Into the Tolkien-Verse

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

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

So…do they hold up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s start with the…

Story:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winner:

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

Cast:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yeah, the anime wins again.

Winner:

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

Aesthetic:

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This one will be really tricky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winner:

Moving on to something less-controversial, we have…

Sound:

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This one’s a no-brainer.

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

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

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

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

Winner:

And now for the finale!

Entertainment factor:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overall winner:

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

Marvelling at Disney+

This past year has been a wreck because of COVID. Whether it’s being uncertain of when the pandemic will become endemic, the mutations being more contagious, or people bickering over whether or not to take the vaccines, it seems like we’re taking two steps backward every time we take one step forward. It’s exhausting. And it’ll probably remain this way for some time.

If one area’s improved from 2020, however, it’s entertainment. Movie theatres are open again, albeit in reduced capacities, and having that part of my life back is a major relief. My Disney+ account has also been getting plenty of use, thanks to quality content that actually appeals to me. It almost makes me forgive my yearly subscription fee increasing to $132, but I digress. What I’d like to focus on is Disney+’s MCU shows, and how they’ve dominated the entertainment cycle. Be prepared for spoilers.

WandaVision-Sitcom:

Beginning the slate of Disney+ content in January, WandaVision, focusing on Wanda Maximoff and the sitcom reality she’s created, is the most unique. Sure, it has a big battle in the finale, but most of it’s a TV sitcom starring superheroes. Or, rather, it’s several TV sitcoms starring superheroes. Or maybe it jumps to several settings? Regardless, it’s not your typical MCU affair.

What makes this one stand out is that it can be enjoyed on two levels. It can be appreciated as a wacky spin-off in The MCU, a literal bubble reality, or as a weirdly charming series akin to something from David Lynch. I know that the latter comparison is overused, especially these days, but here it’s appropriate. This is, after all, a show that feels off enough to distract from its disturbing concept. That’s pretty Lynchian, no?

Once you get past the first three episodes, which I enjoyed, the series splits its attention between the world of Westview, and the “real world” of The MCU. And both are woven together nicely, highlighting how Wanda’s dream reality impacts everyone around her. Even in her bubble world, she’s taken people’s minds hostage so they can “play their parts”. That’s pretty messed up when you think about it. And yet, as we find out in Episode 8, we don’t begrudge her because we see why she created this reality. While not justifiable, we sympathize with her.

I’ve heard complaints about the finale undercutting the show, particularly from people who were mad about “Ralph Bohner”, but I think it sticks the landing. It even subverts the conventions of The MCU by having Vision win his fight with philosophy and Wanda win hers by outsmarting her opponent. It also has a heartbreaking ending where Wanda sacrifices her happiness. And all from a series where each episode uses a different, era-appropriate jingle. I can’t recommend it enough.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier-Politics:

Moving on to the early-Spring, we have The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Of all the MCU shows this year, it was my least-favourite. That’s not because it sucks, or because it’s boring, but because it has the most-complicated premise. This is the show that tackles the fallout from The Blip directly, so it’s a show about class politics and national borders. It’s not always successful, it misunderstands Anarchy, but if you’re looking for something akin to the Captain America movies? This is your show.

It even carries the grittier tone of Captain America: The Winter Soldier by having its threat feel grounded. This time, it’s a group of revolutionaries called “The Flag Smashers”, led by Karli Morgenthau. All they want is to unify the world, but their methods aren’t squeaky-clean. The show also has a government-anointed Captain America causing problems, especially given his more…gruesome methods. (Seriously, he decapitates someone in Episode 4.)

Despite the self-serious tone, it still retains the charm of The MCU. It has the humour and soul of their best, including a subplot surrounding Bucky’s PTSD. I especially liked the moment where he confesses to an old man he’s befriended that he’d murdered his son. It drives home the ghosts that soldiers often carry from combat, and it was treated with gravitas. If all else, that alone makes The Falcon and the Winter Soldier worth it.

I know what everyone wants me to talk about, though: Karli. Karli’s characterization has taken a beating for misrepresenting Anarchy, and I get it. But while her arc and resolution raise ethical concerns, and perhaps even some racial ones, I think people are being overly-harsh. Because she gets the conversation started about Nationalism, as well as the consequences of global superpowers not addressing the needs of refugees. If all else, that makes the experience worthwhile.

Loki-Hijinks:

Moving on, the late-Spring resolved a dangling plot thread from The Avengers: Endgame with Loki. I was skeptical of how this’d be handled; after all, isn’t Loki’s shtick that he’s a mischief maker? How could a one-note trait, even if it’s been done well in the movies, translate to a series? Well, Loki acknowledges this in its first episode, including a scene where his life gets interrogated by Morbius. It’s brutal, unapologetic and gut-wrenching. And I love it.

I, therefore, was disappointed when the rest of the show neutered Loki’s mischievousness for a Doctor Who-esque story about variants and conspiracies. It didn’t hinder it, Loki teams up with a gender-bent version of himself named Sylvie and takes on The TVA, but it didn’t feel like Loki was the same from the movies. True, Loki teamed up with Thor in Thor: Ragnarok, but that was to suit his own self-interests. Here, however, Loki’s a run-of-the-mill hero, and that’s kinda boring. But I guess we needed a straight-man to Sylvie, so what do I know?

Speaking of which, Sylvie’s a blast! Ignoring how Loki has alternate versions of himself, something that’s lamp-shaded in Episode 5, Sylvie makes Loki. She’s easily the best part, chewing the scenery whenever she’s present, and her chemistry with Loki, while unconventional, makes for great comedy and sincerity. I especially like their escape on Lamentis-1, and how it ends up not mattering. That level of unpredictability is quintessentially Loki!

If I have one complaint about Loki, it’s the finale. Because it doesn’t have one, instead leaving on a tease for a Season 2. It’s basically Netflix’s Cowboy Bebop all-over, except much better. Still, that I now have to wait another year to continue this story, which ends on a depressing note, is maddening. Oh well!

What If…?-Hypothetical:

Arguably my most-anticipated show of the Summer, What If…? is the most unique MCU series visually. It tackles hypothetical scenarios from the first three phases in a hand-drawn/CGI hybrid style of animation. All the episodes are narrated by The Watcher, a cosmic being who serves as a guide through these scenarios. Each episode’s also self-contained, so they can be watched out of order and enjoyed on their own merits. Considering I normally binge these shows leading to their finales, having an episodic structure allowed me to keep up with it weekly instead…

…Is what I would’ve said, but all that goes out the window with Episode 8. The show then pulls a two-parter that ties back to the previous episodes, as well as a hypothetical one that never aired. It’s annoying that the show does that, as I could no longer enjoy it weekly. It also brought back every focal character from the previous episodes to fight Ultron, and that was a head-scratcher. I mean, I get why it did that, it wanted a big battle, but it didn’t need it…right?

Whatever, I guess it’s this show’s Avengers-esque fight. And it’s not like everything ends up meaning nothing, as each of the prior episodes is still fun. Even Episode 7, arguably the weakest, has its moments. Though my favourite is still Episode 4, which focuses on Dr. Strange fixing the timeline so he can be with Christine, only to keep failing. It’s dark and depressing, and it ends in a dark and depressing way, even calling out The Watcher for not breaking his oath to interfere. I love it.

The other episodes are also fun! I like Episode 3 for being a whodunnit story, and Episode 1 for giving Agent Carter a starring role. But I can’t go without mentioning T’Challa as Star Lord. He’s easily the best Star Lord ever, and it saddens me that he was only theoretical. Then again, given Chadwick Boseman’s death, it’s sad that we didn’t get to see him more as T’Challa either…

Hawkeye-Festive:

Beginning with Thanksgiving and ending before Christmas, Hawkeye’s the Winter offering on Disney+. It’s quite interesting too, taking place around Christmas and focusing on Clint’s demons coming back to haunt him. And all while passing the torch to Kate Bishop, an overambitious 20-something who’s his biggest fan. It’s a buddy series, albeit with a superhero premise. I enjoyed it, but I also had some mild reservations. Though I’m getting ahead of myself.

The two best parts are Kate and the show’s antagonist. With the former, I liked her from the show’s first scene, which travels back to The Avengers. She’s dedicated, motivated, ambitious and fun to see on screen, and her optimism immediately sold me. She’s also a clever detective, and the subplot with her mother’s fiancé’s good stuff. I even liked how she took on Kingpin almost singlehandedly, beating him with her wits.

For the latter, Echo’s interesting in her own right. It’d have been easy to use her disabilities as punchlines, but the show was clever enough to not do that. She’s basically a victim of Clint’s stint as Ronin, her father having-supposedly-died at his hands, and she wants revenge. But revenge doesn’t suit her, so she’s conflicted. It’s an interesting parallel to Kate being enamoured with Clint, to the point of fixation. Plus, conversing in ASL the whole time was neat.

I guess my issue with Hawkeye is Clint. This is the third time where he was set up to die, and it copped out yet again. Not that I mind the ending, his reunion with his family was heartwarming, but considering he had Echo, The Tracksuits, Kingpin and Yelena from Black Widow after him, as well as Kate being handed the torch, it feels like a running joke at this point. Still, if it means seeing Clint console Yelena and convincing her not to take his life, which I liked, then I guess I’ll forgive it. But I really could’ve done with an emotional send-off...

And there you go: the 5 MCU shows that debuted on Disney+. I don’t know if this’ll become a recurring series, but either way, I’ll see you all in 2022!

Spider-Man's Back, Baby!

(Warning: this piece contains spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home. Read at your own risk.)

I saw Spider-Man: No Way Home in theatres.

Despite being packed, making me incredibly uncomfortable with COVID protocols, spending almost 2.5 hours with a nearly-full auditorium ruled. It was something I hadn’t experienced since the pandemic started in March of 2020. And you know something? I missed it badly.

I’m not kidding! Despite my issues with the modern theatre-going experience, there’s an energy that comes with watching movies with others. When they laugh, you feel it. When they cheer, you feel it. When they cry, you feel it. And when they gasp…you get the picture.

This was especially true with Spider-Man: No Way Home. MCU films are generally riveting, but this one was unique. This was Spider-Man, one of the most popular and well-known comic IPs ever. A lot of expectation was being shouldered on this film, especially as a trilogy-capper. Add in that the previous movie, Spider-Man: Far From Home, ended on a twist, a rather dark one, and the anticipation was through the roof.

Did it deliver? Yes. Which is surprising, considering what could’ve gone wrong. The premise and story-threads alone could’ve sunk it: it had to not only bring back 5 villains from 2 franchises, it also had tie up loose ends from said franchises while feeling earned and natural. And it still had to be a satisfying follow-up to The MCU’s take on Spider-Man. That’s a big ask for a movie of any kind.

I think it worked because, despite its setup, it still felt small and personal. This is a movie about a character making his life worse trying fix it. He screws up, pays for it, loses people close to him and makes difficult sacrifices. It’s all pretty heavy, but it’s quintessential Spider-Man storytelling. Because that’s what it means to be a relatable hero, right?

I don’t need to tell you this, as the audience’s energy throughout sold that. Going back to the reactions, when characters in the movie made jokes, the audience laughed hard. When Matt Murdock’s actor returned from Daredevil, or when Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield showed up, the audience cheered so hard I felt the ground vibrating. When Aunt May died, almost everyone cried. And when Maguire’s Spider-Man got stabbed by The Green Goblin’s glider, I heard audible gasps.

All the while, I was thinking to myself, “Spider-Man’s back, baby!”. Because while I’ve enjoyed the previous MCU Spider-Man films, they’ve also felt a little light. This one, however, had that missing ingredient from the Raimi films in the early/mid-2000’s. It was personal, intimate and, most-importantly, emotional. And that’s what I wanted.

I think that’s what other people wanted too. I know the claims of Martin Scorsese are still weighing on my mind, making me self-doubt myself for liking corporately-crafted action movies, but I don’t care. I disagreed then, and I disagree now. I think there’s plenty of merit to commercially viable franchise bait, irrespective of whether or not it crowds out smaller, more ambitious stories.

Besides, is that really the fault of a well-made movie? No. Honestly, the modern filmgoing experience is already non-conducive to attending it: the ticket prices are outrageous, the theatres are packed full of annoying people, you’re not treated with respect half the time, and the ads take up too much time. Sure, the end result’s worth putting up with that, but I’m in the minority. Many people only go to the theatre now if they feel it’s worth it, and that’s not often.

I think movies like Spider-Man: No Way Home are part of why they’d go at all. Is it another superhero blockbuster? Yes. Is it “crowding out” other movies? Maybe. Is it the best-written movie of the year? Not by a long shot!

But it doesn’t matter. Because quality isn’t the ultimate, defining factor in entertainment, and because the filmgoing experience is too subjective to fit in a neat box. As I’ve said in the past, it’s nobody’s business if you find a commercially viable, self-referential experience moving. Life’s too short and precious to be a gatekeeper.

Ultimately, Spider-Man: No Way Home’s a solid reminder of the staying power of these kinds of movies. It may not “hold up” narratively over multiple re-watches, but emotionally? I think it has that in the bag. It even utilizes the theme of redemption efficiently, reclaiming the legacies of Maguire and Garfield while also humanizing their rogues galleries. You have to know what you’re doing for that to not feel ham-fisted or lame, and this movie does!

*****

As you’ve no doubt noticed, this year I’ve cut back on my monthly content. The reason’s quite obvious: I’m working two part-time jobs, and it’s taxing mentally to focus on that and constantly put out new content. I know this means less engagement on my Blog, but I definitely think the trade-off’s worth it. Perhaps I’ll surprise you all with my final piece of the year, there’s roughly a week and a half left of 2021, but until then I’ll see you next time!

"Sayonara, Space Cowboy!"

So Netflix discontinued Cowboy Bebop.

The obvious reaction would be me yelling “Good riddance!”, but I won’t. Not only would it be petty, but it’d ignore the effort that went into it. Art isn’t 100% good or bad 100% of the time, and even trashy art has merits. Since the show was tolerable, and I feel bad for being so negative, I think it’s only fair to discuss 7 aspects I thought were decent, great, or-in some cases-an improvement over the anime. Here goes:

1. The casting:

The cast in this show either looks the part, sounds the part, or both. Even the newcomers, like The Iron Mink, are a lot of fun to watch. You can forgive a lot when a cast is trying their darnedest, and this is no exception. Because everyone seems to care, and even when a portrayal doesn’t land (like Eden Perkins as Ed), it’s clear that the actor behind it is passionate and wants to do their best. That speaks volumes.

Take the main trio. John Chu, Mustafa Shakir and Daniella Pineda, who play Spike, Jet and Faye, not only fit their roles, but elevate them beyond the material. And they have excellent chemistry, such that you genuinely feel like they’d work together. It’s enough to ignore that this version of Faye is Mexican instead of Chinese, or that Jet’s now black (not that actually makes a difference). A premise lives or dies on your protagonists, and they understood their assignments.

But it extends to the supporting cast too. The stars of Big Shot are, arguably, the most-faithful recreation of the anime, right down to the cartoonish accents they put on. And there’s plenty of diverse casting that makes this world feel lived-in. Even the aforementioned Perkins, who shows up briefly as Radical Ed, is doing their best with the material, and they also look the part. So while the show may be “bad”, you can’t blame anyone for not trying.

2. The aesthetics:

On the subject of pitch-perfect, the general aesthetic is also excellent. Netflix brought on the anime’s director, Shinichirō Watanabe, as a creative consultant, and you can tell. The general vibe has been translated to a teat, with the space cruisers looking and sounding as good as ever. Even the medicine and technology, which were important in the anime, were ported over with no hiccups, and in some ways expanded on. Again, that’s impressive.

It goes further than that, though. The original composer, Yoko Kanno, has returned, and she hasn’t missed a beat since 1998. She even, on occasion, brings new material, thanks to the episodes being twice as long. We don’t hear all of it, because the writing never lets us, but when we do…it’s great. I especially like that Julia has her own solo, something missing from the anime.

As a final note, the call backs look excellent. Are they tacked-on? Yes. Do they fall into the “have your cake and eat it too” category of fan-service? Also yes. But they’re recreated faithfully, which is hard to do when transitioning mediums.

3. Julia:

One character I think was improved on completely, right up until the finale, was Julia. See, Julia in the anime was…a plot point. She never had much to her outside of being Spike’s past fling, and her death in Episode 26, while unfortunate, held little weight because of that. It’s a shame because every other female character felt real, thanks to head writer Keiko Nobumoto lending her feminine touch, so it was jarring. I know she wasn’t important outside of the 5 story-centric episodes, but couldn’t she have been more interesting?

Well, the Netflix adaptation’s show-runners had that on their minds too. Instead of being one-note, this time Julia has depth. She’s vulnerable, she has aspirations, she’s stuck in an abusive marriage, she even plots to thwart Vicious’s goals of overtaking The Syndicate. And while some of her lines are atrocious, Elena Satine makes them work anyway. She’s easily the best part of the subplot with Vicious!

Unfortunately, there’s her conclusion. And yes, I stand by her “Girl Boss” turn being a slap in the face, even if shooting Vicious is so satisfying. Still, as with everything else, Satine sells it. That’s not easy to do, but she does. It almost makes me wish I could’ve seen more post-Season 1.

4. The premise of Episode 7:

Episode 7, minus the Vicious subplot, is easily the best. It’s not anime-levels of good, it doesn’t even compare to the anime’s worst episode, but the show-runners and writers clearly put the most effort into it. I think it’s because they merged anime Faye’s two most-important character episodes into something new, all the while staying true to their essence. This is probably the only episode I’d consider passable. I only wish the other episodes were…

For those unaware, Episode 7 reinterprets “My Funny Valentine” and “Speak Like a Child”. Those two episodes were crucial to Faye’s character development, and they’re two of my favourites. In Netflix’s version, they’re merged and tweaked. Here, Faye’s lover becomes her foster mother, and they bounce off each other really well. You genuinely believe that Faye was adopted by this woman before being abandoned, and that she’s now only agreeing to not turn her in because she needs her.

I also like how despite the ending being a nearly shot-for-shot recreation, it feels earned. I especially like the one change to the payoff, Faye finding her childhood recording stored on a VHS, as it makes more sense than the Betamax scavenger hunt Spike and Jet went on in the anime. That never fully made sense to me, feeling forced and contrived, so I’m glad Netflix’s adaptation fixed that. It’s a nice update. Hooray for small victories!

5. Faye rescuing Jet and Spike in the finale:

In another example of a change that works in its favour, we have this moment in Episode 10. Faye not chasing after Spike when he goes to confront Vicious in the anime always bothered me. I mean, she had feelings for him, and him abandoning her was hurtful, so why not? It’d not only give her an awesome moment, but it might’ve even saved Spike’s life. But I’m 23 years late on that one…

…Is what I would’ve said, until now. Because, again, the show-runners had that on their minds with this change. Could it have been foreshadowed better? Maybe. Is the line, “Welcome to the ouch, motherfuckers!” cringe-worthy? Absolutely, and I’d smack whoever thought it was acceptable. But it works.

It actually works too well, honestly. Because now I can’t go back and not picture what could’ve been. Faye saving the day isn’t only nice fanfic, it’s something I think was lacking in the anime. It’s not like Faye hadn’t done it in other episodes (see “Mad Pierrot le Fou”), so why not here? How did the Netflix series outdo the anime on that front?

6. Kimmy:

Kimmy’s a Netflix inclusion. She wasn’t a character in the anime. In fact, it was never suggested that Jet had fostered a child in the anime! He had a girlfriend who broke up with him, but the closest he got to being a “dad” was Meifa in “Boogie Woogie Feng Shui”. And that’s regarded by fans to be its worst episode.

Nevertheless, I like Kimmy. She not only adds to Jet’s character, giving him personal stakes, but the two have genuine chemistry. You feel like they want to be together, yet can’t. It’s sad, too. And that’s why it works.

I’ve heard that Kimmy’s a Cassie clone from the Ant-Man films, complete with a similar relationship to her father. I see it, but do I care? Not really. Because, to quote an old adage, “there’s nothing new under the Sun”. If the anime remixed classic film genres and made it work, then why can’t the Netflix show do the same with a character dynamic?

7. The hallway fight in Episode 9:

Finally, I want to give a shout-out to this set piece in Episode 9. The premise is that Spike has gone to a rival cartel’s headquarters to kill everyone and prevent an all-out war. The scene is several minutes long, brutal and really well-choreographed. And best of all? It’s done in one take.

I love it! Like with Kimmy, this was Netflix-only. It’s also heavily-inspired by Oldboy. But if it means getting to seeing Spike flex his action muscles, then does it matter? Remember, “there’s nothing new under the Sun”.

I want to zone-in on how difficult it must’ve been to film. Remember, one takes are exactly as they sound: they’re done in one take. A lot of preparation goes in to making them work, including factoring in room for mistakes. It’s even harder with a fight scene, which contains plenty of movement. And even knowing all of that, this was still pulled off swimmingly. If that’s not proof that someone cared while making this show, I don’t know what is.

So there you go: 7 aspects of Netflix’s Cowboy Bebop that I liked. It’s too bad the show’s cancelled, as I’m sure it could’ve expanded with another season. Oh well!

Netflix Be Boppin'?

Cowboy Bebop didn’t need a remake.

I say that not because it was “flawless”. Not only have I shared my problems with the writing before, but it also had an uncomfortable subplot that reeked of transphobia in one of its episodes. Rather, I say it because the show was lightning in a bottle, a snapshot of an era that only worked because of the right circumstances. Recreating that, aside from being disrespectful, would be a recipe for failure. But since corporations can’t say no, it got remade.

To be fair, a live-action remake had been in the works for a while. Like I said on Infinite Rainy Day, there’d been talks of one since the mid-2000’s, when Keanu Reeves was rumoured to star as Spike Spiegel. It went through delays, development hell, retools and studio changes, until it finally made its way to Netflix. So now that we have a live-action Cowboy Bebop, how is it? Is it worth the binge?

In order to answer those questions, I think we need asterisks. Because the show’s quality is lacklustre, but the final episode changes the reason why. I could easily write a rant on the finale alone, and put a pin in that, but since it’s unfair to the other 9 episodes, I should discuss my thoughts in general. Be prepared for spoilers.

Cowboy Bebop is a 10-episode series that shuffles sequences and storylines from the 1998 classic. It still follows a band of bounty hunters, or “cowboys”, and their hijinks in space, but it expands on Spike’s Syndicate past and makes it a running thread. An odd choice, especially when it focuses on the show’s antagonist, Vicious, and tries fleshing him out more. It also has a subplot about Jet’s daughter, who I’m pretty sure was invented for the Netflix series.

Right away, it’s pretty obvious what the show’s biggest problem is: it feels like two different shows vying for attention. The first is a drama about three misfits who struggle to balance their jobs with their personal lives. And this isn’t bad material! Some of it’d be, dare I say, fantastic in a different show. The struggle Jet has with his daughter, for example, is easily the best subplot!

Unfortunately, there’s a second show in here, and it’s where the experience routinely trips over its own feet. See, this is a live-action Cowboy Bebop, and it makes no secret of that. Every episode’s jam-packed with references and call backs to the anime, and it’s excessive. Each of the episodes has plenty of “remember this?” moments, except “updated” for 2021. They don’t even feel organic, instead checking off ingredients in the ‘Memberberry Soup recipe.

I feel bad pointing this out. An adaptation should be judged as its own entity. But Cowboy Bebop wants to have its cake and eat it too. So I really have no choice here, and that includes the references that make you nostalgic for the anime.

You know what doesn’t help? The writing. The original anime was notorious, even in Otaku circles, for subtlety and restraint, thanks to Keiko Nobumoto. Nobumoto, who also penned my favourite anime series ever, was a brilliant writer, and her characters often said a lot with relatively little. It was a decision partly inspired by time restraints, but it worked. (It actually might’ve worked a little too well...)

So how does the Netflix series fill its time? With padding. Aside from extra content, it also has lots of fluffy dialogue. Some of the conversations are cringeworthy, while others belong in a different show altogether. It doesn’t help that the characters swear excessively, such that it’d be too much even for Quentin Tarantino. That’s not good, and it takes you out of the experience.

This all sounds bad, but I gave it the benefit of the doubt because there was something there. Then the last episode happened, and everything changed. The show went from mediocre with occasional greatness, to flat-out embarrassing. I could stand the dialogue, the call backs and the episode padding. But I drew the line at butchering a character in service of “updating” the show.

In an interview, the show-runner mentioned that he wanted to be respectful while also giving a new spin. I can see that, and I get it, but that last episode really misses the mark. The way it resolves the relationship between Vicious, Spike and Julia, which is crucial to story, ruins what’d been established prior. Not to mention, it contradicts Julia’s arc.

It starts fine enough: Julia, who’s been placed under confinement, convinces one of the female Syndicate members to let her reunite with Spike. Spike, having been recently rescued by Faye (in a rare improvement over the anime), heads back to the church he was held hostage in to confront Vicious. He climbs to the top tower, and the two fight in a moment that hearkens back to their confrontations from the anime. Everything plays out beat-for-beat, until Julia shoots Vicious (in another rare improvement). She then asks why Spike never looked for her in the years he was presumed dead, and he has no satisfying answer.

Then the show goes all “Girl Boss”, with Julia knocking out Vicious, sending Spike through the window and claiming her place as head of The Syndicate. This makes absolutely no sense, and it’s actively frustrating. Yes, her reclaiming agency is great. Yes, she deserves a happy ending. And yes, drawing a blank at Vicious is a nice callback to an earlier episode. But Julia’s journey was about breaking free of The Syndicate. She’d never expressed interest in joining the organization that abused her before, so why now?

Seriously, I’d pull a “Tell me you don’t understand the original series, without telling me you don’t understand the original series” line, but what good would a meme do?

To top it off, the show throws in one last insult by having a drunk and downtrodden Spike meeting a hyperactive Radical Edward. And it doesn’t work. Bless Eden Perkins for trying, but the original show’s Ed, for all her quirks, knew when to show restraint. Ed was the reason I got into Cowboy Bebop in the first place, having been in a bad place in 2008 mentally and needing something to, in a weird way, keep me grounded. It’s baffling how this adaptation got Ed so wrong, especially when everyone else was done reasonably well.

But that’s the problem with this adaptation: it doesn’t understand itself. When it’s not actively pissing you off, it’s superficially reminding you what made Shinichirō Watanabe and Keiko Nobumoto’s work great to begin with. Which is a shame, as there’s potential for excellence here. The casting’s great, the chemistry’s excellent, the art and set designs are top-notch, Yoko Kanno returns with her music selections, and it manages to be more LGBTQ-friendly than the anime. Everything’s great on the surface, but the writing and story choices are baffling. That’s not a good sign for something that was stalled for over a decade.

Ultimately, Cowboy Bebop left me sad and tired. It made me miss the anime. And it made me doubt whether the anime was even good. But most-importantly, it reminded me why animation deserves more credit. Because the anime’s so good that even people who normally hate anime like it! I can’t say that here.

So yes, avoid this adaptation. Or, better yet, watch the anime! It’s currently on Netflix, and you’ll have an infinitely better time. That much I guarantee!

Marvel's Eternal Connundrum

It’s official: The MCU’s released a dud.

It seems like a bigger deal than it is, as they’ve gone 26 movies without one, but given how the internet reacted to the news, it felt like the world was ending. But it’s not. It was inevitable, assuming the Netflix and primetime shows don’t count, and I’m impressed it took so long. So let’s discuss Eternals. Be prepared for light spoilers.

I’ll get the elephant in the room out of the way: you wouldn’t know Eternals was “bad” from the marketing. The trailers were no worse than other MCU entries, the directing was solid and the casting was really strong. This was also a passion project for Chloé Zhao, one she’d fought for for some time. Given her recent awards for Nomadland, and how Kevin Feige was impressed by some of her shot compositions, nothing indicated a disaster. So what went wrong?

It’s tough to say. Zhao was working with bizarre and confusing material. Jack Kirby might’ve been a legend in the world of comics, but the concept for The Eternals opened a Pandora’s Box that, to this day, remains divisive. It doesn’t help that adapting it for the 21st Century meant updating concepts that haven’t aged well, particularly the Deviants. She had serious handicaps from the get-go.

You see that in the movie itself. Theoretically, the premise isn’t unsalvageable: 10 super-powered beings fight human-eating predators while questioning their purpose. That alone could make for something great, especially with the right amount of sensitivity. Unfortunately, much of the story’s expository pondering about humanity, the meaning of life and if the ends justify the means. Add in time jumps, and that The MCU has struggled when it’s focused too heavily on world-building, and I’m surprised the movie doesn’t trip over itself more often.

For example, one scene deals with Hiroshima. In it, Phastos ponders if his desire to help society advance was a mistake, given the human propensity for violence and destruction. It’s interesting, and it could’ve made for a story on its own, but since this is The MCU’s first openly-gay character, it’s icky. And yes, you read that correctly.

That’s the movie’s biggest issue: it’s littered with writing decisions and concepts that don’t work. Ikaris’s villain arc, aside from cribbing Watchmen’s Ozymandias, has so many weird highs and lows that its resolution, jettisoning himself into The Sun, comes from nowhere and doesn’t feel earned. Nor does Sprite’s crush on Ikaris, or her desire to live a human life. Even Thena’s conflict, her struggle to control her free will, is lopsided, and while it ends nicely, it’s a serious head-scratcher.

These choices are peppered throughout, making everything lacklustre. And the climax, in which 8 of the Eternals band together to prevent a Celestial from destroying Earth, has so many left-field moments that it feels less satisfying than it should. Seriously, count them. If you can do that, congratulations! Pat yourself on the back.

Arguably the biggest failing is the emotional core. There are many scenes that should’ve made me cry, but didn’t. And it’s because the script didn’t get me invested in the Eternals’ inner dilemmas. That’s not a good sign considering The MCU once made me teary-eyed over a raccoon grieving a sentient tree. What happened?

I feel bad for pointing this out. There’s a lot of sincerity here that’s missing in some of The MCU’s best. The casting is diverse. There’s a sex scene that feels genuine. The movie has a gay man and a deaf girl of prominence, and neither feels forced. Even the acting’s leagues above the writing, elevating moments that’d otherwise feel mediocre.

That’s why discussing this movie is so difficult. I wanted to love Eternals, and there were moments where I genuinely enjoyed myself. But while it’s not good, there’s too much that works here for me to despise it altogether. Even Thor: The Dark World wore its mediocrity like ratty clothing, but Eternals? I’m not sure what to think of Eternals!

I know movie watching is subjective and personal. Eternals, therefore, is no different. If someone loves it, I can see the case for why. Conversely, if someone despises it, I can also see that. But myself? I don’t know. It takes a lot to actively turn me off from a movie, but I might need to re-watch this one a few more times to properly assess it. That’s how odd it is.

I also think the discourse surrounding the film’s existence has been blown way out of proportion. Is it the worst movie ever? Not really. I wouldn’t even call it the worst superhero movie ever, there are several other candidates that better fit that. But is it a good movie? No, and that’s okay. We’ve gone this long without a dud from The MCU, and that’s commendable. Besides, Eternals being bad doesn’t matter in the grand scheme. Not at this stage.

Now then, about Hawkeye…