Primal is an apt title. The show depicts primal violence, primal rage, primal grief. But what I was most surprised by was its display of primal empathy. Yes, the show is gorgeously and lavishly animated. There are shots that will take your breath away, and it knows when to rev up the engine and when to slow down and luxuriate in the stillness and beauty of the environment, much like Samurai Jack before it. Yes, it is a brutal and gory show- every hit has impact, and the fifth episode is bloody enough to make Mortal Kombat blush.
But the core theme running through the show is empathy. The animation pays just as much attention to the eyes as they do the action sequences, knowing that in a show without words, eyes are truly windows to the soul. A perfectly placed soft smile will melt your heart. And each episode returns to that theme of empathy. It'd be an easy excuse in a prehistoric story to say that at our primal core, humanity are monsters. But we're not- we're animals. Animals can be brutal, violent, ruthless. But they think and feel as well, and it is empathy that is the main characters' biggest strength.
It is empathy that leads them to bond and grieve together. It is empathy that leads Spear, the neanderthal, to help a pack of starving humans without second thought. It is empathy that diffuses a situation with woolly mammoths who did not want vengeance but simply the opportunity to mourn and honor their fallen. Spear and Fang the dinosaur's bond is what gives them strength, and the interconnectedness of life is reinforced even in its antagonists, whether in comparison like a group of bats and a spider working together to feed or in contrast like the group of apes that brutalize each other for the chance of brutalizing strong foes for glory. The protagonists even defeat the bats by leading them into the territory of a separate pack of beasts. Nothing is truly alone. The companionship of Spear and Fang is what sets them apart and strengthens them. Empathy is what keeps them alive. And it is that heart that elevates Primal from being not only something nice to look at, but an engaging work of art.
Full of ups and downs but never boring, Atlanta was one of a kind
A fresh, innovative show that shows everything a reboot should be. It doesn't rehash its source material, but redefines it, and in the process, eclipses it. In every way, it is adapted for today, with a diverse cast, sharp writing, and emotional and passionate writing. So many kids will watch this and be not only engrossed, but seen. It'll always be dear to my heart.
Vibrant and stylish from head to toe, its charming characters and stunning visuals and world more than compensate for some slight stumbles in plotting and pacing.
I hate-watched Adventure Time. Hear me out. In the Comet season, it just got so caught up in its own hype, it lost track of what made it great to begin with. I felt like it wasn’t talking to me anymore. Finn became more and more of a jerk. It broke my heart, and even when it changed and got better, I didn’t forgive it. I stuck with it out of obligation, snarked at every episode and never noticed how my snark was getting fonder and fonder as the show found its way back. I didn’t realize I fell in love with it all over again until I was bawling at the final episodes. Adventure Time's finale rencontexualized the show for me. It made me realize I was being too harsh on it, that somewhere along the way it reclaimed a part of my heart. It was a magical feeling, like somehow even its biggest missteps were all part of the same journey. Its sum was bigger than its parts. And its legacy, on a personal level, felt secured. All it took was one amazing finale for the spark I had to be relit.
I can’t say the same of Steven Universe.
Adventure Time's problem was that it could get too heady for its own good, and SU's is the opposite. It thought, often to a fault, too much with its heart. It was a messy show. It seemed to, in the end, settle on the Diamonds as a kind of cycle of abuse thing, and it still doesn't quite work. The more you think about Steven Universe, the less it works. It wants to be both allegory and fairy tale- the Diamonds are a symbol of the system that represses and corrupts and destroys queer lives... but they can be redeemed and they're just traumatized, messy people too. It's both fantasy and true to life- look at all the wacky adventures Steven has! Isn't it fun? The world has 39 states and there's aliens and it's so out there! But also those wacky adventures gave Steven serious trauma that we'll now look through from a more our world lens, like why hasn't this kid seen a doctor and gotten therapy?
It's a balance the show only briefly managed in its early days, and never as consistently as Adventure Time overall, and there's an interestingly fan fic-y feel to Steven Universe Future. It makes sense- Rebecca Sugar and her crew are a generation that grew up on fan fic, on concepts like the post series fic where fans look too deep into how all this cartoon adventures would really affect the protags, and it's fascinating in that way. Those fics are great thought experiments, great as reclamations of stories. The fate of the characters and what happens to them after becomes ours, and it can go a million different ways with new tones and styles without a thought to the original, like storytelling of old. I don’t know if that works as well for an official work. It didn’t quite for me.
But I don’t know if SU could’ve ever ‘won’ with me. As I got older, Steven Universe's idealism didn't resonate with me as much. It felt too easy, it didn't feel real. I didn’t want to be told to understand and emphasize with the Andy DeMayos or the Diamonds of the world and kill them with love like that would change anything. We have proof that it very much does not! The fairy tale of the original show felt less empowering or hopeful and more condescending, on a personal level. It had queer rep galore... but it slowly felt like it didn’t want to show the angry or ugly or bitter side of us. It stopped feeling as relevant to me.
So I should’ve loved Steven Universe Future, right? That gets ugly. That gets real. But the strange thing is, even as Steven Universe Future tried to reach me personally with its framing of trauma and a kid trying to find his place after a lifetime of it... I appreciated it more than I felt it. There wasn't quite the plot or character throughline and cohesion to get me to feel it, even though it was always shooting, undeniably, from the heart. The show was feeling so much, but I was feeling less and less. The heart needed a little more brain.
Here’s the thing. Art can be messy. And that messiness means it does not connect with everyone the same way. Steven Universe as a franchise was messy, and in the end wasn’t my type of mess to leave me sobbing at the finale and always caring about its characters. Every goodbye just got a little aww from me. A little mental appreciation of ‘I should be feeling something here’. Where Adventure Time’s finale left me bawling, love for the show bursting stronger than ever before, both finales of SU left me dry eyed. That may be a failure of the show for me.
But there is a lot of people who that mess did reach, who felt as reflected or as wrecked by that show as I did with Adventure Time or Moonlight or We Know The Devil. There's people who needed Steven Universe's hope, and there's people who watched Future and felt seen. There's kids who grew up on both, with the franchise as a whole, and it'll be a true companion to them. And there's no discounting the monumental work it put into queer rep, the doors it broke down for other shows on the network and beyond. In a way, it doesn’t matter if in my heart I can’t pinpoint what SU means for me. Steven Universe stands for something just by being Steven Universe. There'll be people who will want to be the Steven they want to see in the world, and that's a great thing.
I fell out of love with Steven Universe, and unlike Adventure Time I never quite fell back in love with it. But I'll never stop appreciating it, and even if it doesn't fully hold a place in my heart, it'll be a cornerstone for both western animation and many people's lives. And that's enough, both for it and for myself. I can have a satisfaction just in seeing that. Sometimes a finale doesn’t need to have made the whole show worth it. It doesn’t need to prove to you that you loved it, it doesn’t need to make you feel it in your soul what it is. It did for other people. Sometimes a thing can just end, and you can be happy for it and everyone else who loved it.
Steven Universe ended. Here we are.
The culmination of what Disney shows had been building to with serialization, characterization, and representation. What it achieved with the executive politics against it is astonishing. It could twist the heart as much as warm it, bust the gut, and be astonishingly creative and eye catching in both setting and visuals.
Belos is a perfect villain, serving the thematic thrust of the series and the character development of the leads flawlessly. And you can’t ask for a more endearing and rootable protagonist than Luz, who gets you on her side immediately and makes you feel her highs and lows. King and Eda carry their side of things just as well, highlighting the found family and the joy of being a weirdo. And all the secondary cast round things out nicely with quirks that immediately make them lovable and memorable.
Of course, the brightest part of Owl House’s legacy may be Luz’s relationship with Amity, and for good reason. They feed each other’s growth, and their love is sweet and heartwarming and never shied away from. It’s natural and organic, and so inspiring for the kids who need to see their love is right and good.
Owl House made a whole generation of weirdos feel seen and loved, and will do the same for future generations. It’ll stand as a landmark in children animation, and I can’t wait to see what it inspires the people who grew up on it to create themselves.
Just superb. This made an entire generation care about Mickey Mouse, and the fact it's still going strong delights me to no end.
The Midnight Gospel is a gorgeous, reflective show that didn't leave me feeling or thinking quite as much as it wanted me to. But for others, it'll really hit, and I appreciate the show for that and its honesty. Its no wonder Pendleton Ward was attracted to this show- Adventure Time had its share of navel gazing that many would feel seen or condescended by, or like me, alternate between the two. Midnight Gospel is similar in that respect. The animation is inspired, and remind me- in a good way- of the animatics and fan animation you'd see on Youtube, repurposing existing audio and transforming it, adding new context. Some episodes combine the audio and visuals better than others- my personal favorite is more episode 5 than probably the more universal favorite 8- but I think this is the type of show where each episode will have a staunch defender, where it reached someone particularly deeply. It may not change your life, but it doesn't have to. You don't have t take the show as gospel. Just listen.
A wonderful sendoff to Adventure Time and all its various beautiful facets.
Disney is an evil, soulless media conglomerate that is doing active harm to art, and more importantly people, with every day of its existence under the guise of being a magical wonderland of limitless adventure, magic, and family.
The most incredible thing about Ducktales is that it is the one thing that, somehow, manages to be that limitless adventure when by all rights it should be crushed by greed and IP. This is not to knock against individual shows like Owl House that are art in their own right, but Ducktales uses several of Disney's most iconic characters, harnesses nostalgia, and does it right. Not to make money, but to have fun. Heart bleeds in every frame, in every line, and I can't imagine a more definitive version of these characters than this.It's a snapshot of that feeling we all had when we believed Disney was what it claimed to be, and like that snapshot it can't last forever. But unlike it, it's true. With the constraints of character restrictions, IPs, money, and general corporate chains, the cast and crew made something real. I'll miss this show, but I know it's an adventure I'll happily go on again and again.
I still don't know how I feel about this, so right down the middle seems fair. Chapter 9 is a tour de force.. Jenkins' intimate and heartfelt direction: Britell's sweeping, melancholic, and dread-filled score: and Laxton's meticulous and caring eye, neglecting not one detail. All of this in service of the story they (as well as staff writer Crowther and, of course, author Whitehead's) tell. It could've been a feature film in of itself. That felt like the story Jenkins and co wanted to tell, the reason why they took on this project, the new spin they could offer on the miserable slave narrative.
It's a shame it's just one episode.
Nobody's coasting on this. It's artfully shot, the entire cast acts their heart out, most notably Mbedu, Jackson Harper, and Pierre. But for most of the series I just kept asking 'Why?' After a daring film like Moonlight exploring not just black love but gay black love with a tenderness and intimacy so rarely seen, why was this Jenkins' next project? The parade of trauma in all chapters besides 9 left me mostly exasperated or frustrated. They felt obligatory. You gotta hit your marks in your slavery story. And the last episode is fine, but fails to stick the landing. It fails to really tie everything together and justify itself. What was gained from Cora's arc? She's constantly trapped in her trauma, with every effort to move forward met with a shove back, and it makes the ending feel hollow. There's no catharsis or revelation when you're left feeling things are just going to go wrong again off screen.
But Chapter 9... what it has to say about black capitalism, about assimilation, about colorism, about whether to use the tools of the oppressors or to discard them to try and find our own path, and how nothing black can stay in America if it strays out of its place... it almost makes me wish it was a standalone piece. I can't regret watching the series, not when it gave me so much to think about. But ultimately, I'm left wishing I got more of what made me check out the series to begin with: Cora and Royal playfully flirting, calling each other pretty when they smile. In its own way, it felt just as revolutionary as Chapter 9, and something we need to see more of than any of the other litany of tragedies the series artistically displays.
Absolutely infuriating. Denise and Aaron deserved better. Law enforcement is corrupt wbd broken; their goal is not to protect anyone but to consolidate their power and reputation and that of the state’s. As soon as they get a theory, anything not fitting into it is a challenge to that power and as much a threat as any crime, if not more. That said, this also felt like a doc pulling its punches. I was struck by how this danced around race. Denise is the perfect victim- ‘blonde’, ‘attractive’. Aaron is the type of guy to believe in police, a ‘upper middle class guy’. The undercurrent of they’re normal, they’re white, and even THEY get treated like this while not outright saying it is something. There’s a kind of entitlement that the police should be protecting them, in particular, and that it’s an extra horror that they’re not.
And this is reinforced by one of the closing moments being focused on that woman cop. How they say the whole time they were looking for a hero in law enforcement and she’s their hero. There’s an undercurrent of one good cop can overcome the system, that sisterhood will save all. How many reviews here have that takeaway, of propping up this woman for doing what is ostensibly, in the eyes of the Aarons and Denises of this world, her job? The fact that no cops or agents were disinclined- indeed one was awarded- is left to text, with no comment from anyone. Even the media is let off pretty easy by the end. The doc pulls back from fully confronting how intrinsically and fully the criminal justice system is broken and its enforcers cruel and malicious to do a bit of reconstruction of the ‘good cop’, to paint this as something egregious instead of something that happens to many, many men and women, including those who aren’t the archetypal Americans like these two are. Imagine how this plays out for a black man and woman, for example. This doc won’t. It’s still a startling example of the evils of law enforcement, but its gaps say as much as what it shows.
Hilda’s a masterwork of fairy tale whimsey and danger, with visuals that delight the eyes and characters that’ll win your heart. Hilda and Johanna, and their relationship, are particularly affecting, with arcs that bubble through the entire series in surprising and compelling ways. I’ll miss it terribly and revisit it often, I have no doubt
Rip. Only one or two truly standout episodes, but I’ll always love The Shadow, and I’ve had many of the songs on repeat for the three years this show had. It was perfectly pleasant and comfortable to watch
Boots Riley continues to be one of the most unique, dazzling, and socially incisive artists in cinema today. He picks up where he started with Sorry to Bother You to deliver a deconstruction of superheroes and capitalism, often at the same time. It’s unafraid to embrace the surreal and the hyperrealistic, and that heightened emotion- along with genuine, wild comedy- works in tandem with its intellectual mind so neither overwhelms the other.
The cast all kill it. There’s Goggins’ turn as a pathetic man using superheroes to justify his sense of meaninglessness. And then there’s Kara Young as Jones, a charismatic and wounded revolutionary who keeps going even when she loses friend after friend because she knows in her soul the way forward and her heart bleeds too damn much to just give up. She sells the impassioned, razor sharp monologues with earnest and righteous hurt, and visually and script wise these are some of the series’ masterworks. And even bit players like Kendrick Samson really shine, showing the shame and bitter anger in trying to change things from the inside, or even just trying to mitigate the damage.
The miniseries touches upon so much, so deftly. It sends up adult cartoons’ tendencies to get lost in existential crises and extended monologued and half heartedly throw in some catchphrases here and there- one scene in the finale might be aimed squarely at Rick and Morty’s wubba lubba dubb dubb. Another has an accurate and true autism metaphor. Another shows the heartbreaking tragedy of the American for profit health care system. Boots Riley takes no prisoners, and it results in an endlessly engrossing show to chew on for a long time after.
This has to be my platonic ideal of the Turtles. It goes back to their fun roots (in animation, at least) with snappy writing and humor that's both outrageous and tongue in cheek. But it enhances that with gorgeous animation and fight scenes that are in the running for the best of western cartoons, rivaled only by the likes of Samurai Jack. It's unabashed fun, with earnestness and heart bursting in every frame, but as the finale episodes show, when they focus on plot and emotion they shine too. This show got a lot of flack for being so unabashedly different from its predecessors, but that daring makes it shine all the brighter. Now it's the one casting a shadow for whatever's next.
Necessary viewing. Hits just as hard decades later, cause we see the same government neglect today, and the same people are hit the hardest. All that tragedy could’ve been avoided at so many steps, or at least mitigated. They knew. They just didn’t care. This doc gives the victims a voice and gives a in depth portrait of every element of this tragedy.
Such a treat to see these different interpretations of the same world, with a variety of styles and tones. I hope there’s more some time.
A blast from start to finish. Middleditch's and Schwartz's chemistry is electric- they're just two friends goofing around, and the way they incorporate the audience reinforces that. The atmosphere is so casual and fun that when they crack or get lost in their own stories it just adds to the comedy. I was left in tears by the end of each special, and there's no higher praise than that.
Just amazing. You rarely get to see a creative's unfiltered vision like this, and every season Eric only gets more and more confident and daring. It may have started as a satire of the artificiality of talk shows and celebrities, but it evolved into more of a celebration of weirdness and just being balls to the walls wild. No wonder Eric wants to do this forever, and I hope he does.
A nice callback to the classics, if rarely innovative. More Petunia Pig, please.
Comedy Bang Bang is a pleasant, winning slice of half hour comedy. It strikes a perfect balance between ambitious parodies, and charming old school cheese. It's the other side of The Eric Andre Show's coin, a parody of the talk show and comedy cliches but infused with affection and commitment to them. In my heart, it's still going to this day.
Very cute, sweet, and earnest show with good messages for little kids that deserved a lot more
Some highs highs, some banal lows. Worth watching for the visuals, action setpieces, and said highs, but I was always left wanting more. Outside of Crosshair and maybe Omega and Tech, there weren’t much arcs to care about. I still could not tell you what Wrecker’s arc was. Hunter didn’t have one beyond the ‘grizzled and weary dad caring for daughter figure’ we’ve seen a million times now. And Echo’s arc was ‘I can do more away from the Batch’, which was a feeling I often thought was true of the show. The Crosshair episodes of him slowly realizing the Empire was not worth fighting for and cared nothing for him and the clones were the high points, compelling and tragic and multifaceted in a way the missions of the week were not. But when he rejoins the Batch, this is lost for a season more concerned with setting up more spinoffs and, like most Star Wars these days not called Andor, setting up and rehabilitating the sequel trilogy. It’s a good enough show, but in comparison to Clone Wars and Rebels, it doesn’t fly as high or stick the landing as smoothly.
I fully believe those abused in the workplace by Dan Schneider, first of all. It’s clear he was often neglectful at best and cruel and misogynistic at worst. And I believe Drake Bell, as well as Drake’s own accusers. The two stars are for their bravery and strength in telling their stories, as it should be told.
Just not like this. Having watched Leaving Neverland and The Truth vs Alex Jones before this, I was reminded how Dan Reed was never in front of the camera. He was not the story. He was not the people hurt. It was not about his righteous crusade. He put the spotlight on MJ’s victims and the families of Sandy Hook respectively. Here one of the executive producers is a hotshot journalist telling you the steps she took to uncover the truth. The whole thing is sensationalist, from the music to the reveal of Drake Bell as a ‘next episode’ tease, to how Brian Peck is a side story, a side effect of who they really wanted to expose in Dan Schneider. And Dan’s abuses of his writing staff, his prejudices, and his negligence SHOULD be told, no doubt. But the motive here is ratings, not justice or closure.
Nowhere is that clearer than the fifth episode that only exists because this got more successful than expected. Or how much attention is given to Amanda Bynes and Jennette McCurdy despite them not agreeing to this. Bynes especially feels cruel and exploitative when she doesn’t get to speak for herself. Why even bring Brittney Spears into this at all? How much of the inappropriate jokes is meant to illustrate the negligence and abuse of power of Schneider and how much of it is meant to scandalize and scratch the same ‘how could they get away with this’ itch of a hundred video essays about his shows? It’s scattershot, not trying to paint an industry problem as much as it claims because it always returns to Schneider, it’s always looking for the dramatic smoking gun that’ll be the thing everyone talks about. Because none of this was attention grabbing enough without the Schneider lead-in, even Peck. It’s so jarring to give Drake the space to tell that story, to say that for all of Dan’s other credible faults he was one of the few he recalls reaching out, and then go back to Schneider as the ultimate evil. If there was a time to pivot- if they couldn’t have been sensitive and keener and an industry look from the jump- it was then.
People who were approached have talked about how exploitative this felt. People who actually got on this have said the same. Their stories deserve to be told if they wish it, and they deserve to be told with more sensitivity and grace and empathy than this, instead of greed and sensationalism. I worry if this may propagate the problem in some ways as much as it may help.
After sitting through two MJ docs through my watch of Spike Lee’s filmography, I felt obligated to finally watch this. Nauseating, devastating, essential. Any defense relies on defending a grown ass man sleeping with little kids in the same bed as if it is just weird, just unhealthy. He projected his lost childhood onto them and used them for at the very least emotional fulfillment before moving onto the next. Even his defenders admit that and find some way to excuse it. How is it a leap to him doing more? And even if- and I believe his accusers completely- he didn’t, how is what is universally agreed upon to be true not disqualifying enough? What do these two have to gain coming out with their story now beyond abuse and harassment? Hopefully, at least some peace of mind. Fuck Michael Jackson and anyone who still defends him. To be clear many many black people have condemned him, it is far from a universal issue or a sign of our hypocrisy or awfulness or what have you, but the black defenders hurt and disappoint me most. We can do better. MJ is not what we should strive to be. And our happiness and community and future does not rest on him and his stardom and his example.
Pretty schlocky fare that ain’t satisfy Flanagan diehards nor the young adults the show is hoping to attract. It never comes together, it’s overwrought and hokey, and never achieves unsettling, let alone scary. I do not mourn its cancellation; Netflix did us a favor
This one won me back on the Flanagan train for one simple reason- it’s mean. It’s sardonic, it’s bitter, even a bit righteously cruel. And that tone makes it a fresh standout in his collection of series. Sure, some of the satire is a bit blunt or heavy handed, but it’s sold with enough conviction by the performers and disdain in the script to shine, and there’s some killer shots with the deaths- the telltale heart’s big unveiling being the biggest highlight. The cast all give 100%, which helps a lot as this is as much anthology as it is straight horror drama. Usher puts a bit of darkness into a well trodded formula to make it really pop again.
I wonder if either Flanagan’s shows truly thrive with the year or two between them to hide his flaws and tropes, or if Midnight Mass is just weaker on the whole. Self indulgent monologues are a trademark of his, but never have I felt more ‘these people wouldn’t talk like this’. Paul and Bev, sure, they’re Bible freaks who’ve memorized scripture, and so they and their actors are two characters that really thrive. But Mike writes like everyone has this fountain of purple prose to pull from. Maybe it’s more digestible and appropriate when the setting is a mansion or manor. But this is a small town island, and Erin didn’t talk like she does in her final monologue. Hell, half the time I didn’t buy that Riley did. Don’t get me wrong, I believe that as a guy who searched for multiple religions for an answer and atheism was the one he found, that he would feel that way, that he could express those themes. But not like that. It’s like a switch is turned on for his talk about death and he’s busting out electrons and psychedelics and then after the scene it’s turned off. It’s clearly Mike talking and not the characters, and it’s like, yeah, Mike, I read Carl Sagan too.
There’s a lot of heady ideas here, and some strong performances. The worst tendencies of Christianity and Catholicism are on display, emphasizing how the focus of paradise in the next world can lead to horror on this one as God will sort it out, it’s all God’s plan. Tying that to vampirism is a natural but clever throughline. Paul being found after eating Joe is a very striking image, both from the stage design and the cinematography, highlighting the gruesome gore disrupting a holy place and Paul in the corner, shrouded by darkness. Everyone but two characters dying is a nice change of pace for Mike. Paul and Bev shine as the antagonists tying it together: Paul as the tragic messiah letting his pain and Bev’s zealotry edge him further from good intentions into atrocities, and Bev as the selfish fanatic who sees God’s love as her due and his love for anyone else an insult. I’m glad he resisted the urge to give Bev a redemptive end and had her screaming and clawing for a way out, selfish and graceless when faced with her final test. And the third act is kind of fun self serious camp in a Resident Evil way.
I wanna say Mike’s done better with his brown folk and he’s definitely. Trying to. But the Muslim stuff is so much more surface level than all the Christianity. And Hasan’s backstory is very ‘white lib emphasizing with the poor model minority’. His anger’s very downplayed. And it’s once again a cop thing. Trying to be one of the good ones fixing things from the inside, the most noble thing a minority can be, like it’s even worse and extra unfair that all that happened to a cop.
I saw Bly Manor and Hill House years apart. Maybe Midnight Mass would feel fresher if I saw it a while after Hill House. Or maybe it’s just a rougher work and I know Flanagan’s tricks more. Either way, it has a fair share of moments, themes to chew on, a good cast, and a nice atmosphere. It’s far from boring. But it just doesn’t come together the way Bly or Hill did.
Very similar to the Phantom Menace doc in how it tries to spin a fundamentally bleak and tragic story into a positive triumph and is all the bleaker for it. It both makes you appreciate and understand the hard work and artistry of the crew and how the finished film ended up the way it did. Constant revisions, too many heads trying to pull it into their direction, nobody willing to really put a foot down, focus tested to death, a release date they would not budge from. It’s no wonder how it ended up so muffled and so safe and so nothing. This is a far better watch than the actual film is, and worth the time for anyone interested in the grueling task of filmmaking, especially in the monolithic corporate structure of Disney.
