filmboicole

Unwieldy, amorphous, and sort of commits a sin I was prepared for but still confused that it happened: the lack of explanation for how Grogu rejoins Mando within the series bearing his name is so ridiculously dumb and contrived. It's the Marvelification of Star Wars at its finest. It's bafflingly undermining the finale of Season 2 (and thus, Mando's entire journey up to this point) that you will need to watch a series that, frankly, stinks to even see a reunion that was rushed there.

While watching, I couldn't help but think of my dad. He and I bonded over Star Wars ever since I was a kid and he came home from work one Friday having gone to our local video rental store, Video Review, and got a copy of A New Hope on VHS (I am older than the average user on this site, FYI). He made popcorn, sat me down on the couch, and changed my life. Following that night, my dad showed me the rest of the films and he raised me on Yoda quotes. Hell, I'm typing this by light of a Yoda lamp my parents gave me for Christmas (it's tacky and I will never get rid of it) and my home office has a TIE Fighter rug in it. This franchise is absolutely my jam. It's still something my dad and I talk about. I've watched literally every one of the films for the first time with him. We even somehow watched The Mandalorian's pilot together despite me being in grad school states away at the time. But he never watched The Book of Boba Fett. He didn't have the time and I told him it wasn't great. He's not going to understand what's happening now. That's dumb.

When this episode isn't retreading its own ground it's fun, but there are like four separate episodes here and none of them are finished.

When George Lucas created Star Wars in the 1970s, it was many things. It was influenced by samurai films of the 60s smashed with science-fiction serials in more of a fantasy style. It was a statement against the American military complex–specifically related to the Vietnam War. It was a massive risk that nobody thought would pay off. And although Star Wars is no longer a financial gamble but one of Disney's cash cows (Solo aside), many seem to have forgotten that the political edge of the franchise has always been central to its identity. While various entries in the long running staple of American cinema have had varying degrees of transparency and effectiveness in terms of making its anti-fascist elements known, the heart is still there. While the face of imperialist threats in the real world have shifted throughout the years thus necessitating a morphing of methods in Star Wars (the prequels are unbelievably prescient these days), the current state of the political climate both at home and abroad present themselves as prime targets for the dormant and sidelined political themes to come out swinging. I wouldn’t qualify Andor as coming out swinging so much as coming out brandishing a pipe bomb.

Andor is a rarity in every sense of the word. It’s a late entry in a forty-five year old franchise that feels fresher than it has any right to. It’s a prequel to a prequel about how a character who played an important role that made the climax of the original film possible. It’s an overtly political, anti-fascist, anti-imperialist narrative made by the largest film production company in the world that somehow still presents itself artfully enough that you don’t feel as though you’ve been beaten over the head with its parallels while also pushing the multitude of nuance with such clarity the emotional beats hit just as hard as (and typically in tandem with) the political beats. It boasts strong writing for character, dialogue, and plot. It’s a Disney+ series that uses a shocking amount of practical effects and looks flat-out tremendous. It features A-list actors bringing their all. But most importantly: Andor never lets its audience forget that the Empire is fascist and that fascism is bad. Full stop.

Whereas in nearly every other entry in the Star Wars cannon that uses the Empire/New Order/Sith as antagonists you understand that those figures are evil for the sake of the narrative, at times these entries lack the guts to flatly present those characters as evil because they represent a regime that pushes a political philosophy directly aimed to minimize individual freedoms, discriminate against anyone different from those in power, and strives for total control of its people and its land. I wouldn’t necessarily call this a failure in other entries so much as a calculated step at times: it would be harder to accept Anakin in the prequels, Vader’s redemption in the original trilogy, and Kylo Ren’s struggle in the sequel trilogy if any of those films were as blatant and explicit as Andor’s portrayal. Those representations do not bely fascist heart of the Empire, but they do downplay the practices of the regime so that heavier lifting for character arcs can be avoided. Andor needs you to feel the oppression. Andor needs you to understand that there is a need for rebellion and that Cassian Andor is not so much a plucky Rebellion member as he is someone who was backed into needing to fight against the Empire because they oppose his very right to exist.

There’s two sides of the same coin here in Andor. Just as we understand why the Empire is evil, we understand why the Rebellion’s guerrilla, go for broke tactics are necessary. Without them, they pose no threat. Without any attempt, the Empire continues to control. But at the same time, there’s an explicit example shown that just as the Rebellion exists because of the Empire, the extended reach of the Empire is necessary for the Rebellion to gain members to fight as well. It's an incredible touch of skill, showing how a rebellion needs to get bleak to succeed.

The writing of Andor is easily its strongest suit. The above paragraphs only begin to scratch the surface in terms of how much depth is mined from the long running franchise. Because in addition to all that’s written above, there’s so much additional nuance and detail the show adds to the Galaxy: we learn how the Empire exerts control, how the Empire builds the Death Star, how the Rebellion gets funded, how the beginning of the Rebellion consisted of so many factions that will eventually give way to that which we see in A New Hope. There’s deep, developed characters, including genuinely positive representation of diversity in terms of gender, queerness, and race. There’s ruminations on political ideologies, the purpose of daily life in the midst of an imperial takeover, how individuals have to sideline their dreams and goals so that people, collectively, have a shot to live better. And it’s no surprise it’s this good either, considering the writing credits include not one, but two Gilroys; Beau Willimon; and The Americans alum Stephen Schiff. If anything, it’s surprising that Disney was able to accrue such a high echelon of talent for a Disney+ Star Wars series. It’s surprising Disney would make a show this grounded, mature, and violent at all. And while I haven’t disliked much that Disney has done with Star Wars (some of the series are really the only complete disappointments for me) and I think The Last Jedi is the best thing Star Wars has ever done, it just shocks me this is what we got considering the state of the House of Mouse and the state of the American political system.

I’ll admit that my expectations were almost rock bottom for this series before it began its release. After The Book of Boba Fett and how reliant The Mandalorian is on fanservice (a series I still admittedly like very much), it was hard to muster too much hope for a prequel to a prequel, even if I did love Rogue One and Andor’s character within that film. I just didn’t have faith that something new could be brought to the table. My fear had been that the backlash to The Last Jedi–the most overtly political and punk entry of the sequel trilogy–had filed down Disney’s teeth, particularly considering the leaked elements of Trevorrow’s canned Episode IX: Duel of the Fates carried on the thematic threads of the unfairly maligned Episode VIII. But instead Andor makes me think that in the interim, Disney (and Kathleen Kennedy, specifically, credit where credit is due) took a step back to take stock of what stories could be told in the franchise. While I won’t ignore the filler that’s come out after The Rise of Skywalker, the strength of Andor gives me hope for the franchise moving forward, particularly considering there’s a Waititi film coming down the line and Johnson’s trilogy is (as of the time of writing) still alive–even if it’s in limbo at this point.

It takes something as fresh, focused, and potent as Andor to bring back this level of confidence. It’s a true testament to the quality of the series’s first season. And while I don’t align myself with the rabid cannibalism of the Star Wars fandom (as probably is evident by my proclamations for the prequels and The Last Jedi), it is nice just to get a win in the franchise. It’s nice not to go on the internet after watching an entry and become immediately exhausted by the sheer multitude of inane debates about it–although there does seem to be a faction of internet users who haven’t quite figured out that Andor’s overt political theming directly points the finger at American conservatism, but at least they like the show.

What really drives home my excitement for this series isn’t just the quality of its initial season, although it certainly helps. It’s that Andor has a planned arc for its second season which has already been greenlit and confirmed to be its last. It cements artistic integrity by its creative team and respects the work put into it by all those involved. Because although Star Wars is a franchise that likely isn’t going away any time soon (not that I’m complaining about that), it’s nice to know that there’s individual entries that can take pre-established elements from it and reinvent the very foundation from which it was created.

The state of weird fiction television in 2022 is disparate, confusing, and exciting. The number of projects being released in the genre is increasing, although it might not always feel that way at first glance. Entries in this seemingly fringe genre seem to come out of nowhere and although they rarely seem to garner widespread popularity (Severance aside), they nevertheless exist. It helps, I think, that the definition of the sub-genre is somewhat elusive. Internet searches will insist that you need to be dealing strictly with paranormal elements reinterpreted for the modern age, but this doesn't seem to be the accepted classification. Shows like LOST, The Leftovers, and True Detective (season one, primarily) or films like Annihilation and Donnie Darko all definitely feel related to it but don't fit neatly into the most easily found definition. Outer Range is emblematic of that indefinable quality related to weird fiction. It's hard to describe, but you know it when you see it.

Outer Range is bold, bolder than I anticipated it to be because it keeps its mystery tantalizingly out of reach for most of its debut season. I was immediately interested in the show when I first read about it--although it took me a few months to make the time for it. A lot of this is how it was presented to me: the comparison to Twin Peaks is flying around on the internet all the time. Considering that Twin Peaks is my favorite show, bar none and by a country mile, of course I was interested. But as I watched Outer Range, I found this comparison to be limiting and inaccurate. In fact, most comparisons of the show I've seen online seem to miss the two shows from which it borrows most heavily.

Outer Range slyly mixes elements from two shows on polar opposite ends of the spectrum, allowing for something frequently fresh but not without growing pains. This is the generational trauma, time-twisting family drama of Dark combined with the bleak, pitch-black (and frequently funny) tone of The Leftovers. The tricky part is that it doesn't really start here. The camera work elevates Outer Range and eschews these influences, demanding it also be considered as a western, complete with explorations of masculinity, family, and a longing for the past. It's a lot to take in and although I frequently loved this season, I don't think Outer Range found its voice until well over halfway through the show.

It's likely an intentional choice to skew this shift so deep within the season, but it's one that leads to its middle episodes lacking the same momentum that the beginning and end have. There are a couple episodes in the middle that deal very little with the mysterious hole that is the igniting interest of our time with the Abbott family. And those episodes trade this for character development. It's necessary and pays off, but while you're watching them it feels like you've been short changed. This is where a comparison to Twin Peaks feels most apt: the vast majority of David Lynch and Mark Frost's magnum opus similarly de-emphasizes its central mystery, but as that show expands its characters the tone is doubled-down upon because those characters are so kooky and melodramatic. On the other hand, Outer Range uses these episodes to establish this tone of surrealism. Although it hasn't been completely absent before, they certainly become more prevalent midway through. It can be distracting, for sure, but I found it to be an interesting spin on the western. Whereas the classical western narrative shows its characters struggling to keep old-fashioned values alive in the modern age, Outer Range seems to suggest that those old-world values will literally drive you insane as you try to square them with a rapidly changing present. For that thesis statement alone, I found so much to appreciate within its eight hour runtime and its mid-season tonal shift.

By the time I was watching the final two episodes of Outer Range's debut season, I was treated to satisfying payoffs that tease an expanded sense of that bizarro tone just below the surface in Wyoming. And although the slow parts of this season definitely underwhelm, I'd be hard pressed to say where we landed isn't mostly worth the price of admission. The biggest complaint I can throw at Outer Range thus far is that drifting too close to Dark is likely only to hurt, as Netflix's German mind-melter handles time travel to such a wholly complex and satisfying degree that only a few years out from its conclusion it might still be best to avoid the comparison altogether. That said, I'm on board. Yee-Haw Twin Peaks has claimed a seat at the weird fiction table. Giddy up.

Audience reactions in 2022 are a mixed bag considering all the...stuff cough*fascism/racism/bigotry*cough going around, but it's been truly, truly hilarious to look at online reviews for The Rings of Power now that I've actually watched this episode. Opinions are fine and I am legitimately able to distinguish when people dislike something because of it's actual content versus when they're just dogwhistling something more sinister. This comes with some caveats, of course, but I do ultimately respect that there is some dissatisfaction due to the changing of lore within Tolkien's universe. For me, I view that as essentially a non-issue as Tolkien's lore is a) extremely old, b) probably a little outdated due to the social norms when it was written, and c) because the rights to The Silmarilion are ultimately not owned by the service who made the show because the Tolkien estate is bafflingly stingy with it therefore making it kind of hard to criticize a show that is legally unable to represent the universe accurately. So yeah, I understand why some superfans are upset, but as someone who has only read the first two Lord of the Rings books, read The Hobbit a handful of times, and watched the movies a bunch, I'm not sure I care enough to pan this series.

This first episode is absolutely stellar for someone who isn't steeped in Tolkien's lore. There is a massive sense of scale, adventure, and grandeur that feels like it's about to bust out of your television without warning. I was on the edge of my seat, mouth agape as what I was seeing. While ultimately I don't really want to compare this to House of the Dragon, I'll admit myself a passing glance: these two series are playing entirely separate ballgames. While House of the Dragon can be reduced to "more Game of Thrones" (and it isn't even stretch to say it, tbh), The Rings of Power is meticulously interested in showing you a different side of Tolkien's universe while still feeling indebted to what came before. Tonally and visually you'll feel the similarities, but they pass quickly. There's also something I find ultimately more respectable about choosing to make an adaptation of extraneous parts of The Lord of the Rings universe when at this point Jackson's trilogy is nearly twenty years old and The Hobbit came out nearly a decade ago. I'm ready to go back to Middle-Earth.

This pilot, WOW. Morfydd Clark? Killer performance.

Absolutely, unequivocally a step forward from season three. In many ways, Stranger Things 4 seems to finally delve deep into the subtext of the premise of the show and as a result gets considerably darker than the series has since it’s initial run. This fourth season is a thrill ride and gets going from episode one with little time to let up, which is surprising considering the behemoth that this season is.

The episode lengths have long been discussed and although I never felt like any episode dragged aside from the wrap-up in the 2.5 hour finale, it does feel like it’s long to be long. Many of the longer episodes do feel like there is an opportunity to either be split into two regular sized episodes or to be shortened. Although none of it feels like a waste, some plot threads are less interesting than others—namely Mike, Jonathan and Will’s even though it does end up connecting in an important way.

Overall, I have to commend the Duffer Brothers for course correcting so strongly from the misstep that was Stranger Things 3 to create a season much more in line tonally with what audiences came to expect from this show, even if the lore is a little messy and all over the place. What it lack in finesse, Stranger Things 4 makes up for in sheer power and intensity, with several episodes leaving me on the edge of my couch, white-knuckling through the action. Can’t wait to see how this series ends in the next season.

Special shout out to David Harbour, who kind of carried half this season on his back. Hopper has long been one of my favorite characters on this show and it is incredible to see him back to his brooding roots.

While this show has a similar structure to Wandavision, it struggles to mine the same depths. Instead it opts for a globe-trotting adventure feel that then gets too bogged in the details of its world. The action scenes are frequently weak and the CGI is borderline laughable until the final two episodes where they clearly blew all their money. The most intriguing aspects of this character are tossed aside for a world-ending plot that only becomes more confusing when you consider that no Avengers appear and they’re barely even referenced at all. It’s necessary, I suppose, but if a man was about to wreak havoc on the world and kill a bunch of people, it seems like Arthur Harrow could be taken care of pretty swiftly by Doctor Strange by himself. Throw in a couple other heroes and it becomes pretty obvious why it’s necessary for this show to ignore that entirely.

Rather than build to the level of stakes the finale does, Moon Knight would have been significantly better off as an exploration of reality and mental illness. As someone who has not read a single Moon Knight comic I recognize this could be very off-brand for the canon, but it would have boasted a better narrative and allowed the acting (the best part of this series) to flourish. Instead, somehow in a series with Oscar Isaac twice it still feels like he’s sidelined.

All in all, Moon Knight has the same problems that other MCU shows (aside from Loki) have: absolutely whack pacing and a struggle to retain any sense of relevance when it’s apparent Disney is reticent to put any A-list Avenger in one likely because of budget and fear for lost ticket sales. While Disney+, although a success for the House of Mouse, is still getting off its feet there is a serious lack of emphasis and narrative weight that can be put into individual series. To a certain extent this remains to be seen: Loki’s climax definitely hints at the next major team-up, Hawkeye and Falcon and the Winter Soldier do little more than introduce characters, and I haven’t seen Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness yet so perhaps I’m talking out of my ass but Wandavision definitely cares more about character development than macro plot progression. The fourth phase of the MCU feels part post-script, part extended introduction. Seeing as how Marvel and Feige felt it necessary to move on from our old heroes, we are currently either wrapping up old threads or introductions new ones a la phase one. Moon Knight is the pinnacle of how awkward that can be post-Endgame. I think there’s a sense that we’re gearing up towards something, but when you consider that the Infinity Stones were teased as early as Thor 1, only two years after the first MCU ever. We’re spinning our wheels a bit and it feels like the fans want a little more.

All this said, Moon Knight isn’t all that bad. Oscar Isaac and Ethan Hawke bring the heat as usual. May Calamawy follows up her excellent performance in Ramy her to string results too. I appreciate the introduction of a new set of mythology to the MCU, even if I wish it were handled better. But the six episode structure hampers all development and makes the series feel like a drag. Although it’ll sound contradictory, I think eight episodes would allow each element more time to breath and as a result pace everything up. As it stands, it feels like pacing comes to a standstill because of how awkwardly we are jettisoned from plot to plot so we can’t settle at all.

I’m sort of surprised that a series with very little emotional setup could have even a modicum of payoff. Then again, we have to give 100% of the credit to Oscar Isaac carrying literally all of the weight on his shoulders to make it happen.

As someone not necessarily totally on board with Wandavision, it’s odd to me that I was able to get into this episode when it is almost identical to the structure of some of the later episodes of that series. Wandavision also planted the seeds for that emotional payoff in a much more meticulous and deserving fashion. All in all, I suppose I’ll say I liked this episode as much as I liked Wandavision, it’s just that I found the whole of that series more up to the task of its emotional climax so the fact that Moon Knight is even approaching that level is kind of impressive to me.

As I’ve been saying, Moon Knight is juggling too much. We’re introducing a brand new character, a brand new mythos, and a brand new set of powers to the MCU. On the whole, I’d say that this series has not been successful as an introduction for this character to the MCU based on the criteria set out for something of this ilk by either MCU streaming series or a phase IV introduction. And although it might sound weird to put it this way, it’s because I find it very confusing that these characters have barely referenced anything that’s happened re: Avengers (I think the only thing I flagged was the call out to Black Panther’s ancestral plane?) and it creates a sense of continuity questions for everything we’re seeing onscreen. Shang-Chi did this incredibly well. There are references to the events of the MCU all over the place—Abomination and Wong even show up—so while there is an entirely new character and mythos introduced, the burden feels lesser because it doesn’t feel like I’m trying to also reconcile its place within its franchise. While there is still one episode to go, I’m having a difficult time figuring out how Moon Knight will apply himself to the MCU as a whole. Before passing final judgments I’ll wait until I’ve seen the next episode, but it is a question weighing heavily on my mind.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the episode of this series I’ve enjoyed the most has almost no fighting sequences to speak of either. The action choreography has been so weak in this show that the absence of it immediately benefits the entire package. Let it be an adventure show, let it be weird and psychological. But just keep the weightless CG fights to a minimum.

All in all, this episode is too little too late but still not a total loss.

It just feels a bit mediocre. Whereas earlier MCU shows had shown that Disney+ can bring the heat, Moon Knight is fighting to get going. There’s more heavy lifting being done by this series than any of the others. This is an entirely new character and mythos for the MCU, one that feels radically different and therefore fresh. But it’s hard not to feel like the focus of the show is placed away from where it might best benefit.

At this point in the era if superhero hegemony, we have developed a negative connotation to origin stories and so most of our first entries at this point sidestep origins so as to get going quicker. Think about how Spider-Man was introduced to the MCU, or how The Batman functions very deliberately after Bruce takes up the cowl. These are examples of how you can forego the origin to exemplary results, but in Moon Knight it’s a completely different story. I don’t know this character or his origin, it might be good to learn it. Shang-Chi did the origin story extremely well. But it also had something Moon Knight lacks: the best fight choreography in the MCU.

I am infinitely less interested in the action oriented sections of this show and saddened how up to this point there is a deemphasis placed on the lore-related aspects. I am a sucker for adventure stories and Moon Knight feels prime territory to let this run wild.

None of this is to say I am disliking this show. I just feel like the flat direction and mismanagement of story focus are making for something more middling.

Also it feels weird the gods in the show are so scared to make themselves known when the Norse gods are proven to exist AND aliens have invaded earth twice already in the MCU. Can’t say they’re going to be too shocked the Egyptian gods exist too.

I don’t think it’s necessarily worth piling on this episode because I do like a good bit on display here. Oscar Isaac and Ethan Hawke primarily. It’s a treat to see two of the top actors of today in something fun like this. And a lot of this is very, very fun.

But this is also the second episode of just general confusion. This was a similar problem with Hawkeye (but that show’s dialogue was much more quippy and fun), but in Moon Knight there’s a lot of heavy lifting to do. We have to introduce an entirely new character and set of lore to the MCU while also not taking too much time so as to skip the origin story tropes. I think it’s a little awkward because it skews the three act structure because MCU television shows effectively do not have pilots. This is a point I’ve been making since Wandavision and it’s still true. It’s a problem because series are a larger commitment and without the hook a pilot provides, I don’t know what to expect. Here, it means that the first act ended in the second episode. With only four episodes left it means you have a ton of setup and the payoff might feel more rushed as a result.

Ah well. I still enjoyed this! And props to Morehead and Benson!

In 2019, Scorsese ruminated on the death of the mob movie. This followed the entire run of The Sopranos similarly reckoning with the decline of the genre. When Breaking Bad and then Better Call Saul started, it proved that the life of crime drama likely lies in adjacent areas previously unexplored: how does one get tied up in organized crime or the drug trade? To what extent does culpability corrupt?

Ozark asks no questions of its viewers. It wrestles with very little. It’s still a downward spiral for the Byrdes, but as of this point there’s no sense that Marty is seriously grasping with these consequences. He has been affected by his circumstances, but his character has not seriously changed. The character trajectory is similarly that downward spiral, but without any sense of alteration like we’re used to seeing.

What is on screen is a shuffling of popular film and TV in the modern era. There’s elements of Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, House of Cards. Ozark is all too willing to bring in extraneous elements without justifying their inclusion or carving its own path. In episode two, the political subplot is so present it borderline makes it feel like I should expect an Underwood.

I don’t understand the heart of this show. I know the premise, and understood (past tense) the plot. However as the show pushes forward I worry we’re going to start losing the scent. Marty is forced into becoming who he is becoming, but I’m waiting for the shift where he takes the responsibility.