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.

Baby It's Old Outside?

The holiday season is frequently dominated by Christmas and Christmas-themed memorabilia. Sure, there are other holidays in December, like Chanukkah and Kwanza, but Christmas is so infused with the spirit of the month that you can’t escape it. And nowhere is this more-apparent than in its music, particularly the controversial song “Baby It’s Cold Outside”. It’s a song so contested that it’s even been recently pulled from many radio stations in-light of the Me Too movement gaining momentum.

The discourse surrounding “Baby It’s Cold Outside” isn’t new. I’ve heard debates over whether or not it’s creepy for a decade, and I’m sure it was going on before then too. For some, the song is a lighthearted duet between a man and woman, no harm intended. For others, however, it reeks of date-rape and non-consensual behaviour. It doesn’t help that the lyrics are especially uncomfortable with this stanza:

“…The neighbors might think (baby, it's bad out there)/Say, what's in this drink? (no cabs to be had out there)…”

To be fair to Frank Loesser, the lyricist, I don’t think he meant anything insensitive with this line. Keep in mind that societal attitudes about flirting and romance were different in the 1940’s, and this might’ve been considered charming. The line “what’s in this drink?” could’ve even been a joke about how the martini/cocktail/insert drink here was non-alcoholic. And given that alcohol’s the drink of choice for guys shamelessly picking up women at bars, being non-alcoholic could suggest that the man has nothing to hide and wants the woman to be warm.

That said, while Loesser was no prophet, and, therefore, couldn’t have predicted the long-term implications of his work, I understand why it’s aged poorly in the 21st Century. Standards for dating, especially within the past year, have changed drastically since the song’s inception, and what might’ve sounded “cute” or “funny” in 1944 is creepy in 2018. Art doesn’t change, but our perceptions of it can over time.

It, therefore, doesn’t surprise me that “Baby It’s Cold Outside” would be deemed inappropriate, especially given what we now know about date rape and sexual assault. It also doesn’t surprise me that people have protested over the song’s existence, to the point of boycotting it or refusing to air it on the radio. But while the intentions might be noble, I’m not a big fan of the song myself, I don’t think pretending it doesn’t exist is helpful either. Like it or not, it’s a part of our historical zeitgeist, and pretending bad behaviour never occurred in the past, intentional or not, is equally as bad as continuing to propagate it.

So, what to do with “Baby It’s Cold Outside”? Honestly, I’m unsure. One suggestion would be to go the Warner Bros. route and include some sort of disclaimer, much like they did with their Merrie Melodies/Silly Symphonies collections. You could have someone famous, like Tom Hanks or Meryl Streep, warn people of the historical context so as to brace them. It’d be expensive, and not completely foolproof, but it’s not entirely out of the question either.

Another suggestion could be to update it, which is what happened a few years ago on YouTube. Making the song consensual would definitely be a step in the right direction, not unlike how parodies or updates transform original works. Besides, speaking personally, while the song itself might be a little creepy, by changing the wording to be more tolerant and accepting, you might actually “fix” what was wrong with it. Even still, going by that train of thought, you can gender-flip the song. It’s been done before to illustrate a point about its questionable content, and having the woman’s position be reversed with the man’s could actually serve as a teaching tool for why the song was objectionable in the first place.

Or you could toss it away, which is what many people are doing now. But I think this is the stickiest response, as, like I said earlier, it pretends that the song and its context never happened, hence revisionist history. It’s not even my least-favourite Christmas tune, that honour belongs to “Grandma Got Run-Over by a Reindeer”, but acting like it never happened won’t only insult the “something-something SJW, something-something PC-culture gone too far” crowd who likes to pretend that there’s a war on Christmas, but also music historians who might find value in it. This isn’t mentioning the aforementioned issues, either.

I don’t think that, at the end of the day, there’s an answer that’ll satisfy everyone. We can have a disclaimer, though that’s easily ignorable. We can update or gender-flip the song to teach a lesson about consent, though that’s only a band-aid solution. We can even toss it out the window and pretend it never happened, though that ignores history altogether. But, like it or not, we live in a world where “Baby It’s Cold Outside” does, in fact, exist. It’s up to us, as a collective, to decide how to handle that.

Netflix Genesis Evangelion

Netflix has been on a hot streak lately. Whether it’s their library getting better, or their decision to break into ambitious, original content, the streaming service has increasingly been one to compete with TV and the theatre-going experience. And now they’re trying to tap into the anime market, with their Netflix-originals and rescuing of classics like Cowboy Bebop and Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Before I delve further, two disclaimers: first and foremost, I don’t mean any of this as a direct attack on the aforementioned people. I don’t know Spike Spencer, Allison Keith, Amanda Winn Lee and the likes, but I’m sure they’re chill individuals and fun to be around. I’ve heard many of their voices in other anime, and I can say for certain that they’re incredibly talented. They also seem to have put hours of work into dubbing shows in the 90’s/early-2000’s, hours they’re never getting back. So if I come across as a little harsh, know that it’s nothing personal.

And secondly, I know nothing about the new dub. I don’t know who’s directing it, or when it’s coming out officially. I don’t even know who’ll be in it. It could end up being amazing, and it could end up being awful. We won’t end up knowing until its release. So please don’t take what I’m about to say as objective truth, as my thoughts could change in a year’s time.

Now then, time to address the elephant in the room:

So Neon Genesis Evangelion is getting re-dubbed for Netflix’s re-release. On one hand, this makes perfect sense: the original dub is pretty old, hailing from pre-Cowboy Bebop days. As such, it feels, especially in early episodes, crusty and hammy, as if the VAs and ADR director weren’t sure how the characters were supposed to sound. Considering it’s now 2018, and dubbing knowledge is more refined, it makes sense to try again. Especially when a fresher dub would help to reach Netflix’s targeted audience.

Unfortunately, not everyone feels this way. Many of the original dub’s VAs, particularly Spike Spencer, have petitioned to be recast for the new dub, even venting on Twitter about it. And many long-time fans have rallied to their cause, stating that “the show wouldn’t be the same without them”. I’m not one to call these fans out in their entirety, since I have my own dub biases too, but I do feel like the backlash is unfounded and unfair.

Let me explain.

Anime, like any collaborative medium, isn’t the voice of a singular individual, but a collective. You have writers, storyboard artists, animators, directors, head directors, voice talents and composers, to name a few. This isn’t counting translating duties overseas, in which you have to localize the original script while translating it, send it to an ADR director and find a new pool of actors, sound mixers and script doctors to make sure flexibility is present while still maintaining intent. This doesn’t account for on-the-spot ad-libbing and script changes, none of which are planned. At the end of the day, a finished anime has gone through hundreds of eyes.

I say this because it’s important to understand that Neon Genesis Evangelion, while culturally-significant, isn’t the property of one person. Even ignoring the aforementioned, the show means something different to each and every fan: for some people, it might’ve helped them cope during a rough spot in their lives, while others like the way that it’s written. That one show can mean so much to so many on different levels speaks volumes about its impact, reemphasizing that it’s not about one particular group of people at one particular point in time. Neon Genesis Evangelion’s success might’ve been helped by its English dub, but it’s not solely because of it.

And this is where I think the original cast got it wrong: yes, Spike Spencer might’ve been a good Shinji Ikari. He might’ve, as evidenced by the Rebuild movies, been a great Shinji Ikari. But he isn’t the only Shinji Ikari, as that’d directly insult Megumi Ogata, the dozens of VAs who took on the role in other languages, and the future VA who’ll do his voice in the Netflix rescue. Besides, Shinji’s a fictional character, he doesn’t belong to one person. Assuming so is a form of gatekeeping.

We don’t need that right now. Anime’s a growing and evolving market, and markets adapt all the time. It’s why capitalism has existed for so long, flaws and all, and why it’ll continue to exist for a while longer. That Neon Genesis Evangelion’s being rescued and revisited for a newer audience is smart, no doubt, but with that comes the need to adapt. And if that means re-dubbing it for a newer, younger audience, then is that so bad?

It’s not like dubs don’t get recommissioned all the time anyway. When Disney had the Studio Ghibli license in North America, they routinely re-dubbed the movies’ older dubs, even the ones that were “decent”. The Dragon Ball franchise has had plenty of re-dubs over the years, including a more-recent remastering by FUNimation to match the show’s repackaging in Japan. Sailor Moon has also been undergoing an extensive re-dub from VIZ Media, this time uncensored and uncut. If those re-dubs can be praised, then why can’t Neon Genesis Evangelion be the same?

I wouldn’t even be surprised if Cowboy Bebop received a re-dub. Would it be heresy? Possibly, since that’s largely considered one of the best dubs ever recorded. But would it be unfathomable? No. The dub’s not exactly flawless, it even has a single bad performance in “Boogie Woogie Feng Shui”, so it’s not like re-dubbing it would be out of the question.

Additionally, the original dub cast needs to realize they don’t own the show. They might’ve cared and improved over time, but they’re not exclusively Shinji Ikari, Asuka Langley, Misato Katsuragi and the likes. They’ve had varied careers over the years, and they need to understand/appreciate that their takes on these beloved characters are exactly that: takes. If someone else wants to step up to bat and try their hand, assuming they do care, they should be allowed. It might suck that the original cast will fade into the annals of history, but that’s what archives are for.

So yeah, Spike Spencer and co. need to let go of Neon Genesis Evangelion, as do their fans. They’ve had a good run, it’s time to give someone else a chance in the spotlight.

Of Disney and Sound Mind...

(Warning: The following entry contains spoilers for Ralph Breaks the Internet. I strongly urge everyone to see the film first.)

Growing up, I assumed that Disney was of two minds. The first mind gave us classics like Fantasia, The Jungle Book, The Disney Renaissance films and, later, Pixar’s line-up. The second mind routinely made bad, corporate decisions and shovelled out garbage in an attempt to shamelessly pander to children. These two minds, at least on the outset, appeared to clash, such that I never could peg the company: were they responsible for some of the best movies ever, or were they responsible for some of the worst movies ever? Did they cater to families, or openly insult them?

I know I’m not alone on my feelings. Many people, myself included, have expressed thoughts about Disney’s recent business practices-from acquiring 20th Century Fox, to unjustly firing James Gunn over old Tweets he’s apologized for-yet have still ended up watching their films anyway. They’ve openly derided Disney’s corporate self-awareness in their recent work, all-the-while enjoying this self-deprecation. They’ve even mocked their shameless live-action remakes of classic movies, despite still seeing them. For every complaint you can lob at Disney’s corporate side, you can as easily give a compliment to their creative side.

Perhaps this is most-apparent in Ralph Breaks the Internet. The film is their fourth canonical sequel, right after The Rescuers Down Under, Fantasia 2000 and Winnie the Pooh, yet it definitely feels the most corporate. This is to be expected, especially with it tackling the internet, but the level of flat-out shamelessness feels in your face. Between references to eBay, YouTube, Twitter, viral videos, search bars, pop-up blockers and online video game servers, I was half-expecting a Rick-Roll. And, thankfully, the movie didn’t disappoint there either.

However, it all clicks, no pun intended. And I think that has to do with Disney’s artistic side, as everything about the movie, even its corporate cynicism, is crafted with a weird sense of love and adoration. Some parts feel like they’re stretching it, like how Ralph’s videos on BuzzTube go viral so quickly and net him big bucks (trust me, it’s not that simple), but it doesn’t lose sight of its own charm. The movie’s creators seem like they actually care, and this extends to the film’s (2nd)-best scene:

Snow White’s vocal solo always gets me. (Courtesy of Disney UK.)

This scene should be the most cynical, contrived part of the entire movie: it’s self-referential, taking place at “Oh My Disney!” (which, by the way, is a real site.) All of the canonical Disney princesses are present, with the living voice actresses reprising their roles, and they each lament their tropes to the audience. And it feels like padding, as Ralph Breaks the Internet borders on 2-hours. Despite this, it’s funny, clever and really well-acted, even resurfacing in the movie’s third-act. So despite later reminding you that, yes, Disney owns the rights to the 60’s Batman theme, because 20th Century Fox, it’s hard to really stay mad when the creators made a great pitcher of lemonade out of shrivelled up, corporate lemons.

You know what else feels refreshingly sincere? The film’s musical showstopper and, arguably, all-around best scene, one destined for a Best Original Song nomination at The Oscars. In it, Vanellope, lamenting about her fondness for the online game Slaughter Race, sings about how she prefers the game to Sugar Rush. It’s a great number that showcases Sarah Silverman and Gal Gadot’s singing chops (which surprised me), but the lyrics are grossly self-aware. You can only hear a line like “Hey, there’s a Dollar Store!” in the opening verse so many times before you smirk at its corporate corniness.

But that’s how Disney is in general: they put enough heart into cash-grabs to make you forget they’re cash-grabs. They repackage the same product in different ways to make you crave it over and over. They also show their awful, business side repeatedly, but you forget all about that with their next offering. Disney, like Nintendo, knows how to force your own nostalgia down your throat and not make you choke, cynical as that is. And if people can overlook Nintendo suing shamelessly over ROM disputes and firing Alison Rapp for moonlighting prostitution in university, then they can overlook Disney unjustly firing James Gunn and not distancing themselves from John Lasseter after his predatory behaviour became public knowledge.

That’s what makes Disney successful, after all! It’s not like they don’t have talented individuals working for them, because they do: they have a strong team of animators and writers. Pixar’s one of their subsidiaries. They’ve made billions of dollars from Marvel and Star Wars, and they’ll soon add Indiana Jones to their repertoire. They even had a temporary deal with Studio Ghibli, pumping money into their later productions and distributing their films in the West. Say what you will about Disney, but there are people in the company who care!

And I don’t think that’s unintentional. As a child, it might’ve seemed like Disney was of contradictory minds, but as an adult I no longer see the contradiction: they can, and do, co-exist. It’s possible to be both corporate and passionate. And it’s possible to build an empire from quality entertainment. Because if Walt Disney himself has taught us anything, it’s that an astute businessman sees the market and jumps on it…even if that means stepping on the toes of others.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna whine some more about the “live-action” remake of The Lion King, even though I’ll probably end up watching it…