If Stephen King and Steven Spielberg had a baby, this is EXACTLY what it would look it.
Ah, yes, whenever I go wake a partner up, I always aim for the neck.
A wonderful goodbye to a decaying show. After quite a few underwhelming seasons, against all odds, they gave us a genuinely funny and very heartwarming episode. Ain't gonna lie, I shed a tear or two (and not only during Sheldon's Nobel speech). They've truly put some heart into this series finale, there isn't a single thing I can complain about it. The show ended on the highest possible note.
I was prepared to be disappointed by the lack of guest stars in the final episode, but then Buffy the Vampire Slayer :heart:
Twelve seasons is a big chunk of life, and I'm glad to have The Big Bang Theory being a part of mine for this long. I will miss these guys.
Absolutely stunning pictures of a tragic event. This is frightening and scary at the same time!
John and Amanda are so bloody sassy in this film, I want to give John a big hug, bless him.
I loved every second of it, only one reason why I didn't give it a 10, if only John Kramer said Game Over at the end of the film this would have been a 10/10 !
Can't wait for a baby John Wick cameo where he kicks everyone's ass with his BB gun!
Disney brings a sensational and prideful story to fruition. Lion King is masterfully executed with its brilliance in CGI, story and dialogue. It's a fantastic film for all ages and continues to roam on as one of Disney's greatest.
This show is not wasting a second of screen time. I don't think I've seen an anime move forward so fast. Makes you wonder how massive the story must be if our hero already meets his nemesis this early on.
A fun and good animated movie. A lot of element-related jokes - that often aren't that funny. Overall really solid tho.
My personal rating:
-Plot (Story Arc and Plausibility): 6.5/10
-Attraction (Premise & Entertainment Value): 7/10
-Theme (Identity & Depth): 6.5/10
-Acting (Characters & Performance): 7/10
-Dialogue (Storytelling & Context): 6/10
-Cinematography (Visual Language & Lighting, Setting, and Wardrobe): 8/10
-Editing (Pace & Effects): 7.5/10
-Soundtrack (Sound Design & Film Score): 7.5/10
-Directing (Vision & Execution): 6.5/10
-The “It” Factor (One-of-a-Kind & Transcendent): 6/10 [The city feels like a rip-off off Zootopia]Overall: 7/10 || 68.5/100
I'm not really all that keen on Mojo and this was certainly a step down from the first three episodes, but it had some nice moments, particularly everything between Jubilee and the older copy (voiced by the original series actress in a fitting touch), but I was sort of left wanting for more, whether that was more involvement from some of the other characters or just a more fleshed out story. I never felt like the characters were in any particular peril, even when Roberto is quite literally about to die.
Add to that the oddly placed and also far too short Storm plot and I'm left with an episode that had good ideas but didn't quite nail the execution. It's by no means bad but when the first few episodes are just so good, a lesser quality episode stands out even more than it otherwise might.
Poor Nathan. I felt so bad for him.
23 years later and Mufasa's death scene still brings tears to my eyes. What a masterpiece!
Why does nobody notice a man with red eyes and claws
This movie is really crazy. Crazy awesome too.
[9.6/10] It begins with hope and overenthusiasm. It tumbles into guilt and hesitation. It culminates into self-realization and redemption. From the bird’s eye view, hornbill or otherwise, it seems so simple. Simba’s journey, from timid cub to noble king, almost seems easy.
What makes The Lion King a masterpiece is how well it builds that journey from one step to another, how perfectly it balances its tone between family-friendly laughs and poignant drama, and how stunningly it conjures the swirl of sights and sounds that immediately mark the film as something else. The core of the story is a relatable, elemental one, but the dramatization of it is smart, gorgeous, and moving.
So much of what makes it work is the two major emotional shifts in the story. Let’s be frank. Young Simba is adorable as all hell, but also a little annoying. He has to be, because this is a story of entitlement turning to humility turning to responsibility, so he has to start some place haughty and privileged. As a cub, he only sees the crown as a means to do whatever he wants, to be in charge, to have people respect and admiration by dint of title and right, not based on who you are. Simba sees becoming king as his destiny, something taken for granted, part of a world there to meet his whims. You have to start there for him to be humbled.
But more than anything, Simba is trying to be his father. He’s chasing the idea of being king, more than he’s after actually being the leader of his people. That means he admires the trappings, those childlike caricatures of what being an adult is like. He envies the freedom to do what you want like he imagines his dad to be able to do. He wants to be brave and courageous and physically powerful like his father is. Most of all, he imitates his father’s roar, to comically piddling results, a symbol of his faltering efforts to be a grown-up in the mold of his dad.
That exuberance gets him into trouble when he bites off more than he can chew (figuratively of course). It happens at first in the Elephant Graveyard, where his efforts to be brave and headstrong not only put him at risk, it puts his companion and guide in danger as well. It’s the movie’s warning shot to Simba, orchestrated and manipulated by his uncle, not to go too far too fast.
Then the wildebeests come. There may be no more harrowing scene in Disney history than Mufasa’s death. It’s striking for the visual majesty and terror of it, as a horde of computer-generated creatures storm into the valley. It grabs you as the culmination of Scar’s resentments and schemes, playing on his enemies’ deepest fears and insecurities to seize power. More than that, though, it pierces as the first emotional turning point for Simba, the moment where he loses that enthusiasm and replaces it with guilt.
Because he blames himself for his father’s death. We feel for him in the moment where he begs his dad to wake up, where he calls out for help that will never come, where he crawls under his dad’s giant paw for one last sense of security and protection. It hurts that much more from what Scar instills in him -- the belief that this was his attempt at being a king gone wrong, that his same well-intentioned but misguided zeal brought down the parental figure he was imitating. So he runs away from what he once coveted, out of a belief that he’s no longer fit for it.
That makes The Lion King sound like an abject tragedy and, in fairness, parts of it are! There is something conspicuously operatic and Shakespearean about the tale, with some subtle Hamlet shout outs in play. But that highfalutin description belies what a fun and delightful movie this is. For a film grappling with such weighty ideas as the death of a parent and what it means to assume their legacy and rediscover your identity, it is also a hilarious, energetic, and thoroughly enjoyable romp.
Much of that can be attributed to the murderer’s row of spritely side characters and absolutely stellar performers. Rowan Atkinson’s Zazu flies about with his stuffy demeanor, the perfect fodder for aghast reactions to the latest dose of tomfoolery. Whoopi Goldberg, Cheech Marin, and Jim Cummings make for an uproarious trio of hyenas, who’s nippy dynamic with one another livens things in the henchmen department. Robert Guillame’s Rafiki has all the playful, kooky mentor energy the picture needs. And the combination of Nathan Lane’s used car salesman of a meerkat and Ernie Sabella’s pungent but kind-hearted warthog makes for a vaudevillian pairing to rival any other.
The unforgettable contingent of supporting characters extends to the yin and yang of the lion world in the movie. James Earl Jones is iconic as Mufasa, mixing the supreme dignity and nobility of his role as a monarch with a warmth and playfulness that makes him engaging as a father figure. That combination allows us to understand why Simba admires his dad, but also why he loves him. On the other end of the spectrum though, Jeremy Irons’s Scar becomes one of Disney’s very best villains. His foppish unctuousness and droll wit make him a vital part of the movie’s humor and personality, but when needed, he can slip into pure menace and manipulation, making him the negative image of his brother and the perfect antagonist for his nephew.
He fits the movie’s needs as a villain so well because his rise to power represents a disruption of the vaunted circle of life. You’d have to be covering your ears during the boffo opening number and rifling through your popcorn during Mufasa’s speech to his son about the importance of that cycle. It represents the ethos of the movie, that to be a part of that neverending process is not a right, it’s an honor, one that should humble and restrain you, rather than give you license to take what you want from it.
That is Scar’s great sin as the feature’s archenemy. He overtaxes that cycle, feeding ravenously upon it with his hyena co-conspirators, until the other animals under his care leave and the land deadens in their wake. His self-centered desire for power and satiation is a violation of that natural covenant, the one Mufasa understood and tried to instill in his son.
But Simba’s related yet distinct sin is absenting himself from that cycle and the responsibilities that come with it. He refuses the call, choosing to live (and, not for nothing, eat) apart from it. The midpoint of the film is a comic stretch, where Timon and Pumba’s antics are at their zenith. At the same time, though, they represent Simba shirking his responsibilities, compartmentalizing and his past rather than dealing with him. It’s an implicit but passive rejection of what his dad tried to impart to him when they gazed out on the savannah together.
Who can blame him for being distracted by the savannah though? Independent of the great character journey the movie puts forward, it is just an unmitigated feast for the eyes. The film makes glorious use of color, from the sun-drenched golden hues of Simba’s presentment, to the dusky pinks and purples of a land at rest, to the dark blue glow of the night sky where fallen kings rest. The light and shadow has a purpose here, representing devastation and damnation in the grayscale state of Pride Rock under Scar and the fires that erupt there, balanced by a cleansing rain that gives way to the same brightened beacon that once marked Simba for his destiny from above. The animators and design team outdid themselves in pure scenic and atmospheric beauty throughout.
So did those who worked on the animals and, for lack of a better term, camera work here. Each animal not only moves with such primal grace, but is meshed with expressive faces and more human gestures that find the right midpoint between realness and exaggeration. By the same token, there’s some tremendously impressive cinematography here, like the Vertigo-esque zoom when Simba sees the wildebeests on the horizon and the swirling pan as Scar taunts his nephew about his terrible secret. There’s a dynamism in movement, both in the figures on screen and the invisible camera capturing them, which makes this one a treat for its imagery alone.
The same goes for the film’s impressive score. Hans Simmer’s sumptuous score, suffused with traditional African melodies and voices, adds emotion and a sense of mythicness to so many moments. There’s a spirituality to this film in moments big and small, from a simple glance at the stars to a beatified image of Mufasa projected from the sky, and the score is greatly responsible for that feeling. At the same time, the film’s boppable tunes, penned by Tim Rice and Elton John, make a big impression. Even the movie’s only real dose of cloying, on-the-nose sap, “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, is bookended by amusing intros and outros from Timon and Pumba. With instant classics like “Circle of Life” and “Hakuna Matata”, both the instrumental and lyrical parts of the soundtrack shine.
The depth of feeling conveyed by the music helps strengthen the other, equally-significant emotional turn Simba makes in the second half of the film. Having given off the life of the crown prince and retreated to a life of freewheeling hedonism, Simba must regain his identity after growing up without his father, carrying the shame of the calling he deems himself unworthy of and unsuited for. Years in the jungle with his meerkat and warthog buddies have acclimated him to a more carefree life.
That is, until Nala arrives and provides the shock to his system he’s been avoiding for years. What follows is a challenge from her, a playful but spiritual lesson from Rafiki, and a communing with Mufasa that shakes Simba from his stupor. These three figures in his life, representing the future, the present, and the past, challenge him to confront his trauma, to grow from it, and to reassert himself as not just the rightful king, but the person his father knew he could be.
That means challenging Scar and, inevitably, exposing the dastard’s secret plots and manipulations. The ensuing skirmishes among lions and hyenas are just as visually stunning, while mixing in enough slapstick to keep things light enough for the kiddies. The back half involves mirrors and echoes of the first, from Nala’s questions about what Simba’s mother would think, to Mufasa’s promise of guidance from above coming true, to Scar facing a different outcome to his cliff-dangling murder attempt. There’s something satisfying in this call and response, helping track the change of generations and the difference between where Simba starts as a person and where he ends.
That journey is, ultimately, more compelling that the simple avenging of his father or reclaiming of the throne. It’s what those acts represent that moves the audience and powers The Lion King. It is the consequence of Simba accepting those responsibilities, of making peace with his guilt and insecurities, and of living up to what so many hoped of him. It is no coincidence that his crowning moment is to let out a proud and mighty roar, a sign that he’s become the real, wiser and nobler version of the king he so fancifully imagined when he was a cub.
That wisdom comes from understanding. Before he could become that worthy leader, he had to come back from loss and psychological hardship that would stymie the best of us. Before he could be humbled and chastened by such pains, he had to start from a place of naivete, to have unrealistic and immature visions of what wearing that crown means. So when he does follow in his father’s footsteps, which he can now fill out, he understands his place at the head of the pride as one of duty, rather than of privilege, and his place within the circle of life rather than apart from it.
The movie reaffirms that with the closing moments that mirror those that began the film -- the birth of Simba and Nala’s daughter. It’s the ultimate vindication that this cycle continues, beyond Mufasa, beyond Simba, beyond any of them, through a line that nevertheless connects them all.
With that final bow, The Lion King cements itself as a masterpiece and one of the crown jewels is the DIsney Canon. So affecting is its story, so entertaining are its players, so stirring are its visuals, that it’s hard to even settle on what the movie’s best feature is. And yet, it all stems from something so seemingly simple -- hubris and loss and recovery and self-actualization -- done up in such wondrous tones. It gives us a hero running from his responsibilities, until they heal him, his home, and the cycle he rejoins once more.
so relatable, i have mad anxiety and has been the major cause of me stressing over my studies and stuff so it's really nice to see my favourite fictional character going through the same thing as me
I give it a 7 die to the cool references. The videogame being in the shape of a Sega Genesis with the cartridge having the same artwork of the X-Men game was perfect, but it was spoiled by calling it "Motendo?. What? Should be Monesis. Writers are clueless to the amateur mistake they made. Looks like they are zoomer phonies trying to write 90s inspired story and not doing their homework.
The videogame inspired soundtrack was on point. Roberto's Portuguese lines were cheesy and cringe as hell. No Brazilian would say al those lines in succession like that. He sounded like an alien trying to pass as a human.
Less cringe character on this episode was Mojo, and that's saying a lot.
Also it wasn't clear what Spiral was up to. Is she back with Mojo, was she saboiting the game? Not a clue.
Also it was really predictable they were going to kiss at the end, since they made sure to let us know Jubilee was now 18. Heaven forbid a teenager kissing someone, tight Hollywood?
Anyways "Days of Future Past" artwork almost made all this go away and earned a grade of 7 for me. That was the best part of the episode. Without that my rate would go to somewhere near 4.
Shit's getting real and I can't wait to see where this will go. Though this ep felt short it was powerful.
Oh come on, Murray. Do I look like the kind of clown that could start a movement?
- Arthur Fleck
Oh what could have been. For me Heath Ledger will forever be the ultimate Joker, but Joaquin did his friend proud with a great performance. To bad the rest of the movie was a slow moving train wreck.
:clown::police_car::bomb::tram:
It's basically just a recap of season 2 and 3.
I am SO bothered by the bowl of udon Tanjiro dropped and the way Muzan carried his daughter. I am so excited to see more of Muzan Kibutsuji!!!
I adored this episode ! It felt just extremely compelling on it's treating of Stolas character and how it explained a lot of questions and hint they gave us in season one. He' s even more tri dimensional than before and I'm loving it. While he do have a lot of flaws, he still reflect on, and try to fix them. Seeing Stolas finally reacting to Stella's costant abuses was worth the wait. I'm truly amazed by how the subject of domestic abuse with the man as the victim was treated with such empathy, without the man in question being ridiculed or the abuse itself minimized just because perpetrated by a woman. I feel like it's never depicted enough in mainstream media. Seeing it portrayed like that in a popular serie was a breath of fresh air...
While Helluva Boss starts out as a comedy, these extremely realistic and dramatic moments remind us why (maybe) so many people fell in love with this serie: the team is not afraid to handle heavy topics, and they doesn't treat them as cheap Family Guy like gags either.
The characters are so well built in their flaws and goods that they feels real. Stolas writing feels extremely mature and realistic, especially how he feels crashed by social expectations, and how his handle of the situation keep worsening, just like a problem so big will do in real life. His relationship with imps as a whole feel more deep than just a simple liking. Imps seems to have taken an important role for him his whole life : starting with the imp doll he carried with him since he was just an egg (as we can see in the paintings) to the imp butler being closer to him than his actual dad. While he do involountary treat imps in a paternal way due to the environment he grew on, he seems to be more comfortable around them than around his own people, as we can see in Loo Loo Land and at The Harvest Moon Festival vs In The Circus during Stella's party. He probably feels safe around imps, making his love for Blitz even stronger and deeper than just a childhood crush. I've seen people complaining about the childhood friends trope, but they don't seems to realize that this is actually playing with and twisting the trope : not only it serve as a mirroring to their adult relationship (Blitz entering Stolas life with the sole purpose of stealing from him, realizing afterwards that he isn't that bad of a company after all) while showing us they do have chemistry, it also break the trope by making them met for just one day, and then completely rebuild their relationship after 25 years. Stolas doesn't even remember his name ! this isn't a normal childhood friends trope.
Stella's villainous personality was even more enforced : they gave hints about her in Loo Loo Land during Octavia/Stolas talk, and this episode just confirmed it out loud and I'm loving how her characterization is going. I can't wait to find more about her past and what kind of relationship she and Stolas have with Andrealphus.
Stolas' song was extremely saddening and heart felt. Bryce singing it with a broken voice, like he was actually crying, was extremely fitting for the performance. Helluva Boss is doing great so far, I can't find an episode I really disliked. Can't wait for the next ones !
this was quite humorous. if the whole season was this level it'd be worth watching. at least it's only 20 minutes for 5 episode wasted.
