewish movie, not a Christian one. There are universalist themes of freedom and faith present, and I have no qualms with Christians taking something from it. But it’s a story from The Torah, the vision of Jewish artists and was meant for a Jewish audience. Considering how many Christian-centric movies and shows there are, we Jews are entitled to claim this as our own. It’s why I’m convinced Season 3 of The Mandalorian’s Jewish-centric subtextually.

The Prince of Egypt’s one of my favourite animated films. Its ambition sometimes overrides its narrative, but so did The Ten Commandments. And that’s considered a classic. Though if we’re being honest, I like The Prince of Egypt more. Yes, those are fighting words. We can take this outside...

Every time I watch this movie, I notice new details. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I understood the Hebrew words Yocheved speaks in “Deliver Us”. As an adult, the movie’s subtext became more apparent. Late-20s me recognized its musical motifs, as well as how they’re used for effect. Even now, I appreciate the setups and pay-offs to side-character beats, even if they seem insignificant. I’m sure I’ll appreciate more details in 5-10 years.

There are many behind-the-scenes stories that are equally as interesting. I know it pioneered plenty of CGI backgrounds that’d later become the norm. I also know animators who fell behind were sent to work on Shrek. And I know Steven Spielberg wanted to make this movie for close to a decade, being held back by technological limitations. There’s so much about the production that, like Jaws, is more interesting than the movie. Except that I love this movie anyway.

I appreciate the use of Hebrew for certain verses in “Deliver Us” and “When You Believe”. I don’t like how there are direct inferences to God’s spoken name, especially given Judaism’s stance on that, but it adds an authenticity that you wouldn’t get otherwise. I love how Israeli singer and activist Ofra Haza voiced Yocheved. Considering she died of AIDS due to a blood transfusion, this is her legacy. I can’t imagine anyone else as Yocheved.

This movie’s subtext is striking and bittersweet. This is a Biblical story, but it’s also a human one. It’s the tale of two brothers torn apart by destiny. In Moses’s case, he’s pitted against Ramses in order to free the Hebrew slaves. This could’ve been an old-fashioned, operatic tale of good versus evil, but it’s much more. Instead, it feels like a modern tragedy.

This is best reinforced in how Ramses lets the Hebrews go. In the original text, it’s only after a series of false promises that Moses wins, and only through exhausting Ramses. Here, Moses only wins because he’s broken Ramses emotionally. It’s not triumphant, but rather quiet and sad. Moses even cries afterward.

I know YouTuber Lindsay Ellis has taken issue with The Prince of Egypt because of this. It’s hard not to sympathize, especially since God in this movie does some heinous stuff. It’s also hard not to empathize because, at least theoretically, Jews aren’t supposed to be vengeful. We see this in spilling the wine while mentioning The Plagues at the Seder; after all, human beings suffered! In that sense, I can’t fault Ellis.

While I can’t offer a satisfactory answer, as Scripture’s laden with violence and brutality, I do think this is a worthwhile movie. Besides, questioning this is healthy. If you’re not questioning your Judaism, you’re being Jewish incorrectly. After all, the original name for Jews, Israel, comes from the phrase “to struggle with God”. So this is normal.

And as for pay-offs? There are plenty. I appreciate how every detail in the story, including what each slave looks like, loops back at some point. Even the comedic goofs, like The Sphinx’s nose breaking during Moses’s and Ramses’s race, serve a purpose. They’re not all great pay-offs, but they’re definitely pay-offs.

I also, and this feels indulgent, appreciate the use of shoes. Most of the Egyptians wear gold-crusted sandals, while most of the Hebrew slaves are barefoot. Even Moses loses his sandals as he becomes in-tune with his roots, perhaps symbolic of his intimate connection with God. Little details like that don’t seem important narrative-wise, but they feel important thematically. Especially since shoes were considered a sign of wealth back then.

If I have any complaints, aside from overusing “When You Believe” in family gatherings, they’re minor. Like how the inclusion of a Boyz II Men song in the credits dates the movie. Or how some of the background animations feel constrained by the limitations of the times. Or even how most of the voice actors are Hollywood celebrities who aren’t Jewish. But none of these are deal breakers.

It’s a shame The Prince of Egypt wasn’t an immediate success. Sure, it was well-reviewed. And sure, it’s gained a cult following of dedicated fans. But initially it under-performed financially, forcing DreamWorks to rethink their strategy for success. Not even winning an Oscar at the 1999 Academy Awards could fix that. So while they’d hit their sweet spot with Shrek in 2001, this movie remains a “what if?” for the studio.

It also makes me pine for other Biblical epics. I know Hollywood’s averse to Biblical epics that aren’t Jesus or Exodus-related, but those feel cliché at this point. If Noah’s any indication, there’s potential for other stories to be told. Think of a Jericho movie, or an Esther movie, to name a few! They’re violent, especially near the end, but the possibilities are endless!

I guess I’ll have to settle for what exists, however. Even if it’s only Jesus and Exodus stories. I hope they’re not as bad as The Passion of the Christ and Exodus: Gods and Kings, though. The former was an exercise in religious torture porn, and the latter? Oh geez! As if I had further reason to never see another Exodus adaptation, right?

So yeah, that’s my take on The Prince of Egypt. Have a Happy Passover.

"Show, Don't Tell?"

For all those unaware, I’ve been working with an editor on one of my manuscripts. It’s my most-personal one to-date, and while it’s been fun to write, it needs plenty of refining. And I mean plenty! Each chapter has been a challenge to revise, but one of the recurring issues I’ve run into is the twofold problem of overwriting and underwriting. I’ve yet to master the art of “show, don’t tell”. Because it’s definitely an art.

This brings up two concerns, both colouring how I feel about storytelling. The first is a blindness to my limitations. I can see when someone else struggles with “show, don’t tell”, yet often miss it with my work. That’s inevitable, as I know what I’m trying to convey because it’s my story. I know all the ins and outs, forgetting that my readers don’t have that luxury. It’s tough, therefore, recognizing this imbalance, and I appreciate a second pair of eyes.

The other concern is much bigger. “Show, don’t tell” is a general rule, but it’s not set in stone. It’s surprisingly flexible too, and sometimes, as with world-building, it’s necessary to break it if it means front-loading important information. If you want a perfect example, look at the “One Ring” backstory in the Lord of the Rings franchise. It’s dense and long-winded, but it’s also crucial.

Another instance where “show, don’t tell” becomes a challenge is when discussing graphic material. Take sexual violence. You can show it in detail, but you risk over-showing and turning people off. Additionally, you might trigger painful memories for survivors. In that sense, perhaps telling’s more impactful. And if you must show something, keep the imagery sparse.

I think back to my personal favourite example, that of Rose in Fullmetal Alchemist. Rose is a victim of military gang rape while protecting vulnerable children. We never see this occur, but we do witness the aftermath in Rose’s child and her inability to speak. Rose goes through plenty of trauma, so perhaps not showing that is wise. At least, I think so.

Even within “show, don’t tell”, sometimes it’s difficult to decide what to remove. My editor used an example of “cutting a steak”: you don’t need to tell your reader that the steak was cut in four, or that it was cut a specific way. That’s a waste of words. However, my challenge to her involves exactly that. What if cutting the steak into four is relevant? What if it’s character-centric?

My issue revolves around what to remove, and what not to remove. What’s in the scene can be axed? Is the description of a cut steak significant, or is it filler? There are times when extraneous details help expand on a given scene. This is something Alan Moore was infamous for, as he’d send paragraphs upon paragraphs of descriptions to his artists. It was almost anal, but it helped set the backdrops.

Essentially, is going overboard helpful? And is there a way to do it without overwhelming your reader? I don’t know the answer. I know writers struggle with this too, especially when world-building from scratch. If you’re trying to immerse someone, isn’t more detail important?

I guess it depends what you’re trying to accomplish. Original worlds need more detail, true, but should you also trust your reader’s imagination? Do you have to describe the saddle if people already know what a saddle is, even if it contains important details? How much is too much?

What if your story archives time and place? Should you explain the details of a 17th Century house, or can you use short-hand? If you’re tackling specific cultures, should you explain details outsiders aren’t aware of? And should your story be generalized at all? Where do you stop explaining and start trusting?

Something that’s helped me with “show, don’t tell” is Alt-text. Alt-text involves explaining an image for the blind or visually-impaired, but even good Alt-text knows when to show restraint. From here, I’ve acquired the “50-50 rule”, which is shorthand for “meeting your audience halfway”. You give enough detail to set the stage, all while letting your audience fill in the gaps with their imaginations.

This has helped me a lot with my own writing. However, with that comes the challenge of knowing what to divulge. If a carpet has intricately-woven details, do you mention them and risk boring or overwhelming your reader? Or do you state that it has patterns, then leave it there? What’s the compromise?

I don’t know the answers, nor do I think there are any. All I know is that the battle between showing and telling is exactly that: a battle. And I doubt there are 100% correct approaches. It’s like my editor told me early on: there are ways to both be minimalist and embellish a story, and neither are wrong. You simply have to know what you’re trying to achieve.

In the meantime, I guess part of the process involves constant rewriting. I know it’s cliché to call this cliché, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. If anything worthwhile takes time, then so too does mastering “show, don’t tell”. I simply wish it wasn’t so tedious figuring it out, something I’m frequently reminded of from my editor. But that’s why she’s the professional…

I’ll end with a perplexing story that happened to me. I once got into an argument online with someone who mentioned they’d read manuscripts that were perfect right away. While this individual later clarified, I’m still skeptical. Even if it’s possible, I find it hard wrapping my head around achieving perfection in one take. Because all writers have blind spots. And if that makes me naïve, well…I guess that’s why I’m wrestling with “show, don’t tell”. I only hope I prevail there.

Disney's SoraAI Fiasco

I wasn’t a fan of Disney’s SoraAI deal. I know they’re a mega-corporate entity, and merchandise is part of why, but using consumer-driven slop for profit feels cheap. After all, they’re not a person! And there isn’t an equal relationship here! Why implement it at all?

Well, they didn’t. As you’ve no doubt heard, Disney cancelled their partnership with SoraAI. Not temporarily, not for an undisclosed period, permanently. I’d quip about Disney and an open flame, but that’s too on-the-nose. Especially since they knew the risks well in advance. It’s not like A.I. started being an issue yesterday.

Let’s get something clear (again): I’m not anti-A.I. It has its place, and it can be beneficial in specific instances. However, like with automation, there needs to be a balance. It should coexist alongside people, and it can’t make humans obsolete. Unfortunately, generative A.I. programs, like SoraAI, are doing that. And given the energy they use to operate, as well as the environmental costs, they’re not a wise investment.

I know I’ll get push-back for saying that. Somehow, some A.I. enthusiast will read this, get annoyed and try persuading me that I’m wrong. It happened when I bashed NFTs too. I don’t care. If you’re convinced human labour’s worthless next to generative A.I., there’s a good chance I can’t persuade you otherwise. You can argue with my hand if you disagree.

Circling back to SoraAI, it’s especially egregious because this was clearly a vanity project for Disney. They don’t need A.I. to sell their IPs. All they really need are young girls who want to be princesses and adults who haven’t grown up emotionally. It’s worked for decades, and they have no reason to abandon that. “Giving the tools” to “make art”, whatever that means, via generative A.I. isn’t the slam dunk they think it is.

Also, generative A.I. “art” isn’t art. At all. Ignoring its ugliness, and let’s not kid ourselves, art requires introspective thought to function. Art, to put it bluntly, communicates a thought, idea or emotion, something A.I., which can’t operate independently of its programming, can’t replicate. We’ve seen that with the plagiarism that it’s been guilty of, as well as the SCOTUS ruling on A.I. and copyright.

Besides, I doubt Disney was prepared for the legal can of worms they’d opened up. And if they were, I don’t think it’d be worth the fees. Remember, Disney’s incredibly protective of their IP, practically anal. They’re why American copyright laws are so strict, and they’ve gone after small fries for using their work without permission before. If partnering with SoraAI was going to involve what they claimed, which is user-generated art, it’d create a conflict of interest I’m not sure they’re ready for.

On the consumer’s end, I don’t think creators were ready either. Disney’s promise was to give them tools to promote their brand, but would they go through with that? Was ownership possible? And who’s to say perverts wouldn’t use their tools to create inappropriate prompts? Disney’s a family-friendly company, but a quick search of fan-art online will yield plenty of raunchy material. People are that horny.

With all this in mind, it’s no wonder Disney got cold feet and pulled the plug on SoraAI. It’s possible I’m overlooking the SoraAI side, as there were issues there too, but since Disney’s more public facing…you get the idea. Besides, partnering with a generative A.I. program, I’m sorry to say, is beneath them. It’s also demeaning to their animators, many of whom can produce better work than a machine. It might take longer, but no one said manpower was fast or easy.

I also don’t want the human element erased. People have been around for longer than A.I., and they’ve produced plenty of great art without it. That’s not changing anytime soon, and A.I. needs to adapt, not the other way around. If it won’t disappear, then it needs to become secondary to human labour, not an alternative. I wish A.I. enthusiasts understood that.

As a final note, A.I. enthusiasts need to not call human labour “obsolete”. I see this all the time on LinkedIn, with A.I. adopters promoting it like it’s the next hot commodity. It’s not. It’s a tool that’s abused to frequently disastrous effect, and it’s raising ethical concerns that shouldn’t exist. It’s also starting to fail financially and socially, as we’ve seen with the scandals that’ve arisen lately. That’s worrying.

I don’t know what’ll happen with generative apps like SoraAI. We can pray they’ll crash and burn, so as to teach tech oligarchs a lesson, but for every failed app, another one will take its place. The only viable solution, in my mind, is regulation. Because we’ve seen what out-of-control A.I. does. Rest assured it’s not pleasant.

So yes, I’m not upset that SoraAI and Disney didn’t end up with a successful partnership, and you shouldn’t be either. Because we can do a lot better, and it’s a shame that we had to find this out the hard way.

Axing Robin Hood

*Slides the “blogs gone without mentioning Disney” counter to zero*

I have a confession: I don’t care for Robin Hood. Specifically, I don’t care for the 1973 Disney movie, the one where the characters are anthropomorphized animals. I know it has a cult following with furries, and I get it. But for a movie about England’s legendary thief, it’s surprisingly boring and uninspired. It looks cheap, it sounds cheap and it feels hollow. It also falls into the trap many Disney animated movies of the 70s and 80s did, and I remember reading its director, Wolfgang Reitherman, was embarrassed to have his name attached (though I can no longer find the reference for that). I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but take it up with the megalith corporation.

On that note, I’ve never been hot on the live-action Disney remakes. I’ve seen a few, but most have felt like they were cashing in on brand recognition without the quality of the original material. Also, what’s wrong with those originals? Is it that they’re animated? What does Hollywood have against animated movies?

In February, it was announced that Disney’s management was shaking up, as CEO Bob Iger was stepping down (again). Replacing him was Josh D’Amaro, with Dana Walden as CCO. Iger was, in my opinion, divisive creatively, but he was good for Disney financially, so it’ll be interesting seeing what D’Amaro and Walden bring to the table. I don’t know enough about them, but surely they’ll bring some new life, right? I hope so!

Perhaps this new energy will show through Disney’s release schedule, which leads me to Robin Hood. According to insider reports, a live-action remake was slated for production, only to be scrapped alongside Bambi. This is interesting. As much as I don’t like Disney’s remakes, I get Bambi being remade: it’s a well-loved, critically-acclaimed movie about conservationism, which is perfect for modern moviegoers’ sensibilities. But Robin Hood? A movie that was never well-received, and was outdone in lacklustre quality by later adaptations, was getting a remake too?

Far be it for me to judge its fans. Furries are entitled to love movies too, and the Zootopia franchise has shown that Disney can do good by them. I also can’t be too bitter about Disney remaking it. They did justice to Pete’s Dragon, which had little going for it outside some impression animation from Don Bluth. But Robin Hood, a movie where the main character’s a talking fox for…reasons, doesn’t scream A-material to me. At least not as a 1:1 remake.

If we’re going by The Lion King, I don’t think it’s fair calling it “live-action”. Remaking a traditionally-animated movie in photo-realistic CGI isn’t live-action. There are no visible actors on-screen, all the “acting” is done with voice-overs. Unlike The Jungle Book, which had a real kid as Mowgli, all of the actors present used motion capture and were replaced with computers. That’s animation, and I’m tired of pretending it’s not.

Additionally, I’m not sure the premise would work with photo-realism. Say what you will about The Lion King, but the characters weren’t attempting human-like behaviour. Robin Hood, however, has the characters as stand-ins for humans. They wear human clothes, they talk like humans, they even stand upright. Unless Disney wanted a surrealist take ala Cats, I doubt it’d have happened without being creepy and a turn-off.

I don’t get why Disney would even want this. As ambitious failures from the 70s and 80s go, The Black Cauldron is a much better fit for a live-action remake. Not only is it based on a dark fantasy series, but live-action could do wonders should Disney take the Narnia approach. Especially since there’s an audience for that kind of movie. I’m not alone here, either.

By opting for a soulless cash grab, however, Disney would’ve soured people’s attitudes on their remakes even more. And yes, the live-action remakes aren’t supposed to be good. They’re meant to cash-in on cheap nostalgia for jaded adults who want to be 6 years old again. But that doesn’t mean Disney can’t put in effort. Nor does it mean they can’t be strategic about what they remake.

Basically, I’m not upset Walden axed this remake. No one wanted it, and it’d be another attempting at flushing money down the drain. By axing it, Disney now has the freedom to focus on ideas people are interested in. Like Pixar movies, original and sequels alike, as well as animated Disney musicals. That’s more interesting than a 1:1 retelling of a mediocre movie from the 70s.

I’m not an expert in movie-making. It’s possible the remake of Robin Hood would’ve ended up fantastic, I don’t know. I also don’t run Disney, so I have no power over their output. However, I’m glad this remake was scrapped. Especially since, from what I’ve gathered, audiences are becoming sick of Robin Hood movies, going by diminished returns.

I’m slightly more optimistic about Disney’s new leadership now. At least, creatively. It’s possible they’ll disappoint, especially since they have to appease shareholders, but this is a step in the right direction. And who knows? Maybe they’ll drag the studio out of their creative stagnation? Here’s hoping!

The ScrewAttack Magazine

It recently was ScrewAttack’s 20th anniversary. I’ve written about the site before, but I want to share a positive development. I was in a live-stream chat celebrating the site, and I was alerted that its magazine had been archived. Considering ScrewAttack had been wiped during its purchase by Rooster Teeth, I’d long thought anything from there was lost media. This disproved that. It’s only 17 issues, so not everything survived, but I figured this was a good time to reflect on the pieces I submitted. Especially since it was 15 years ago, and my writing style has changed significantly.

My first observation, and this is general, is how long-winded my thoughts were. I was in the early stages of self-editing, and I didn’t understand brevity. It often took three or four paragraphs to say what I now accomplish in one. It’s interesting looking back on, as, ironically, more of my personality seeped through. After all, why hide my thoughts if I had nothing holding me back?

This is most-apparent in my review of Okami. I happen love that game, even referring to it as the best Zelda entry once, but the first four paragraphs were me venting about its legacy. I’m unsure who I was venting to, only that it was approved with no edits. Looking back, I’d have done massive slash-and-burns on that. Especially since it wasn’t necessary.

Another example is my review of the best episode from Digimon: Zero-Two. I’m mixed on that season, but it’s telling how I threw shade at my summary of the plot. I mentioned how I spent close to 1800 words on it, and that was before my analysis! Was I always this verbose? It’s hard to say.

Moving on, it’s telling how unfiltered and raunchy I was. While ranting on the Tomb Raider franchise, I initially mentioned my disdain for fan-service, only to spend most of the piece rambling about that. The irony isn’t lost on me now. However, it’s amusing how unaware I was of that. Then again, I was in my early-20s…

This lack of self-awareness bleeds into my review of Wonder Woman. In it, I praised the movie’s lack of over-sexualization of its heroine, only to focus on that for an entire paragraph. I only recognize this now, as I was too focused on getting my thoughts out. But that’s what distance allows. The review even holds up, though I did the movie better justice in my compare-contrast piece.

In my Tomb Raider piece, I concluded with an open-ended series of questions. This is something I’d be forced to do at Nintendo Enthusiast, which I wasn’t happy about, but this sort of engagement doesn’t translate to a magazine. It works in a blog, where people can comment on your writing, but magazines are fixed. Unless they allow fan mail, and even then it’s an issue late, it’s a waste of space. That wasn’t on my mind when I was writing the piece, however.

The last point I want to mention is the magazine’s choices to convert blogs. Ignoring the typos, which were inevitable because the editor wasn’t a professional, some of the captions and clips didn’t translate from blog to magazine. This was back when I included captions and frequent video clips for effect. Unfortunately, they didn’t make it in. Or if they did, they were half-baked. My joke about sexism in Fullmetal Alchemist, for instance, is now its own paragraph, as opposed to an image with a caption. This doesn’t account for the review accidentally using images from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which bothered me at the time. It’s funny retroactively, though.

Overall, this was an interesting time capsule from 15 years ago. I wouldn’t write this way now, I certainly wouldn’t use censored profanity, but I wouldn’t change anything. I couldn’t even if I wanted to! And I think that speaks to the power of art. As the saying goes: “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” Having written many pieces since then, I couldn’t agree more.

This is also a great argument for media preservation. In an era where online information’s at the whims of censorship, editing and deletion, discovering archived material is a blessing. It not only highlights your progress, it gives you something to compare yourself to. That’s a gift. And it’s something I cherish now that most of my work from that period exists as (sometimes corrupted) Word documents that rarely reflect the finished product.

Above all else, I have to thank HybridRain. It’s easy to look at some of the formatting and snicker, as English isn’t his first language, but I have to commend him anyway. He wasn’t being paid to make this magazine. It was purely a passion project, something he reminded us of regularly with each issue’s forward. Kudos to him.

There’s plenty about ScrewAttack that I look back on with regret: my failed exit in 2009 after an argument with some moderators. My one-month ban in early-2010 after an argument with some g1s. The controversy on TehPwnShop where g1s spent over 100 pages trashing me, an archive I’m grateful no longer exists. Even my one-week suspension from the ScrewAttack forums in 2015, which I’m still mixed on. Couple that with my un-diagnosed mental health issues, and it’s clear not everything was great.

This magazine isn’t that. I’d have loved more of my stuff be included, if only for preservation, but what made the final cut holds up decently. All that’s required is reading it with a magnifying glass, as the print is tiny. That, and manually scrolling through the pages, as they don’t line-up with the table of contents. I’m slightly bitter about that…

If that doesn’t tickle your fancy, consider reading some other pieces? There are 17 volumes, and they contain many voices. Some of these are people I keep in touch with, while others have faded into obscurity, but all are worth their time. Because this was a magazine built on passion. And who knows? You might find a new favourite!