Are the Saxons immigrants or settler-colonialists? Are the Ilse of the Dead's prisoners a desperately oppressed, starving underclass or deranged cannibals? Societies without shared human rights or social services are all Catch-22!
All our suspicions about Other John & Other Jane are confirmed! They were always meant to kill John & Jane -- the first time just unexpectedly didn't work out.
Jane had one bullet left at the end but there were three shots fired when she confronted Other Jane outside the Panic Room, which sounds grim. But if they want another season, Jane got hold of Other Jane's gun, shot Other Jane, possibly Other John again.
John's mom knows more about life than any of these other people.
I'm still mad about Max.
Without doubt, this episode made me want to see more of Michaela Coel's Bev: She whirls from vulnerable to dangerous to puckishly charming so fast it made my head spin.
We race through another gorgeously-photographed locale (Lake Como), spend time with another legendary character actor (Ron Perlman), and consider yet another way in which the the mercenary marrieds' life goals are misaligned.
But, really, should two professional killers with few moral limits and dubious loyalties ... have kids? Would you want these parents?
Glover and Erskine befriend another undercover couple working for the same firm. The extra-bougie second Mr. & Mrs. Smith (the suave Wagner Maura & the scene-stealing Parker Posey) charm our anti-heroes' lives with flattery, marital humor and career tips. All this cheery, cynical banter underlines the show's mercenary view of modern life.
Excited to finally have friends they can open up with, Glover and Erskine miss multiple red flags, reveal too much, and are easily led toward trouble. Maura and Posey react with mild surprise when the younger couple survive the ensuing experience. The latter have a lot more to process.
John and Jane fly to a European ski getaway to spy on another bickering rich couple, only to become entangled in a higher-stakes fight. The subtext for both couples: To be a selfish dick ... or not?
Given the stakes, John & Jane's laughable missteps and miscommunications on this mission ought to make us worried about their longevity at the company -- or above ground. But we're only in the second episode of this spy/relationship comedy, so let's not narc them out to Anonymous Mercenary HR, M.K...?
My favorite part of this episode was probably John Turturro's drugged silent auction confession. Would have loved to learn more about those guests' dirty secrets. Turturro's is the first of several fun guest performances Mr. & Mrs. Smith features this season.
A mysterious company puts mercenaries together under cover as upscale "married" couples, in return for "high-risk" on-call services: surveillance, kidnappings, assassinations, near home and far away. Whose side are they on? They don't care! They're mercenaries. They're thrill-seekers. Besides, other career options didn't work ... More importantly: How "under cover" is this marriage supposed to get? How will "John" and "Jane" handle their stressful, secretive 24/7 partnership? Like a fairly recognizable bickering couple, it turns out ...
More layers of the onion are peeled away: Grace's backstory calls attention to the triads' victims. Alexis gets into trouble chasing a thin lead. Eileen's trip to Taiwan leads to heartbreak & a bitter, revealing confrontation.
Mama Sun's secret is out! A loyal soldier falls. Charles gets his heart handed to him. I need a drink.
We're starting to get a sense of the show's true stakes: While old Triad gang rivalries drive the action, relationship dramedy & repressed dreams fill out a much more satisfying story. Now we know that both Sun brothers want different lives than their parents have mapped out for them. And Eileen proves herself a player -- she gets more intel from asking the right questions at mahjong & the market, & from a little detective work in a mob restaurant, than Charles does beating up thugs all over town. Moreover, you get the sense that she relishes the skullduggery. Also, apropos of the title, Charles needs pointers on the language of maternal hints.
This episode sharpens all of our questions: Who's really trying to kill the Suns? Could Charles & Alexis ever possibly work out? Is Grace maybe too good to be true? Can the family ever get out of the thug life ...?
Triad soldier Charles introduces his long-lost brother Bruce to thug life, while the wannabe comic pleads, jokes & snarks his way through the escalating mayhem. This is one of the funnier episodes of the series, featuring lots of absurd visuals & witty banter.
"The Brothers Sun" pilot opens establishes a fast-paced tone of martial-arts action, quippy comedy and family drama: Assassins get to the boss of Taipei's Jade Dragons syndicate, forcing an urgent Sun family reunion. With the patriarch Big Sun in a coma, his loyal soldier & heir Charles "Chairleg" flies to America to see his estranged mother. Eileen "Mama" Sun (Michelle Yeoh) has spent the past 15 years on her own in L.A., raising hapless younger brother Bruce, an aspiring doctor/comedian. As Charles feared, the killers are right on his heels. And the sheltered Bruce is in for a rude awakening. All in all, this is a fun introduction to an addictive miniseries with lots of twists and turns ahead.
The Western Roman Empire has fallen apart. Refugees and armies flow across its former borders. Germanic warlords -- Saxons, Franks, Goths -- reign over huge swaths of the post-Roman world. In Britain, the king of Celtic Dumnonia lies dead. Returning from exile in Gaul, the late king's bastard son finds the kingdom both divided internally and threatened from without. Germanic Angle and Saxon invaders have toppled neighboring kingdoms and now encroach upon Dumnonian land. But the Celtic tribes also feud with one another, and seethe with tension between their old gods and Roman Christianity. A tough, ambitious and cunning natural leader, Arthur overcomes the stigma of his illegitimacy to become Dumnonia's defender just as neighboring Siluria attacks..
The Winter King takes Arthurian legend back to its bloody Dark Ages roots. Forget Camelot, once-and-future kings and magical swords. Forget the code of chivalry -- it hasn't been invented yet. Based on Bernard (The Last Kingdom) Cornwell's 1990s Warlord Chronicles trilogy, the Winter King (also the title of the Warlord Chronicles' first volume) emphatically places its characters in the violent chaos of Britain around 500 AD. A collapsing Western Roman Empire had withdrawn its legions from the frontier province almost a century before, leaving the native Celtic Britons at the mercy of feuding local warlords and multiple invaders. The remnants of Britain's Romanized Celts, in Wales, Cornwall, Cumbria, and across the Channel in Brittany, would celebrate a handful of legendary warriors who defended them during these times -- in particular, one called Arthur. This is the embattled figure Cornwell seeks to recreate, a revered Celtic warrior fighting a long twilight struggle to preserve his people against Angle and Saxon invaders -- in other words, the ancestors of the English.
In 500 AD, Britain is divided into many petty kingdoms, some Celtic and some Angle or Saxon. The Celts' fortunes are declining: Their squabbling kings have lost control of southeastern Britain, and now inhabit drafty hill fortresses instead of the Roman cities and villas of earlier centuries. Arthur hails from a kingdom in the southwest called Dumnonia, roughly corresponding to modern Devon, Somerset and Cornwall. He's the son of the local king and he's a matchless fighter. But Arthur's father rejects the young man because he's illegitimate. Early in the first episode, King Uther banishes his Arthur because the latter couldn't protect the king's beloved legitimate son, Mordred. Leaving Dumnonia, Arthur saves the life of a Saxon slave boy called Derfel, who'll someday grow up to record the charismatic warrior's deeds. Arthur then travels to Gaul (modern France) to defend the Celtic King Bran of Benoic's realm against invading Franks. Arthur hones his combat skills on the Continent until the deteriorating situation in Britain impels a certain druid to sail there and summon him home to his destiny. Although Cornwell allows in a few characters from later Arthurian folklore, he strives for historical fiction not fantasy. There are plenty of swords, but instead of sorcery his characters are driven by familial and sexual jealousies, ambition, ego, greed, competing allegiances and rival faiths. Nor are the enemy soulless White Walkers: They're just another tribe, with a different warlord, scrambling for their place in Britain's uncertain sun.
Note: White supremacists will be Big Mad that this UK production didn't restrict casting to white people, since you have to be pale as moonlight to play 6th-century inhabitants of Europe.
I could make the case that this story takes place only 25 years after the fall of the Roman Empire's western half, which when it was whole encompassed North Africa, attracted trade and visitors from sub-Saharan kingdoms like Ethiopia, after 212 AD offered citizenship to all free men living within the Empire, regularly circulated troops from Syria to Britain. By contrast, the close association of skin color with social status is a relatively modern phenomenon, a product of global colonialism & imperialism after 1492. Which I think is fair, so far as history goes.
But, more practically: Why should Black Brits be denied an acting job because of their skin color? It's acting.
Finally, Britons in 500 AD probably looked a lot more raggedy than you'd want to see onscreen: with bad skin, bad teeth, outbreaks of leprosy, tuberculosis, etc.
Let's allow a little artistic license for the sake of treating our actors right.
Per IMBD: In post-production. Expected in October, 2023
Del Toro's is simply the finest Pinocchio adaptation that I've seen. This film combines gorgeous stop-motion animation, peerless voice acting talent, a warm-hearted story to appeal to younger viewers, and enduring themes that will resonate with older audiences as well.
From the moment the Wood Sprite answers the mournful Gepetto's wish, Pinocchio dances with manic joi de vivre. Against the background of fascist Italy, the wooden boy embodies spiritual freedom and defiance -- challenging the village Podesta "Who's pulling your strings?"
Of course, as in most versions of the tale, Pinocchio's naive pleasure-seeking exposes him to manipulation and exploitation. The circus manager Volpe lures Pinocchio away with promises of chocolate and fame. Pinocchio performs as the "puppet without strings," thinking that half of the money his shows earn goes back to Gepetto. Sadly, the con man Volpe never pays anyone.
In Disney's 1940 Disney feature, Pinocchio goes from "Honest John's" circus to a worse trap called Pleasure Island. There, he and other foolish boys grotesquely mutate into donkeys, ready to be put to unpaid work. Instead of becoming a Real Boy, Pinocchio nearly becomes even more of a puppet, a voiceless instrument in someone else's hands. Thoughtless pleasure-seeking enslaves the boys. Jiminy Cricket ultimately helps Pinocchio to escape -- but his friends do not.
By contrast, Mussolini-era setting enables del Toro to develop a story with different themes. While Mussolini's rhetoric is as omnipresent in the film as in Fellini's Amarcord, Pinocchio seems only interested in its spectacle. Clownish and chronically defiant, he ruins a performance for Il Duce himself by lacing a patriotic song with fart and poop jokes. But circumstances ultimately force Pinocchio into a fascist youth camp. There, he bonds with the village podesta's son, Candlewick. Both boys long to please disappointed fathers. But life in the camp only teaches them that they love life and friendship more than war and death, that defiance is braver than fascist obedience. And, in this version, Pinocchio finally starts on the path toward Real Boyhood when he realizes that life is precious because it's fleeting. A final act reunites him with Gepetto, on a seaborne caper reminiscent of Terry Gilliam's The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. The conclusion dwells on life, death, and renewal -- and leaves you wondering what being a Real Boy means, after all. Beautiful.
All in all, I wish that I'd been able to see this version instead of Disney's 1940 adaptation when I was a kid. I might not have run out of the room midway through. That Pleasure Island bit really upset me when I was five or so ...
In episode six, Rings of Power Season One's slow burn abruptly bursts into an inferno.
The Good: Major plot threads finally knit together; the fight choreography is impressively on point; key characters take decisive, emotionally resonant steps; we're treated to some jaw-dropping imagery. I wish the whole series so far had been more like this episode.
The Bad: The final battle confusingly cuts from: 1) a pitched nighttime siege to 2) a bright daylight charge to 3) a dawn melee. Did the cavalry descend into a really shady valley, just ahead of the morning sun? The editing didn't make this clear.
The Ugly: The episode's swift, sudden plot and character developments reinforced my sense that the series has been poorly paced, overall. Instead of the meandering journey we got, I'd rather the season had built steadily toward this point.
Still, quite the spectacle.
Far from a recapitulation of the movie "Sid and Nancy," episode five takes the time to give different perspectives on the damaged couple's co-dependency, while resolving important story threads about record deals and diverging paths. The band serenades Parliament with a banned song. Sydney Chandler and Emma Appleton turn in outstanding performances as (respectively) Chrissie Hynde and Nancy Spungeon.
Well, you can tell that none of these plot elements point anywhere healthy ...
Among the series surprises, the bug-eyed, scary Johnny "Rotten" Lydon (Anson Boon) loves his mum and is quite sensitive, in his twitchy, manic way. And you love him in this episode.
I have no idea whether it's historically accurate, but the scene where the band debuts "Anarchy in the UK" for a cheering prison audience (like Johnny Cash performing "San Quentin") ought to have happened.
Through Danny Boyle's lens, the 1970s London punk scene is a vivid island of raw feeling in a drab, dour, stagnant 1970s UK. Definitely interesting. And even though I started listening to this music 40 years ago, I only today learned that Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders was on hand as Malcolm McLaren coaxed Steve Jones & company into forming the Sex Pistols.
History swings into motion in "Malum in se": Despite stonewalling by John Dean (Dan Stevens), FBI agents Lano (Chris Messina) and Magallanes (Carlos Valdes) make a breakthrough. Judy Holback (Marin Ireland) warns us all about power protecting the powerful, contrary to blithe assurances that the "arc of history bends toward the good guys." Shaken from her dealings with the fanatical Gordon Liddy (Shea Whigham), Holback wonders how people can live without agreeing on basic matters of "right and wrong." Liddy's illustrates the point waterboarding another Watergate burglar, driving home his extremist views with an anti-Semitic outburst. Nixon loyalist & FBI Director Pat Gray (John C Lynch) flails under the watchful eye of Deputy Director Mark Felt (Reed Diamond), the future Deep Throat. And Martha Mitchell finally recovers her voice. These themes comment as eloquently about 21st-century America's divisive information silos as they do about the Watergate era.
The 10-C remind me of the heptapods from Denis Villeneuve's Arrival: Gigantic aliens initially presenting (or, in Arrival, perceived as presenting) an apocalyptic threat, who communicate via excretions and require the protagonists to go to extraordinary lengths to understand and speak to. Tarka's obsession with exploiting their power to reuinite with a lost lover is more like a mashup of Moby Dick, Wuthering Heights & Frankenstein. Book's grief & naivety just seem ... extra.
Guillermo del Toro's adaptation of Lindsay Gresham's Nightmare Alley meditates on lies, manipulation, secrets, and cruelty, with ample resonance for our era of deadly disinformation. Now (02/04/22) showing in theaters, on HBO Max, and on Hulu, this film noir is rich in finely-observed characters, moody cinematography, period detail, and homages to the likes of Todd Browning, Orson Welles, Billy Wilder, Nicholas Ray, and Otto Preminger. I got a lot out of it. But at 150 foreboding minutes, del Toro's latest isn't for thrill-seekers or viewers seeking uplift.
Season One hooked me with the alternate-history take on the space race and vivid characters; Season Two has been utterly gripping, the drama that I look forward to most each week. The Cold War initially looms in the background for "right stuff" NASA stories, but U.S.-Soviet conflict flares hot on earth and above it by season 2, episode 9.
Overall, pilot Molly Cobb is my goddamn hero, for all her faults.
Ellen Wilson, Gordo Stevens, Dani Poole, Tracy Stevens, Margo Madison & Aleida Rosales' dilemmas constantly grab me. The Baldwins are like your parents, when you get to know their vulnerabilities as fellow adults. And life would be so much more interesting if we lived in this show's timeline.
Iconic: Finally, Sam Wilson seizes his destiny. Anthony Mackie's Sam is a credible Black Captain America for the 2020s: relatable, charismatic, empathic, strong, rooted in community. Isaiah Bradley's example and warning remind us what Sam's up against. By contrast, John Walker represents a cautionary tale about U.S. insecurity, vindictiveness, dishonesty, white privilege, authoritarianism.
Mixed feelings: In so many other areas, I just don't know what the series is trying to do. National governments mistreat minorities, cut displaced people. Borders cut people off from homes, work, resources. Americans, former Sokovians, Madripooris, even Wakandans all seem primarily concerned with their own. The intergovernmental GRC may be doing as much harm as good. So criminals like the Power Broker swoop down on refugees. Yet the refugee-saving Flag Smashers are portrayed as terrorists, a move that seems to sweep all the problems with national governments under the rug. (The source material's related dismissal of warnings about nationalism seems short-sighted, at best.) The Winter Soldier's atonement story almost seems like it deserves a separate series. And Sharon Carter's transformation just isn't adequately explained.
The psycho-social horror of "Them" is wrenching, terrifying, and surreally real. It's like "Get Out" mixed with elements of "Beloved," "The Hills Have Eyes," "The Shining," "Carrie," and the opening scenes of HBO's "Watchmen." Despite the Jim Crow-era setting, we all know that the rabid hatred on display here remains part of American life (think of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice, George Floyd, etc). The mythical backstory of twisted faith is … suggestive.
Warning: Potentially retraumatizing scenes of terrorism, murder, torture, beatings, sexual assault, blackface, microaggressions.
