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!

Pinocchio (1940) VS Pinocchio (Netflix)-Which is Better?

The Adventures of Pinocchio, Carlo Collodi’s children’s book from 1883, is often regarded as an Italian classic. The story, about a wooden puppet granted life, has been adapted to film many times. Chief among these is the 1940 Walt Disney classic, which is considered one of the company’s best. So when Guillermo del Toro decided to adapt the story for Netflix in 2022, people were skeptical. That version, thankfully, also ended up being fantastic.

Which begs the question: which is the superior adaptation? While it might seem unfair to pit them, let’s find out anyway! Reminder that, as per usual, there’ll be spoilers.

Let’s kick this off with…

Story:

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Despite taking different approaches, the basic premise of both movies is practically identical: Geppetto, a woodcarver and toymaker living in Italy, carves a human-like puppet shaped like a little boy. While he’s sleeping, a fairy appears and gives the puppet life. She then tasks a cricket to be his guide before leaving. When Geppetto awakes, he sees this puppet, named Pinocchio, waiting for him. From here, Pinocchio gets into shenanigans and learns that lying makes his nose grow bigger.

While a similar premise appears in both versions, the execution’s different. The Disney version is a straightforward fairy-tale, complete with all the inner workings: Geppetto’s a kind-hearted man who, despite having a pet cat and goldfish, creates Pinocchio to keep himself company. His puppet’s brought to life as a reward for bringing smiles to little children, especially since he never had children himself. Even Pinocchio’s conscience, a tiny cricket named Jiminy, takes on the role because he’s kind-hearted too. That, and he also recognizes the attached job security, which he needs.

The Netflix version takes a darker approach. Here, Geppetto loses his son, 10 year-old Carlo, to a bombing in 1916. Heartbroken, he turns to alcoholism and chops down the tree he’d planted for his son and turns it into a puppet. From here, a blue spirit takes pity on him and brings his creation, Pinocchio, to life, with Pinocchio’s conscience, a cricket named Sebastian, agreeing to help because said tree was originally his home. The story also takes place in Fascist Italy for much of its runtime, but given how demented the book was, that actually fits.

Even the main plot points are different. Both versions have Pinocchio leave school to become an actor, but the way they play out differs. For the Disney movie, Pinocchio’s tricked by a talking fox and is sold to a ringleader named Stromboli. In the Netflix film, Pinocchio’s tricked by the ringleader directly, a conman named Count Volpe, and agrees to travel with him provided he send half of the earnings to Geppetto. In both versions Pinocchio’s conned, but the Netflix version gives him more agency.

Another difference is the films’ respective climaxes. Both movies have Pinocchio search for Geppetto at sea, only to be swallowed by a creature with an enormous appetite. In both cases, Pinocchio finds Geppetto and they escape, only for Pinocchio to die. While this part’s similar, the minutiae are different: the Disney movie has Pinocchio and Jiminy traverse to the ocean floor, get eaten by a whale, conveniently named Monstro, find Geppetto, escape with the help of a fire and end up ashore when Monstro takes revenge. In the Netflix movie, Pinocchio stumbles upon the beast accidentally, finds Geppetto, escapes with the help of his nose, blows up the beast with a mine and dies saving his father. Both movies have Pinocchio given a human life as a reward, but the Netflix movie keeps it metaphorical, while the Disney movie makes it literal.

Outside of these “similarities”, the two movies are radically different. The two biggest deviations involve an addition for the Netflix movie, and the rewrite of a plot-point. For the latter, the Netflix movie gives Pinocchio a mortality arc, one where he keeps dying and coming back to life. It’s a neat idea, but it’s both under-utilized and overplayed. It serves little purpose other than to pad for time, and it’s abandoned after the third time when Pinocchio chooses to save his father’s life. The Disney movie doesn’t have this plot-line, but it doesn’t need it.

The latter difference involves Pinocchio’s relationship to Lampwick, or Candlewick. In the Disney film, Lampwick’s a runaway boy whom Pinocchio befriends on Pleasure Island. In the movie’s scariest scene, Lampwick then transforms into a donkey and loses his humanity. This scares Pinocchio, prompting him to leave Paradise Island. This can be read into as commenting on child slavery, something I’m amazed a Disney movie had the audacity to do.

In the Netflix adaptation, Pleasure Island’s non-existent. Instead, Pinocchio befriends Candlewick, the son of Italy’s foremost Fascist general, while in a child soldier’s training barracks. The two then race to plant their teams’ flags at the top of the barracks in what can only be described as paintball meets capture the castle. When they decide to raise their flags simultaneously, Candlewick’s father hands him a pistol and orders him to shoot Pinocchio. Candlewick then stands up to his father, whereupon he and Pinocchio trap him in a net before the compound’s blown to smithereens. This entire segment’s unbelievably gutsy, elevating it beyond standard family fodder.

I’m giving this to the Netflix movie. No disrespect to Walt Disney, but del Toro went the extra mile.

Winner:

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

Cast:

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It’s difficult to overstate how different these movies are character-wise. The Disney and Netflix movies only share five characters in-common, and two have different names: Lampwick is Candlewick in the Netflix adaptation, while Sebastian J. Cricket is the former’s Jiminy Cricket. Even Monstro’s less a whale in the Netflix movie and more a leviathan. The only characters that are exactly the same are Geppetto and Pinocchio, even if their origins and personalities are different. So while not 1:1, I’ll compare these roles based on what they represent.

Let’s start with the most obvious two: Geppetto and Pinocchio. In both adaptations, Geppetto creates Pinocchio out of wood, but the reasons for why differ. For Disney, Geppetto makes Pinocchio to have a companion, despite already having a cat and a goldfish. We aren’t given much of a back-story, but we don’t need one. This is in contrast to Netflix’s Geppetto, who creates Pinocchio out of grief for losing his son. His attachment to Pinocchio, at least initially, is superficial, and he has to learn to accept him.

Pinocchio’s personality doesn’t differ too drastically in either versions. Both movies portray him as naïve and curious, but the Netflix version also has him expressing his limits. The Netflix Pinocchio doesn’t like watching his friends be exploited, which we see when he defends Spazzatura from Count Volpe and Candlewick from his father. In terms of agency and audacity, Netflix Pinocchio, while more rambunctious, has the advantage. Disney Pinocchio, however, remains static.

The remaining characters are quite different. For example, Lampwick, who goes by Candlewick in the Netflix version. He’s a rambunctious kid who’s turned into a donkey in the Disney film, while Candlewick has an arc as a bully-turned-friend who learns to stand up to his father. And while the Disney movie has Honest John, an ironically-named Fox who keeps tricking Pinocchio, and the devious Stagecoach, these are consolidated or merged into characters like Count Volpe or Spazzatura for Netflix. The Netflix film even adds another fairy who looks after dead people, and she plays an important role whenever Pinocchio’s killed.

The biggest deviation character-wise is the cricket. He’s Pinocchio’s conscience in both adaptations, but while Jiminy’s delighted, Sebastian only agrees because Pinocchio used to be his home. Both crickets are notoriously bad at their jobs, but Sebastian’s incompetence is more understandable because of his background. He’s a writer and adventurer, he only bumbled into this role out of pomp and circumstance. He never wanted to be Pinocchio’s guide, and it shows with how frequently he’s abused.

Both movies have excellent character rosters, but I’m giving this to Netflix for one reason: the Disney movie’s Stromboli. Not to downplay the “appeal” of his menace, but he’s a pretty racist caricature of a Roma man. The original movie even uses a racist and outdated term for him, and he does his community no favours. The Netflix movie combines him with Honest John into Count Volpe, removes the racism and lacks this issue altogether. It also has Spazzatura turn on him before Volpe’s blown up.

Winner:

But a cast is only as good as the movie looks, which leads to…

Aesthetic:

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Despite both movies being animated, their formats are different. The Disney movie, being drawn on hand-painted cells, is still breathtaking to look at 84 years later. That might seem like a given, but some of the later projects under Walt Disney were pretty cheap-looking. And while not everything’s cohesive, the Blue Fairy clearly looks rotoscoped and doesn’t mesh with everything else, for the most part it hasn’t aged. It’s also 90-minutes long, reemphasizing that economic storytelling is sometimes efficient storytelling.

The Netflix movie’s stop-motion animated, with CGI and matte paintings for the backgrounds. Stop-motion’s time consuming and tedious, hence why many ventures are so short, but this two-hour experience has a Netflix-sized budget and The Jim Henson Company behind many of the designs. It, therefore, looks amazing, even if its colour palate’s murky and desaturated. I especially like Pinocchio’s design, which looks like it was designed by a raging drunk. It’s missing an ear and has many imperfections, and whenever Pinocchio lies his nose grows like a pine tree. A lot of thought went into this world and its characters, and I think it’ll age well too.

If I have any issues with either film, it’d be with the Disney movie. Despite being a tightly-written story, the pacing and editing can feel lopsided. Some scenes, like the one where Jiminy yells at everyone to be quiet so he can sleep, drag on, while others, like the dénouement, are abrupt and rushed. The scene transitions are also really awkward with their fades to black, and you get the sense that there were missing reels. I know that hand-painted cell animation is costly, especially in 1940, and that Disney was experimenting, but the pacing and editing can’t be ignored. The Netflix movie might be longer, but it’s also better-edited and paced.

The Netflix movie wins.

Winner:

Speaking of presentation, it’s time for…

Sound:

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Both movies have advantages here. The Disney movie, being from the 1940’s, feels like a radio drama, right down to its performances. This definitely dates it, but it also makes the experience timeless. It adds to the fairy-tale vibe as well. That alone gives it a leg-up on the Netflix film, which is less effective by feeling more contemporary.

Vocally, both adaptations do their jobs. I like that the voice of Pinocchio in the Disney movie’s done by an appropriately-aged boy, while Monstro’s noises are matched to Thurl Ravenscroft of Tony the Tiger fame. But the real star is Cliff Edwards as Jiminy Cricket. He’s not only the narrator, he’s Pinocchio’s conscience. He’s the POV character, and he lets us know it. He also gets the movie’s best song, one that’s become Disney’s official anthem.

The Netflix movie’s no slouch either, though. Not only is Guillermo del Toro regular Ron Perlman here, but so is Netflix regular Finn Wolfhard. The movie also has Tilda Swinton, Cate Blanchett and Christoph Waltz in major roles, while Sebastian J. Cricket’s voiced by Ewan McGregor. But the real stars are David Bradley and Gregory Mann as Geppetto and Pinocchio. Mann also voices Carlo at the beginning, emphasizing the parallels between him and Pinocchio. There isn’t a bad vocal choice here.

Sadly, while both movies also have excellent scores, the Netflix film pales to the Disney one with its songs. Perhaps it’s been in the public consciousness for over 80 years, but every song in the Disney movie, even the dance Geppetto and Pinocchio share, is a banger. The Netflix movie’s musical numbers, courtesy of Alexandre Desplat, aren’t terrible (save “Everything is New to Me”), but with the exception of “My Son”, which doubles as the film’s motif, none are as instantly-hummable as your standard fare from Walt Disney. Perhaps in 80 years that’ll change, but for now…I’m giving it to the Disney movie. Sorry.

Winner:

Time for the final category!

Entertainment factor:

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This is a really tough call. On the one hand, the Disney movie’s iconic for a reason. Like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, it progressed the medium of animation leaps and bounds beyond what it was capable of. It also introduced techniques made possible by the technology of the time, and most of it holds up now. The movie itself is also really good! There’s a reason why many animation buffs consider it one of Disney’s best, even if Stromboli’s still racist…

At the same time, the Netflix movie’s also impressive. Whether it’s the stop-motion artistry being possible because Netflix gave del Toro a massive budget, or the 2-hour runtime allowing for more complex themes, this is an achievement in its own right. Guillermo del Toro’s filmography’s inconsistent, but his take on Pinocchio’s up there with Pan’s Labyrinth and The Shape of Water as one of his best. Not all of it coalesces, the songs being its biggest folly, but it more than compensates with its themes of grief, loss of innocence, the pains of growing old and the dangers of authoritarianism (in this case, Italian Fascism). It also portrays Benito Mussolini as a diminutive man-baby with a fragile ego, which gives it points in my eyes!

Your mileage may vary, but I think the Netflix movie’s the superior offering overall.

Overall winner:

Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next time!

Streaming's Bursting Bubble

The world of streaming is a rollercoaster. One moment you’re dreading its effects on archiving, the next you’re excited that Disney+ is worth having. The concept of watching content online has pros and cons, but it’s increasingly feeling like the cons are outweighing the pros. In particular, it’s fallen prey to a lack of practicality and a lack of continuity. Both of these are disastrous for the industry.

Let’s start with that first issue. About 10 years ago, all streaming of note was on Netflix. Netflix had skin in the game since the days of Blockbuster, serving as a direct competitor and having the convenience of not venturing outside. Even when Netflix pivoted to digital-only, it still pushed Blockbuster into obscurity. Netflix, essentially, was the better option. It had the longer legs.

Netflix was the go-to service for years. And people took note. And when it started making original content, the ease of logging on and browsing was there. It helped that Netflix had no competition. Like Apple, Netflix had an ecosystem.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Netflix to have competition. Streamers like AppleTV, Peacock, Amazon Prime, Disney+ and HBO Max started popping up and ate up parts of Netflix’s base. They locked in exclusives and original programming, as well as their own demographics. Disney+, for example, was the home to Disney, as well as Star. Meanwhile, HBO Max was for Warner Bros.’ massive backlog of films and shows. With all of these services, Netflix began feeling redundant. It didn’t help that these services had monthly fees, many of which were expensive.

I’ll admit that I only watch Netflix and Disney+. Netflix is for my family, while Disney+ I pay for directly. I’m generally happy with these services, but I’m now noticing disturbing trends. Like, what’s with restricting password sharing? I get not letting strangers use your account, but family and friends? Why should I be charged extra for that?

It sucks that Netflix has gotten so paranoid. I know they want to a loyal base, but why not cap accounts at three or four users? It doesn’t help that subscription costs keep swelling, especially when their content doesn’t justify it. Not everything on Netflix is worth my time, after all! Factor in that Disney+ is considering doing the same, and I feel dirty reminding people not to use my accounts!

This leads to the other issue: a lack of preservation. Video games are guilty of this too, but at least they have options for many of their newer releases! Streaming doesn’t; in fact, with much of the original content there are no physical releases! You’re at the mercy of whatever’s on the platform that day. And given that titles are pulled frequently, that’s a problem.

It's especially frustrating because algorithms are determining longevity. Yes, algorithms are scanning viewer numbers now. Given that not everything that’s popular is good, and vice versa, that’s not good for small-time creators. Nowadays, in order to be big you have to strike a chord with audiences, which is hard when you lack a fallback position. Even then, being popular doesn’t guarantee anything.

Interestingly enough, that’s what’s at the heart of the current strikes in Hollywood. It used to be that even if your work wasn’t successful, future circulations guaranteed residuals. With the advent of streaming, as well as cancellations and content purges, that’s not a guarantee anymore. Streaming simply isn’t the novelty it once was. The rising costs are the icing on this crappy cake.

I wish I could fix this problem myself. But I can’t. I’m one person with barely any base. I can’t even apply for AdSense, and I doubt the ads I’d receive would sustain me. So this is quite personal.

That’s where I have to turn to people with influence, and I’m not seeing results. There’s simply too much uncertainty and lack of quality-control, and no one’s stepping in to regulate it. I’m not even including the constant tax write-offs contributing to this mess, because that’s a whole other can of worms! It’s as if no one in charge cares. Or if they do, they’re not a large or powerful enough voice.

I like streaming. I like the convenience of streaming. Streaming allows for a certain freedom that’s missing from movie theatres and retail stores. It’s nice to sit down and watch something without having to scope it out. I also don’t see streaming going away.

But that’s why I’m so concerned. Whether it’s affordability, practicality, or a lack of sustainable content, something’s got to give. And hopefully soon. Because if entertainment isn’t treated with respect, then what’s the point? Why bother pouring your heart and soul into something if it’s discarded the second it’s deemed useless? What’s the point long-term?

Cable TV started to consolidate different channels into a centralized hub. Said hub took hundreds of networks and made them affordable. I mention this because streaming’s becoming what Cable TV fought against, and people often joke that it’d be ironic if something similar to cable happened with these services. Honestly, I’d like that. Because if it means fixing the problems with streaming, strikes aside, then I’d happily pay for a consolidated package. Wouldn’t we all?

Netflix and WB

In 2017, I wrote two pieces about the Disney/20th Century Fox merger. In them, I discussed any pros or cons I could think of. My thoughts have evolved since, but the one constant is the lack of healthy competition. I mention this because we’re now seeing another merger occur. And like last time, I have questions I’m unsure will be answered with Netflix purchasing Warner Bros.

Warner Bros. hasn’t been doing well financially for some time. There are several reasons for that, but CEO David Zaslav hasn’t helped. The studio’s financial woes came to light when it was announced they were up for sale earlier this year, leaving everything to whichever studio was willing to bite. The odds appeared to be with Universal/Paramount, since President Trump was hoping for that merger, but Netflix swooped in at the last minute. While, as of writing this, there are last-minute details that need finalizing, given how everything’s playing out it’s likely that this’ll go through.

Which brings me to my first few questions: how long will this take? What are the next steps for the two companies? Mergers are often slow and tedious, based on what I’ve seen, so there are many variables up in the air. I know CNN and The Discovery Channel won’t be impacted, as per the agreement, but everything else will be. And it’s a lot.

How will this merger operate? Will David Zaslav remain CEO of Warner Bros.? Will he be co-CEO alongside Netflix? Will Netflix’s CEOs take over running Warner Bros.? Or will Netflix find a brand new CEO?

Will Warner Bros. retain its namesake, or will it be renamed? That was a sticking point with the Disney/Fox merger, with the latter being renamed 20th Century Studios. If that happens with Warner Bros., will its new name be something more corporate? I can see “Bros.” being dropped, since none of the brothers are alive, but axing “Warner” feels dishonest. Like removing “Walt” from “Walt Disney”, it’d be like losing a part of history.

What’ll happen to Warner Bros.’ catalogue? Recall that Warner Bros. has been around for over a century, and they have a massive library of shows and movies. Like MGM, Warner Bros. remained a mainstay through their highs and lows, and that’s been exemplified with their output. If this merger’s finalized, will Netflix treat its new backlog with more respect than Zaslav? Or will it treat it worse?

What’ll happen to the shows and projects Warner Bros. was working on beforehand? Will they be axed? Will the reboot of the Harry Potter franchise still happen as planned? Will there be more Lord of the Rings content? Will James Gunn’s reboot of the DCU continue, especially since he’s had a promising start?

What about HBO? Will HBO run independently? Will Last Week Tonight continue on, or will John Oliver’s late-night bloc get axed? Will all currently-syndicated programs on HBO continue, or will they be axed too? And if so, to what extent?

How about foreign licenses? The biggest one is, of course, Studio Ghibli. They already have Western distribution rights through HBO and Netflix, depending on where you live, so the custody battle will be on the table. What’ll happen? Will nothing change, or will everything change?

For Netflix, will there be an overhaul? Netflix recently put out a statement that they are no plans for price increases, but for how long? If the price increases, by how much? And if it doesn’t, does that mean HBO and Netflix will remain separate bundles, or will they be merged?

How will this impact movie releases? Will Warner Bros. release everything, or will they scale back? Will Netflix release more movies theatrically, as opposed to special events? I know Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos has stated he’s never been fond of the theatregoing experience, but will that mentality change now? Will Sarandos be more receptive to theatres?

How many jobs will be cut during restructuring? This was a sticking point for Disney after absorbing 20th Century Fox, and it’s going to happen here too. I doubt the higher ups will suffer, but will grunt workers have to find new employment? Will there be pushback? And how much pushback?

How does this impact holdings? I know it sounds weird to ask that, but mergers are financially-motivated and impact shares in a company. Will Netflix and Warner Bros. see stock surges? Will one or the other drop in the short term? Will investors only see long-term payoffs?

The biggest elephant in the room, maybe the second-biggest, involves long-term retention. I think back to what caused MGM to get scooped up by Amazon: frequent sales and buybacks. The late-Kirk Kerkorian owned MGM three times, each time selling the company for spare parts to help finance real estate. Given his tenure doomed MGM, who’s to say Warner Bros., which has been sold several times, won’t suffer the same fate should another Kerkorian-like figure pop up?

Most-importantly, why’s this merger happening now? And why’s The FCC approving it, like they did Disney and 20th Century Fox? If The FCC’s purpose is to monitor corporate mergers, then why’s there no pushback here? Perhaps my personal politics are getting in the way, but isn’t this corporate overreach? Am I wrong to assume that?

It's possible that these questions, and more, will be answered in the future. I’m not a fortune teller, after all. But that I’ve posed them at all should be cause for short-term alarm, assuming they hold weight legally. I also don’t know enough about corporate politics to be an expert, so all my questions should be taken with a grain of salt. Nevertheless, I’m worried about the future of filmmaking. Even if I’m not fond of how David Zaslav has managed Warner Bros., I’m not sure this is the answer. We’ll have to wait and see.

In the meantime, whether you agree or disagree, these are my thoughts. Perhaps those of you reading this will know more than me, I can’t say.

Oh Mister Sandman...

Originally I wanted to write about James Gunn recently becoming the head of WB’s DC division. I had a piece formed in my head, one that’d be pleasant instead of mopey and bitter. But something came up that I felt was more pressing. So it’s with profound sadness that I’m mopey once again. Let’s discuss The Sandman.

I didn’t know what to make of this show when it was in its conceptual stage. It’d been in production for about a decade, vacillating between Neil Gaiman overseeing it and Neil Gaiman not overseeing it. Netflix settled on Gaiman overseeing it, and what followed were 10-episodes that, while not entirely like their source material, had charm in their own right. I liked it, warts and all, so I was upset that there were rumours of it not receiving a second season. It was worrying, basically.

Complicating matters was it starting to fade. It was still a hit, it ranked #1 on Netflix’s most-watched for weeks, but that wasn’t enough. The show wasn’t doing numbers like Stranger Things. The only sticking point that kept circulating was Neil Gaiman being worried. And since the first season was expensive to produce, that was a massive kick to the groin.

Netflix works on an algorithm-based system. It doesn’t matter how good your show is, it only cares if people are watching. Plenty of well-received series, many of which weren’t even finished, got canned because of poor audience engagement. And The Sandman was doomed to be another one. This despite, like I said, it being #1 on Netflix’s most-watched.

I mention this because algorithm-based applications suck. Blogger revolves around algorithms, and as the past year has shown, it’s not kind to anything it deems “unmarketable”. It also lacks consideration for personal problems, like if a grandparent passes away or someone has COVID. Algorithms are amoral and impersonal metrics, essentially. So having the most-subscribed streaming service in the world predicated on one is a bad sign; after all, who’s to say people will stay loyal once the content stops?

This also doesn’t help with how seasons of television are aired. The Sandman, like most titles, was dumped onto the service as a whole season. It didn’t come out weekly, and it missed out on additional discourse as a result. This isn’t to spite Netflix’s streaming model, sometimes binging’s the way to go, but not having a week-to-week schedule misses out on hype. Think about it this way: would my Studio Ghibli retrospective entries have been as popular Views-wise if I hadn’t spaced them out over the month of December?

That’s part of the problem. The Sandman isn’t a generic, run-of-the-mill Netflix series. In many ways, it’s one of the best shows the streamer currently has. Reception-wise, it’s been acclaimed and one of the highest-viewed. But that isn’t enough for Netflix. If it isn’t a Stranger Things level hit, it’s “not worth talking about” to Netflix. Never mind that Stranger Things only became the juggernaut it currently is because Netflix trusted The Duffer Brothers. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

Hoping for a Stranger Things-level hit constantly isn’t only unhealthy, it’s also unrealistic. My most-popular piece on this Blog is a rant about a canon ship of two characters that I didn’t like. It blew up in the years since, and it still receives comments occasionally. But while it’d be nice to surpass it View-wise, I’ve accepted the piece’s popularity as lightning in a bottle. In other words, expecting everything to be a phenomenon is ridiculous.

I’d end here, but it was revealed that The Sandman would be getting renewed for another season. I’m pleased by this news. At the same time, I’m also worried by how long that took to happen. The Sandman, remember, is on a platform that uses an algorithm. Considering how many shows were axed because of that, that another season was green-lit is an example of “wait and see” mixed with “give the fans what they want”. This was a result of months of demand that refused to let up. You only need to see how people reacted to the show being up in the air for proof.

So yes, I’m happy. I’m happy that Dream’s story will continue, and I’m happy that we’ll be getting more. But most-importantly, I’m happy because we successfully gamed the system in our favour. We watched the show, begged for it to continue and didn’t let up. And we won. That’s rare, since many high-profile shows with passionate fans weren’t as fortunate.

If anything can be gleamed from this, it’s that Netflix’s metrics for success are in need of revamping. I complain plenty about HBO Max writing off its backlog for tax purposes, but Netflix doesn’t get off easy. Because this obnoxious waiting game is proof that something needs to change. Netflix needs to do better if it wants to remain the king of streaming services.

***

Some housekeeping before I end this: firstly, apologies for slowing down on content. I’m taking an intense class online on accessible media until December Break, and I don’t mean that lightly. Whenever I have free time, I’m usually busy doing assignments. This includes a class blog that I’m struggling to write for. I guess my trauma from university hasn’t fully dissipated…

That said, I’m about to hit a Blogging milestone. I won’t give it away here, but anyone who’s followed me since inception can infer it by counting my backlog entries. Either way, it’s kind of a big deal, so I’m figuring out how to celebrate. I’ll, hopefully, know more in the next while, but keep your eyes peeled!

That’s it for now. See you next time!

They're Charging WHAT?!

As I’m sure you’re all aware, I own two streaming accounts. The first, Netflix, I’ve had for a decade, and it’s used by my family. The second, Disney+, I received for my 30th birthday from my cousin, and realizing how much content on it I liked, I figured it was worth paying for renewals. I enjoy both services, despite not using them frequently.

That said, they don’t make it easy to stay subscribed. Netflix has increased its prices regularly over the last decade, while Disney+ upped its fee after introducing STAR. This didn’t bother me too much: my family pays for Netflix, while Disney+ has a yearly discount. However, I have my limits. And they’re currently being tested.

Let’s start with Netflix. I get emails reminding me of announcements and changes regularly, most of which I ignore. But I recently got this lovely message from them:

“ The cost of your plan has changed. This change takes effect
Tuesday, April 5th, 2022. You can view your updated membership
details by visiting your Account.

Plan
Standard

New Plan Price
$16.49

We hope you’re enjoying Netflix, and we're always adding new TV
shows and movies for our members to enjoy. ”

Interesting…

I’m worried about this increase. Minimum wage in Ontario is currently $15 an hour. This change is a little over $16 a month. That’s above hourly wage. While it’s a one-time payment monthly, hence I’m not overly concerned, it still adds up. Not including taxes, $16.50 monthly becomes $198 a year. Considering all of my living expenses, as well as how much I make at work, that’s a big ask.

I know this’ll change again. After all, streaming services are popping up frequently nowadays, taking their studio content with them in the process. $16.50 a month might not be much now, but it’s going to increase again. I wouldn’t be surprised if that $16.50 a month becomes $20 a month, possibly more. I hope I’m wrong, but I doubt it.

Anyway, Netflix raised its monthly asking price. I can somewhat live with that. But what about Disney+? I pay for $132 yearly at the moment, which is still a big ask. Surely they’re done with price increases now that STAR exists, right? Right?!

Unfortunately, no. In a recent article from Forbes, it was revealed by Disney CEO Bob Chapek to investors that:

“‘By 2023, we want to get to a steady-state, which is even higher than we have right now. And I think that will give us the impetus to increase that price/value relationship even higher and then have the flexibility if we were to so choose to then look at price increases on our service. But it's all about content, content, content.’”

This isn’t an official declaration that Disney+ will up its fees. Nor does it specify by how much. But that it’s being discussed at all is alarming. Investors often have a say on pricing of consumer goods. We’ve already seen that with food and gas.

Additionally, $132 Disney+ is the yearly option. It’s also the cheaper option. The monthly service is about $13 Canadian. That’s cheaper than Netflix, but it’s inching toward an hour of minimum wage work. And given that I pay for it out of pocket, an increase in price is alarming. It’s also not what I want.

But this is the problem with streaming services. Netflix was once top dog, so it didn’t have much to compete with. That raised other issues (which I won’t delve into), but I didn’t have to shell out extra money for separate services. I also didn’t have to worry about price gouging. I don’t have that luxury anymore because of the variety of streaming platforms.

That worries me. It worries me because of the fractured nature of streaming, and it worries me because it burns into my finances. I can complain about these services endlessly, and I have, but the financial strain is my biggest worry. I don’t like that.

Of course, there’s also the issue of ads, something Disney+ is also contemplating. I’ve seen how disruptive ads are to YouTube videos. I also am not fond of many of the commercials on TV, although I’ve gotten used to that. I got into streaming to get away from that, and having it return for a cheaper payment plan isn’t really a worthwhile compromise.

I know I’m not alone here. On the Disney+ end, the service has been struggling due to the pandemic, and its numbers aren’t as high as they’d hoped. (Premier Access was also an issue, but I’ve covered that before.) People don’t have the money that they used to, and Disney’s aware of this. So wouldn’t it make sense to court viewers?

Think about it: what if Netflix and Disney+ dropped their prices to more reasonable numbers? And what if they had incentives to get people to watch their content? I know Netflix scored big with its acquisition of Studio Ghibli’s catalogue, but that’s not enough. If streaming services want customers, they should be conducive to their needs. Like movie theatres, they need a better hook. Raising prices isn’t it.

I probably won’t be heard by Netflix or Disney+’s management. I know there are people far more business-savvy than I am in charge of the services. I also know my suggestions will cost money, something neither service wants to lose. But I’m a consumer. And since I most-likely better understand what the consumer wants, it’s only fair if I’m not ignored. Because I’m the one paying here, not them.

Besides, money definitely speaks. And if people’s money suddenly says “no more”, what impact will that have on streaming?