Cleopatra the cat has just picked up arcane Satanic secrets from my new book. She is now ready to tyrannise all humans (and mice)! Run for your lives! Or arm yourself with your own secrets by picking up a copy here!
metaphysical fantasy
‘Get away from her, you bitch!’ So says the Doctor, using a line straight from the Aliens movie. More than that, the styling of the corridor chase sequences and the early glimpses of the monster in episode 3 of series 12, entitled Orphan 55, are lifted from Alien. And the episode nicks terraforming and teleporters from Star Trek. And there’s more borrowing (call it homage if you like), from Hitchhiker’s Guide, and so on. But you know what? It all works. Indeed, it works extremely well. What a relief after the stinker that was episode 2. You see, we have a new writer on board for this latest outing – thank the heavens and all that’s holy (and unholy, come to that – whatever it takes). I’m going to track down this Ed Hime, whoever he is, and roundly congratulate him.
Why is the episode so successful? Well, there’s genuine jeopardy involved in the action sequences. People die. Important people. And the sequences move the story forward as well, to an inexorable and shocking reveal moment – the answer to the mystery of the planet known as Orphan 55. There’s an eco-message that I was completely down with, though others might whine it’s a touch preachy. Matter of taste, I suspect.
You can actually tell from the opening scene of the episode that it’s gonna be a good one, and that we have a decent writer doing the work. There are refreshing jokes (proper ones) that add new dimensions to the cast of characters. Bradley Walsh has been collecting coupons from the coffee machine that they have in the Tardis – the machine is upstairs, which is downstairs, or wherever it is in the folded space of the place. And he now has enough coupons to take them all on holiday. The Doctor says she doesn’t need a holiday – and then all her companions turn on her and say, ‘No, you really DO need a holiday. Trust us. You do. Really.’ It’s a telling moment, and the Doctor actually learns something new about herself (rare, these days). The coupons are put together and they’re all teleported to… Tranquility Spa! But it’s all too good to be true. Of course it is! It’s Doctor Who, after all.
I’ll leave it there, to avoid spoilers, blah, blah. If you’re one of the legions of fans who’ve switched Doctor Who off, you might wanna switch it back on for this one. (Oo, and Ryan gets a hot girlfriend for himself!)
You’ll have heard the fuss about ‘Baby Yoda’ that’s going round. It’s not actually Yoda himself: it’s a young member of his species/race (officially ‘unknown’) who appears in the new Star Wars series (‘The Mandalorian‘) currently appearing on the Disney+ channel. The title of the series refers to a bounty hunter of Jango Fett’s own race (Boba Fett was then cloned from Jango Fett). The Mandalorian goes around the galaxy far, far away, carrying out various (highly dangerous) commissions. The series is set five years after the fall of the Empire, but before the rise of the New Republic; so it neatly bridges the time of chaos and confusion between the old movies and the new ones.
Right, now we’ve got all that out of the way, is all the aforementioned fuss warranted? Yes, it is. Entirely. I’m getting old, and I’m increasingly ‘old school’ in my Star Wars tastes, expectations and demands. I am of the belief that the new kids on the block BROKE Star Wars. Come on, you must have heard (and perhaps seen) how badly the movie Solo did, and how they then cancelled the Boba Fett movie that was planned. And the terrible plotting and character development in Rogue One was quite distressing for me. And I could go on at length – but I think you can already see how tyrannical and purist I am. The good news is The Mandalorian series doffs the finest cap (or helmet) in the galaxy to the old style Star Wars.
Incidental characters from the original trilogy of movies are now front and centre, including the bounty hunter droid (technically IG-11, while I had IG-88 as an action figure when I was a kid, collecting tokens and sending them off), power droids, the Empire spy from the first movie, Jawas, and so on. The plot moves along with zero exposition (maybe less than zero, actually), and there are long sequences without any dialogue, everything relying on evocation and landscape, like in the original movie. All of this is more than just homage: it’s an essential understanding of a form of movie-making that had somehow become lost. Jon Favreau (writer and director) has done an amazing job. He is a masterful movie-maker, of course, as the one behind the original Iron Man movie, and so on.
And then there’s the character of the Mandalorian himself. Monosyllabic. Ruthless. And yet a member of a militaristic religion, with its own codes of honour and conduct. We get fascinating glimpses and suggestions, but the ‘mystery’ of his character is kept superbly poised and compelling – not an easy job when all we ever see is the visor of his helmet. This show is a ruddy TRIUMPH! If you are of the faith, then you will go on a quest to seek out this series. You will find a way and means. May the force be with you.
Imagine an up-to-date Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy crossed with a French romance… and you’ll get something approaching the superior French spy drama that is The Bureau. Seeing the modern tricks of spies is fascinating in its own right, and then you get international politics and a love story thrown in for good measure. It’s engaging and compelling on a number of counts – there’s something for everyone really.
Our protagonist (let’s call him Paul, although he has loads of different names, and we’re never quite sure which is the real one) has just returned to Paris from a successful 5-year mission in the Middle East (Syria, Jordan and Algiers). He has to break up with his Syrian girlfriend (Nadia) while still in character as a French teacher before coming home. He feels bad about it, particularly cos Nadia is smart and has a cat-walk model’s body (is she a spy for the other side, a ‘honey trap’?). A week after dumping her, feeling guilty and alone, he phones her… only to find out (with delight and horror) that she’s in Paris!!! Apparently, she’s on a course related to her work. Against all protocol, Paul meets up with Nadia in secret, still maintaining his cover as a French teacher. He has to lie to his colleagues, and the lies have to get bigger and bigger. And, of course, he has to lie to Nadia, cos she doesn’t know he’s a spy for the DGSE (the French CIA, sort of thing). Paul can’t trust anyone. He can hardly trust himself. He’s bound to make a slip, it’s so tricky juggling his different identities every day. Then Nadia’s Syrian entourage start to get suspicious of Paul, and enlist Russian operatives to investigate.
The pressure and close-calls become unbearable. But what can Paul do?
It’s an exciting and entirely tense affair throughout. Gripping. And it’s not just done for the thrills. Being French, of course, the series indulges in philosophical ruminations about identity, trust, reality and sanity. Don’t let it worry you (English ninnies inevitably get put off by all things philosophical), cos you can ignore the philosophical bits and go get a cup of tea.
The series has a dud episode or two (episode 8 is just a rehash of 7 really), but it is entirely worth persevering with. The culmination of it all is unexpected but credible. And means you’ll be keen for the next series. 8.5 out of 10. So there. (By the way, I’m half-French, but you don’t need to be to enjoy said proceedings.)
In the 1970s, Bruce Lee pitched a TV series called Warrior to Hollywood. It was to be the story of a kung fu master wandering the Wild West during the Tong Wars of the late 18th century. Hollywood turned Bruce down, telling him that a show with an Asian lead actor simply wouldn’t work. A year or two later, Hollywood put out the cult TV series Kung Fu, starring David Carradine – a white actor who ‘passed’ for Asian. Meanwhile, Bruce was back in Hong Kong making the genre-defining movies of Way of the Dragon, Enter the Dragon, and Fist of Fury. Sadly, his TV series was never made…
Until now! With Shannon Lee (Bruce’s daughter) as consultant to the series, Warrior has now been made and released by HBO! Not only does the series have as Asian lead (okay, he’s Japanese British), but also a wide cast of fully rounded Asian characters played by Sino-American, Korean and Chinese actors. It’s set in the San Francisco of 1878, just after the American Civil War. Boatloads of Chinese labourers are arriving, liberated African-Americans are moving from the south to the north, Irish navvies and policemen are unionising, and various mafia groups run different parts of the city.
This series has a lot of lovely period detail, wicked martial arts scenes (many a direct homage to Bruce Lee), a lot of flesh on display (it’s HBO, remember, who made the eye-popping Game of Thrones) and fiendishly compromising politics. It’s great. I love it, and fully recommend it! 8.5 out of 10 from me. And I think Bruce would like it too!
[Guest review from Matt White, screenwriter, twitter.com/tree_and_troll]
It’s a cliche that being a screenwriter ruins the watching experience. And it’s also untrue… mostly.
But it has changed the way that I watch TV and films, in three very specific ways:
1) I check the running time – and I can call, usually to within a couple of minutes, when something important will happen
2) I usually know why I don’t like something now…
3) I’ll forgive anything if it’s motivated. By which I mean: no matter how outrageous an action or decision is, I can happily accept it if it makes sense within the context of the character doing that thing or making that decision.
And that last change is why I thought the second series of Jessica Jones was a disappointment – but the third series was ace.
The last of the Marvel/Netflix superhero stories, Jessica Jones series three continues the tale of our reluctant super/private eye, still reeling from the events of series two: she’s mourning her Mum, she hates her “sister” Trish for killing her. And she’s still drinking and cracking wise. But, thanks to a chance encounter at a bar – leading to a scene which left me both hungry and disappointed – Jessica is facing off against a psychopath with a serious dose of resentment and a penchant for portrait photography.
Cue the usual mix of quirky establishing shots, lots of leather boots and buzzing mobile phones. Oh, and intrigue, dilemmas and dark, dark moments – plus the usual supporting crew with some very entertaining new kids. And it’s great. Not as good as the first series – which is surely an all-time classic. But far better than series two.
So what’s changed? It’s not the bad guys: the antagonists in each show have been powerful, scary and pitched just right.
No, it’s Trish. Or Patsy. Or the Masked Vigilante or whatever. Jessica’s foster-sister, former child-star turned news reporter. In series one I felt she was pitched just right: eager to do well and change the world, and way out of her depth. But as series two developed, Trish lurched into a fairly cliched spiral of drug addiction and murderous do-gooding. And some flashbacks and an amazing Rebecca De Mornay performance wasn’t enough to justify it for me: for Trish to take such a screwed-up turn felt like it needed more investment.
But in series three that investment was there, and Trish’s motivation was much stronger. I’m not going into too much detail about what she does – and why – but she plays a huge role in the series, and has a super-satisfying arc. And it’s all because the writers put the time and space into giving her the motivation.
Keep the motivation coming and you’ll keep me happy at least.
[Guest review by Nadine West @andiekarenina]
There is a very specific Taika Waititi humour. If you’ve seen Thor: Ragnarok, you already know it. It revels in incongruity, wordy monologues that reveal more than the speaker intends, occasional pratfalls and the thwarting of best-laid plans and, if you like it, it’s entirely addictive. Call it a Kiwi thing; in the land where no tall poppy is safe from culling, prodding at the pomposity we all try to hide in our dark hearts is a sure-fire comedy winner. When the protagonists are immortal vampires, and the setting is the meek streets of Staten Island, What We Do in the Shadows comes dangerously close to being a comedy masterclass.
The FX TV series is based on, spun off from or otherwise riffs upon the 2014 film of the same name starring Waititi and his co-creator, Flight of the Concords’ Jermaine Clement. This original vampire-in-the-city film was set in Wellington, became a cult hit as a result of its dry humour and faux-documentary style, and seemed destined to remain yet another in the long list of underrated NZ films. (Full disclaimer – I used to teach several Kiwis who now work in the film industry and I am biased as all hell. Pay more attention to NZ creators, you fools.) When Waititi smashed Thor: Ragnarok out of the ballpark and had his moment as the darling of Hollywood, however, studios asked him what he wanted to do next. His answer? I’d like to make What We Do in the Shadows again, please. And I’d like to make it BRILLIANT.
And it is brilliant. Perhaps it’s just a happy coincidence of my humour and theirs, but I have not guffawed this much for years. The series is a single-camera reality documentary parody (and without going too full-film-nerd, the camerawork and lighting are impeccably 1992’s The Real World, with amateurish lighting, camera-swing and dodgy focus-pulling, but at night) following three house-sharing vampires, Nandor, Laszlo and Nadja, as they attempt to co-exist, dispose of corpses, host high-pressure orgies and, just perhaps, take over the world.
The burden upon vampire-kind to take over the world – or at least the New World – leads us straight to one of the pilot episode’s classic lines: Matt Berry’s Laszlo contemplates this sacred task. He is dressed in a black cape. His fangs glisten. He furrows his brow and waves one laconic hand – “Yes, conquer the New World…but as you can see…it’s fucking massive.” This series likes bathos. They like it a lot. Undercutting is what they do: every time Laszlo transforms into a bat the CGI is movie-standard and the magic is real, but Matt Berry has to awkwardly shout “BAT” each time, in the tones of a cricket umpire calling “out”. When Nandor decides to launch his dominion over humankind by controlling their leaders, he ends up at a Staten Island Borough Council meeting, trying to hypnotise grey, earnest bureaucrats who ignore him in favour of a discussion of zoning regulations. (“They cannot be hypnotised,” he notes, aghast, “because they no longer have souls.”)
The cast is uniformly excellent. Once again, a little bias creeps in, because the unimpeachable and glorious Doug Jones is here as Baron Afanas, a recurring guest starring role which allows Jones to flip-flop between deeply creepy and deeply silly, often within the same line of dialogue, whilst giving us one of those physical performances that no one does better, because Doug Jones is a god who can do no wrong and this is a hill I will die on. In the main cast, Kayvan Novak makes a delicious Nandor – slightly haughty, slightly baffled – longing for a homeland and delighting in glitter and “creepy paper”. Natasia Demitriou is a cheerfully demented Nadja, and Harvey Guillén gets huge mileage and moments of genuine pathos out of Guillermo, Nandor’s long-suffering familiar whose only wish is to be “turned” by his master.
There are, inevitably, one or two nit-picks. The energy vampire idea – despite the character of Colin being very well played by Mark Proksch – wears out by episode three and stays threadbare. (He doesn’t feed on blood, he feeds on energy! Like that awful guy at your office! And he wears a grey cardigan! Yes, still the same single joke, over ten episodes!) The “LARPing as a rich mine of virgins” joke is old, so old, pretty offensive, and hit repeatedly with a mallet for diminishing returns. And, well, I don’t get on with vomit humour in any form, never have, never will, and let’s just leave that one there before I go green again.
But overall, this is a genuinely brilliant tv show. It is knowing – the use of vampire lore and canon is impeccable – but it is not self-satisfied. It slips in cinema-quality effects that you will barely notice happening, because it gets mundanity so very, very right. It makes you laugh out loud, not just once, but repeatedly. It will make you want to take up a VERY specific kind of gardening.
What We Do in the Shadows has, cheeringly, has already been commissioned for a second series. FX has a winner on its hands and we can only hope that this one runs and runs.
