The Pilgrim's Podcast: Recent Episodes
Allan Long, Hannah Long, C.S. Lewis
In this episode: The Patriarch thinks about opening a restaurant, we talk about the 10-year history of the MCU, who we ship with Captain America, false advertising, the Thor Detour, the lack of humanity in superhero movies, and why Hulk loses to Thanos.
In the first episode written by the Patriarch, we talk about our favorite movies we saw in 2017 and whether Hugh Jackman is planning to indoctrinate us all.
Everyone may be talking about Mad Max: Fury Road, but the road trip has long been a staple of Western storytelling, from The Odyssey to The Hobbit to Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure. Without further ado, here are my top five examples of the genre:
It Happened One Night is one of the finest road trip romances, and the template for many a romcom thereafter. It starred Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert as a pair of reluctant fellow travelers, on their way to the Big Apple. He's a failing journalist; she's an heiress on the run. When he discovers her secret, they strike a deal: he'll ensure she gets to New York if she'll let him have the story. Inevitably, once the two begin to overcome their prejudices, love finds a way. Made in 1934, the film has held up incredibly well - notably, it won five Oscars (Best...Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, Writing), and even now has a 98% positive rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Gable and Colbert are at the top of their powers, imbuing the witty dialogue with a genuine chemistry.
Midnight Run may be the closest thing to Mad Max on this list, but it is probably rated R for a different reason (MM's foul language is minimal, its violence extreme; MR's language is, to put it mildly, salty, but its violence buffoonish.) Robert De Niro plays Jack Walsh, a hard-nosed, taciturn bounty hunter who is saddled with a moralizing confidence trickster (Charles Grodin). It's hard to believe this was De Niro's first foray into comedy, since his rapport with Grodin is the stuff of legend. But on the other hand, neither part really requires the two to stretch themselves - they're playing the archetypes for which they were known, and they're playing them straight. Given the cleverness of the script and the sheer talent involved, the result is magic. My review.
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World may not be the world's best road movie, but it's definitely the world's most road movie. I won't attempt to name the entire cast, but the sheer size is staggering. Nearly every big name in comedy has a cameo in the huge group of people chasing $350,000 in stolen cash. It's a hilarious, ridiculous, overblown ride.
By contrast, The Straight Story involves no car chases. Its protagonist is Alvin, an old man who wants to visit his ailing brother. As it works out, he has no car, so he decides to make the 260-mile journey on his lawnmower. It's a laconic, leisurely film which allows Alvin to pass through the lives of a dozen fascinating strangers and forge meaningful encounters with each of them (notably: without becoming saccharine.)
Mr. Bean's Holiday is the creative apex of Mr. Bean's on-screen life. In the tradition of the great silent film stars (Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd), Rowan Atkinson's Bean does best when he doesn't have to say a word. This is facilitated by transporting his selfish man-child self to France, where he has a series of madcap adventures en route to Cannes.
So over to you - what are the best road movies out there?
Hannah Long
What we did on our summer break, Washington D.C., what's going on now, and a bit of talking about North by Northwest and what makes a Hitchcock movie a Hitchcock movie.
This movie is a peculiar thing. It's the first time the Star Wars film franchise has stepped away from the main saga, but it's still very much concerned with the same set of events that occupied the Skywalker twins.
Nevertheless, Rogue One is very much a product of its time. While the original series drew on a mythic conception of war, Rogue One has a much more modern take on conflict and the toll it takes. If A New Hope was about World War II, Rogue One is about the War on Terror. Instead of clearly-drawn moral lines and an archetypal battle of good against evil, we get a gritty war of attrition, avoiding hopelessness by the slimmest of margins.
Our protagonist is Jyn Erso, a petty criminal, recruited by the Rebel Alliance to track down her father. Galen Erso is an imperial scientist working on the Death Star, forcibly separated from his daughter many years before. (What's the Rebel Alliance? What's the Death Star? The Empire? Who's fighting whom? You have to know your Star Wars to make sense of all this, as this movie is even more meta than The Force Awakens.)
Galen has hidden a fatal weakness at the heart of the Empire's weapon. It's up to Jyn to find her father, obtain the plans for the weapon, and identify the weakness, thereby making possible the plot of A New Hope.
Jyn is joined by Captain Caspian - sorry, Cassian Andor and his partner, K-2SO, who functions as a cross between Chewbacca and C-3PO. A rogue imperial pilot and two vigilantes, (Bodhi Rook, Chirrut Îmwe, and Baze Malbus respectively) are the other members of the Rogue One team.
Got all that straight? Well, me neither. I had to google most of the character names after watching Rogue One, and that pretty much summarizes the film's greatest weakness: its characters. Rogue One is full of non-entities, vague character sketches adhering to only the barest of archetypes. The feisty orphan heroine. The morally ambiguous captain. The hyper-efficient warrior priest. They feel like the cast of a typical heist flick, but while, in that genre, we usually learn the motivation of each character, here we get little to nothing.
Even Jyn's motivations remain mysterious. Her main reason for joining the team is to find her father, but why she then risks her life to defend his principles is never explained. We always assume she's going to help the Rebellion, and there is no real question as to what decisions she will make. This lack of conflict means the first half of the movie feels predictable and rote.
As for Cassian, he's just here to demonstrate War is Complicated. When we first meet Cassian he's rendezvousing with an informant in a seedy part of town. He ends up murdering the grass and fleeing the scene. When, later, he joins Jyn's quest to find her father, he's really planning to assassinate Galen Erso for the Rebellion. Why does he decide not to do this? No idea. He's an utter blank of a character: more immoral than Han Solo and with none of the spark or charm.
That could describe most of the other characters (and the film itself). While Luke Skywalker lived a carefree life on the Outer Rim, these people exist directly under the Empire's sway. Their world is brutal and chaotic, torn by violence that calls to mind Middle Eastern guerrilla warfare. Cloaked and masked rebels fight storm troopers in tight, sandy streets. The line between the Rebellion and the Empire - so clear in the original trilogy - is here blurred and ambiguous. The Force mostly presents a way to efficiently slaughter enemies. The magic and spirituality of the original trilogy is missing, replaced by a calculating, strategic approach to the war. This is a film about soldiers; A New Hope was a film about priests.
(Spoilers below)
By the end of the movie, that fact is clear. And it's by becoming a war film instead of a heist film or a fantasy that Rogue One finds its purpose at last. The final third is a satisfying, intense battle sequence that ends with a pulse-pounding, suspenseful relay race through a violent corridor.
The last scene drives home just how much the Rebellion has placed its trust in a desperate gamble - a fool's hope. As Jyn notes, "rebellions are built on hope," and that concept was always Rogue One's strongest theme. Galen Erso, working away in the heart of the Empire, quietly placing a flaw in the Death Star's design. Jyn Erso, sneaking into an Imperial facility to steal the plans - helped every step of the way by the sacrifices of her companions. Ultimately: the faceless rebels who desperately shove the plans into the hands of Princess Leia. G.K. Chesterton once wrote "Every man is important if he loses his life" - and that goes for dull, one-dimensional characters as well.
The fulfillment of the film's strongest theme, along with a gutsy ending, saves Rogue One from mediocrity, but between its weak characters and reliance on intertextuality, it relies too heavily on tired blockbuster conventions. The Force Awakens' characters were underdeveloped, but they're Shakespearean compared to these cardboard cutouts. Rogue One's hat-tips to the original trilogy were more like blaring signs - Look! Blue Milk! - and the CGI necromancy was entertaining but a little creepy. It's a movie that clumsily attempts to fill in the blanks in the plot, but only seldom does so in a way that illuminates and enhances the rest of the series.
Jon Pertwee's Doctor observed that "a straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting." The challenge for Rogue One, then, was to tell a story with a known end and a known beginning, and endeavor to avoid making the journey a straight line. It tries its best, but while it's an interesting change in genre for the franchise, Rogue One is still too predictable a journey from A to B.
Hannah Long
The long-awaited return of the Pilgrim's Podcast! This week, we're talking about La La Land, dreams, love, and what's up with the Long family. Also joining us: special guest, Smudge.
After a brief discussion of politics and Batman, we jump into a review of Mel Gibson's new film Hacksaw Ridge and how it handles pacifism, conscience, violence, and point of view.
The Pilgrim's Podcast takes to the road to discuss zombies, violence in movies, Jane Austen, and the art of adaptation.
CIVIL WAR! The entire family joins in to talk about the latest addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe: Captain America: Civil War. Find out who's #TeamCap or #TeamIronman, why Tony Stark needs to give up his super-suit, what makes Spiderman the awesomest, as well as discussion on force and law in a civilized society and a fan theory on the Winter Soldier's true motivations. All this and more in the thirty-ninth episode of The Pilgrim's Podcast.
We talk about Trump and Hillary, constitutionalism, Christianity, Hamilton, A Tale of Two Cities, and scary movies - featuring our first guest, Scott Ott of BillWhittle.com.
We talk about Forrest Gump, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and Adam’s Apples (Adams æbler), as well as wish fulfillment, holy fools, the decline of Stars, platitudes, and immortality.
"The heroine of many a modern novel writhes and reels her way through the story, chews and flings away fifty half-smoked cigarettes...goading every mood to the verge of madness...dashing to the druggist and then collapsing on the doorstep of the psycho-analyst; and all the time congratulating herself on her rational superiority to the weak sensibility of Jane Austen."
~G.K. Chesterton
Honor and sacrifice, wisdom and emotion, modernity and gender roles in Sense and Sensibility, a 90's adaptation of Jane Austen's novel, featuring a sparkling cast which includes Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant, and Kate Winslet. Also: dating advice from Jane Austen - and a Christian approach to emotion and reason.
We talk about one of my all-time favorite films: A Man for All Seasons, the imminent end of PJTV's Trifecta (one of our favorite things), gay weddings, religious freedom, the need for belief, and Taken.
This week, we talk about Merle Haggard, cussing, Rogue One, communism, John Adams, the law, and Bridge of Spies.
Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice is the cinematic equivalent of a nineteen-year-old atheist putting down "Nihilist" as his religious affiliation on his Facebook. Whoa. So edgy, bro. The grimmest superhero movie since The Dark Knight, Batman v. Superman shares much of the earlier film’s cynicism about both God and Man, and like its immediate predecessor, Man of Steel, it overtly embraces theological language and symbolism, playing with the concepts of God, power, and responsibility. It revolves around a distinctly democratic question, one for our times: can we trust God when he has all the power? And if a man has God-like power, how, then, must we treat him? Worship or crucify? Crown with thorns or coronets?
Unfortunately, it handles this question with all the grace of a sledgehammer.
First of all, God. It’s hard to really get a handle on Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, the chisel-jawed hero who saved Earth from alien invasion in the previous film. He’s handsome and suave, flies around with panache, and is generally a complete blank of a character. The world sees him as an Olympian hero and erects statues of a great muscled form condescending from on high to save humanity. It’s no accident the film came out on Good Friday: it includes a sequence of Superman lifted up amid death-masked worshippers, a perverse resurrection. It seems less like gratitude and more like a cult.
Because simple heroism doesn't exist anymore, worship begins to turn to suspicion. In the aftermath of the destruction caused by Superman’s initial rise (narrative cruelty in the first movie much maligned by film critics), people are beginning to question whether he really is such a Boy Scout. Can the people trust him to handle his power rightly? What defense can we have against him?
In humanity’s corner is Ben Affleck (who's terrific) as Batman. An older, weathered dark knight, he traffics with gangsters, thieves, and terrorists to track down the red-caped god. Unlike Superman, his origin is in tragedy, a fact emphasized from the first moments of the story. Bruce Wayne’s childhood was brought to an abrupt end with two gunshots in an alleyway—an ignominious and meaningless crime that erased the lives of his parents. Young Bruce, screaming, crumples to the ground beneath a billboard promoting Excalibur, his destiny bequeathed to him as one untimely born—not as a man of maturity, but as a boy prematurely bereaved. (Contrast with Superman, who was raised by loving parents and therefore still maintained beliefs in destiny and meaning.)
Forged in tragedy, this hero has a massive chip on his shoulder and a settled cynicism about blithe, clean-shaven heroes like Superman. Jesse Eisenberg (who is not terrific) as a hyper Lex Luthor is just as bleak: “Devils don’t come from hell beneath us. They come from the sky.” When asked to introduce himself, Luthor says he is…“just a man.”
These are all reasonably interesting issues, but the movie really has no idea how to deal with them. We're Americans, so we have to start with politicians attempting to rein Superman in (cuz democracy). That solution is playing around with, and then dropped abruptly (Mrs. Incredible gave it her best go, quoting Ian Malcolm almost exactly). Batman brought to bear his fists and ability to have wacky dreams that have nothing to do with the plot but do set up other franchise movies. Lex Luthor...well, I really have no idea what he does, but it's weird, and ends up being something totally ridiculous.
In the end, Batman and Superman's interpersonal issues are solved when the two of them recognize an obvious fact: Superman is not, in fact, God (just to show how Marvel is superior, Captain America sorted this theological problem out in no time flat). That this involves the two of them bonding over - should I spoil this? I'm going to spoil this - the names of their mothers is about the lamest thing the film could come up with (taking notes from Chris Carter, maybe) to solve its problems.
Maybe it would be different if I cared about the characters, but Superman is boring, and while Affleck is good, he gets very little help from the script. Other characters? Amy Adams tries. Diane Lane is there for five seconds. Gal Gadot is more interesting than either of our brooding titular heroes, but is completely superfluous to the plot. Alfred, who looks like Eric Metaxas, doesn't really bring much gravitas or emotional weight to the story.
As far as emotional weight goes, the closest thing we get is the way the film ends, which does, I'll admit, pack some punch. But not enough. Goodness and power cannot coexist, the film claims darkly. Everyone is corrupted in this world! Sure, sure. Very trendy and not terribly original, nihilism. Give me a sunset, any day. Or just a red cape.
Hannah Long
We talk about Raffles, Waking Ned Devine, Catch Me If You Can, Raising Arizona, and other heist films. Also: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
In what may be our strangest episode yet, we sing Gilbert and Sullivan, talk about the history of American musicals including Singin' in the Rain, Fiddler on the Roof, The Phantom of the Opera, and Hamilton, speculate about which modern movies would make good musicals, and talk about the sociology of music.
Today is Easter, the day Christians celebrate the defeat of death and the beginning of the end of this curse we bear. More than ever, with the specter of terrorism and war hanging over the world, death seems ascendant, but Easter is a reminder that darkness is defeated.
Reasonably enough, this most powerful truth echoes through the imagination of men redeemed and rebellious. Common grace manifests in our stories, revealing the power of sacrificial love, obedience to death, and life springing up from the ashes. While not all the films I list here involve literal resurrection (or even literal death), the theme here is of sacrifice, of the via dolorosa.
- High Noon
No list is complete without a Western. This is the tale of Will Kane, a lone sheriff abandoned by his peers to face the enemy alone. A taut piece of film-making about a man committed to his duty.
"Kane will be a dead man in half an hour and nobody's gonna do anything about it."
- Pan's Labyrinth
Definitely the only entry in the horror genre, this moody fantasy film offers a glimpse of redemption in a grim world.
"Arise, my daughter."
- Ikiru
Ikiru is the story of a man already dead. A businessman facing constant drudgery, he discovers the power of love to renew his broken life.
"Life is so short
Fall in love, dear maiden
While your lips are still red
And before you are cold,
For there will be no tomorrow."
- The Mission
The tale of two priests in the Ecuadorian jungle, The Mission mixes atmospheric visuals, heartrending music, and a powerful story of living out the Gospel in the face of adversity.
"But in truth it is I who am dead, and they who live."
- The Two Towers
The Lord of the Rings features a few of these moments, but the most dramatic and indeed eucatastrophic is in the second installment, The Two Towers.
"I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide."
- The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
Well, duh.
“You have a traitor there, Aslan," said the Witch. Of course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past thinking about himself after all he'd been through and after the talk he'd had that morning. He just went on looking at Aslan. It didn't seem to matter what the Witch said.
- Les Misérables
The Gospel in miniature, it's the tale of a broken man and his quarry: Jean Valjean.
"They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord
They will walk behind the plowshare, they will put away the sword
The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward."
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
With all its flaws, The Deathly Hallows cannot help but retain its central Christian allegory. While it doesn't adequately capture the source material's extremely countercultural view of death, it's nevertheless a dramatic tale of self-sacrifice.
"'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'…" A horrible thought came to him, and with it a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"
"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means… you know… living beyond death. Living after death."
- A Tale of Two Cities
It's the world's best-selling novel for a reason. Love, drama, death, and revenge in the shadow the French Revolution. My favorite Charles Dickens story, it has yet to receive a perfect film adaptation, but both the Ronald Colman and Dirk Bogarde versions pack a powerful punch.
"I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out."
- Ordet
Definitely, for me, the ultimate resurrection movie, this entire film centers on a small family and their various approaches to faith - from mad prophecies to clinical skepticism.
"He is still the God of old — the God of Elijah — eternal and the same."
Hannah Long
We chat about The X-Files, monsters, aliens on TV, government conspiracies, belief, fairies, favorite episodes, and our true HQ.
Top 15 Movies/Top 5 TV ShowsOf 2015
Last year's list
Movies:The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance feels like somebody's fan fiction come true - drop Jimmy Stewart and John Wayne down in a Western town, and watch them be themselves. But it's far more than just a rote Western. John Ford sets the story on the brink of civilization, as impending statehood threatens both the violence of outlaws and the wild, free ways of independent cowboys. Ultimately, white hats or black hats, both are anathema to civilization.If you think you don't like silent movies, you obviously haven't seen The Kid Brother. Made in 1927, it stars the third member of the silent comedy trio: Harold Lloyd (we now remember Keaton and Chaplin, but Lloyd is mostly forgotten.) It's a hilarious, clever, heart-warming little film which has aged incredibly well. Watch here.It Happened One Night was a totally unexpected delight. It's one of the finest road trip romances, and the template for many a romcom thereafter. Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert star as a pair of reluctant fellow travelers, on their way to the Big Apple. He's a failing journalist; she's an heiress on the run. When he discovers her secret, they strike a deal: he'll ensure she gets to New York if she'll let him have the story. Inevitably, once the two begin to overcome their prejudices, love finds a way. Made in 1934, the film has held up incredibly well - notably, it won five Oscars (Best...Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, Writing), and even now has a 98% positive rating at Rotten Tomatoes.12 Angry Men is one of those things that could have been deathly boring. The plot is this: a jury has just finished hearing arguments on a murder case. A young, poor hooligan is on trial for murdering his father. When the jury takes the vote, every man but Henry Fonda condemns the boy. Fonda dissents, pleading a reasonable doubt. In many ways, the rest of the film is a love letter to that legal concept - it's never important if someone else did it, merely whether there's a reasonable doubt. It's fascinating how each character's objections are slowly whittled down by a mixture of effects, and somehow, despite the large cast, everyone makes his small bit memorable.Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation was just absurdly fun. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's The Avengers of spy movies (no, I mean, like superhero Avengers, and not the actual Avengers of spy movies), but Rogue Nation may be as perfect as the Mission: Impossible franchise will ever be. Whereas Bond and Bourne lean more towards a Nolan Batman vibe (to continue the superhero similes), this - with its face-masks and "your mission, should you choose to accept it" - is inescapably campy territory. When the franchise tried to be something different (cough, cough, M:I-3) or take its own glamour seriously (cough, cough, M:I-2), it inevitably stumbles. Happily, Rogue Nation strikes just the right balance. Written review - podcast review.Back to the Future is everything great about the 80's: it's Ferris Bueller and time travel and skateboards and nostalgia and bad special effects and Huey Lewis and the News. In the film, the reason the story is so self-consciously about life in the 80's is because Marty McFly's an ambassador to the past, showcasing the 80's as the Future. Now, it feels like Back to the Future preserved the period in a time capsule rather than a time machine. Blessedly free of the angst of modern teenager films, it discards the common Disney Parents As Villains trope and attempts to see life from their point of view. Marty's mom and dad are almost more important than he is to the story. This was great.Mad Max: Fury Road is an insane movie. It's about a very long car chase. There are war-painted jihadis there who clean their teeth with chrome and want to go to Valhalla and women who have decided to dump the harem and hit the road. There is a guy with a flame-throwing electric guitar. Charlize Theron is the star. Around all the craziness, I'm not entirely sure this is a good movie, but I feel the peer pressure and am putting this here instead of The Shaun the Sheep Movie.
High Noon is a cookie-cutter Western, but with a ticking clock to rival The Bourne Identity's. It clocks in at 84 minutes, and takes place in (almost) real time, as death approaches, as inevitable, as inescapable as the creeping minutes. This film is seen by many as a metaphor for McCarthyism. Seeing it now, without that context, I think mostly of modern menaces on free speech and exercise of principle. The genius of the film is that it does not confine itself to particular political circumstances - and its story remains fresh today. My review.
The Lego Movie is simply one of the most creative things I've seen in ages. Not only does it take place in a sumptuously-designed, incredibly complex CGI world, but it's packed with intelligent political and economic commentary. (I find it just as difficult to believe as anyone else.) And Liam Neeson plays an Irish Lego cop who's worth the price of admission.
Amelie isn't for everyone. I'm surprised, given certain parts of it (that's a warning to remember the rating), that it's even for me, but the whimsy, stylishness, and pure charm of the film won me over. Much of this is down to Audrey Tatou, a spark-eyed, petite beauty whose parents coddled her so much as to lead to extreme introversion. But Amelie's rich imaginative life still flourishes, until eventually it spills over into real life. That's when the fun begins.
Enchanted April is a very gentle, intelligent movie about four women. They're exhausted with their lives, exhausted with England, exhausted with men. One of the four, frazzled and middle-aged but with a gift for prophecy, decides to go to Italy on holiday. It's a crazy idea, completely beyond her means, but they band together and decide to attempt it. You won't believe what happens next...The first X-Files movie is much maligned for refusing to give a definitive answer to the TV show's alien arc, but leaving that aside, this is still a tremendously fun action adventure pastiche film. Mulder and Scully chase aliens around and talk to mysterious government men in dark alleys and exploit that incredible chemistry of theirs, all with an enormous budget. Pure popcorn entertainment, and the end, for better or worse, of the good part of the mytharc.
Mission: Impossible introduced me to Simon Pegg, and I proceed to movie-stalk him throughout the rest of his hilarious career. While I enjoyed Hot Fuzz and The World's End, Shaun of the Dead has to be my favorite of the Blood and Ice Cream trilogy. Shaun is a lazy slacker, shackled to his layabout mate, Ed. Essentially, they are zombies - a fact the film makes much of in a series of visual puns. When the real zombies appear, Shaun has to get his life together to save - well, not the world, but at least the nearest pub.
Far From the Madding Crowd is not a perfect movie, but it's gloriously shot, beautifully scored, paced reasonably well and has an excellent cast. Its sense of honor and loyalty manages to undercut the more saccharine aspects of the plot, and overall I found it a satisfying, old-fashioned romance.
It speaks to Bob Hoskins' genius that he was just as perfect playing Micawber as he was an ill-tempered gumshoe, Eddie Valiant, in Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Even more surprising - that he can make you take the source of Eddie's ill-temper seriously. A cartoon killed his brother. "Toons," he growls bitterly - and you can tell he means it.
TV:
I'd heard about Firefly for ages. It gained legendary status following its martyrdom to the coffers of evil Fox executives, merely halfway through its first series. But let's be fair: it really is good. It combines the two great American genres - space operas and westerns - with a bit of Joss Whedon flair, in a thoroughly original universe. And this is serious world-building here, of a quality rare in scifi or fantasy these days. On top of that, it's headed up by the hilarious Nathan Fillion. While the rest of the cast is a little uneven (British casts have me spoiled), in classic Whedonesque style, they are all quickly established and form an interesting, varied, unpredictable team. Watch the first four episodes free on Hulu.
I mean to write more about it in the future, but And Then There Were None was one of the most powerful pieces of television I saw in 2015. It's one of Agatha Christie's most famous novels, and for good reason. This is a superb adaptation with a terrific cast and haunting cinematography.
Agent Carter is the invasion of the British miniseries to American TV: Hayley Atwell commands a small cast in this period drama cum superhero flick. The show varied in quality throughout its 8-week run, but was overall a very solid addition to my weekly line-up and mostly lived up to my initial observations, though it was too bad that the show thought it had to weaken its heroes to make way for a heroine. Is it worth another season, even so? Definitely. I'm looking forward to it.
Vera follows in the tradition of the deceptively-simple-old-lady-detective genre. Unlike Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher, Vera Stanhope is an actual police officer, and not even an underdog maverick like many of her male equivalents (Morse, Frost, Foyle, to some extent Gently), but a hard-drinking, short-tempered D.C.I. with no apparent boss. She provides a sympathetic ear to witnesses (unless she suspects them of lying, in which case it's war), but her colleagues must deal with her acerbic perfectionism. Thankfully, her incredibly cute sidekick, Joe Ashworth, is the world's most patient sergeant. They're easily one of my new favorite duos. Watch here.
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell was simply one of the best things on TV in ages. After the disillusionment of watching The Hobbit, Gracepoint, and Broadchurch 2.0 one after another, I had nearly lost faith in anything remaining true to the source material. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell resurrected my faith, and also quite a few people, in the course of its seven-week run. Magic, zombies, Jane Austen etiquette, scholarly debates, wigs, The Duke of Wellington, Faerie. It wasn't perfect, but it was extraordinary. My reviews.
Twin Peaks may be too in love with its own weirdness sometimes, but I'm willing to forgive it, because there's so much genius in there as well. The story is simple: teenager Laura Palmer's body is discovered on the beach of small town Twin Peaks. The death - a murder, as it turns out - sends ripples throughout the community, which consists of a passel of eccentric individuals. There's the deputy who cries at every crime scene. The verbose, grandiloquent father who can't connect with his rebellious son. The two crooked businessmen named Ben and Jerry. The illogically optimistic F.B.I. agent - Dale Cooper - who comes in to investigate. The Log Lady. Throw all of this into a blender with intent to parody soap operas and you get Twin Peaks. My review.
I was hesitant to watch Poldark, since most of the internet considered its main interest to be Aidan Turner's incredible six-pack abs. But while, admittedly, there's a certain appeal to Aidan Turner's abs, the show is a lot more than that. Turner plays Ross Poldark, a young veteran returned from the war of Independence only to find his family estate in ruin. A go-getter, he decides to reopen his father's mines, employ the locals, and generally be a gallant hero. As is the way of things, a love triangle soon develops between Ross, his old lover, and a new third party, but it's treated with more nuance and unpredictability than usual, and by the finale, the story has gathered some real poignancy. More odd: the show is about moral, old-fashioned people trying to make the right decisions. That's compelling.
I'm not normally a huge scifi fan, but The X-Files is more a mishmash of spy thriller, cop drama, and paranormal investigation, a more intriguing mix. I managed to miss it the first time around, because I was busy with Kindergarten, but what with the upcoming reunion series, I figured I needed to do my research. What's the verdict? Well, the truth is, it's out there. It's fun and sometimes melodramatic, sometimes a little moving, and the premise - two FBI agents investigating government alien cover-ups or whatever weird stuff the writers throw at them - is broad enough to allow half a dozen different genres episodes to spice up the the more serious stuff. And yeah, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson have a lovely, gentle chemistry which amounts to one of the best TV romantic friendships. My review.
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. had a bumpy start back in 2013, but its second season made a dramatic turnaround to become one of the best shows on TV. Now, after its third mid-season finale, it's eliminated almost all of its original problems. Chloe Bennett completely came into her own as Daisy Johnson, a.k.a. Quake. The FitzSimmons cutie-pie team has been given some real stakes, and Simmons carried the best episode of the show thus far on her own: 4722. Ward was definitely more dynamic as a villain, and even Lincoln became a bit more complicated. From Lash to the ATCU to Gideon Malick, there are a variety of new threats that keep the main characters hopping. And what a finale! The show is very gutsy and committed to serious plot development.
Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries has been hovering around on the edge of my detective viewing for some time. It's Australian, but very much in the same mold as the Golden Age soft-boiled mystery. That's not to say it isn't without its modern sensibilities - the Honorable Phryne Fisher is happily promiscuous and uninhibited by any of the vestiges of Victorianism hanging around the rest of the cast. She's glamorous, impeccably dressed, and incredibly fun to watch.
Her co-stars are sufficiently old-fashioned to ground her in noir-ish 1920s Melbourne, particularly the marvelously dour Nathan Page as Inspector Jack Robinson, Phryne's companion-cum-love-interest. Read more.
Hannah Long
[We also recorded a podcast review of this film.]
In 1927, silent film star Harold Lloyd clambered up the side of a 12-story building, every move documented by a camera crew. Obstacles abounded: falling objects, slippery edges, a clock face which slowly, agonizingly, pulled away from the wall. The climb formed the climactic stunt in Lloyd's comedy film, Safety Last and was a Hollywood mystery for years—did Lloyd really do it? Was he really that high? (He did, and it was...sort of.)I couldn’t help but think of Harold Lloyd during the opening sequence of Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, which finds Tom Cruise clinging to the outside of a massive plane (for real) as it blasts into the air. Like Lloyd’s climb, Cruise’s plane stunt provokes a sense of awe: he really did it! That's really Tom Cruise on a plane! Both Safety Last and Rogue Nation showcase a particular brand of daredevil showmanship that’s rare in this age of green screens and computer trickery. An added parallel: as Safety Last’s comedy has remained fresh nearly a hundred years later, so the lighthearted but intense Rogue Nation manages to be far, far more fun than its gritty competition: Daniel Craig’s Bond.The plot is nothing unique, but for what it lacks in originality, it makes up in execution.
A new terror organization known as the Syndicate is assassinating world leaders on the sly. The film's beginning finds secret agent Ethan Hunt (Cruise) tracking them down - he knows of the organization's existence, but without proof, he's on his own. It gets worse. When his own organization—the Impossible Missions Force—is disbanded, he must go rogue (spoiler!) in order to continue the chase. It isn't long before he's joined by his hapless sidekick, Benji (Simon Pegg), and the two track the Syndicate through a variety of exotic locations.On the way, they encounter Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) a femme fatale with ambiguous loyalties. Is she in the employ of the Syndicate's sleazy leader, Solomon Lane (Sean Harris) or is she really a double agent for British intelligence? Inevitably, events lead to both parties racing to attain a computer chip MacGuffin which holds the key to both the Syndicate's destruction and its ascendancy.
Christopher McQuarrie (who both wrote and directed the movie) excels in creative problem solving. For a film of its kind, Rogue Nation manages to be extraordinarily unpredictable. McQuarrie balances a sizable cast, complete with several players whose allegiances are uncertain. Hunt may be airily unencumbered by back-story or personal considerations, but this doesn’t mean he has no meaningful relationships. His team is his family—a fact brought to bear even more strongly than in the previous movie. Simon Pegg does his best Martin Freeman, combining heart, humor, and an O so British panic in his role as damsel in distress. Jeremy Renner backs up Hunt in the political world, playing both sides and trying to simultaneously butter up his new boss (Alec Baldwin) and earn the trust of Hunt's old companion Luther Stickell (Ving Rhames).
And then there's Ilsa Faust. Rebecca Ferguson brings a chilly intelligence to the role which reminds me of old screen stars such as Lauren Bacall. Speaking of which, with a name like Ilsa, it’s a sure thing that the gang will end up in Casablanca (when a certain character joins the IMF near the end of the film, I was fully expecting “this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”). She's an interesting wild card at the heart of the plot—and fares far better than your average Bond girl (I'm guessing the "shoes" moment was a jab at Jurassic World). She's efficient; she's complicated; she's not just a plot device.
As Hunt races through the requisite betrayals, showdowns, and physical punishment, a theme begins to emerge: how much can one man take? It’s a cunning wink to the other inevitable thought: Tom Cruise is 53—how long can he keep doing this? The film presses the point: it isn’t long into the story before Hunt collapses from a bullet wound incurred escaping a minor villain. The franchise is nearly in its twentieth year and while, happily for world peace and movie sales, Ethan Hunt isn't showing any signs of slowing down, it’s impossible not to be painfully aware of his mortality.
All of which makes Cruise's perseverance and sheer guts all the more inspiring. The determination, skill, and commitment to his craft which he displays in this film compels respect, and—another thing necessary for success—drives his damaged public image into the background.
While some were disappointed that there was no dramatic aesthetic difference between Ghost Protocol and Rogue Nation, the continuity means that both the series and its protagonist seem to have hit their creative stride. They've found the perfect balance of wit, humor, drama, and Tom Cruise being Tom Cruise. Earlier films had as much as a six year gap between installments, but Mission: Impossible 6 is already in development. If that means more of the same, well, bring it on.
Now: what's Joss Whedon up to these days?
4.5/5 stars
Hannah Long
We talk The Force Awakens, nostalgia, CGI, and whether Star Wars is over forever. Has the Force been asleep? How do the new cast perform? Is The Force Awakens' mimicry of A New Hope an homage or simply lazy storytelling? All the answers and more in this episode of The Pilgrim's Podcast.
I think most people came out of The Force Awakens feeling a mixture of joy and sadness. For me, it was mostly the latter, but for all the wrong reasons. Here's the thing: The Force Awakens is not a terrible movie, but in a way, that makes it all the worse. It's just not a Star Wars movie.
Sure, the trappings are there. A sandy, barren planet (Jakku, rather than Tatooine). A droid bearing a secret map. Gritty practical effects and quirky aliens and vast empty reaches of space. The entire galaxy hinging on the domestic troubles of one family. Harrison Ford. Carrie Fisher. Mark Hamill. But all of these details are in new hands, in a new universe, with a new style. Ross Douthat nailed it when he predicted the movie to be a massive work of calculated fan-service, much like the Marvel franchise.
[Mild SPOILERS regarding basic plot]
In brief, the story is this: After the Empire fell in Return of the Jedi, a new Republic was established. When Luke Skywalker disappears, Empire sympathizers organize as a new enemy: The First Order (neo-Nazis, basically). In addition to these two groups is the Resistance (Why is this different from the Republic? That isn't explained, as this movie is as vague on politics as the prequel trilogy was mind-numbingly specific).
The story begins with Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac), a Resistance pilot, secreting a map on new droid BB-8, instructing him to bear it safety. The map will supposedly reveal the location of Luke Skywalker. Fleeing into the night, BB-8 is befriended by Rey (Daisy Ridley), a scavenger, and our protagonist. Poe, meanwhile, escapes the First Order with the help of a gawky stormtrooper, FN-2187 "Finn" (John Boyega), pursued by a Vader-esque villain, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). Rey and Finn team together to deliver the map to the Resistance.
Going into the movie, I was optimistic. I'd just rewatched the original trilogy, finishing Return of the Jedi that very morning, and had slipped easily back into the galaxy far, far away. It's a simply story, really. The mythology stands stark and clear, unambiguous. Shots of Luke Skywalker gazing across a barren desert to the glorious sky, coupled with John Williams' soundtrack, are moving in their wordless power.
Not so The Force Awakens. It begins with an action sequence which wouldn't seem out of place in one of the Abrams Star Trek films: kinetic and flashy, it may be lacking in lens flare, but nothing else has changed. Here is none of the elegant, airless action choreography of the previous films. The violence is grittier, leaving behind angry wounds instead of relatively bloodless black burns.
Things seem to settle down when we find Rey on Jakku, and the ten minutes spent introducing her spare existence are some of the best in the film, but they are over far too quickly, throwing us back into the chaotic violent pacing of the rest of the film. Not that this approach doesn't have its moments. There are terrific sequences, like Finn and Poe's escape from a Star Destroyer, or the first appearance of the Millennium Falcon, or when monsters chase our heroes through the cramped halls of a spaceship.
But the speed and restless camera mostly go towards distracting from a depressingly derivative plot, crippled by modern blockbuster ingredients. It plunders the structure of A New Hope, adding little of interest beyond nostalgia, CGI, and a postmodern sensibility. Despite J.J. Abrams’ promise of practical effects, CGI is still front and center. Supreme Commander Snoke (an Emperor imitator so inessential to the plot that he didn't even make it into my summary) is so obviously CGI that he’s robbed of all menace. [REALLY SERIOUS SPOILERS]..........................Speaking of which, Adam Driver's Kylo Ren makes for a complex villain, but is worryingly reminiscent of Hayden Christensen (he does take after his granddad!), and having one of the most badass characters of all time die at his hands is frankly insulting. Han Solo deserved better. Another bad decision: that so much of that subplot occurred off-screen. Because of that, it was difficult to give events sufficient tragedy. We began by hating Ren; we ended by hating Ren even more. There are so many things left unexplained here. What was Han and Ben’s relationship like? I suspect they were not the type of personalities to mesh easily: did Han drive him away? Did Han feel guilty about that? How in the world did Han Solo and Leia Organa raise a son like whiney Kylo anyway? Leia is not the type to brook much teenage angst, and I suspect any of Han’s children would have a lively sense of humor. We’ve waited 38 years: we want to know how our favorite characters spent that time, instead, we’re expected to fill in the blanks with…Kylo Ren. And what a blank (blankety-blank-blank) he is. Yes, yes, all of this is so much better than Anakin’s story, but that’s a pretty low bar to meet. The best thing to come out of this is the Twitter account Emo Kylo Ren.That said, while I saw it coming miles away, Han’s Bridge of Khazad-dûm moment still made me die a little inside. Harrison Ford's mere presence packs nostalgic weight.Before we leave the spoiler section, a suggestion: instead of another Death Star plot, I'd have loved to have seen an adventure focused on finding Luke Skywalker, which seemed to be the original direction. Rey, Finn, and Poe could go on a tour of the wilder parts of the galaxy, Indiana Jones-style with Indiana Jones.[END REALLY SERIOUS SPOILERS]The rest of the story is chalked in with recycled plot points from the original trilogy. It's easy to see what J.J. Abrams wanted to do. The flaws of the prequel trilogy have been discussed ad nauseum, so he elected to religiously avoid Lucas's flaws by religiously adhering to Lucas's strengths. This meant copying what had worked before: A New Hope. It's lazy, worshipful, and certain to make money. What do you do when an auteur's franchise goes wrong? Turn it over to a corporation which will turn out mass-produced, paint-by-the-numbers, efficient copies.
And so, despite everything, The Force Awakens is a bad movie (not terrible, just bad). Daisy Ridley is great. John Boyega is great. Oscar Isaac is great (and under-used). They're great. Of course they are. With this amount of money and pressure, there was never a chance they wouldn't be. Hollywood knows how to find good young actors (step one: look to Britain). Harrison Ford appears and does all the nostalgic things. Carrie Fisher appears and does all the nostalgic things. Mark Hamill appears, all Alec Guinness-y. But all these things are calculated and controlled to please the fans - there is no free creativity here.
It's exceedingly meta. Rey and Finn, the audience stand-ins, are in awe of the Big Three. The new cast geek out about being on the Millennium Falcon and speak in such meme-ready lines as "Droid, please." As someone who has never been very nostalgic about Star Wars, I was less sympathetic to than distracted by their fanboyish glee. Because of its self-awareness, I found it impossible to accept The Force Awakens as canon.
Yes, I enjoyed the movie. There were lots of nice moments, and while, as a fan film, it's only my second favorite, I appreciated all the nods to the original. Daisy Ridley is blessedly free of pretension as Star Wars' first female protagonist. Her relationship with John Boyega's Finn is neither condescending nor romantic - they're essentially equals, but the film isn't shoving that fact in your face (too strongly, anyway: "I know how to run without you holding my hand!") Oscar Isaac's Poe Dameron is charming and charismatic, but has far too little screen time - the dynamic between Isaac and Boyega could definitely have been exploited more. Harrison Ford obviously has a grand time walking down memory lane (but, shoot me first, I actually preferred Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on the Harrison Ford Nostalgia side). The idea of a lightsaber as a relic connecting Rey to the Force was a great idea. BB-8 is brilliant. I enjoyed spotting Harriet Walter of Dorothy L. Sayers Mysteries fame, hanging with Chewbacca.
But all the same, Star Wars is dead. Star Wars, as we know it, is gone for good, replaced by a franchise. Inevitable? Yes. But it still leaves me sad.
I saw The Force Awakens with a friend who had never seen a single Star Wars movie before. She told me this about thirty seconds before the film began, and asked for a diagnosis of genre. "It's...a space opera," I said, and off her blank expression, added, "A fantasy. A myth. A fairytale. Knights, swordfights, princesses. In space." I turned back to the screen, reminded by my own description of what made Star Wars what it was.
The Force Awakens was none of those things, and my friend must have been puzzled both by the film and by my broody silence after it ended. Around me, fans cheered. I wondered if I was the only one, and then turned to my sister. “That didn’t seem like Star Wars,” she said.
Hannah Long
We talk about A Christmas Story, guns in movies, Star Wars (no spoilers!), movie families, commercialism, God in Home Alone, childhood, and Christmas.
Anthony Valentine, who died two weeks ago, was one of my first TV crushes. Suave, reptilian, and utterly charming, his charisma swept my teenage self off my feet. Of course, it helped that he was British. I've always had a weakness for our Anglo-Saxon brethren. And even better, he was incredibly funny.
I was first introduced to Valentine through his portrayal of the dashing gentleman thief, A.J. Raffles, on DVD. The show was from 1977, and these days looks rather clunky and dated, but Valentine's performance remains a masterpiece, sparkling with wit and charm. The part was perfectly suited to his talents (Nigel Havers and Ronald Colman don't hold a candle): Raffles is Sherlock Holmes's evil twin - a genius cat burglar in Victorian England, his adventures chronicled by a bumbling, fawning sidekick - Harry "Bunny" Manders (Christopher Strauli). The two men swan about through high society, robbing the arrogant rich to give to the deserving poor (in this case, themselves), dogged by an intrepid, friendly, but stupid police inspector (in this case, Mackenzie), in stories written by a member of the Conan Doyle family (in this case, Sir Arthur's brother-in-law, E.W. Hornung).
| | | Christopher Strauli and Anthony Valentine in Raffles |
I must have first seen Raffles in 2011, and sent my very first piece of fan-mail to Christopher Strauli, because I couldn't track Valentine down. Strauli's reply remains, years later, treasured, gathering dust in my email inbox.
Valentine wasn't my last or even my most prominent TV crush, but I still remember the shock of running across him later in a 2005 Poirot episode. It was both sobering and a bit embarrassing. Elderly and rotund, it was difficult to imagine that this plump, grandfatherly man was the same person as the lithe amateur cracksman of the 1970s. But sure enough, despite the girth, despite the thick Italian accent (voices were always a talent of his), there it was: the genuine, devilish Valentine grin.
I'm not really sure there's a point to all this rambling, beyond, perhaps, an observation of how an actor, through the medium of a great character, can become such an important part of a person's life. Reading obituaries, I'm now learning basic facts I never knew: the name of his wife, incidents in his career, how he was nearly killed in the 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus. But I felt sadness at his death, even knowing so little about who he really was. Maybe that's what art does: tell a common story which connects two people across the boundaries of space and time.
This is also a melodramatic way of telling you to watch Raffles. It's splendid fun, well-written, and Anthony Valentine is a hilariously avaricious anti-hero. Watch him here play a cat-and-mouse game of wits, ethics, and custom with a fellow thief, Lord Ernest (a very good Robert Hardy). Raffles is a show based on pulp fiction, but it's also more than a little bit of a satire on the class system. In Raffles's world, good breeding is all that matters. His defense of his way of life: "We can't all be moralists, and the distribution of wealth is all wrong anyway."
And just listen to the enthusiastic greed in Valentine's voice here:And here's the first episode:Hannah Long
We talk about Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull - Nazis, aging action stars, MacGuffins, great villains, and what the movie should actually be called. Featuring the Matriarch, Dennis (a.k.a. Tacitus a.k.a. Samuel Long), Dodgson (a.k.a. Forest Newberry), and (briefly) Sarah Long.
| | | Our special guests |
Movies:
Cinema Paradiso is a movie in love with movies. The screen is bathed in rich colors and takes place in an atmospheric Italian cultural milieu, much like Coppola's Godfather Duology or Leone's Dollars Trilogy. The first third of the story is utterly enchanting, as young Toto is introduced to movie magic. The subsequent romance plot is, to me, less interesting, but it's hard not to get swept up in the nostalgia of the film.
Back to the Future is everything great about the 80's: it's Ferris Bueller and time travel and skateboards and nostalgia and bad special effects and Huey Lewis and the News. In the film, the reason the story is so self-consciously about life in the 80's is because Marty McFly's an ambassador to the past, showcasing the 80's as the Future. Now, it feels like Back to the Future preserved the period in a time capsule, rather than a time machine. In addition, it's blessedly free of the angst of modern teenager films and instead of using the common Disney Parents As Villains trope, it attempts to see life from their point of view. Marty's mom and dad are almost more important than he is to the story.
TV:
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. had a bumpy start back in 2013, but its second season made a dramatic turnaround to become one of the best shows on TV. Now, well into its third season, it's eliminated almost all of its original problems. Chloe Bennett has completely come into her own as Daisy Johnson, a.k.a. Quake. The FitzSimmons cutie-pie team has been given some real stakes, and Simmons carried the best episode of the show thus far on her own: 4722. Ward is definitely more dynamic as a villain, and even Lincoln is a bit more complicated. The central threat, as of last week, has a face, and what a face it is! Lash will be a villain to watch. This is a show I won't miss. (that said, I really miss seeing Kyle MacLachlan on a weekly basis. Even so, come quickly Twin Peaks 3.)
Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries has been hovering around on the edge of my detective viewing for some time. It's Australian, but very much in the same mold as the Golden Age soft-boiled mystery. That's not to say it isn't without its modern sensibilities - the Honorable Phryne Fisher is happily promiscuous and uninhibited by any of the vestiges of Victorianism hanging around the rest of the cast. She's glamorous, impeccably dressed, and incredibly fun to watch. Her co-stars are sufficiently old-fashioned to ground her in noir-ish 1920s Melbourne, particularly the marvelously dour Nathan Page as Inspector Jack Robinson, Phryne's companion-cum-love-interest. Read more.
Longish
We talk about the role of fate or chance in The Return of the King, symbols and sacraments, life and death, and the role of loss (of innocence, greatness, and inheritance) in the story.
We discuss The Two Towers, two big Pilgrim's Podcast Family revelations (one of which we reveal), the Progeny describes an identity crisis in Chinese, 1970s music, the true identity of Episode 12's Tacitus, and more in this episode of The Pilgrim's Podcast.
We come up with a name for a rock band and talk about the Patriarch's history as a Parrot Head. Also, we discuss The Two Towers, the Enlightenment, dehumanizing language, Islamic terrorism, WWI and cultural disintegration, what The Lord of the Rings has to say about foreign policy, multiculturalism, and the true nature of patriotism.
We talk about Ahmed's clock, The Fellowship of the Ring, on-screen violence, the importance of cohesive artistic vision, CGI vs. storytelling, allegory vs. myth, the dangers of urban dictionary, and (of course) whether or not the ring symbolizes Donald Trump.
We talk about how much The Lord of the Rings has meant to us over the years. Also: small towns, myth, holiness, the corrosive influence of power, and rebellion against God. What does the Ring symbolize? Is there a divine agency in the story?
We talk about Gnosticism, Thomas Aquinas, Christian Humanism, how modern society views the human body, transgenderism, Designer Babies, and the importance of the Incarnation in community.
We get a bit pretentious and talk about how society justifies the value of human life apart from the imago Dei, human exceptionalism, joy, sehnsucht, the Patriarch's rap career, and how That Hideous Strength is coming true.
Movies:
For me, July was a fairly meager month, but if I had to pick the movie that left the most impact, I'd say it was the interesting indie flick Marion Bridge. It's not a masterpiece, but it's a gentle, intelligent story, and a good way to pass the time. The story is about three sisters, the youngest of whom has just returned to their small hometown in Nova Scotia. The other two sisters have lived with the ailing mother for some years, and the impending death of the family matriarch is what it took to draw Agnes back from her wild life in the city. There's the usual confronting old demons and making new beginnings, but the writing and acting are accomplished enough to keep in interesting. Also note a cameo from a young, young Ellen Page.
Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation was just absurdly fun. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's The Avengers of spy movies (no, I mean, like superhero Avengers, and not the actual Avengers of spy movies), but Rogue Nation may be as perfect as the Mission: Impossible franchise will ever be. Whereas Bond and Bourne lean more towards a Nolan Batman vibe (to continue the superhero similes), this - with its face-masks and "your mission, should you choose to accept it" - is inescapably campy territory. When the franchise tried to be something different (cough, cough, M:I-3) or take its own glamour seriously (cough, cough, M:I-2), it inevitably stumbles. Happily, Rogue Nation strikes just the right balance. Written review - podcast review.
TV:
This show may be too in love with its own weirdness sometimes, but that's I'm willing to forgive it, because there's so much genius in there as well. Enter 90's phenomenon Twin Peaks, the latest installment in my latest quest to discover old cult classic TV shows (Firefly, check; The X-Files, check). The story is simple: teenager Laura Palmer's body is discovered on the beach of small town Twin Peaks. The death - a murder, as it turns out - sends ripples throughout the community, which consists of a passel of eccentric individuals. There's the deputy who cries at every crime scene. The verbose, grandiloquent father who can't connect with his rebellious son. The two crooked businessmen named Ben and Jerry. The illogically optimistic F.B.I. agent - Dale Cooper - who comes in to investigate. The Log Lady. Throw all of this into a blender with intent to parody soap operas and you get Twin Peaks. Watch it here.
I was hesitant to watch Poldark, since most of the internet considered its main interest to be Aidan Turner's incredible six-pack abs. But while, admittedly, there's a certain appeal to Aidan Turner's abs, the show is a lot more than that. Turner plays Ross Poldark, a young veteran returned from the war of Independence only to find his family estate in ruin. A go-getter, he decides to reopen his father's mines, employ the locals, and generally be a gallant hero. As is the way of things, a love triangle soon develops between Ross, his old lover, and a new third party, but it's treated with more nuance and unpredictability than usual, and by the finale, the story has gathered some real poignancy. More odd: the show is about moral, old-fashioned people trying to make the right decisions. That's compelling.
Hannah Long
We talk the cast of Rogue One, Possession (2002), historical mystery, the Republican debate, whether women should be in politics, how romance has changed throughout history, and the duty of journalists. Additionally: we act out a scene from our movie of the week, and C.S. Lewis chooses his favorite Republican candidate.
We talk Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation, action movies, the incredible stunts, James Bond vs. Jason Bourne vs. Ethan Hunt, and the trend towards the grim in today's film world.
“Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I'd have the facts.”
~To Kill a Mockingbird
We talk about stereotypes, Civil Rights movies, the White Savior trope, the importance of the rule of law, problems with the American justice system, and Go Set a Watchman.
We're back! Nosotros somos aquí! And we've finally seen Jurassic World, which means we'll be talking dinosaurs, genetic engineering, Bryce Dallas Howards' high heels, Guatemala, Trump, Chris Pratt, and more! Additionally, C.S. Lewis's thoughts on Donald Trump. This week we're joined by the Matriarch and - briefly - the Photographer.
We talk The Intouchables, ISIS recruiting tactics, the sudden popularity of courtship, whether Christians should be cremated, and planning the Patriarch's funeral (it involves Matthew Perryman Jones).
Movies:
It Happened One Night was a totally unexpected delight. It's one of the finest road trip romances, and the template for many a romcom thereafter. It starred Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert as a pair of reluctant fellow travelers, on their way to the Big Apple. He's a failing journalist; she's an heiress on the run. When he discovers her secret, they strike a deal: he'll ensure she gets to New York if she'll let him have the story. Inevitably, once the two begin to overcome their prejudices, love finds a way. Made in 1934, the film has held up incredibly well - notably, it won five Oscars (Best...Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, Writing), and even now has a 98% positive rating at Rotten Tomatoes.
12 Angry Men is one of those things that could have been deathly boring. The plot is this: a jury has just finished hearing arguments on a murder case. A young, poor hooligan is on trial for murdering his father. When the jury takes the vote, every man but Henry Fonda condemns the boy. Fonda dissents, pleading a reasonable doubt. In many ways, the rest of the film is a love letter to that legal concept - it's never important if someone else did it, merely whether there's a reasonable doubt. It's fascinating how each character's objections are slowly whittled down by a mixture of effects, and somehow, despite the large cast, everyone makes his small bit memorable.
TV:
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, which I've been reviewing here, is simply one of the best things on TV in ages. After the disillusionment of watching The Hobbit, Gracepoint and Broadchurch 2.0 one after another, I had nearly lost faith in anything remaining true to the source material. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell resurrected my faith, and also quite a few people, in the course of its seven-week run. It wasn't perfect, but it was extraordinary.
I'm not normally a huge scifi fan, but The X-Files is more a mishmash of spy thriller, cop drama, and paranormal investigation, a more intriguing mix. I managed to miss it the first time around, because I was busy with Kindergarten, but what with the upcoming reunion series, I figured I needed to do my research. What's the verdict? Well, the truth is, it's out there. It's fun and sometimes melodramatic, sometimes a little moving, and the premise - two FBI agents investigating government alien cover-ups or whatever weird stuff the writers throw at them - is broad enough to allow half a dozen different genres episodes to spice up the the more serious stuff. And yeah, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson do have chemistry - almost as much as Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell.
Hannah Long
It's 1806, and magic has been dead in England for hundreds of years. So say the estimable Learned Society of York Magicians, but this declaration is turned on its head by the arrival of a powerful, fearsome practical magician, Mr. Norrell (Eddie Marsan). He offers them a deal: if he can make good on his claims to do real magic, then they must relinquish any right to study magic themselves. The ultimatum is a massive piece of foreshadowing. Norrell's success does not allow for sharing. He's not interested in democracy (of course not, he isn't one of those blasted French Republicans, is he?)
Admittedly, the competition is not very stiff. There are plenty of charlatans, and the few that aren't are limited to merely a spell or two. It is unclear whether Vinculus (Paul Kaye) is the former or the latter. When Norrell flees his first claustrophobic experience of London society he runs straight into the arms of ragged Vinculus, who delivers an incoherent prophecy about another magician in England. Who could it be? Wisely, the adaptation introduces this second magician earlier than the book. It's no surprise that he's the other titular character: Jonathan Strange (Bertie Carvel).
Strange is performing his first simple feat of magic while Norrell is summoning up a fairy gentleman (the ever eerie Marc Warren, who has appeared in Poirot, Band of Brothers, and The Hogfather) to resurrect a prominent politician's fiancée (y'know, like you do). The act will cement his reputation as England's go-to magician, but like most enchantments, there's always a catch...
Let's start by saying the cast is terrific. Eddie Marsan, who has always looked a bit like a smug turtle, is smugger than ever here. I would really say his performance is my favorite (and acting is good all-round). He's a million miles away from his other notable roles - Norrell lacks the bluster of Pancks in Little Dorrit or the blue-collar heartiness of Lestrade in Sherlock Holmes (not to mention the wild ramblings of the mad prophet in The New World). I think his (mostly) understated performance will form a solid anchor to the series.
Meanwhile, Enzo Cilenti makes for a smoldering Childermass. Norrell's reticent servant is the real mover and shaker in the campaign to bring magic back to England. Cilenti turns up the Aragorn, sulking around in corners, propping up his booted feet on a table while smoking a long pipe. He makes for a suitably mysterious and sinister henchman.
He's about the sexiest member of the cast, who, to put it in period drama terms, are far more in the Pride and Prejudice 95 line than the Pride and Prejudice and Keira Knightley line. But that's a good thing. This is a miniseries geared towards fans of the book: those patient enough to slog through pages and pages of scholarly tedium in order to enjoy its dry wit and complex alternate history. In other words, the type to look for P&P 95. My type. Mr. Norrell's type.
If anyone was going to be the handsome one, it would have been young Jonathan Strange, but Carvel's Strange is a horsey, lanky aristocrat, stumbling around in the plot of a missing Austen novel. He romances the sensible (and certainly handsome) clergyman's daughter, Arabella Woodhope (Charlotte Riley), promising to mend his flaws and become an upstanding member of society. The whole Gothic magic thing is fun, but Strange's romcom life is a good counterbalance to the fairly grim Norrell storyline.
I'm not entirely sold on the CGI. It looks great for a small-screen production, but the simple stuff still seems to pack more punch. Marc Warren's Gentleman is disturbing, but I wonder if the effects they use to make his voice more menacing will become distracting as the series goes on (the guy really does sound creepy enough as it is).
One last thing: the Yorkshire accents are great. I mean, I'm an ignorant American so I wouldn't know if they weren't great, but I love hearing from the different bits of the U.K., and committing to a series like this means I'll be able to internalize the sound and add it to my ever-growing list of British accents to use when I'm on the run from the FBI (for instance, Broadchurch did this for Dorset, Life on Mars for Manchester.)
My reviews of the rest of the show (redirects to Longish):
Episode 2 - How Is Lady Pole?
Episode 3 - The Education of a Magician
Episode 4 - All the Mirrors of the World
Episode 5 - Arabella
Episode 6 - The Black Tower
Episode 7 - Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Hannah Long
If there's anything that can be said about this film, it's that it's by far Pixar's most emotional movie to date. Hehehehe...sorry, couldn't resist. But really, whenever I could manage to get around the sinking feeling that I was the only nineteen-year-old in a theater full of Kindergartners (and parents who brought their Kindergartners and therefore had an excuse to be there), I spent an alarming amount of time with a lump in my throat. However, while Pixar's latest film is a fascinating thought experiment, it definitely has its flaws.
It's a little bit difficult to decide whether the emotion lies in the movie or in the memories it evokes. I'd imagine it's a completely different experience for a child viewer, a teenager, or a parent, but I suspect the last two appreciate its full weight far more than young children would. It's not that kids won't like the film: to the contrary, it feels like it's designed for younger viewers, unlike Ratatouille or The Incredibles (my two favorite Pixar films.) It's merely that this story is more about the loss of childhood than the celebration of it. This bittersweet feel is similar to that in Toy Story 3.
The story is about Riley, an eleven-year-old whose young life has been blissfully happy up until the day her family moves from Minnesota to San Francisco. She had tons of friends, doting parents, a successful hockey career, a never-ending chain of happy memories, symbolized by glowing marbles.
These memories are fashioned by her five emotions: Joy (an enthusiastic Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Disgust (Mindy Kaling), Fear (Bill Hader), and Anger (Lewis Black.) Up until this point, Joy has had complete control, but glimpses into the minds of Riley's parents - where Sadness and Anger are the primary fueling emotions - foreshadow that things may be about to change. Joy recognizes the place of Fear, Disgust, and Anger - they keep Riley safe. But Sadness, that most adult of emotions, seems to have no function whatsoever. In a more typical movie, Sadness would have been cast as the villain. But this isn't a typical movie.
Once Riley arrives in San Francisco, all of her happiness comes into question. We follow her through the events of the move, her first day at school and trying out for the hockey team. Inside of her head, something has gone terribly wrong, and the emotions have to work double time to get things right. It's clever how the movie uses the emotions - you can almost fool yourself into thinking that what happens to Riley is a consequence of what they do, but in the end, you know that they are an allegory for her mind, not the other way around. But the emotions don't know what the viewer knows must happen: they expect childhood to continue forever, and memories to remain simply happy or sad or angry or fearful or disgusting.
The rest of the movie takes place over the space of a few days, as Riley's emotional life crumbles and she has to redefine herself. Looking back, the whole thing is not all that huge a crisis, but it's magnified by the drama of her anthropomorphized emotions. It reminds me of Lord of the Flies (bear with me) in that the film does a great job of getting us into a child's head. It's surprising to look back and, like returning to a childhood home as an adult, realize how small everything was, after all.
Childhood is a complicated thing. We see Riley's happiness, but also her immaturity. In the end - and here's kind of a spoiler - the resolution comes through growing up, not embracing childhood. Sadness can lead us just as sensibly as Joy, and perhaps even the other emotions - in their proper place - have a role in engaging the world wisely. Being happy isn't the most important thing.
I'm not as impressed with the film as some. It's good, but not amazing. I wasn't a huge fan of the over-colorful milieu it embraces in its Inside sequences - it felt too much like other bright children's films I've seen, and lessened the impact of the dark Outside. I didn't find the idea as original as other did, either (I'll admit, I was thinking of Osmosis Jones, a film which is probably really terrible, but the last time I saw it I was six.)
There was too much of a focus on preschool imagery for an eleven-year-old - by that age I was obsessed with dragons and pirates, rather than clowns and pink elephants. Because one could see the direction of the allegory, the story could be predictable, and I could foretell events some time before they actually happened.
On the other hand, Inside Out has tons of strengths. It's the most original Pixar film since Up, and Riley's family is the best Pixar family since The Incredibles. The emotions are terrifically voiced and animated - my personal favorite is Phyllis Smith's sullen, melodramatic Sadness, but Poehler is wonderful as ebullient Joy. They're Pixar's first female duo - follow-ups to Mike and Sully and Buzz and Woody.The filmmakers have a ton of fun with Riley's mind - I especially loved the dream sets, sub-conscious, and Imaginary Boyfriend. It's really very funny - at moments, I defied the silent theater to guffaw uproariously at subtle jokes. (Or the not-subtle ones: "GIRL - GIRL - GIRL.")Ultimately, I think the biggest compliment I can give to the movie is that (no pun intended) it got inside my head. I'm still young enough to vividly remember the confused emotions and insecurity of adolescence. These days, I often have opportunities to reflect on what my sixteen-year-old self would make of the things I'm doing now. Watching old family videos with horror just last week, I realized I have almost nothing in common with eleven-year-old Hannah. And what a complete idiot she was. And how happy she was in her idiocy! Dangit, Pixar. Inside Out is going to keep me thinking about those things for some time to come.Hannah Long
As film popularity goes, A Tale of Two Cities is a mid-level Dickens novel. Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, and A Christmas Carol have been filmed so many times that it just isn't Christmas without one of them coming out.
Bulkier novels like Bleak House, Our Mutual Friend, and Little Dorrit have been relegated to the small screen. But while A Tale of Two Cities is easily Dickens's best-selling novel (according to Wikipedia, the second best-selling novel of all-time), its cinematic footprint is fairly meager. The last Hollywood version was this one, in 1958, and it was an uneven remake of the 1935 version.
As plots go, it's far easier to summarize than the average Dickens, and with its romance, action, and melodrama, it's prime stuff for an epic film. (In fact, there is a new version in the works.)
| | | Hey! Young Christopher Lee! |
The story opens with a carriage struggling up a muddy hillside in the night. A rider approaches through the mist, crying out for one of the passengers, a Mr Jarvis Lorry. The coachmen check with their clients - it's not the handsome, sardonic lawyer, Sydney Carton (Dirk Bogarde), but a fussy banker (Cecil Parker).
After receiving the odd message ("Recalled to life?"), Mr. Lorry continues to Dover, where he informs young Lucie Manette (Dorothy Tutin) that her long-lost father, Dr. Manette (Stephen Murray) has been found alive. After eighteen years in the Bastille, he has been released to some kindly friends: the Defarges.
Lucie and Mr. Lorry travel to France to rescue him. In the process, they encounter a young Frenchman named Charles Darnay (Paul Guers), who is attempting to travel to England to avoid his evil uncle, the Marquis St. Evremonde (Christopher Lee, being less creepy but no less villainous than usual).
| | | Hey! Young Ian Bannen! |
His attempt fails, since the moment he sets foot on British soil he is arrested for espionage. The Manettes hire Sydney Carton and his more respectable colleague, C.J. Stryver, to defend Darnay, and we've come full circle.
But the plot is just getting started. A mix of revenge, oppression, and anger erupt into the French Revolution, and inexorably draw our characters back to Paris, where the proverbial sins of the fathers will spell out death for the unfortunate sons.
Meanwhile, a love triangle blooms in England. Lucie Manette must choose between the upright former aristocrat and the dissolute lawyer.
Finally, all this brings us to Carton.
I'll always have a soft spot for Ronald Colman's boatload of suave charm, but when it comes to Sydney Carton, one must look to the rascally Bogarde. He brings an edge to the character missing in both Colman's nice guy family friend and Sarandon's sulky bore. Witty, sarcastic, dissipated, desperate, Bogarde's Sydney is entirely believable as a man who's falling apart. Simply notice the way he delivers the line "Who wants to be sober?" as he throws himself recklessly into the night.
I also much prefer Dorothy Tutin to 1935's Elizabeth Allen. Lucie is still a fairly straightforward character, but lovely rather than ditzy. The rest of the supporting cast is uneven. Darnay is forgettable. Dr. Manette is sort of just...there. A handful of supporting characters don't make much of an impact, with the exception of the seamstress (I also enjoyed seeing her father
The crowd scenes are not half as well crafted as those in 1935. It doesn't have the same scope or power, and it brings nothing original to the conventions established by the earlier film. One misstep nearly unhinges the movie entirely. While 1935's final shot moved up from the instrument of death to achieve transcendence, this film instead lingers on a moment of terror and defeat.
I think this denotes a deep misunderstanding of the book's meaning. The references to Christ were hardly subtle, after all. One character wanders the blood-stained streets, musing on the inadequacy of human vengeance, and the finality of death. The line "I am the Resurrection and the Life" rolls continuously. In 1935, there was at least a cursory reference to the resurrection theme, but here it's notably absent (never to return - in 1980, Carton even describes himself as "the devil.") Despite all this, the conclusion manages to gather considerable tension, and Bogarde shines. It always bring a lump to my throat.
While this is hardly the definitive adaptation (there isn't one, yet), it's a pretty decent movie. Other versions were stronger in different ways, but Bogarde's performance holds the film together, and his danger and forcefulness drive the story in a way that no other Carton has. It's worth seeing for that alone.
And, well. Let's be honest. Maybe other stuff helped too.
Hannah Long
My review of last week's episode: Breathe In the Air
Two weeks ago my dad bought half a dozen Lyle Lovett CDs from a sales rack. For the last few days, my listening library has consisted mostly of Lovett and Johnny Cash. Pondering over the previous episode of George Gently while listening to That's Right (You're Not From Texas) made me think of odd things. What if our heroes were transported abroad (a la Inspector Morse, in two episodes), to investigate crime in the Lone Star State?
Imagine my amusement when I found Gently and Bacchus dropped into a flashy American club with Johnny Cash playing in the background (Will the Circle Be Unbroken and Ring of Fire, to be specific). They're looking into the death of Scott Parker, a visionary who wanted to be "Mr. Newcastle" (wait, I thought this was Durham?). It looks like suicide at first: he threw himself off a bridge onto a pile of trash - but it's soon seen that he was dead before he fell. It's looking like murder.
The story begins at the birthday party of Pete Magath (Anthony Flanagan). Scott Parker gives an awkward, half-insulting, patronizing speech that clearly sets up the antagonism between the two men. Scott was a childhood friend of Pete's. The third friend, Michael Woodruff (Adrian Bower), is one of the organizers of the city-wide garbage collection strikes. I thought, for a while, that the strike would provide another opening for social commentary, but for the most part it's merely a distraction to a small interpersonal affair.
To be the first proper whodunit of the series (episode one introduced a wild card villain, and there was never much doubt who the bad guys were in episode two), it doesn't spend much time introducing alternate solutions. It was obvious that Scott, Michael, and Pete had been in a fight. The details are fuzzy, but it happened. Scott - apparently - stumbled out into the night - and was never seen again. This is questioned a bit, but there aren't really viable alternatives.
The suspect list is quite slim as well. Along with the three men are two wives: Anita Magath (Emma Cunniffe) and Jo Parker (Louise Brealey). Some of Scott's sleazy creditors are harassing Jo, who is obviously Not All There. This problem is taken care of by Bacchus's merry men. He has decided to get in touch with his previously nonexistent Robin Hood side.
Speaking of out-of-character moments, I was not buying the whole drinking sequence. Must all our detective duos bond through long, rather embarrassing drinking games? Bacchus yes. But Gently, a WWII vet with a sense of professional dignity...I just can't see it. And I tend to think he would be rather chagrined, or at least somewhat tiffed (what a British sentence this is turning out to be), when Rachel walks in on this.
In general, the characterizations in this story just feel a bit off. Perhaps this could be because it's the first episode of the series not to be written entirely by Peter Flannery. For some reason, I did not find it engaging.
One thing that was right: Taylor. It's always good to see more (if not necessarily hear more) of Taylor.
Not the most satisfying of episodes. Very little happens, really. Some nasty people are nasty and stay nasty and will continue to be nasty in the future. Bacchus asks George about his MS again, and again gets blown off. Gemma is still around (here I was thinking she'd be gone after the last episode.) Capitalists are evil, but pretty much everybody else is too, except for poor gambling Jo.
Given the lengths to which George went to crack last week's case, I find it hard to believe he'd be so sanguine about this conclusion. I'm not, as a rule, against an ending like this, but when there is so little resistance (c'mon George, you can break those two guys' stories), it feels like a letdown. Corruption! Justice averted! Oh well. 'Nother day at the office.
My review of next week's episode: Son of a Gun
Hannah Long
"I hadn't really thought about it before, but that might be the problem with our whole entire civilization! Walt Disney!"
~The Patriarch
We talk about The Lord of the Rings, Redwall, Watership Down, Narnia, mythology, Harry Potter, the Freddy the pig books, danger in children's stories, and the difference between a contribution and a commitment. Are happy endings a good thing? Also: The Patriarch reads Good Night Moon.
My review of last week's episode: Gently Among Friends
Perhaps the greatest irony of Inspector George Gently is that its tragedy always stems from its basic conservatism. A thing cannot be tragic unless it is considered an anomaly. To quote C.S. Lewis: "A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line." This show has always remembered what a straight line looked like. Gently Upside Down, an episode back in series 4, ends with a young woman, Hazel, berating a failed authority figure: she makes it clear that he was meant "to take care of us, not use us." That should be the natural state of the world.
This series has spanned the whole decade of the 1960s, and Hazel was hardly the only iconoclast. But these children railing against their fathers are never righteous heroes. They're always broken, and even if they wish to transcend "the system," they still display a tangible hunger for the world before it was fallen. They hate their fathers, but want to impress them. They are not men but stunted children desiring attention.
Son of a Gun is all about such children. In an opening recalling the chaos of The Dark Knight, a band of masked robbers burst into a bank (the same one George visited last week), spattering the ceiling with bullets from a WWII Sten gun. Their heist nearly comes off without a hitch, but a boy - later we learn his name is Kit Mcdonald (Patrick McNamee) - trips a robber and the gun clatters the floor. The thieves make a run for it, escaping amid a hail of pursuing gunfire. It appears at first that the volley was without effect, but later, newly promoted Detective Sergeant Rachel Coles discovers the abandoned body of a girl, Lexie.
It's clear from her haircut that Lexie hung out with the skinheads: a gang of teenaged troublemakers who could easily be the robbers. Rachel goes undercover to investigate. Simultaneously, George is reconnecting with Kit Mcdonald, the son of a long-dead colleague. He feels guilty that he hasn't been there for the boy. Edith, Kit's mother, tells him: "A boy needs a dad, George. And if he doesn't get one, he finds his own: good ones, bad ones. You were one of the good ones."
In the context of this guilt, George lectures Bacchus again about his highly unstable relationship with Gemma. If John wants to have a life with her, he must make it official and become both breadwinner and father to Gemma's children (interestingly, in all these conversations, Bacchus's daughter has never come up). In the end, Bacchus presents Gemma with an ultimatum: either she accept his offer to provide a real home, or go back to Walter. This feels a bit unlikely coming from Bacchus, who's never been one to yearn for responsibility, and who has fought so hard to win Gemma over the last three episodes.
But both of these subplots are on the backburner. While Gently and Bacchus are around at first to help (to the tune of a Gently-ized Christmas song), Rachel is effectively the main character through the first half of the story. While undercover, she catches the interest of Jonjo Burdon (Jody Latham), a thuggish, melodramatic skinhead. The theatrical Jonjo recalls many other cinematic villains - he has the physicality and anti-traditionalist beliefs of Bane, and the unsettling nihilism of the Joker.
Jonjo also brings to mind Ricky Deeming, a gang-leader from the very first episode of Gently. I wonder if the parallel is intentional, because it is fairly uncanny. Jonjo's boys look to him as the new authority, they adore his strength and confidence. Deeming's aimless rebels saw him as a surrogate father - he commanded their unconditional obedience. Both were anxious to make an impression George. Deeming told Gently: "Your world's coming to an end, George. It's inevitable. You won't know England in twenty years." Now, merely ten years later, a group similar to Ricky's rebellious cyclists are slaughtering innocents and overturning the established order. Deeming was right: it's a brave new world, but not the utopia he envisioned, once the youth were free of restriction. As the saying goes, if you try to break the laws of nature (both gravity and morality), the only thing that will end up broken is you.
But it's not a hopeless conclusion. Those who live by the sword reap what they sow. And as the 70's dawn, the last scene demonstrates a son promising to live up to his good father.
While this episode isn't perfect, it's a definite step up from last week. It maintains the lighter tone, but manages to work up a tangible sense of danger by the end. Notably, episodes three and four were both directed by Tim Whitby, and one and two by Roger Goldby. There are less shadows, more upbeat music, brighter colors. There isn't much of a whodunit, but then, we don't come to George Gently looking for Miss Marple. It's at its best when it's a thriller, and this finale was certainly that.
Hannah Long
My review of last week's episode: Gently With the Women
It's not really a proper George Gently series until George battles evil in high places (last week, it was only mid-places). Now he must cope not only (as per usual) with corruption in the ranks, but the vast bulk of corporate crime, as well as his bickering subordinates.
After a brisk morning run, George dashes off to investigate the suspicious suicide of Valerie Cullen. All seems straightforward, but George isn't convinced. He starts to delve into her past. She's a doctor, suffered from depression, and was estranged from her smarmy husband - also a doctor. Eventually, it becomes apparent that Valerie had been investigating health violations at an old factory - a fact which many people resented.
As they dive further, investigations take them to Rachel's hometown. (I was kind of wondering if we'd find out her childhood nickname was Ringo. Cause, y'know, we're already got George and John, and P.C. Taylor certainly looks like a Paul...) While in town, Rachel reunites with the parents of a childhood friend who died from cancer (played respectively by Lesley Nicol of Downton Abbey fame, and Nicholas Woodeson, who has the thickest, loveliest accent I've ever heard on this show). Quickly, George and Rachel begin to deduct that her friend's death might not have been the inevitable tragedy it seemed to be at the time. Both of the children played in the factory when they were young, which means it is quite possible that Rachel could have been harmed as well.
Pushing the investigation further suddenly acquires a risk when posh lawyers turn up to intimidate Bacchus and George. They make it very clear that pursuing the case will lose them their careers - a real risk for John, since he has just been promoted to inspector.
On top of this revelation about her friend, things at the office have been difficult for Rachel. What with Bacchus's promotion, she will be stepping into the gap in C.I.D., and he's not happy about it. But as he accompanies her through her home, works with her more regularly, watches as she deals with this personal crisis, and (most impressively) she helps him remove a splinter, he begins to accept the new status quo.
That's important, because it's a real possibility that this could be the last season of Inspector George Gently. Shaw has said he's not interested in continuing, but Lee Ingleby is all for it.
“Get out the flares. It’d be interesting to see where it would go if it carried on into the Seventies. Bit of glam rock, I’d like to see that.”
Could we see a spin-off series, a la Lewis? And if Inspector Bacchus is a thing, would Lisa McGrillis come along as sidekick? Bacchus and Coles certainly have marvelous rapport (far more than Hathaway and Maddox), though I still have a hard time imagining Bacchus solving crime sans Gently. Losing Martin Shaw's gravitas will certainly harm the show, but I could see it working, if Bacchus sobers up.
But then again, the possibility of losing Gemma has left Bacchus more solemn than usual, and he even shows a few glimpses of maturity. For one thing, he's really starting to get a bit worried about George, whose illness is beginning to show. As for Gemma, well, Bacchus is willing, but she's, inexplicably, trusting her husband. The subplot is left hanging, and since Annabel Scholey is credited for next week's episode, I suspect the drama will continue.
At this point in the series, Gently and Bacchus have perfected a cleverly structured bad-cop/good-cop routine. It's hinted that George doesn't merely tolerate Bacchus's arrogance with suspects, but uses it as a strategy (which, in retrospect, means some of the interrogations in the other six seasons make a lot more sense now.) On the other hand, it is Rachel's lighter touch that is ultimately successful. George knows how to employ both of his surrogate kids.
It seems he's protecting both of them, as well, since he refuses to confide about his illness. Instead of using Rachel's health risk to mention his own, he merely comforts her. When Bacchus, poignantly, asks if he'll always always be around, George quickly assuages his worries. Their relationship is tested here, as John is asked to lay his career on the line to pursue the case, but it comes out stronger than ever. "It's been a pleasure to work with you, John," George says.
Overall, this is another strong episode. We all know the risks taken will come out okay because it's merely episode two, but it doesn't diminish their weight. I'd have liked to see a denouement, but I can understand the choice to end where it does. Another point: the music in this one was particularly good, except perhaps for an impromptu music video near the end (seriously, where did that come from?) Terrific performances from all - this is the type of thriller this show does best.
And hey, moon landing! #Merica
My review of next week's episode: Gently Among Friends
Hannah Long
We talk about the history of superheroes, American exceptionalism, why we should bring back dueling, the importance of Penny Dreadfuls, the disintegration of heroism, the title of the Patriarch's hypothetical biopic, Dr. Strange director Scott Derrickson, and human beings' desire for a righteous king.