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A potentially great film being held hostage by its PG-13 rating and its messy, all over the places screenwriting.

By PG-13 I don't simply mean its visuals/goriness, but most importantly its dialogues, themes, and storytelling it tries to raise. Let me explain.

First, the dialogues.

The film opens with murder and Batman narrating the city's anxious mood. We get a glimpse of noir in this scene, but it soon falls flat due to a very uninteresting, plain, forgettable choice of words Batman used in his narration. Mind you, this is not a jab at Pattinson - Pattinson delivered it nicely. But there is no emotion in his line of words - there is no adjectives, there is no strong feelings about how he regards the city full of its criminals.

Here's a line from the opening scene. "Two years of night has turned me to a nocturnal animal. I must choose my targets carefully. It's a big city. I can't be everywhere. But they don't know where I am. When that light hits the sky, it's not just a call. It's a warning to them. Fear... is a tool. They think I am hiding in the shadows. Watching. Waiting to strike. I am the shadows." Okay? Cool. But sounds like something from a cartoon. What does that tell us about you, Batman?

Compare this to a similar scene uttered by Rorschach in Watchmen. "The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood. And when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. All those liberals and intellectuals, smooth talkers... Beneath me, this awful city, it screams like an abattoir full of retarded children, and the night reeks of fornication and bad consciences." You can say that Rorschach is extremely edgy (he is), but from that line alone we can tell his hatred towards the city, and even more so: his perspective, his philosophy that guides him to conduct his life and do what he does.

Rorschach's choice of words is sometimes verbose, but he is always expletive and at times graphic, making it clear to the audience what kind of person he is. Batman in this film does not. His words are always very safe, very carefully chosen, which strikes as an odd contrast to Pattinson's tortured portrayal of Batman as someone with a seemingly pent up anger. His choice of words is very PG-13 so that the kids can understand what Batman is trying to convey.

And this is not only in the opening scene. Throughout the film, the dialogues are written very plainly forgettable. It almost feels like the characters are having those conversations just to move the plot forward. Like that one encounter between Batman and Catwoman/Selina when she broke into the house to steal the passport or when Selina asked to finish off the "rat". They flow very oddly unnatural, as if those conversations are written to make them "trailer-able" (and the scenes indeed do appear on the trailer).

Almost in all crucial plot points the writers feel the need to have the characters to describe what has happened, or to explictly say what they are feeling - like almost every Gordon's scene in crime scene, or Selina's scene when she's speaking to Batman. It feels like the writers feel that the actors' expression just can't cut it and the audience has to be spoonfed with dialogues; almost like they're writing for kids.

Second, the storytelling.

Despite being a film about vengeance-fueled Batman (I actually like that cool "I'm vengeance" line) we don't get to see him actually being in full "vengeance" mode. Still in the opening we see Batman punching some thugs around. That looks a little bit painful but then the thugs seem to be fit enough to run away and Batman let them be. Then in the middle of the film we see Batman does something similar to mafias. Same, he just knocked them down but there's nothing really overboard with that. Then eventually in the car chase scene with the Penguin, Batman seem to be on "full rage mode", but over... what? He was just talking to Penguin a moment ago. The car chase scene itself is a bit pointless if not only to show off the Batmobile. And Batman did nothing to the Penguin after, just a normal questioning, not even harsher than Bale's Batman did to Heath's Joker in The Dark Knight - not in "'batshit insane' cop" mode as Penguin put it.

Batman's actions look very much apprehensive and controlled. Nothing too outrageous. Again, at odds with Pattinson's portrayal that seem to be full of anger; he's supposed to be really angry but somehow he still does not let his anger take the best of him. The only one time he went a bit overboard that shocked other characters is when he kept punching a villain near the end of the film. But even then it's not because his anger; it's because he injected some kind of drug (I guess some adrenaline shot). A very safe way to drop a parent-friendly message that "drug is bad, it can change you" in a PG-13 film.

And all that supposed anger... we don't get to see why he is angry and where his anger is directed at. Compare this to Arthur Fleck in Joker where it is clear as sky why Arthur would behave the way the does in the film. I mean we know his parents' death troubled him, but it's barely even discussed, not even in brief moments with Alfred (except in one that supposedly "shocking" moment). So... where's your vengeance, Mr. Vengeance? And what the hell are you vengeancing on?

Speaking of "shocking" moment... this is about the supposed Wayne family's involvement in the city's criminal affairs that has been teased early in the film. Its revelation was very anticlimactic: the supposed motive and the way it ended up the way it is, all very childish. If the film wanted the Wayne to be a "bad person", there's a lot of bads that a billionaire can do: tax evasion, blood diamond, funding illegal arms trade, fending off unions, hell, they can even do it the way the Waynes in Joker did it: hints of sexual abuses. But no, it has to be some bloody murder again, and all for a very trivial reason of "publicity". As if the film has to make it clear to the kids: "hey this guy's bad because he killed someone!" Which COULD work if the film puts makes taking someone's life has a very serious consequence. But it just pales to the serial killing The Riddler has done.

Even more anticlimactic considering how Bruce Wayne attempted to find a resolve in this matter only takes less than a 5 minute scene! It all involves only a bit of dialogues which boils down to how Thomas Wayne has a good reason to do so. Bruce somehow is convinced with that and has a change of heart instantly, making him looks very gullible.

And of course the ending is very weak and disappointing. First, Riddler's final show directly contradicts his initial goal to expose and destroy the corrupt elites. What he did instead is making the lives of the poor more difficult, very oxymoron for someone supposed to be as smart as him.

Second, the way Batman just ended up being "vengeance brings nothing and I should save people more than hurting people" does not get enough development to have him to say that in the end. Again - where's your vengeance? And how did you come to such character development if nothing is being developed on? And let's not get to how it's a very safe take against crime and corruption that closely resembles Disney's moralistic pandering in Marvel Cinematic Universe film.

Last, the visuals.

I'm not strictly speaking about gore, though that also factors in the discussion. The film sets this up as a film about hunting down a serial killer. But the film barely shows how cruel The Riddler can be to his victims. Again, back to the opening scene: we get it, Riddler killed the guy, but it does not look painful at all as it looks Riddler just knocked him twice. The sound design is very lacking that it does not seem what The Riddler done was conducted very painfully. Riddler then threw away his murder weapon, but we barely see blood. Yet when Gordon arrived to the crime scene, he described the victim as being struck multiple times with blood all over. What?

Similarly, when Riddler forced another victim to wear a bomb in his neck. The situation got pretty tense, but when the bomb eventually blow off, we just got some very small explosion like a small barrel just exploded, not a human being! I mean I'm not saying we need a gory explosion with head chopped off like in The Boys, but it does not look like what would happen if someone's head got blown off. Similarly when another character got almost blown off by a bomb - there's no burnt scar at all.

Why the hell are they setting up those possibly gory deaths and scars if they're not going to show how severe and painful these are? At least not the result - we don't need to see blood splattered everywhere - just how painful the process is. Sound design and acting of the actors (incl. twitching, for example) would've helped a lot even we don't see the gore, like what James Franco did in The 127 Hours or Hugh Jackman in Logan. In this film there's almost no tense at all resulting from those.

I'm not saying this film is terrible.

The acting, given the limited script they had, is excellent. Pattinson did his best, so did Paul Dano (always likes him as a villain), Zoe Kravitz, and the rest. Cinematography is fantastic; the lighting, angle, everything here is very great that makes a couple of very good trailers - perhaps one could even say that the whole film trades off coherency for making the scenes "trailer-able". The music is iconic, although with an almost decent music directing. And I guess this detective Batman is a fresh breath of air.

But all that does not make the movie good as in the end it's still all over the places and very PG-13.

Especially not with the 3 hours runtime where many scenes feel like a The Walking Dead filler episode.

If you're expecting a Batman film with similar gritty, tone to The Dark Knight trilogy or Joker, this film is not for you. But if you only want a live-action cartoon like pre-Nolan Batmans or The Long Halloween detective-style film, well, I guess you can be satisfied with this one.

In Captain Marvel, I didn’t like the main character, but I thought the movie around her was quite solid.
Black Widow is the exact opposite: I quite liked the two leads, but the movie surrounding them doesn’t really work.

Pros:
- Scarlett Johansson and Florence Pugh are easily the most entertaining part of the film.
- I liked the first act. It feels like Cate Shortland is trying to do an impression of a Jason Bourne movie. It’s fairly humourless, the cinematography is bleak, and the score is intense. It has a tone that no other MCU film has.
- The action (minus the final battle) is fairly well done. As per usual, less editing would’ve made it better, but at least it feels weighty.

Cons:
- The story itself isn’t that interesting. The themes and main mcguffin are oddly similar to Captain Marvel, though it’s not executed as well. The villains also fail to make an impression.
- This movie really loses its identity as it goes along, to the point where it turns more into a generic Marvel movie as it goes on, and eventually a generic action blockbuster by the third act. Everything gets way too big and bloated for its own good.
- Not a fan of the Russian accents, they sound very tacky. Just let everyone speak with a normal American accent, I can look past the fact they’re Russians. Besides, they even had a story based reason to ditch the Russian accents entirely.
- I found David Harbour quite cringeworthy in this.
- The main characters are protected by strong plot armour. Most characters should’ve been killed 3-4 times based on the things that happen during the action scenes. This isn’t even a ‘suspend your disbelief, it’s an action movie’ situation, it gets really ridiculous, to the point where it’s almost Fast and Furious level.
- The pacing is a bit inconsistent, you really feel it slowing down during the second act.

Finally, I want to address that I already find the use of Nirvana songs in movies like these quite distasteful, but the cover that's used during the credits literally sucked all the life out of the song.

4.5/10

I hope I can watch this again someday, and enjoy it in a different way. But as far as seeing it in the theater goes, it was a mildly enjoyable journey that turned in to an annoying slog, which ultimately culminated in disappointment.

What the fuck Tarantino? No mystery, no comedy, no trademark dialogue, NO STORY! This movie relies on presupposed knowledge too much. I go into movies that I want to see without reading anything about them or watching any trailers. So if the movie takes until the final act to reveal what the mystery even is, and then subverts it within 10 minutes in a ridiculously, unnecessarily violent way, it doesn't make for an enjoyable movie. It was two hours of a red herring (if you know what it's about already), and then a half hour of "Is this movie seriously going to end without tying together any of these useless, boring storylines?"

First act: Tarantino's use of different film stocks, and his decision to start the movie by showing his version of a corny Oldwest show got me very excited for what was to come. During the first act however, he went back to this a bunch of times, and each time it was a little less enjoyable when it only started out as mildly humorous in the first place. the character development, and relationship between Pitt and DiCaprio was fun to watch. Other character development was pretty flat, and the Bruce Lee scene was just dumb. Pretty early in the movie I started to dislike Pitt's character. this obviously would detract me from enjoying him as the pseudo-hero later.

Second act: The Sharon Tate storyline was really starting to get to me. It's been years since I read about the Manson murders, so when I heard her name, I was thinking "that sounds familiar, I think there was something called the Sharon Tate murders. Maybe Brad Pitt is supposed to end up killing her or something." The more they were following Sharon Tate in her daily activities, the more I was thinking that she better be an important part of this movie or else I wasted about 45 minutes watching something that doesn't even matter.

The scene where Brad Pitt goes to the hippie hideout is easily the best in the movie. Even though at that point I didn't realize this was supposed to be a Manson thing, it was still a very intense scene. Had I known that this was a twist on the Manson family, it would have been a little more entertaining. So maybe Tarantino could have done SOMETHING to tell us this instead of just assuming that everyone is gonna watch every trailer and think that every hippie congregation is supposed to be the Manson family. This was the first time I was taken out the movie by the over-the-top violence inflicted on a character while everyone around me was laughing at it. And if you're supposed to think it's funny even if you don't know that they're supposed to be a murderous cult, then I don't know what the fuck is wrong with people.

Final act: I'm sitting in my seat, and all I can think is "this better be one hell of a third act to bring all these boring, useless storylines together." DiCaprio gets drunk and yells at some hippies. Pretty funny. Pitt takes his dog for a walk, and starts tripping on acid. Kinda funny. then for the first time in two hours, these hippie characters (that you're wondering why are even in the movie to begin with) FINALLY say something that shows they have a murderous leader. Then I start getting excited, finally connecting the dots, and thinking oh man this is gonna be a cool take on the Manson murders. And within five minutes I am not only disappointed by the climax, I am incredibly disappointed in my overall experience with the movie.
The hippie characters only deserved what they got in our real universe where they did the actions that they're know for. But in the movie universe, they were not responsible for these actions, and so their punishment was out of the blue and unwarranted. And if you don't know the real life story of these characters, I would expect that you would be disgusted by what happens, and how everybody is laughing around you in the theater. it was jarring in a way that other Tarantino violent scenes are not. he has made some of the most intensely violent scenes, but they are done for drama, for realism, or to get you disgusted with a character. This violence was done for humor, and I felt very out of place in the theater being the only one who was questioning why people are laughing at a dog ripping a guys genitals off, and then a girls face off while they're both screaming in horror. or apparently everybody's favorite was when the girl's face got smashed over and over into a coffee table until there was nothing left of it. everyone laughed the hardest at that part.

Either I missed something absolutely huge that changed my perception of this movie, or Tarantino has made a huge shift in his writing style, and the audience has made a huge shift in what is funny. Two movies ago Tarantino had a guy getting ripped apart by dogs, and it is one of the hardest scenes for anyone I know to get through, now it's funny because they committed murder in a different reality? I don't get it, I don't get the movie, and fuck you Tarantino for giving us two hours of nothing so you can give us 5 minutes of violence. I enjoyed the first time you did that in Death Proof, when it was actually entertaining. It's a real shame to add this movie to his near flawless career.

2 / 2 directing & technical aspect
0 / 1 story
.5 / 1 act I
1 / 1 act II
.5 / 1 act III
1 / 1 acting
1 / 1 writing
1 / 1 originality
0 / 1 lasting ability to make you think

-.5 / 1 misc (wtf?)

6.5 / 10

Starts off really strong and fun.
The sets look incredible and its immersive. They had a really great message about body positivity and unrealistic expectations on women & I was all the way behind it.... Then rapidly spirals into a pure man hate / Women supremacy. Its obvious the writers have a huge chip on their shoulders.. It's messaging is so heavy handed it completely took me out of the movie & brings it from enjoyable to a drab 2 hour rant by an angry twitter blue user who think's women's rights is still in the 1800's.
They have this unreal take that you're set for life if you're a man and just get instant success. They think everything's better if you're a man (Guess what, it doesn't work that way. I'm told every day how I'm a bad person because I'm a man, and for only that.... Just like this movie does)...

Being preached at about why being a man is so bad for 2 hours does not make for a fun viewing experience.

It shows the glaring double standards of the current mainstream talking points.
This movie blindly preaches that "the world would be better if the shoe was on the other foot" and it comes across as tone deaf.
Its BAD all one gender "rules the world" but if its women, its A-OK!... which defeats the purpose of feminism.
Women getting equality, not supremacy.
call this a hot take but I think men and women should be equal..... but this movie thinks men don't even deserve a seat on Barbie world's court - that's insane.

Why is Patriarchy bad but Matriarchy good....????
Its either all bad or none of it is, and this man hating director needs to make up her mind.

Just to preface this, I thought A Force Awakens was emotionless trash that undermined the entire purpose of the original three films.

Rogue One was the opposite.

The best thing about this movie was the emotional impact. It underlined the sacrifices made to make the original trilogy possible. Some people have called it long, but that helped build up characters that you actually felt for, and who weren't carbon copy ripoffs (cough cough A Force Awakens). The final scenes as the two main characters face their fate, recognizing that it was worth it, gave such a high emotional payoff. Each major death scene actually made you feel something.

The second best thing was K-2SO. Very funny, and much needed comedic (but not goofy) relief.

The CGI for landscapes and the world creation was outstanding. When I see a movie like Star Wars I want to be amazed and see things that I haven't seen done before. I want to be impressed and drawn into new, beautifully crafted worlds. In this respect, the movie just kept delivering over and over.

The cinematography was great during the action sequences. The sequences looked epic, and the violence and sacrifice felt meaningful. The Vader fight sequence was intense.

It also had interesting ties to current events with its commentary on terrorism/rebellion/weapons of mass destruction. By the way, the science genius character realizing that he isn't priceless in developing some major device is fantastic. All of the movies with "only so-and-so can figure this out" are very disappointing.

The moral message of the movie was also very clear and well delivered.

I really enjoyed the movie overall and thought that it was a big step in the right direction. It was adventurous again, it was sometimes shocking, original, and most of all meaningful. A Force Awakens failed on all of those points. It's good to see a franchise movie that's taking a bit more risk than average. AFA was just like the new Star Trek films, shiny bling low-impact action movies that just happen to be set in space. Rogue One pushes far beyond to show the what drives the Rebellion in a world we know and love.

Despite the fact that I really liked the movie, it had some flaws:
- Tarkin face CGI
- Some of the acting in the first half.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Some of the cuts were really weird and the pacing felt off for portions of the first half.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Forest Whittaker just deciding to die instead of trying to escape.
- Tarkin face CGI
- A few unbelievable plot lines (thankfully most were minor). Like Cassian being sent to kill Galen for almost no reason, and then deciding not to for no reason, and then Jyn forgiving him surprisingly easily. How did she even know that he was trying to kill her father?
- Tarkin face CGI
- Does every Star Wars movie need to have a father character die? Why didn't Cass follow orders when he heartlessly killed someone else in his first scene?
- Tarkin face CGI
- Heavy handed political messaging.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Said "hope" too many times.
- Tarkin face CGI
- You can just push Star Destroyers that easily?
- Tarkin face CGI
- The word "Stardust"
- Tarkin face CGI
- Too many random worlds introduced that you don't have the time to get invested in.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Too much awkward fan service.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Darth Vader's voice sounded off.
- Tarkin face CGI
- Some of the dialogue was really terrible.
- Tarkin face CGI

I can tell you that Game of Thrones is phenomenal, visual beautiful, fantastic, exhilarating and action-packed thrilling rollercoaster that in many ways has not been seen yet in a tv show. I could say that and be absolutely right about it, but unless you have been living under a rock without an internet connection for the past 2 years than no doubt you already heard, seen or read for yourself what a masterpiece the books and/or this tv series is.

Game of Thrones is exactly like the title says: A game for the throne. Played by the people who think its their right to claim, conquer or inherit it. They all have different goals and different ways of getting to that point, but their goal is in essence in one way or another the same for all of them: to be recognized and remembered for their deeds. Off course that is not so weird since everyone in real life at some level thinks like that. But the main characters in Game of Thrones are different, either through noble descent, the power and money they have, intelligence or sheer luck they have become a member of one of the noble houses that rule the countries and can decide the fate and lives of hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of people within the fictional continents of Westeros and Essos.

The story, setting and characters are all taken from a broad range of European history. Most of what we see of the continent Westeros (castles and tournaments) is taken from High Medieval Western Europe from around the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries. But the story takes bits and pieces from other time periods as well. For example the wildfire that was used in season 2 in a brilliant strategic move of "The Imp" Tyrion Lannister during the Battle of the Blackwater is in fact Byzantine "Greek fire" which was invented and first used in the 7th century during battles between Muslims and Byzantines. This and other historical events, devices and characters based on real people out of history are all as it seems perfectly interwoven into each other into the fictional world of Game of Thrones by the author of the books George R. R. Martin.

For the actors who play the characters i have nothing but utmost respect. The performance they manage to show episode after episode is definitely what makes this tv show so popular. There is one in particular that without a doubt is one of the more popular stars of this tv show: Peter Dinklage who plays the role of "The Imp" Tyrion Lannister. In the 1st season he was portrayed as nothing more than someone who took advantage of his noble status and money to do whatever he wanted. But in season 2 (and hopefully the next seasons too) he transformed despite his disadvantage of being born as a dwarf (who during medieval times and in this fictional world are considered "lesser" humans) into a brilliant military and political strategist and someone who can very good and enjoys as he so very accurately said himself "play the game".

Game of Thrones is without a doubt the hit tv show of this decade. It started out with a story about medieval times, but slowly with every episode we see the world of the Seven Kingdoms transform into a place where mythical creatures exist, magic and dark powers are used as a weapon against enemies and where the dead are once more walking again.... Winter is coming, and i have no doubt it that it will be as spectacular and story-wise phenomenal as we have have seen in the previous seasons.

Sorry folks but this one didn't go well for Marvel. I don't even know where to start. Acting was average, more like below average. Screenplay was as much ordinary as it could be. No surprise here. CGI was OK but it's somehow expected from Marvel. But I totally didn't like the idea of Wakanda. Hidden city in the center of Africa with tons of technology and advanced weapons and systems and so on. But how the hell did they build all of that? No explanation. It just happened. Yes, they have Vibranium, but they don't sell it. In fact they never did and for whole world they are just a bunch of shepherds and farmers. So where did they take all that money to build empire like this? I don't like movies without explanations and this is one of them. Almost nothing has been told about Vibranium whatsoever. Oh yeah, it's some super thing from the universe capable of anything. That's all the explanation you get. There are too many clichés we have already seen too many times. And we have to see them again. One example: I challenge someone for a fight because I want to kill him. And when I have the chance to kill him, what would I do? Kill him or throw him down from the cliff to the water where he can survive? But enough. If you hesitate if to watch this, I can recommend not to waste your time. Wait for the Avangers where you can also see the Black Panther. You won't miss anything if you miss out this movie.

We've kinda come full circle with these superhero films when you think about it.
After the camp of the 90s, directors like Nolan and Singer reset the tone of superhero movies in the 2000's to something that was more grounded and serious, which in turn laid a lot of the groundwork for the MCU.
Here we have Taika Waititi providing a throwback to the Joel Schumacher days.
If that's your thing you'll probably dig it, but it's definitely not my brand of camp.

I’m not exactly a Thor: Ragnarok fan (nor the other two Thor films). I don’t have a problem with its silly tone, because I’m not a manchild who needs to see his childhood validated, but a lot of its comedy didn’t click with me (even after a rewatch). Everything that didn’t work for me in that film is amped up to an eleven here.
There are some serious points in it where the acting choices, slapstick/childish/hokey comedy, overly bright colors, gay undertones, overdesigned costumes (no nipples yet, but give Taika another film and we'll see what happens) and godawful music choices started to give me genuine flashbacks to stuff like Batman Forever, not quite the thing you want to remind me of.
It's not a complete disaster; the performances by Natalie Portman, Tessa Thompson and especially Christian Bale are generally quite good. I'm also glad Marvel seems to have definitively found the saturation button back after Guardians 2, even if the framing/lighting with the visuals remains uninspired and maintains a general level of artifice that makes it look like shit. I believe they used the volume stages for most of the production, and like Obi Wan or The Book of Boba Fett, it’s very noticeable for most of the runtime.
The story's not all that interesting and makes no sense when you put any thought into it, but that's fine given that there is some progression with most of the main characters, even if Thor’s character arc throughout the MCU is all over the place at this point. As with most Marvel films lately, there is a lot of unnecessary exposition (e.g. the Korg narrated flashbacks are really clunky), but where it really drops the ball for me is with the balancing of tone and plot elements. I already thought that the darker stuff in Thor: Ragnarok didn't blend that well with the goofy scenes on the trash planet, but there's even more tonal whiplash here. Christian Bale is giving this excellent, terrifying performance, but he's not in the same movie as Chris Hemsworth, who's playing even more of a Thor parody than he was in Avengers: Endgame. One moment we're invested in this heavy, emotional story with Natalie Portman, and then we cut back to a goofy love triangle between Thor, his hammer and his axe. It's an unbalanced mess without a sense of stakes.
I also don't know what it is with Taika's comedy in these films, because I think What we do in the shadows, Jojo Rabbit and Hunt for the wilderpeople are all very comedic and smart, but for some reason he really likes his Thor movies excessive and dumb. Screaming goats aren't funny to me, they're a dated meme at best. Maybe it's because Taika can't go edgy and niche with the jokes here, but fuck I really hate his sensibilities for this character.

In short, another major misfire from Marvel if you ask me. I pretty much disliked everything except for a few of the performances. Please go back to making indies Taika, and for the love of god: let James Gunn pick the soundtrack for your next film. Even a film this dumb doesn’t need a Guns ‘N Roses needle drop, let alone four of them.

3/10

Gosh, I hate plot armor. It's a motherf*** pyroclastic flow! Yet, all main protagonists escape (more or less) unharmed. Fantasy world or not - I don't feel treated in a serious way. They added the eruption only because it looks good and it was a great cliffhanger last episode. It looks awesome indeed, but it's all show and no substance. They refuse to go through with the inevitable consequences. Cowards! Who says that everyone needs to live? (Bronwyn even saved her infamous Met Gala dress - no blood stains, no burns).

Likewise, I don't like the scene between Elrond and Prince Durin. They try to negotiate an alliance. They talk and talk and talk. But nothing results from all the dialogue and multiple episodes. Instead, another miracle/vision saves the story: leaf and metal tell you what to do. Why should I pay attention to all the dialogue, the characters, the father/son conflict, the character's needs, hopes and attitudes? In the end this part of the story is (pre-) determined by a miracle/vision. The Prince does what the leaf tells him. [They did something very similar back at the islands with Galadrial. All her behavior (and bossy misbehaviour) had no consequences whatsoever. In the end it was a vision (and again leaves) that suddenly forged an alliance between Numinor and Galadriel.] That's not good story telling.

The score is again back to mediocre. It was suitable for last episode. But it's annoying in this episode. Music just won't stop. It doesn't help that this is a boring orchestral score - couldn't they come up with something more unique? The music often subdues everything else. And when they chose to focus on actual noises it's totally over-dramatic (like when the boy draws his sword when the Orcs approach. That's not how a sword sounds like when you draw it out the scabbard). I'm not even sure whether the dialogues between the Prince and King or between Galadriel and the boy are actually any good - I'm just annoyed by the melodramatic music during these scenes.

I still don't understand the whole Halbrand story. How did he end up as Lord/King? He used to be a random guy on a raft, a drunk prisoner, a thief and showed interest in becoming a blacksmith. Galadriel noticed that he can pick up a sword elegantly. That's all? That told her that he's a capable soldier? And now it feels like he's somehow (almost) the most capable soldier in the ranks of a FOREIGN army? [Strange enough that Galadriel - previously hated by almost everyone in Numinor - is suddenly accepted as a peer in battle.] In a very expensive armor tailor-made for him? Even a Lord? A King? And nobody questions this? People asked King Charles III. after his proclamation "who voted for you?", and I ask: what's Halbrand's merit or legitimacy? Is that something we have to accept because it was predicted in yet another vision (I somehow missed this part if there was such an omen)? His legitimacy surely can't be based on the coat of arms he carries around, can it? Anyone could have picked this up.

And I still don't know why nobody is alerting the elves. They deal with the drwarves. They deal with the bad omens they observe (like the dying tree). They send Elrond on away missions. I understand this. But all of this is not yet closely connected to the main story. Why does nobody send a messenger to report that Galadriel is back and she and Arondir fight Orcs and witnessed the "birth of Mordor"? Wouldn't that represent the more pressing issues for the elves? Remember: Arondir wanted to alert the other elves when he was caught in that trench. Has he forgotten what his plan was? Not saying that the metal/forge story might not eventually become handy in a war with Sauron and his Orcs - but shouldn't this story connected with the events in the Southlands aka Mordor? And wouldn't that help to convince the dwarf King to help them? It feels like no message is relayed simply because the writers wanted another episode to tell the father/son conflict. Why all that conflict between the King and his son when we already know that the common external threat represented by Sauron will eventually unite elves and dwarfs? It's all so predictable and artificially dragged out by not sending a messenger.

All what I said before sounds very negative. I still enjoy this episode. It's certainly not spectacular and lacks (like the whole show) complexity, but it's still nice to look at.

[7.9/10] I don’t know how Stranger Things wants me to feel about Papa. From my vantage point, he is, as Eleven calls him, a monster. In both flashbacks and present day scenes, we’ve seen him abuse the children in his care. So much of the first two seasons in particular was centered on Eleven moving past that. She embraces this new, wholesome, loving family, and discards her old, pernicious one. She finds a real dad, one who loves her and cares for her, rather than to have to swallow the harm presented as love she’d endured for so much of her life.

But then this season presented him as a force for good, at least to a degree. He helps Eleven regain her powers, as the ability to lift the giant metal drum indicates. He thinks she’s the only thing that can stop Henry/One/Vecna. He’s trying to make her better, make her well.

At the same time, though, Papa doesn’t care about what Eleven wants. He doesn’t care about her psychological well-being. Owens calls him out for it. He reminds Brenner that this bunker was never meant to be a prison and upbraids him for freaking out Eleven with the threat of Henry breaking the boundary between worlds, rather than easing her into it. Papa thinks he knows what’s best for his “daughter”. He holds her against her will, declaring that it’s for her own good, trapping her in the same shock collars he once held all of his other “children” in.

I was, frankly, glad to see that. It played like a reminder that Brenner is not a good man. After a season in which the show seemed to be trying to rehabilitate him, it finally had his worse, controlling, abusive nature rear its ugly head. Confining Eleven, ignoring her wishes, drugging her and putting her under your control, is legitimately monstrous.

And yet, when the military baddies show up, he tries to save her. More to the point, he wants her to believe that he always meant well, that he wanted what was best for her. God help me, maybe he did, at least in his own mind. I want to give Stranger Things credit. I want to believe it understands the nuance of abuse, where abusers do not necessarily see themselves as monsters, but think they’re doing the right thing for their victims. I want to buy that it sees the shades of gray in Brenner, someone who does unspeakable, repugnant things to innocent kids, but in his own twisted way, thinks he’s helping them. There is truth in that, and a complicated villain is a better villain.

The fact that Eleven grants him no absolution, but simply bids “Papa” goodbye, suggests the series understands. The feelings of the abused toward their parents is complicated. Love, attachment, care remains, even if it becomes hard to reconcile with the horrors inflicted. In a show that’s not afraid to spell things out, it leaves all this to subtext, a bold, subtle move that leads to humble, foolhardy viewers potentially overreading the situation.

Speaking of subtext, I don’t know if we’re going to get a scene with Will and Mike more emotionally explicit than the one we got here. The Pizza Van crew finally matters to the story, showing up to rescue Eleven from the Bunker and take her where she needs to go. But the most important thing they do isn’t plot-relevant.

It comes when Will reassures a worried Mike. Mike fears that Eleven doesn’t need him anymore, that he was a dumb schmuck who happened to find her, but that it’s not fated they be together. Will offers an emotional reassurance, about -- how it’s Mike’s heart that holds him together, how much he still means to her, how much he’ll always mean to her -- when it’s clear (to the audience at least) that he’s really talking about himself rather than Eleven.

It’s a great performance from Noah Schnapp, who absolutely kills it with the projected emotions he feels when speaking about someone else’s relationship. The reveal with his vaunted painting works and weaves together the complicated feelings of all three members of this unorthodox love triangle. The catch is, I don’t know if I want the show to go further than this. Will professing his true feelings in plain terms seems like a bill that’s due for the show at this point. And yet, there’s something poignant about Will having these feelings but, due to societal prejudices and recognizing where his friend’s heart lies, not being able to express them. There’s something true to life, even artful about that, and I wonder where Stranger Things will leave it.

I wonder far less what’s going to happen with Joyce, Hopper, Murray, and their pair of reluctant Russian allies. The most important thing in that corner of the show right now is the reveal that the Soviets are experimenting on creatures from the Upside Down. The scientists at this facility are vivisecting demogorgons, seemingly cloning or growing their own army of this sort of fauna, and even appear to have a mind flayer contained within their walls. Who knows what it means exactly, beyond the obvious -- the Ruskies are prepping for a war with extraordinary, albeit uncontrollable, weapons at their disposal -- but it’s an intriguing reveal.

What’s less intriguing is the Joyce/Hopper crew trying to find their way back to the United States. Escaping from the Russian prison is surprisingly easy. (Apparently Yuri’s van is bulletproof, which, fair I guess?) Their mission to use some combo of Yuri’s helicopter and a coded message to allies in the USA to get back is fine. But even this penultimate episode can’t escape the sense that this is a sideshow to keep the adults away from the major events happening in Hawkins and the the desert, rather than a meaningful part of the story in and of itself. Even Hopper and Joyce’s mutual “I thought you were dead” conversation doesn’t have much juice to it.

We get more character moments among the now united Hawkins faithful though. There’s still some excitement here. Nancy witnesses the horrors Henry experienced and then, in a big surprise, he lets her go as a messenger for Eleven. The crew steals a winnebago and collects weapons to fight Vecna’s demons. And they sit in fear with the knowledge that he means to use “four gates” to shatter the bounds between his world and ours, putting everyone our heroes know and love at risk in the process.

Still, this is mostly a “calm before the storm” part of the story for the Hawkins kids, which tend to be some of my favorite parts of genre movies and shows. It’s a chance to have those important character moments before the last act fireworks take the stage. We get to see the players bouncing off one another, expressing what they mean to each other, rather than just hacking and slashing at the dramatic CGI beastie du jour.

Some of these moments are small. Erica telling Lucas that even if they bicker, he’s still her brother, is quite sweet. Eddie roughhousing with Dustin over his puns and telling him to never change is weirdly flirtatious, but also very rousing in how he sees the kid’s greatness. And as much as I’m down on all the teases of Steve and Nancy getting back together, Steve waxing rhapsodic about his dream to have a whole “brood of Harringtons” roaming the countryside in a car like this, while Nancy looks on admiringly, is a really warm moment.

But there’s bigger moments too. Robyn seeing her crush with a boy and it hitting her like lightning is sad and sympathetic. But the same goes for her and Steve aiming to reassure her about it, while she insists there’s bigger fish to fry right now, but he still shows care for his best friend. Likewise, Max and Lucas’ heart-to-heart -- about Max’s willingness to be the bait for Vecna because she doesn’t want to be in harm’s way, about her confidence that she can best him by finding her happiest moment that just so happens to involve Lucas, and Lucas’ insistence that if things go wrong he’s going to deploy Kate Bush in a heartbeat -- affirms one of the sweetest and most earnest little romances on the show before the going gets tough.

Let’s be real, it’s stupid as hell for the kids to strap up and head into the breach to fight a psychic, telekinetic demon dude. Sure, there’s the patina of plausibility to the plan, with the notion that they can get him in his trance while he’s going after Max, something he needs in order to reach this world. But Eleven’s right to fear for them after she uses her mental wandering powers to learn what they’re up to. The blaring sounds of a Journey ballad undercuts the gravity of the situation (and weakens the vibe) more than a little as the episode comes to a close, but it’s a still an ominous thing our heroes are walking into.

There’s grace notes for other villains here. The jerk jock whose name I’ve forgotten in the month or so between episodes menaces Nancy at the gun shop, but never feels like more than a tertiary villain from another show. The big bad military dude shows he’s truly evil (if the torture didn’t do it) when Ownes gives him a safe way to test his theory that Eleven’s behind all the killings, and the guy decides to just kill her anyway. And Henry gets a few more chances to show his victims what waits in store for them if they continue down this path.

The heart of this one, though, comes with Eleven’s confrontation of her would-be father. She takes out those military goons with comparative ease, under the circumstances. SOme of the show’s best imagery comes with her and her pals amid the desert blaze. Eleven even enacts violence against Papa when he threatens to cage her again, force his will upon her “for her own good.”

In the end, though, forces beyond his control prevent him from enacting his plan. To his dying breath, he wants his “daughter” to believe that he meant well. Eleven won’t grant him the forgiveness and understanding he seeks, because whatever lingering attachment she has to the man who raised her, he doesn’t deserve it. But now, whatever his wishes, she is untethered, recharged, and ready to save the people who do deserve her care, and her love.

[7.5/10] This show has earned a lot of trust. Sure, if you parse through Walter White’s plans or Jimmy McGill’s schemes, some of them rely on happy accidents or have pieces that don’t fully add up. But for the most part, the Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul-verse plays fair. If something is unclear, or scans as peculiar, or even just seems confusing, you can normally rest assured that if you wait long enough, a satisfying explanation or payoff is on the way.

Which is all to say that I think I understand Lalo’s ultimate goal. He doesn’t just want to kill the chicken man; he wants to discredit him with the cartel so that the murder will be justified in the eyes of their fellow “businessmen”. The Salamanca leader wants proof that Gus Fring was preparing to build his own lab, to be able to do business independently of the cartel, something the audience knows as well as Lalo wouldn’t fly with Don Eladio or his associates. It’s a clever plan, one with an elegance and consideration that makes it worthy of threatening Gus and making Lalo a formidable opponent.

But I have no idea how Lalo arrived at it. How much valuable info did he really get from his brief conversation with Werner back in “Winner”, the season 4 finale? How did he track down Werner’s wife, Margarethe? How does a slide ruler encased in lucite, engraved with “With Love, from Your Boys” bring him closer to finding them?

You can imagine answers to these questions. Maybe the details he heard from Werner were enough for a smart guy like Lalo to piece together what Gus was up to, or at least realize Fring was doing something shady. (Or shady by drug runner standards.) Maybe the info Lalo got from the guy at the TravelWire was enough for him to pinpoint a woman named Margarethe in the general area. Maybe the tag at the bottom of the lucite memento will be enough to get him to the facility that made it and track down their client and get one of Werner’s boys to spill out of a loyalty to their leader and a desire for Lalo to get revenge on the men who ordered and carried out his death. But it all requires a few more logical leaps than you normally get from a tightly-orchestrated show like Better Call Saul.

The same goes for Gus’ actions in “Black and Blue.” I love ninety percent of what we see of him here. This normally unflappable man is utterly paranoid. Actually, paranoid’s the wrong word, since he’s justified in his fears about a shark like Lalo. Nevertheless, it’s unusual, to say the least, to see Gus rattled. He can’t do his work at Pollos Hermanos. He can’t work the cash register without zoning out in a state of low-grade terror. He can’t sleep and finds himself scrubbing bathtubs with a toothbrush as part of his fear-exacerbated OCD.

The episode nicely lays out why. Mike says it -- this is a waiting game. Gus isn’t used to waiting. He likes to take action. He plans everything out to the finest detail. He prepares for the future and executes his plan. But now, somebody else is in charge of the when and why and how, and all he can do is react. That's an unfamiliar position for Gus, and one that unsettles him even in his own home and place of business.

But I don’t know why he descends into the bowels of his superlab and tucks a gun into the tire tread of an excavation vehicle. Once again, you can read between the lines a bit. Presumably he’s onto Lalo’s game. He worries that someone, whether Lalo or a representative of the cartel, will force him into his off-the-books cooking site, and he’ll be forced to defend himself. So he’s providing his future self a Chekov’s gun to be able to use if he’s cornered.

That requires a lot of forethought from Gus though. It requires him to predict exactly how this might go down and have exactly the right remedy for it. Maybe the plan will blow up in his face in it’ll take some crazy intervention from Mike or others to save him, not the gun. Maybe he had the flash of recollection of Lalo learning the info from Werner and just wanted to cover his bases. Maybe he’s in full paranoid mode and is just trying to provide for every conceivable contingency, no matter how unlikely, because he has to do something other than sit around and wait for the attempt on his life to happen. You can justify most of this stuff in some terms, but it doesn’t play as natural, and requires near-clairvoyance from Gus.

The contrivance in all of this doesn’t make everything bad, though. Seeing Fring squirm is a remarkable thing, and it’s a positive that the show takes its time to depict the typically steady boss freaking out a little bit in his own understated way. Lalo’s plan requires filling in a few gaps, but his flirtatious scene with Margarethe plays his debonair manipulation to the hilt. His snooping and willingness to kill another civilian makes his scenes in her house terrifying. (Plus, for a guy who bears a resemblance to Timothy Dalton -- no relation -- his scenes feel appropriately Bond-esque.) And guest actress Andrea Sooch does a tremendous job as Margarethe, evincing the love she had for her husband and the pain she still feels over her loss.

Seeing Werner’s wife recollect and grieve, Lalo fish for information however he can get it, and Gus panic in an uncharacteristic way are all worthwhile, even if the paths to get there require some narrative contortions.

Gus isn’t the only one, panicking though. Kim is likewise afraid of Lalo, unable to sleep at three in the morning, barricading doors, and having a smoke to try to calm down. Seeing the way this weighs on her, while she feels as though she can’t tell Jimmy the truth lest it trigger an even worse response from him, is a compelling note for Rhea Seehorn to play. It could mess him up mentally at a time when he’s doing well, happy with his new success and able to hire back Francesca to manage his big influx of clients. Kim understandably doesn’t want to disrupt that. And we also see the intimacy between she and Jimmy in their home life, the casual chumminess they have apart from their plotting and scheming.

Howard’s onto that scheming, though. For once, we see why Howard is successful at what he does, calming a room full of elderly class members and convincing them that their lawyers aren’t just fighting to get them more money, hence the delays, but fighting for a broader principal about not letting big companies take advantage of people. Who knows if Howard believes it himself, but he sells it better than poor overwhelmed Erin can, and it shows the audience that he may be a prick, but he’s not a schmuck. There’s a reason he’s risen to where he is, even if it’s just packaging pablum with the perfection of a politician.

Clifford confronts him about the suspicious goings on of late, not out of a sense of accusation, but as an offer of help. He really is the most decent man in this entire show. But his offer of assistance only tips Howard off that, once again, Jimmy McGill is out to get him.

That’s where it gets bizarre though. Hamlin, under the cheeky pseudonym “Mr. H.O. Ward,” lures Jimmy into an impromptu boxing match. It feels silly, even by Better Call Saul’s occasionally outsized standards. The show doesn’t dress up two middle-aged guys throwing body shots at one another. It’s awkward and ugly the way it ought to be. But it seems unbelievable that either one of them would go through with a stunt like this.

Only here, “Black and Blue” provides answers. For Howard, it’s an opportunity not just to maybe, just maybe, work out some of the pair’s psychological issues through physical activity, but a chance to sic a private eye on Jimmy. Howard’s no rube, after what he’s been through. He’s fighting fire with fire, hoping to catch his antagonizer in the act and clearing his name with his co-counsel. The fact that his tail might run into Gus’ tail on Jimmy and Kim only leads to even more tantalizing possibilities.

More to the point, we learn why Saul would do it, when he has every reason to just walk away from Howard. Kim explains it -- because Jimmy knows what happens next. He knows that they’re going to ruin Hamlin’s life. And just like Kim starts to feel a twinge of guilt when her former colleague talks about how much she admires Kim, Jimmy feels the same. He wants to let Howard have his jollies while he can, because he knows the hammer will fall soon.

It’s a satisfying answer for an absurd thing. That's the trust I have in Better Call Saul writ large, to be able to cover for contrivances like Lalo’s detective work and Fring’s premonitions in a way that's emotionally and narratively satisfying. This show, and its predecessor, aren’t perfect in every detail, but they’re strong when it counts. More to the point, they’re strong enough at delivering that punch, that turn, that unexpected but cathartic jolt in the story, that makes you trust wherever they’d like to take you, and however they’d like to get there.

[8.6/10] It’s a fool’s errand to wish for happy endings in the world of Better Call Saul. But I had a faint hope for Nacho. I pictured him getting out somehow. I envisioned him finally escaping from the life that he fell too deeply into and starting again. I imagined Jesse Pinkman arriving in Alaska and making a connection with Ignacio Varga under an assumed name, Mike’s two surrogate sons coming together and looking after one another the way he might have done himself. It’s a nice thought, one too nice for the consequences this universe tends to have in store for its major players.

Instead, Nacho is dead. And we are left to take comfort in the few saving graces of his unfortunate demise. He went out his way, choosing his own “good death” rather than being the plaything of other people’s wills like he’s been for so much of the series. He did so to guarantee the safety of his father, with whom he shared a pained final phone call, freighted with meaning. He claimed one final measure of control, of destiny, to make his death worth something, to him and the people he cared about.

These are small blessings and small comforts. I teared up at the fateful moment when Nacho takes his own life rather than subject himself to the plans of the drug lords around him. Because this is a tragedy. Because this went south just as Nacho’s father said it would. Because Nacho thought he could beat it, avoid the pitfalls, and instead was sucked down by the inevitable gravity of this life. Because despite his best efforts, Mike Ehrmantraut lost another son.

These are not showy, emotional men. So their tiniest expressions speak volumes. The scrunch of Mike’s mouth when he knows Nacho’s gone that reveals his pain and disgust with this whole thing. The slightly raised eyebrows of Gus Fring that show his quiet terror that, with one word, Nacho could blow this whole thing up. And the almost imperceptible nod shared by Nacho and Mike, an acknowledgment of deeds that say more than any words either man has. This is a grim, even sentimental experience for all, made that much more forceful by how Better Call Saul underplays it.

God help me, Michael Mando deserves an Emmy for this episode alone. He, like so much of this incredibly talented cast, has deserved recognition for a long time now. But this is a masterclass. The sheer physicality he puts on display when Nacho buries himself in the sludge of an old tanker truck, the unspoken well of pain and regret pouring out of him when he hears his father’s voice one last time, the sheer vitriol on display when he curses the Salamancas and declares himself the author of all their pain. The shades of desperation, resignation, and self-immolation Mando communicates are virtuosic to the last. If this is truly his final performance on the show, he goes out with his masterpiece.

But it’s not all Nacho in this episode. We get more advancement in Kim and Jimmy’s plan to undermine Howard. This is one of their smaller efforts, but there’s a sufficient amount of tension in Huell(!) and a keymaker using their combined skills to duplicate Howard’s car keys before his valet can catch wise. One of this show’s great skills is taking fairly mundane parts of these scams and ratcheting up the tension. The interplay between a teenage valet rushing back to a parking garage, cut with the grooves of the key and the stairwells of the building, set to a classical soundtrack, makes a comparatively straightforward part of this plan seem like a big deal.

But after such chicanery, Huell asks Saul a simple but telling question -- why do you do this? The dialogue implies that Huell needs the funds, that this is one of few options for him. Jimmy, on the other hand, is a lawyer. His wife is a lawyer. They could get by without this. Jimmy claims that Huell doesn’t understand, that this is for the greater good, that even if the tactics are underhanded, the desired result is good, which makes taking these risks worthwhile.

And yet, Kim and Jimmy seem to revel in the chase. There’s something personal in this for both of them. The thrill of it seems to light both of their fires. All of it suggests their motives for continuing with something that, to Huell’s implicit point, they don’t have to pursue, may not be as altruistic as Saul pretends. More to the point, they have more to lose in all this than either one of them seems ready to acknowledge.

There’s a lifeline though. One of the prosecutors, Suzanne Ericsen, who once called Jimmy a scumbag, offers to let him turn state’s evidence. She pieces together not only the real deal with Lalo, but how Jimmy didn’t want to be the cartel’s lawyer. After Kim turns over some incriminating evidence she’d be better off suppressing in the name of fairness, Suzanne shares this offer with her, with the idea that he might listen to her in a way he wouldn’t listen to Suzanne.

Suzanne frames it as an opportunity to do what’s right after being steeped in something dirty. Kim frames it as a choice between being a “friend of the cartel” or a rat. But neither of them seems to fully countenance it in the way the viewers, who can process it in the context of the show as a whole, can. It’s a chance for Jimmy to do what Nacho didn’t -- to get out of this, to step away before it’s too late.

It’s too late for Nacho. He tries valiantly to avoid the worst of the blowback. His descent into the muck to avoid his killers is as symbolic as it is terrifying. His kindness (and cash) for a friendly mechanic who offers him help when he needs it and asks for nothing in return shows the decency within a troubled and ultimately doomed young man. His grief, not just at never being able to see his father again, but at confirming Manuel Varga’s worst fears and predictions about his son, is palpable.

There is something admirable in Nacho in his final days, when he accepts the inevitability of his end. He cannot change that. He’s made too many bad choices to reach this point. But he can use his life, the value it still has, to protect the person he cares about most.

The sharpest thing Nacho does is leverage the value of whether he’ll tell the Salamancas the truth, or whether he’ll play along. He realizes the rare power he holds over Gus, rather than the other way around. He doesn’t use it for comfort or to try to buy his own way out. He just wants to protect his dad and uses the last thing he has of value to do it.

It wouldn’t work, though, without his similarly paternal bond with Mike. For all his “Not my call” talk with Nacho, Mike is a man of honor. The only way a promise from a snake like Gus means anything to Ignacio is that it comes backed by Mike.

There’s a rapport between the two of them, an understanding, a familial intimacy that adds the wholesomeness and tragedy of it all. Mike insists on being the one to rough Nacho up to look the part of someone working against Gus’ operation rather than for it. Beforehand, they share that drink together, an acknowledgment or respect and care. And Mike puts himself out there to be an “insurance policy” for the plan, there to ensure, in his heart of hearts, that it goes down the way they planned it, that Nacho doesn’t have to suffer. He looks through the scope in the way he did back in season 2’s “Klick”, and sees someone who understands the lengths a father and son will go to in order to protect one another as well as he does.

Except, when the time comes, Nacho goes off script. He palmed a piece of glass, presumably from the cup Gus broke an episode ago, and uses it when the time’s right. Rather than simply announcing, as Fring insisted, that he was in league with Alvarez and paid off by rivals in Peru to sabotage the Salamancas, he goes a step further.

He laughs at the prospect of “the chicken man” being involved as a joke. He swears his hatred of the whole Salamanca family, offering up the motive for him to do this without any need for being aligned with Gus. He takes credit for Hector’s sugar pills, pointing to Gus’ intervention as the only reason Hector is still alive. In brief, he makes the story better and more plausible than even Gus had in mind. It’s clever, proving his worth even in his final moments, giving Fring everything he could possibly want to throw the heat off of him, in the hopes that it will convince the crime lord to keep his word and spare his father. After so long, so many missteps, Nacho seized control and went out on his own terms, if only a little.

The palmed glass becomes vital to slipping through the zip ties that bind him. He seizes Don Bolsa’s gun and holds it to the man’s head, so everyone can point their guns at him. And then, with the weapon in hand, he can kill himself, rather than subject him to the Salamancas’ torture or other humiliating or excrutiating ways to leave his world. His death is still a sad, terrible, regrettable thing, but it comes with a moment of self-actualization, where for a moment at least, Nacho is not the pawn of these men. He is their equal. And then he is gone.

Another life wasted. Another existence snuffed out in the middle of the desert. Another son lost amid the plata y plomo. In a beautiful opening sequence, we see the flora growing over the spot where Nacho died, growth perhaps fueled by his remains. Amid such desolation grows a beautiful azure flower, the rain come to wash it all away. There, catching its droplets, is that same shard of glass, the one that gave Nacho his last bit of freedom, before the collective weight of these larger forces could firmly and finally take it away.

It would be too much to call Nacho a good person. At his best, he was still a drug dealer thriving on others’ addiction and misery. He may have been a touch nobler, a touch younger and thus more excusable, than the psychos he worked for. But he was still a bad guy doing bad things.

And yet, there was something recognizable in his fall and folly. Too many of us see shorter, yet more dangerous paths to the things we want, and believe we can avoid their greatest perils along the way to our hope for spoils. We see Nacho’s regret, his emptiness, his sense of being trapped in this before he realized how deeply he had fallen. We see how his desire to protect his dad -- from Hector, from Gus, from his own mistakes -- led him to this point, where he was in too deep with no good options.

Nacho may not have been perfect, but he was pitiable; he was recognizable; he was loved. There is always tragedy in the death of someone loved. Jimmy is also loved. He has his chance to get out, to turn to the police like Nacho’s father instructed his son.

But Ignacio didn’t listen. He’ll never have a chance to escape. He won’t ever meet Jesse in Alaska. Exit ramps are rare. Happy endings are in short supply in this world. And in the end, there weren’t enough of either left for Manuel Varga’s little boy.

Midsommar is a complicated beast. Those going for something as linear as Hereditary will be immediately disappointed by Midsommars somewhat convoluted plot elements and meandering pace. I sat in the cinema as the credits rolled by, deep in thought about what I just watched, and if it was any good. Nothing really sat well with me, and the film didn't really connect upon immediate completion, but I gave it time to digest.
Ari Asters two movies are very much at odds with each other. Hereditary slaps you with it's excellent presentation, pace, sense of dread and quality of acting on display. Then, upon further inspection, it's woven plot elements and symbolism shine through on subsequent viewing.
Midsommar is very much the opposite. The film almost dawdles in it's presentation and doesn't fully attack you with it's acting chops or narrative (although Florence is simply stunning in her portrayal of Dani). Midsommar more presents it's parts in a very matter-of-fact fashion, and then leaves it up to you to connect the dots of both the plot and what's on display. While there is far too much to unpack in this small comment section, I'd just like to detail some of my favourite themes on display in Midsommar, and why it went from a 6/10 during my cinema viewing, to a solid 8 - 8.5/10 upon reflection.

--- LONG DISCUSSION OF SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT ---

One of Midsommars central parallels is the individualism/selfishness of Western life and it's stark comparison to the commune we are introduced to. Examples of this are: During the intro, Dani is going through the trauma of a suicidal family member and her boyfriend, Christian, is encouraged by his friends to abandon her in her time of need telling her to see her therapist as it's not his problem. Christian echos these sentiments directly to Dani about her sister, telling her to leave her alone as she is just doing this for attention. Upon arriving at the commune in Sweden, Mark is unwilling to wait for Dani to be ready to take shrooms. Josh, knowing of Dani's recent trauma involving death, subjects her to the suicide of the elders for his own thesis and research. Christian uses the situation to further his own academic efforts, much to the annoyance of Josh. Everyone is acting in their own self interest regardless of the emotional toll this takes on their friendships. This is a stark contrast to how we see the commune deal with distress, emotion and personal issues. When Dani sees Christian cheating on her, the female members of the commune bawl, weep, scream and cry along with Dani, literally experiencing her burden with her to lessen the load. As described by Pelle, the commune "hold" you during your distress, helping you cope and living through those emotions with you. This is further cemented by the scene earlier in the movie, shortly after Dani's sister commits suicide. We see Dani hunched over Christian's lap overcome with emotion, screaming out the pain of the loss of her sister. Christian is anything but present however, his eyes vacant as if he weren't there with her at all. This is possibly my favourite theme of the movie, as it really paints how alone we are in modern society regardless of how many people we surround ourselves with. How many people are actually there for us in our time of need? Sure, they might be physically present, but are they actually there, sharing our pain? It's truly terrifying to think about.

My other favourite theme is who is and isn't a bad person. I've seen many people online say they think Christian is a horrible boyfriend for how he treats Dani. While I can understand their position, I struggle to see how Christian is the bad guy for his actions. Christian finds himself in a dying relationship which he is mentally checked out from but decides to stay to help her through the grief of losing her parents and sister. Christian even goes as far as to bring her on vacation with him to help her through her trauma, even though he wants to split up with her. Would the audience have prefered Christian leave Dani right after she lost her family? That would have been MUCH worse. Do these actions warrant what happens to Christian? I don't think so at all. Christian is so misunderstood in this movie, I can't wait to see it again to draw more conclusions on his character. Is Josh a bad person for wanting to fully envelope himself in a foreign culture? Although we know it is largely for academic gain, Josh does seem to love learning about the culture of these people, wanting to see how they operate and know every intricacy of their faith. Does this warrant his murder for trying to document their sacred texts? Should an outsider be murdered for enjoying and absorbing someone elses culture and customs, or should they be thanked for their interest and passion? (Sidenote, I see Josh's character as a direct reflection of the usual racial stereotypes we see in movies of this ilk. Usually we see the white academic researching the savage native/minority tribe, but Josh is the exactly flip of this, which is a nice touch). Were Connie and Simon wrong for coming into another culture and expressing disgust at their customs? Should they have been so outwardly disgusted and vocal about their disapproval while being welcomed in by the commune? Sure it didn't warrant their ultimate fate, but this small subplot asks an interesting question about outsiders attempting to shape and alter other cultures and customs as it doesn't sit with their ideals.

Other small details:
While it's directly conveyed to the viewer that the red haired girl is attempting to cast a love incantation on Christian via pubes in his pie and runes under his bed, very little attention is given to the fact that Christians drink is a slight shade darker than everyone elses. From the tapestry we see at the start of the festival, we know exactly what the red haired girl has slipped into his drink :face_vomiting: Fantastic subtle horror/grossness.

Pelle talks about how his parents died in a fire and the commune helped him through the trauma of that loss. After the ending, it's pretty clear the fire wasn't an accident, and they evidently died for some kind of ritual.

Artwork above Dani's bed at the beginning shows a girl with crown kissing a bear. While direct foreshadowing to latter events, it also asks the question if this was all fate. Dani's sister's final message reads "I see black now" (potentially a reference to The Black One) before killing herself and her parents. Were Dani's parents 72 and this was the end of their cycle? Was Dani's sister already a distant member of the commune?

Runes are scattered all throughout the film to foreshadow certain character arcs or add more meaning. My favourite hidden rune is the doors to the temple, which when open, make the rune for "Opening" or "Portal". Amazing attention to detail.

Yeah, this movie is much MUCH better on reflection and I absolutely cannot wait to see it again. I really hope Ari's 3 hour 40 minute directors cut is released so there is more to dissect. While not as immediately impressive has Hereditary, Midsommar definitely has the layers and complexity to be a slowburn horror classic.

EDIT: I am now 4 days out from my first viewing and I've not stopped thinking about this movie. I've become a frequent visitor of the films subreddit and have even purchased/listened to the films dread-inducing yet somehow joyous soundtrack a number of times throughout the days. I've been reading up on runes and their meanings, reading up set analysis for hidden meanings and any other small details others can find. A movie hasn't vibed with me like this for a long long time so to reflect this, I think it's only right I bump my score from an 8/10 to a 9/10. When I can get my hands on the digital download/Blu-Ray, I'm sure this might even go higher.

Not as solid as I hoped. It's confusing for sure, but they could have done so so much more with this concept and world. But they didn't. It has left us with a story that is interesting, yet unrelatable. Things move way too fast and I would have preferred a longer runtime because it is that intriguing. And while the ending is great, the way that Nolan tries to merge the two viewpoints isn't done well. Leaving me feeling like my dad when he watches Transformers (2007) and asks who is who.

It needed to be simplified a little more because everything else is amazing. The effects, the overarching story, the acting. The music, however, is terrible and overblown to give a sense of action when there isn't enough happening. The only part where it worked well was in the final fight, but even then it needed to be quieter.

The cinematography is good as always, but I feel it is lacking compared to Nolan's previous work.

When it comes to action and the draw to this movie, the reversal shots. They deliver, but they are too and far between. It gives us great scenes of reversal action, then one drawn-out segment at the end that doesn't feel rewarding as like I said before, it isn't merged well.

This movie may grow on me more after a second viewing, but it left me in a state that I don't wish to see it again any time soon. It is not fun enough to see again, it is not engaging enough to associate and learn from. Something that Nolan has done well at in the past is his ability to leave questions with the audience after they finish his films. Here, it just provides answers and left me unsatisfied in that regard.

7/10

It’s funny to know that this movie was intended to come out before the pandemic, because by releasing it now it might provide some unintentional food for thought for the morons who believe that a certain virus was actually conceived in a lab.
I genuinely wonder if those people will read that far into this film, I’d find it deeply amusing.

The good news is that there are definetely a lot of things this does better than Spectre.
The action is memorable and way more visceral (though it doesn’t quite surpass the Mission Impossible Fallout bar) and the characters are generally more interesting.
I loved the women in this in particular, they all have distinct personalities and they’re not flawless human beings or overpowered (e.g. Ana de Armas is bubbly and fun, but at the same time she’s inexperienced and chaotic), like some blockbusters tend to do.
At the same time, we shouldn’t pretend that this film invented strong female characters for Bond, especially after we’ve had Eva Green and Judi Dench.
Meanwhile, James Bond himself has a very satisfying arc in this film, which isn’t too dissimilar to Tony Stark’s arc in Avengers Endgame , with a bold pay off in the third act. I’m happy that this film gave us confirmation that Mads Mikkelsen didn’t end up castrating Bond during that scene in Casino Royale.
It’s paced very well, more like a traditional action film and less like a drama, which was the case for Skyfall and Spectre. Don’t let the runtime intimidate you, it doesn’t feel longer than 2 hours.
And finally, the whole thing just looks great, it’s produced excuisetely. The cinematography isn’t quite Skyfall level, but Roger Deakins is an impossible bar to clear for any cinematographer.

Unfortunately, this film really struggles with its tone, bouncing between some cartoony stuff and very dark, dramatic moments.
It wants to honor the traditional Bond stuff, but at the same time it can’t let go of the roots of the Daniel Craig iteration, which makes it feel like an uneven artistic vision, because the foundation of Craig’s Bond rests on this idea that this isn’t the traditional Bond.
It’s going for the same tone as Skyfall, meaning its pretty serious, while also incorporating some campy stuff with the plot and the villain (but never going into straight up silly territory, like Spectre).
The problem is that you could still take the villain and the plot seriously in Skyfall (Bardem is still scary despite the camp, the hacking plot feels grounded), and that isn’t the case here, the plot goes too much into sci-fi territory for that.
Also, Rami Malek didn’t leave much of an impression on me, the accent is wonky and he feels like a stock villain (very much like Waltz in the last film). There’s not really an interesting motivation there, or an interesting evil plan. It’s a campy and theatrical plan, and it feels very familiar.
Finally, this film can be fairly predictable at times (for example: Matilde being Bond’s daughter was extremely obvious, but they still try to somewhat play it as a twist. The same goes for Lea Seydoux being framed in prologue.).

So, it’s good, it pushes the creative boundaries of what a Bond movie is in some ways, which is the best stuff.
But I kinda hope they bring in someone with a fresh, fully realized artistic vision to really shake things up again for the next reboot.

7/10

Ps for the Bond producers: please, please make a spin off with Ana de Armas’ character.

I'm exhausted. This tension, the politics, the intrigue, even to the last second. So much is happening in this episode. So much concealed under such elegant garments.

In one way I look forward to the finale next week, however I'm not sure how they are going to fit what I was anticipating to be in this episode into the last, unless it is a 3hr episode, but I think it won't be such.

The other way I'm looking forward to the finale, is I no longer will need to invest all my emotion and attention in this concentration of spectacle and the craft of each Actor performing to perfection their role, and appreciating each word, glance, and interaction with their counterparts in such a magnificent, stunning location.

I'll be ready for this finale but until then I'll be soaking in what I've watched today. What a pleasure it is to witness what the Arts can deliver if given a proper opportunity.

Thank you to the Creators, Actors, Crew, and Those That have painstakingly brought this masterpiece to us.

The conundrum has set in... I desperately want to see the last episode now, but I don't want it to be the last show. 10/10

Ladies & gentlemen, they & them,

Early 2000’s superhero movies are back, baby!

Madame Web is a top-tier dumpster fire.

• It has some of the worst dialogue I have heard in a while. How are these writers, who brought us such gems as Dracula Untold, The Last Witch Hunter, Gods of Egypt, and the trillion-dollar hit Morbius, still working?

• “Every day that goes by, my appointment with death gets closer.” is an actual line from the movie. There is plenty more to go around.

• The editing and visual effects are atrocious.

• The acting from everyone is awful. The line delivery is shockingly low energy, and I did not believe a word any of the actors were saying.

• I have seen these actors do great work in the past, so this is 100% the director's fault here. It's crazy how a director can get piss-poor performances from good actors.

• The characters had no chemistry with each other. The scenes together felt so awkward and unnatural.

• There are so many character choices that don't make sense.

• The villain fucking sucks. There is no real character to him. He's just a boring evil guy who wants to kill three “teenagers” because he dreamed of them killing him in the future. He is not threatening at all.

• I noticed the actor who played the villain was dubbed over with ADR for most of his scenes. You can tell.

• None of the humour landed. Painfully unfunny.

• The 2003 pop culture references were a pathetic excuse for creating a time capsule setting.

• Adam Scott and Emma Roberts have nothing to do here. You wonder why they are even there.

• For a superhero movie, there are barely any exciting action scenes. Whenever there is some action, it's nothing special. I would not mind the lack of action if the story, characters, and acting were superb, but it has none of that.

• The fact that the final battle scene takes place underneath a Cola/Pepsi sign is another example of the terrible product placement from Sony.

• The final shot is the most embarrassing thing I have ever seen.

My jaw is on the floor of how a movie like this can be shit out by a big studio. Sony REALLY needs to cut it out with these unnecessary Spider-Man spin-off films.

Madame Web is the worst superhero movie ever made. Yes, I mean it. At least the other bad superhero movies had some redeeming qualities to it. But this movie has nothing. Everything about this movie is wrong. Fant4stic is better than this. It makes Morbius look competently made.

The current state of superhero movies is in trouble, and Madame Web is not helping.

The early arcs might drag slightly, but oh, the four part finale redeems it all.It has everything essential about these characters. Anakin's desperate longing for human connection and for those he holds most dear to be alright, and the rejection and disillusionment he feels from the weight of this war. Obi-Wan swallowing down his doubts and hopes to be the perfect model Jedi, pushing away and distancing himself from his closest friends in the process. Yoda hopeless and raw, wishing for the old days when Ahsoka was a Jedi and the Jedi weren't soldiers, and unable to shake the dread in his soul.

And, of course, the core trio of this season- Ahsoka, Rex, and Maul- shine. Maul's the last physical antagonist of the show but even in this moment he's overshadowed by Sidious. There's this dread to him as he can sense that everything is about to change, that he is always one step behind his master. He's always playing catch up, always surviving instead of thriving. That is his tragedy- a pawn that's outlived his usefulness trying to become a king. A man who thinks vengeance and power will finally give him satisfaction, but the pursuit of these things have only left him alone and hollow. Like Vader himself, it's that tragedy that makes him so compelling to watch, and Witwer perfectly acts every inch of Maul's bitterness and despair and dissatisfaction. Maul hates who he is, what he knows, and he will never be satisfied. He will never be happy. But he has no choice to be what he is, from the very beginning. He never had a chance.

None of them do. Maul is desperate, even willing to team up with his sworn enemy Kenobi to kill Skywalker. This is his last fight against the inevitability of fate, and it is already doomed. Neither of them arrived- they were called to 'rescue' Palpatine from Grevious. Ahsoka came instead. Sidious is about to seize power. Anakin's already killed Dooku, falling further and further. It's too late for Maul to stop his master and too late for Ahsoka to save hers. And yet they fight anyway. Because Ahsoka believes in Anakin so much, she cannot turn against him. She knows this is not the clones' fault, so she cannot kill them. She's left the Jedi Order and has found her own morals, her own way. Rex, meanwhile has come to realize he moves his brothers above all else, but must fight against them. Each of them have their own pathos that makes this enthralling entertainment.

The fight scenes are gorgeous- Ahsoka and Maul's battle being a standout. The beautiful environments, from the shattered throne room to the icy moon the series ends on, will take your breath away. But more than anything else, the ending justifies it all. Each Star Wars movie, even the darkest, end with at least a hint of triumph, or a light flung into the future. Attack of the Clones almost ends on the formation of the clones, a moment Yoda dreads, but the marriage of Anakin and Padame is a reminder that Luke and Lelia are on the way. Empire Strikes Back and Last Jedi both end with the heroes fractured but not broken, ready for round three. And even Revenge of the Sith assures us Luke and Leia will make things right in the end. Animated contemporaries Rebels and Resistance, too, end in triumph.

Not Clone Wars.

Clone Wars is a tragedy. There is no flash forward to better days, there is no hint of the rebellion, or that Ahsoka and Rex will be fine in the end. The last shot of Ahsoka shows her haunted, and the last shot of the show...is Vader, reflected in the helmet of one of the clones he respected so much, and was respected by in turn.A helmet specially decorated in support of Ahsoka, who both Anakin and the 501st adored, a last reminder of Anakin's and the clones' humanity, completely discarded. The ending doesn't care about the Skywalker Saga, about Anakin being redeemed in the end, or Luke rising up, or Rey carrying on their legacy. And that's what makes it great.

The clones were made for this war- pawns from life to death. All to help facilitate Anakin’s fall. For Anakin and his prophecy the clones and so many people from the Jedi to the average man suffered and died in a brutal, grueling war that only led to a brutal and grueling regime. All actors of a play they were never privy to. The show has the conviction to not cushion that blow.It is about the Clone Wars, not what comes after, and the Clone wars was a tragedy without redemption. Nothing will have made this war matter retroactively. The vast majority of people have no idea that a rebellion is forming or that Luke and Leia were born. All the Jedi and clones and civilians we've grown attached to and seen die certainly don't. The Clone Wars pulls back and shows exactly what the Skywalker Saga, what the Chosen One prophecy, has wrought on the people that saga turned its back on- the nobodies. The ordinary. After one horrendous finale, this one- this show- shows what Star Wars could be, and quite possibly never will be again. And I will always love it for that.

7.5/10. Dan Harmon, creator of Community is known for several things -- his trademark bottle of vodka, his tendency to spill his guts to audiences full of strangers, but also his story circle. The story circle is a device that Harmon uses as a blueprint for nearly any story he writes or supervises. It offers a series of steps to telling a story: 1. A character is in a zone of comfort; 2. But they want something; 3. They enter an unfamiliar situation; 4. Adapt to it; 5. Get what they wanted; 6. Pay a heavy price for it; 7. Then return to their familiar situation; 8. Having changed.

Brooklyn is basically Story Circle: The Movie. Eilis may not have the best life in Ireland, but she is comfortable there. But she hopes and wants for a better life than she can expect to have in the Emerald Isle. So she moves to Brooklyn, a situation whose unfamiliarity is hammered home from the first Irish immigrant she meets on the boat, to her fellow boarders who snip at her a bit, but also guide her through her new surroundings. She slowly but surely grows accustomed to her new home, with its different social mores and customs. She eventually has a good job, a future in accounting, a boyfriend, and the good life her sister wanted for her when she helped send Eilis to America. But just as she grows comfortable in that new life, she pays the price not being able to be home for her sister's funeral or to comfort her mother in person. Eventually, she's able to return home, but as the film makes clear in its third act, she is much different person now then when she left it.

That's not meant to be a criticism of the film. That type of adherence to story structure does lead to a film that feels conventional, and in truth Brooklyn is a feel-good story that is as interested in a film experience that feels like slipping into a warm bath as it is in proceeding through its simple-but-sweet coming of age tale. The notes are familiar, but the melody is beautiful, and the audience goes home happy.

At one point, Eilis offers her beau, Tony, an adjective to describe herself -- amenable. And it's the perfect way to describe Brooklyn It's a very amenable film, happy to lean into the soft hues of the past to tell a love story, and immigrant story, and a bildungsroman, in gentle tones that provoke smiles and sighs as Eilis finds happiness, love, and fulfillment despite her initial reservations and homesickness.

If I have a criticism, its that Eilis's journey is almost too successful. For all the accusations of unrealistic perfection leveled at Rey in Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Eilis is a paragon of good fortune throughout Brooklyn. Nearly everyone she meets in Ireland and in Brooklyn short of the prickly Miss Kelly likes her and helps her to feel more comfortable in whatever her current surroundings are. To boot, she becomes successful at nearly whatever she sets her mind to, from working at the department story, to courting, to her burgeoning skills as a bookkeeper.

But that's not to say Eilis does not face challenges in the film. Hers are challenges of conscience rather than the standard plot obstacles we expect our cinematic protagonists to leap over. The crux of the film is Eilis returning to the land that she thought had nothing there for her, and finding that she was wrong, that there is good work, and friendship, and family, and a nice boy with a good future. Suddenly, the life she forged across the pond, the one with her husband, and her studies, and seems distant, something that unexpectedly has to compete with the renewed comforts of home. The choice the film stakes out -- whether to take the stronger, more confident persona Eilis has built back to Ireland and start a life there better than any she hoped to be able to enjoy, or return to the place that made her into that stronger person with the man she pledged her love to.

The problem is that as well as the film sets up that choice, and lays out compelling elements on both sides of the equation, it glosses over the conclusion in a somewhat unsatisfying fashion. While the touch of Miss Kelly's would-be blackmail is nice, it seems abrupt that after all the time the film spends setting up Eilis's hometown as somewhere that Eilis has a place and could be happy, one harsh woman is enough to send her back to New York. There's subtext about an iron fist hiding beneath the velvet glove that's been offered to Eilis since she returned to Enniscorthy, but it's hard to see it anyone besides Miss Kelly, with everyone else in the town seeming a bit pushy and presumptive, but also genuinely enamored with the young Ms. Lacey. Her confession to her mother is a quietly powerful scene, and the breakup letter she gives to her Irish beau feels like too easy way to resolve that relationship, but more than anything, it just feels odd that one mean old crow is all it takes to convince Eilis that she could never have a life in a place that, despite the vows she's tried so hard to put out of her mind, seemed to welcome her with open arms.

Still, the scene where Tony finds Eilis waiting for him and the pair embrace is a sweet moment, even if it doesn't feel totally earned given what motivated Eilis to come to that point. But it's a lovely image in a film full of them. Brooklyn is awash in muted pastels and primary colors, that give the past a gauzy hue that catches the eye and conveys the sense of a sweeter, simpler time. It's also a supremely well-shot film, that shoots Eilis and Jim Farrell at the beach having a conversation with their romantic companions framed in between them in the distance, conveying the subtext of the exchange. It's also a film keen to use subtle touches to show changes in Eilis's mood or perspective, from the simple act of wearing her bathing suit under her clothes that impresses her friends back home, to the letters she shoves in a drawer to signify the way in which she's putting Brooklyn out of her mind. None of these techniques is so subtle that the viewer will miss them, but the film takes the old admonition "show don't tell" to heart, and succeeds well with that principle in mind.

In the end, Brooklyn is a fairly simple story. Girl leaves home. Girl makes a new life with success and romance. Girl returns home, seeing the beauty of what she left behind and has to choose her new life or her old one. But the film's pleasures come from the sweet stillness of the moments in between, of the temping worlds the film creates on either side of Eilis, in the recognizable steps of maturation, of change, that Eilis goes through as she moves past her homesickness, past her reticence, and eventually, past the girl she used to be. Brooklyn is an aggressively amiable film, that breaks little new ground, but covers the familiar territory with such a pleasant, charming air, that it can be forgiven for making few new steps.

Walking out of Warcraft, the overriding feeling is one of a missed opportunity - this is by no means a disaster and there is plenty of potential here. The scope of the film is impressive and it's clear there is a lot of world-building going on here for future sequels. Part of the problem, however, is there is simply too much plot going on with not enough time devoted to a central thread - the director's admission that some 40 minutes have been cut is not surprising. This is a film that has ambition to be an epic, with many threads introduced to carry over to potential future films and glimpses of many different settings in this new world, but consequently there is a rushed feel to the central plot of this film with not enough time devoted to developing the relationships and motivations of the central characters, Thus plot developments and twists whilst potentially interesting do not have the emotional impact desired making it difficult to really care about what happens. It is a shame because what there is here works surprisingly well - Jones' ambition is to ensure the audience is invested in both sides of the conflict rather than the obvious human side. Perhaps there may well be a future director's cut that restores some much needed character work and slows down the pace a little.

What a phenomenal show! Being a Marvel production, I fully expected something of quality, but my expectations were blown entirely out of the water. Daredevil has easily taken its place among my favorite shows currently on air and far surpasses the current lineup of comic book-based television properties (including Marvel's own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.).

The cast is great. Charlie Cox brings emotional weight to Matt Murdock and an intimidating presence to his vigilante alter ego. Supporting players Deborah Ann Woll, Elden Henson, and Rosario Dawson, all make their respective roles feel critical, never distracting or annoying. But it's Vincent D'Onofrio that really steals the spotlight as Wilson Fisk, bringing to life a villain who is not only vicious and truly terrifying, but also heartbreakingly pitiful.

Daredevil's writing separates it from the current crop of superhero television. The progression of the plot is well organized and dialog rarely (if ever) crosses that line into comic book corniness. You really get the sense that the show runners had a clear vision for where they wanted this freshman season to go, while still laying groundwork for future seasons. Never does it feel like you're just being strung along for bigger and better things to come next season. And the show doesn't constantly try to remind you of the broader Marvel Cinematic Universe, as any references to it are (usually) subtle.

But perhaps Daredevil's greatest strength is its cinematography. Fight sequences are expertly choreographed and coherent (not to mention brutally gritty), even rivaling those of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The production value is top notch, probably thanks to the refreshingly limited reliance on CGI. But what impressed me the most was the brave willingness to let the camera linger or even meander occasionally. Ending episode 2 with a minutes-long single take fight sequence had me speechless, and is a testament to the level of quality brought to the show.

Daredevil is a strong addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I think Marvel's partnership with Netflix could prove to be one of their best decisions regarding their television properties and I look forward to future shows like A.K.A. Jessica Jones and Luke Cage.

Rian Johnson is starting to turn into the white Jordan Peele. He's another one of those filmmakers that loves to work in this niche of subversive genre films that include a heavy dose of social commentary, and I'm all here for it. Specifically, with this franchise we’ve gone from satirizing old money with Knives Out to satirizing new money with this new film (chances are Knives Out 3 will center around a group of homeless suspects). Now, a lot of films in that same vein have been released recently (Triangle of Sadness, The Menu), but I think none of them do the satire as well as this film. To me it’s too easy at this point to simply aim your commentary at these people by making a statement about how stupid and incompetent they are. It seems like low hanging fruit to me, because everyone with a brain knows that these types are vapid and contribute nothing to society. Luckily, Rian Johnson understands this too and goes one step beyond that, filtering all of his commentary through this idea of the glass onion. These people aren’t just stupid and incompetent, but they’re using a veil of eccentricity and ‘complexity’ to hide that. This is a brilliant deconstruction that rings very true for today’s society, and of course you can’t quite escape the obvious parallel with Twitter’s manchild CEO firing himself this week. This subtext is woven into a lot of elements of the film (character, location, plot, even some props), which means that some things are a lot dumber and simpler than they appear to be. I think that will annoy some people, but I think it's quite clever. Like the first film, you get a great cast of colourful characters. Some of them are given depth, some of them are just playing funny caricatures. Daniel Craig owns the whole movie again, but Janelle Monáe comes pretty close to outperforming him. Even people like Dave Bautista do a great job, and it’s because Rian Johnson knows how to use these actors despite their limited range. There are plenty of twists you won’t see coming and the filmmaking is again terrific. It looks very cinematic with the blocking, lighting and compositions, and the score feels very 60s (lots of strings, some minor baroque orchestration), which reminded me of The White Lotus and a certain Beatles song. In the end, what puts it over the first film for me is the fact that the tone feels more consistent here. The more tense and dramatic moments of Knives Out didn’t really hit home for me when you have Daniel Craig doing a really campy accent, and this one just fully embraces that it’s a silly comedy. And it’s a great one at that, nearly all the jokes landed for me. Maybe could’ve done with a little less shouting from Kate Hudson, but ok, it makes sense for the character. Probably the most fun movie of the year next to Top Gun: Maverick, and definitely one of the most well constructed.

8/10

I feel like this a low rent Nashville that makes black people look terrible. The music is mediocre, the story generally lazy and hacky. It's like a show that were it given the attention of an HBO or Showtime might make you feel immersed in, but you're left with seeing how much Terrance Howard and Taraji can carry the series. (edit: Nov 2016 I recently finished watching Power which is a glimpse at what Empire might've been like on a different network) Extra points for making me hate Cookie so much, that's powerful acting or character development.

The relationships are soap opera like, the writing fairly blah and redundant. What could be compelling story lines are wrapped up quickly or ignored all together. It feels like the show can't pick a direction. I don't understand why it's so hyped, it certainly can't be from the song quality, and the superficial glance at the scatter-brained roles each character is supposed to play doesn't endear me to any character in particular. There's way too much TV to compare this to for this to stick out for any other reason than Black-ish does. It caricatures black people and requires zero effort to follow. (Black-ish has laid off the accelerator...a bit)

Heavy with style but lacking in substance. That's the sum of Peaky Blinders.

Peaky leans hard on slow motion shots and a modern punk/indie rock soundtrack that you'll either love or hate. I actually like the choice of music but how many times do we need to see someone walk past a fire breathing factory with a cigarette in hand and punk rock blaring in the background before some actual character development happens?

Cillian Murphy is excellent but aside from one or two other characters the rest of them are very one dimensional. You see all the faces in the background pic on this page? Less than half of those faces have any real narrative in the show. Because of this you are left with just a couple of prominent figures that tend to be overused

The story-lines are never all that compelling either unfortunately, style wins out here as well.

I thought the first season was decent and I was curious to see if they would improve for the second. When it was announced that Tom Hardy would be joining the cast I was pretty excited. Sadly his role isn't featured that much so his impact was minimal.

I see people trying to compare Peaky Blinders with Boardwalk Empire and I just don't see it, Boardwalk had compelling story-lines and an ensemble cast it actually used. Here's hoping season 3 will be different.

Pros
+Looks Beautiful and Ugly at the same time (Ugly as in portraying the ugly circumstances of the war)
+The way it is shot is incredibly fluid, it's very much a long shot movie but there are maybe 5 actual like hard cuts in this and the hidden transitions are seamless. It really feels like you're walking alongside these messengers while still also giving the viewer an impression for how much time is passing in the story.
+Characters were all believable and likeable. There's some funny banter, there's some emotional release, a bit of fear, some kindness, and it's well acted so it gives the viewer a good impression of who these men are and it makes you want to care.
+Music and general sound design was nearly perfect
+ The story in general is solid. There are some things that I feel won't please everyone (which I'll mention) but I think overall it's a good story. The beauty is kind of in the simplicity. It's all about getting from point A to point B, but having it be that simple it makes room for the viewer to appreciate everything that happens in the journey.
+ You've probably guessed it from the things I've already said but the overall atmosphere is great without feeling like it's up it's own ass
+Very purposeful film. Lots of efficient scenes which seem disconnected at first but end up communicating an aspect of why the messengers are doing what they are and reflect the importance of this mission and/or increase the urgency of what is happening.

Neutral
*The movie is partially about will power and the main character's name is Will lmao

Cons
-I think Tommy's death happened too soon I understand not wanting to waste too much time but I feel like just a few more scenes would have done a lot for that part of the movie. (FYI this is not a big criticism I kinda knew it was going to happen since the trailer had so many scenes where Will was alone but it didn't quite mean as much as I would have liked)
-Predictable. This isn't honestly a criticism for people like me who don't really need any twists but I feel like some people would be bored with how straight forward and unapologetically predictable it is.
- in the German trench it says on one of the rafters "I <3 Elsa" a clear anachronism since Disney's Frozen (tm) had not come out in time for WWI soldiers to be fanboying Elsa smh btw I'm joking lol but I did see that in the trench

Definitely worth a watch

This movie was wrong on so many levels. It was as expected though. Jessica Simpson flat out can not act. We all knew that. But she wasn't the worst singer trying to be actor in this flick. That honor goes to Willie Nelson. His lines were mechanical and painful to hear. There had to have been someone better that auditioned to play Uncle Jesse. The paper thin plot line was about equal to one episode of the TV show in strength. It basically serves as an excuse to drive the General Lee all over Georgia to some VERY sweet stunts with a secondary purpose of letting us see Daisy show off her assets. Note that the boys seemingly drive all night to Atlanta to get the core samples tested but when they run in trouble with the law, Daisy shows up to save the day immediately. Just a minor complaint. Possibly most annoying was the character of Billy Prickett, the towns favorite son and four-time winner of the road rally. He not only looked exactly like Ben Stiller's character in Dodgeball, he was played the same. There was some entertainment value to this movie. I did enjoy it to some extent and got exactly what I was expecting.

Technically, IT was a good movie. The effects, the cinematography, actors, pretty much everything was objectively good. But as a horror film, it doesn't have an impact on me.

The film was definitely designed for the kind of people that go into horror movies WANTING to be afraid. It is filled with clichés and typical stupid behaviour from characters, such as choosing to slowly walk into a trap just so the audience can say "DON'T GO IN THERE!". And most of the "scary" things that happen in this movie, aren't really scary because they aren't REAL. Which is what bugged me most about the movie.

Most of the horror scenes are nothing more than a figment of the character's imagination. Why should i be afraid when a zombie spawns out of nowhere in the middle of the street in broad daylight when i know that it isn't actually happening and no one other than the kids can see it. Pennywise does prove to be a physical monster when we see him kill people, but it isn't clear what the writers of the movie were thinking when they created him. How am i supposed to believe that he can casually teleport around public spaces without anyone noticing, or that he can somehow make himself appear in old photographs and pre-recorded television shows. His capabilities aren't consistent and it just feels like a compilation of cheap scares. Like the writers used a slot machine of horror tropes to create his character.

Still, i am looking forward to the sequel just so i can see how adults would deal with Pennywise. Maybe they will be a lot smarter and spend less time running from things that aren't real. But who knows, IT is a pretty basic horror flick.

Starts very well, the way they handle the death of Boseman is very tastefully done (so many well executed emotional beats) and I like the new conflict that they set up, which is a little more grey and intelligent than the usual blockbuster, like the first movie. The new villain is an interesting character, and I quite liked the creativity that went into the design of his powers and world, but for the love of god, never show me those goofy wing boots again. From the second act onwards, the movie starts to get bogged down by the Marvel machine, i.e. the movie slips out of Coogler’s hands. It’s unfortunately forced to function as a backdoor pilot for Disney + shows and used to drive the corporate machine forward, instead of focussing on the development of its own premise and character arcs. The way it rushes through the arcs of Okoye, Shuri and Namor leaves a lot to be desired. Meanwhile, cutting/writing out Riri, Martin Freeman and Julia Louis Dreyfus would improve the overall cohesion and pacing a lot. What doesn’t help either is that the action and visual effects get increasingly worse and worse as the movie goes on, to the point where we again have an ugly third act on our hands, which includes some of the most hideous looking costumes the MCU has ever put out. Moreover, the soundtrack is kinda bland this time around. It’s not like Kendrick et al. were putting out their best material for the first film, but the music here is just so vanilla and forgettable. Finally, I’m not enitrely sure what the script is trying to communicate on a deeper level, besides being a general statement in favour of diplomacy. If it’s meant to be just that, I don’t think this is anywhere as bold as the first movie. Not that it needs that in order to be good, but it’s another layer stripped away from what made the first movie special. What saves the film ultimately is a lot of its craft: the directing, worldbuilding, acting, score, cinematography, costume and set design (underwater world looked great, much better than Aquaman IMO) are all very well handled and stand out in the blockbuster field. It has those strong foundations in place that make it hard to produce a flat out bad Black Panther film, but man does this movie also show that Marvel is its own worst enemy at this point.

5.5/10
.

This is clearly Matthew Vaughn’s attempt to shake things up and expand the Kingsman films into new territory.
It's a very respectable choice (it’s easier to play it safe, because ultimately that’s what most people want), but we end up with a film that doesn’t quite get the appeal of the franchise.
They used to be keep it simple, character driven and fun, and instead they went with something that’s too plot driven and overly serious here.
A big part of what makes the first film great are its characters. Now, Ralph Fiennes is quite good in this, but Harris Dickinson’s character is very one dimensional (and his performance doensn’t have the charisma that Taron Edgerton gave to Eggsy), and the villains all feel like they’re ripped out of a saturday morning cartoon.
It also struggles with its tone because of that. Like I said before, this is at parts oddly serious for a Kingsman film, and then every time it cuts to the villains it feels like a completely different film and it goes completely bonkers, fully embracing the camp. It kinda reminded me of the first Wonder Woman movie in that regard.
The production makes up for a lot, though. It’s very stylish, you can instantly tell that this isn’t a generic Hollywood production. There’s a lot of personality in the visuals, and the action is well staged (not nearly as tacky as in The Golden Circle), I just wish there was a little more of it.
I’d say it’s about as good as the second film. Not really memorable or something worth recommending, but it has its moments.

4.5/10

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.