News Satire Roundup: April 23rd-April 27th

Sunday, April 23 – We opened with North Korea’s recent failed missile launch test and the whole “we’re sending an armada” thing.  On Turkey, John applauded Sean Spicer’s restraint in not commenting on Erdoğan’s recent election victory before the dust settled, a contrast to Trump immediately calling Erdoğan to congratulate him.  Interesting main story on Ivana Trump and Jared Kushner, challenging the notion of them as a moderating influence on Trump.  I liked John’s point about Ivanka’s “talk less, smile more” savviness, a talent for sounding like she’s saying more than she is.  The interview clip of Jared dubbed with Gilbert Gottfried’s voice was perfect because, as John noted, we know so little about him that we can’t say with absolute certainty that that isn’t his voice (troubling in light of how much responsibility he has.)  And for a wrap-up, we were “treated” to a sexist, racist farewell montage from Bill O’Reilly.

Monday, April 24 – First up was Trump calling the ISS, with Trevor pointing out there are some who find recycled urine preferably to living on Earth while Trump is president.  Interesting story on Trump’s upcoming first 100 days, which he’s of course declared is a meaningless number to him now that he has little to show for them, despite placing a lot of importance on it during his campaign.  I’m curious why he thinks the 100 days shouldn’t apply to him specifically – did he even make up an excuse for it?  The show then kicked off a week of features on Alabama, having learned that The Daily Show is least-watched there.  Desi started us off, looking at religion in Alabama, both the good (a pastor organizing dinners between locals and Syrian refugees) and the bad (inflammatory homophobic signs outside another pastor’s church.)  John Kasich was the guest, talking about the divided nation and (more circuitously) President Trump.

Tuesday, April 25 – Trevor opened on Obama’s first major public appearance since January before continuing with the run-up to Trump’s first 100 days in office and the not-much he has to show for it.  He covered Trump’s contradictory statements on the border wall and uninspiring tax plan, with the Trump impersonator from Comedy Central’s new show dropping in to “set things straight.”  I’d say the impression was fine, but the writing was really on-point – it did a great job capturing Trump’s bizarre stream-of-consciousness rambling.  Hasan did his Alabama piece, focusing on the state’s overburdened prison system.  He met a Republican congressman there interested in prison reform – I like that these stories are finding encouraging points in places you wouldn’t necessarily expect.  The guest, Charlamagne Tha God, discussed his new book, once he and Trevor hashed out his reasoning behind his use of the term “Black privilege” in the title.

Wednesday, April 26 – Amusing bit about the “butler button” at the White House.  Trevor is right; I’d bet money that Trump presses it when he’s not thirsty just because he likes having someone at his beck and call.  Solid piece on Confederate Memorial Day.  I liked Trevor’s over-it attitude towards the whole thing, ready to counter any excuse suggesting Confederate history isn’t rooted in racism.  The theme continued with Jordan’s Alabama story, which looked at both Civil War reenactors and march commemorators in Selma.  I appreciated the observation from one man who, despite being for the march, was against shutting down the reenactment, saying that anything negative in the white community is visited on the Black community ten times over.  I enjoyed the guest, Chicago poet/activist Kevin Coval, especially his explanation of how his grandmother’s Seder stories led him to slam poetry and using his words to tell people’s stories.

Thursday, April 28 – I enjoyed that, despite being against ludicrous Wall Street giving payouts for speaking engagements, Trevor insisted that the practice could end after Obama got his fat check, arguing that the first Black president shouldn’t also be the first “not to take the money.”  We got an Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That, covering the disingenuousness of Anne Coulter actually wanting to speak at Berkeley, Trump summoning the entire Senate to the White House for a seemingly-pointless briefing, and Trump’s tax plan conveniently getting rid of what forced him to pay taxes in 2005.  Roy wrapped up the Alabama series with his segment, where his attempt to show a “different side of Alabama” took a turn when the dedicated environmentalist he was interviewing turned out to be a Big Foot enthusiast.  I really liked the interview with journalist Katy Tur.  Her vantage point of covering the Trump campaign sounded fascinating.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005, PG)

I have mixed feelings about The Chronicles of Narnia films as a whole.  There are points where they absolutely shine and, in my opinion, improve on some of the black-and-whiteness of the books, but I also feel they have a tendency to keep drifting back toward something toothless, bloodless, and a little sterile.  Too much studio interference maybe?  It’s frustrating, because rewatching them, I do get the feeling that they might have been something really wonderful if they’d had the chance to (a few plot spoilers.)

Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are four siblings evacuated from London during World War II.  Sent to live in the country with an odd but kindly professor, the children are shaken from what they expect to be a dreary, rather lonely stay when Lucy makes an unbelievable discovery:  the ornate wardrobe in the spare room serves as a gateway to another world.  In the land of Narnia, she (and later her siblings) learn that they may in fact be the very saviors prophesied to rid Narnia of the tyrannical White Witch, who has cursed the land with an eternal winter.  They are aided by the friends they meet there in the Narnian resistance, who, in addition to having waited many years for the prophecy to come to pass, have also pinned their hopes on the long-awaited return of Aslan, the Great Lion.

Of the three Narnia films, I think The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe might be the most inconsistent for me.  It has some of the best individual elements, but on the whole, it’s the one that most comes across as being a “safe” adaptation, with fewer risks taken and a slightly manufactured feel.  On the whole, the production design, CGI, and casting are all very good.  As with any film franchise of a beloved book series starring children, I think all four young actors improve as they go, but each does do a pretty good job of capturing the essence of their character from the start, especially the charming Georgie Henley as Lucy.  Iconic images from the book, like the lamppost, the Beavers’ lodge, the Stone Table, and the White Witch’s castle are all stunningly realized, and while the realistic-looking animals who talk look a bit silly in this year of pre-Jungle Book technology, it’s respectable enough for the time in which it was made.  On the latter front, the film is helped along by able voice-acting from the likes of Ray Winstone, Dawn French, Rupert Everett, and of course, Liam Neeson as Aslan.

For me, the film’s strongest points are easily James McAvoy’s Mr. Tumnus and the Tilda Swinton’s White Witch.  Both characters succeed so strongly on every level, looking and feeling as if they stepped right out of the pages of the book and conveying the clearest sense of truly being from another world (side note – this was the first movie I saw James McAvoy in, and his performance as Mr. Tumnus still remains one of my favorites of his.)  I love the warmth of Lucy’s scenes with Mr. Tumnus – the two of them shaking hands is just ludicrously adorable – and the White Witch exudes this seductive lure of power every second she’s onscreen; even though she’s blatantly capital-E Evil from the first moment she appears, you kind of understand the snakelike way she’s able to draw Edmund in.

Perhaps because it’s the first film in the franchise, perhaps because it’s the most iconic of the books, the movie is hindered by an unfortunate by-the-numbers feel.  As excellent as many of its individual parts are, they don’t always seem to come together into a compelling whole.  I have nothing but my own (biased) suspicions to base this on, but I have a feeling screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, the duo behind the Captain America films and Agent Carter, were given increasingly freer reign with the story as the franchise progressed.  While I think Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader both benefit from the richer themes they found to explore with additions to the story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe feels more tied to the source material.  There are a few interesting threads tugged at here – the whole idea of the underground resistance movement feels a little more fleshed out, and the movie tries to lay a bit more groundwork for Edmund’s betrayal – but it never ventures too far from the established plot.

Warnings

Scary moments for kids, thematic elements, and some very Disneyfied violence.

Favorite Characters: Colleen Wing (Iron Fist)

I’ve spent a few Wednesdays now complaining about Iron Fist, but as I’ve said, the series does have its bright points.  Some came from elsewhere in Marvel’s Netflix show universe – like the always-awesome Claire Temple, who I’ve already written about – while others made their debut appearance in this show.  Today is my first post discussing what I do like about Iron Fist (a few Colleen-related spoilers.)

Within moments of meeting Colleen, you can tell she’s probably destined to be “the long-suffering Colleen,” since her first meeting with Danny involves what appears to be a shoeless homeless guy with boundary issues presuming she speaks Mandarin and asking for a job at her dojo.  As she begins getting to know him and his actual identity as Danny Rand, long-lost heir-apparent of Rand Industries, their interactions are marked with him repeatedly doing what she’s told him not to do.  “Don’t come back to my dojo.”  “Don’t mess with my students.”  “Don’t pay my rent for me.”  “Don’t dive headlong into dangerous situations without a game plan.”  And yet, though this dynamic plays out numerous times, Colleen and Danny continue to grow closer – needless to say, it’s a frustrating relationship.

Which is a shame, because Colleen, by and large, is pretty great.  She runs her own (struggling) dojo in Chinatown, dedicated to her craft but regrettably light on funds since she’s focused on finding students who are serious about martial arts instead of disinterested hobbyists looking for a fad.  She also works mostly with teens and young adults from low-income families and rough neighborhoods, looking to give them training that betters their lives.  Not just a physical activity to burn off energy and keep them out of trouble, but a philosophy to ground and guide them.

Colleen’s ideals are important to her, but her devotion to them isn’t as absolute as she’d like it to be.  One of the most interesting threads of the season for me is the minor plot of her beginning to take part in cagematch fights for money.  Though she chastises one of her students early on for cage fighting, telling him that fighting for profit and personal glory is against the Bushido Code, she finds herself at the cages one night, where she starts the evening with everyone assuming she’s roadkill waiting to happen and ends it with a new badass title:  Daughter of the Dragon.  It’s hard to say for sure what draws her to the fights and what makes her stay.  At first, the money is at least somewhat a factor, a last-ditch means of keeping the lights on at the dojo, but it’s more than that.  An outlet for her frustrations?  An ego boost?  A way to feel powerful and dangerous when she doesn’t like being made to feel defenseless?  The show unfortunately drops the plot soon after it begins, so we don’t delve into it as much as I would like, but I enjoy this storyline and the questions it makes Colleen have about herself.

It also just makes for good TV watching, because Colleen is pretty legit.  It’s cool to watch her in these brutal cage matches, taking on guys much bigger than her in a way that feels realistic – rather than the tiny women easily wailing on them, she fights hard for every victory she gets and relies on superior skill and smart tactics instead of pure strength.  And once she starts getting involved in Danny’s extracurricular superhero activities, she’s no slouch there, either.  Her hand-to-hand martial arts game is fairly on point, but for me, she’s probably most entertaining when she’s got a katana in her hands.  Is she Sunny or the Widow from Into the Badlands?  No, but I still love watching her swordfight.

The Sandman, Vol. 2: The Doll’s House (1989-1990)

By volume 2, I’d say The Sandman still isn’t precisely cohesive, but things are coming together.  Or rather, its worlds – past and present, reality and dreaming, mortal and Endless – are starting to unfold, to stretch toward the horizon in all directions.  It’s clear that Neil Gaiman is setting all sorts of wheels in motion, and by the time I reached the end of the volume, I was definitely interested to see where it was going to go next (a few spoilers.)

Dream is still setting his kingdom to rights after his long capture.  Several of his creations escaped his domain during his absence, and a once-in-a-generation calamity has occurred.  Though she doesn’t yet know it, a young woman, Rose Walker, is a vortex – an unstoppable force that will unify minds across the dreamscape before disintegrating the barriers between dream and reality, ultimately destroying both.  As Dream prepares for the grim necessity of stopping the vortex, Rose is intruded upon by his runaway dreams, who press in on her life and family for both good and ill.

I’m starting to see how the series intends to take its time.  A number of chapters look like diversions but feel like groundwork, establishing a story that sprawls out across centuries, continents, and existences.  There’s some really neat stuff going on here.  I love how the “cereal convention” is executed, the opening legend is beautifully rendered, and I enjoy the passage on Dream’s periodic visits to a man who defies Death.  To be honest, the main arc with Rose and the vortex is a little less interesting to me.  Not to say that it’s boring or badly-written – I just really love the high-concept nature of these on-the-surface “detour chapters.”

My other main gripe would be that, after having met Death at the end of volume 1, I was hoping for a lot more of her here.  Unfortunately, we get barely a glimpse of her.  That said, we do start to get a look at others in the family of the Endless – namely Desire, Dream’s nonbinary sibling with a lust for satisfaction and a strong sense of entitlement regarding mortals.  Desire only appears in a couple of chapters, but I like its look, its presentation, and the obviously-charged interactions it has with Dream, who feels much more beholden to serve humans, not treat them as his playthings. 

Other members of the Endless are hinted at as well, and I’m particularly intrigued by mentions of a lost brother (not Dream.)  All the Endless mentioned so far have ‘D’ names – Dream, Death, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destiny – and I’m curious about just how much ground they’ll be able to cover keeping with that theme.  Like with the gradually-unfolding plot, I can tell that we’re just starting to build everything Gaiman has planned for the family, and I’m interested to see what he has in store.

Warnings

Sexual content, violence, drinking/smoking/drugs, thematic elements, and disturbing images.

The Donna Reed Show: Season 1, Episode 14 – “A Very Merry Christmas” (1958)

This is a curious entry into Buster’s TV work of the ‘50s and ‘60s.  It has a definite “with very special guest star Buster Keaton” feel to it, so there’s undeniable affection for him there, but it’s also an episode and a role that has nothing to do with Buster.  In other words, there’s not really anything for Buster to bring to this episode other than his celebrity – which, I suppose is kind of neat in itself, to see how far Buster’s star had risen again after the lean post-MGM years.  Still, while it’s a sizable, important role to play, there isn’t much to it (Buster-related spoilers.)

As the holidays approach, Donna is feeling disillusioned with Christmas, having her own Charlie Brown-style existential crisis about the over-commercialism of a holiday that should be more about joy and togetherness than presents.  While visiting her husband at the hospital where he works, Donna pays a visit to the children’s ward and finds, to her surprise, that while everyone in the hospital knows there’s an annual Christmas party for the children, no one seems to know who organizes or pays for it.  Donna, determined that the kids’ holiday not be forgotten in the shuffle, vows to get to the bottom of things and learns that the “Christmas angel” of the children’s ward is actually Charlie (a.k.a. Buster,) a kindly janitor.

This is the only episode I’ve ever watched of The Donna Reed Show, and I don’t doubt that it’s a schmaltzy program in general, with the sweetness cranked up even more than usual for the Christmas episode.  In light of this, the whole episode is incredibly twee, which sometimes pays off in unintentionally-hilarious dividends.  Case in point – you wouldn’t think there’s much involving Buster where he’s not the funniest part, but I got a big kick out of the aggressively-terrible child actors lisping their “adorable” lines as they played the kids in the hospital.  The whole episode is packed with the toothache sweetness of “touching” moments and lines knowingly dripping with significance.

That’s the backdrop against which we find Buster, and the surrounding levels of sentiment make me think more of Charlie Chaplin (I know I shouldn’t talk; I’ve seen very little, perhaps inexcusably little, of Chaplin’s work, but the main distinction that gets bandied about regarding him and Buster is sentiment, with fans slanting either comic’s approach as good or bad depending on their allegiance.  Charlie was too maudlin, Buster was too detached – that kind of thing.)  But of course, it is Buster and not Charlie we’re talking about, or else I wouldn’t be here.

Whether the show intended it or not, though, I think it’s probably a good thing they went with Buster, and maybe this is the real answer to the “why Buster?” question in this episode.  Even though the eternally-overlooked, working-class janitor who’s been quietly organizing the kids’ Christmas party for 30 years without help or acknowledgment is a laughably-saccharine set-up, Buster’s performance resists leaning into that.  In part, it’s his very nonchalance about his saintly kindness toward the children that makes it all the sweeter, but I’d say it’s only as successful as he is because he does shrug off the notion of what a great guy he is doing this party all by himself every year just because it’s the right thing to do.  Without his unassuming attitude, the whole thing might have reached critical levels of syrupy-ness.

Doctor Who: Series 10, Episode 2 – “Smile” (2017)

(It was a little tough to find a picture from this episode - when I did a Google Image search for "Doctor Who Smile," it mostly gave me adorable shots of various Doctors grinning.  Thanks, Google - I needed that.)

 

Emoji robots!  Yep, what a long, strange trip it’s been from 1963.  Plotwise, this episode has some hitches, more so than “The Pilot,” but it still hits home where it counts, so my tentative optimism for the season continues.

For her first official, intentional TARDIS adventure, the Doctor takes Bill to an early off-world human colony.  The landscape is exquisite, the city is sleek and gleaming, and everything about it seems designed for perfection.  The only problem?  No humans.  As our heroes investigate why the paradise colony is deserted, they learn that the aforementioned emoji robots who keep things humming are hiding something behind their smiley faces.

That description sounds a little dorky, and seeing the emoji robots out of context in the previews, I thought it sounded a little dorky, too.  However, within the episode, there’s more logic and less gimmick to it, and the story takes the conceit to some interesting places.  A monster that’s drawn to your negative emotions is interesting, and the idea of having to feign happiness in order to stay alive is pretty neat nightmare fuel (plus, it gives us Twelve making these really awkward grins in moments of great peril, which is totally fun to watch.)  And really, the set-up of the colony itself and the robots’ place within it is decently cool.

Where the story falls down, for me, is in the resolution.  I like pretty much everything before maybe the last ten minutes, and then it gets unfortunately slapdash, like the show painted itself into a corner and realized there was no time left to come up with anything beyond a rather hapzhazard deus ex machina to get out of it.  I thought writer Frank Cottrell-Boyce had a similar issue with “In the Forest of the Night” back in series 8 – strong concept, but in the end, the execution doesn’t quite pull it through.

That said, I’m not bothered as much by it just because Twelve and Bill are so much fun together.  I like Bill’s boundless curiosity, her genuine love for new experiences, the way she puts things together, and the realistic way the things she’s seeing on her travels affect her.  It’s a delight to see the world of this episode through her amazed eyes, and while I wouldn’t say she gets any huge victories here, she’s great support throughout.  She’s smart and observant and has a talent for asking the right questions at the right moments, all good things to have in a companion.

Having Twelve going up against baddies that need you to be happy, “cranky Doctor” against emoji robots, is going to be an obvious winner, although this episode is also a good reminder that “cranky Doctor” isn’t a very complete description of Twelve.  In truth, he’s always been one to show a range of emotions, and I think getting a new companion has reinvigorated him further – he and Bill play off of each other beautifully here.  However, he does spend good chunks of this episode puzzled, troubled, horrified, angry, and so on, and Peter Capaldi’s expressive face gives the emoji robots plenty to dislike.  Also?  He has a really lovely bit towards the beginning that I loved, explaining how the TARDIS works to Bill.

Side note:  the episode briefly features Mina Anwar, who played Rani’s mom on The Sarah Jane Adventures.  I enjoy seeing actors pop up in different roles in multiple Whoniverse shows, and this time around, I couldn’t help but imagine Gita Chandra tooling around on another planet.

Favorite Characters: Mr. Chow (In the Mood for Love)

First up, here’s the A Little TLC(w) addendum for Inthe Mood for Love:  “Recommend?  In General and Tony Leung Chiu-wai – Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”  Nothing but boundless love for that film.    Second, even though this is technically the same Chow Mo-wan character from 2046, I’m going to use “Mr. Chow” because the characterization is so different between the two films that I’m sure I’ll do a separate write-up the next time I rewatch 2046.  (Mr. Chow-related spoilers.)

It’s interesting, because I used to think “still and soulful” was just kind of Tony Leung Chiu-wai’s thing.  In most of the first films I saw him in, his character fit that description.  I used both those words not too long ago in talking about the Blind Swordsman in Ashesof Time, and it could similarly apply to his roles in Hero, Red Cliff, Chungking Express, and other movies I’ve seen him in over the years.  Now that I’m exploring his filmography more deliberately, I can see that that’s only one of the tools in his arsenal, and he’s definitely played his share of characters that are nothing like Mr. Chow.  But even though I’ve started to see more of his range, this is still the sort of role I most closely associate with him, and they always resonate so strongly for me.

On paper, there’s not much to Mr. Chow at first.  He’s pretty much the definition of “mild-mannered,” a dutiful employee and loving if overworked husband, a man who doesn’t quite initially realize he’s leading a life of quiet desperation.  It’s Mrs. Chan who points out to him that all his interests and hobbies are things he “used to” do or enjoy; somewhere along the way, after his marriage, the things he liked just sort of drifted away from him and he was too caught up by the current to notice.  He’s fastidiously polite, he plays the pragmatist to his irresponsible friend, and he makes quiet excuses when people make comments that run the risk of alluding to his wife’s fidelity.

It’s not until after his wife runs off with Mrs. Chan’s husband that he starts to make more than idle considerations about what he wants.  He’s the one who invites Mrs. Chan out to delicately broach his suspicions about their spouses’ affair, which is maybe his first foray into this:  acknowledging his desire to know, and not to be alone in that knowledge.  Here, he and Mrs. Chan are both tentative and, again, so, so polite.  It takes ages for either of them to come to the point, but once they do, I think it opens something up for Mr. Chow.  While Mrs. Chan has been gently doing her own thing in the absence of her husband – finding quiet ways to occupy her time and the space society tells her he’s supposed to be filling – Mr. Chow hasn’t been doing much of anything, and with that conversation, things begin to change. 

Whether it’s deeply personal (roleplaying with Mrs. Chan as they try to figure out how the affair began,) of less consequence (deciding to finally try his hand at writing a martial arts serial,) or implied to be improper (befriending Mrs. Chan even though they’re both still married and people will talk, don’t you know?), Mr. Chow dips his toes further and further into the idea of living for himself.  Though he starts out gingerly, it doesn’t take him long to get swept up in it, to the point that he rents a separate room in a different building for he and Mrs. Chan to write in when they both start to worry about what the neighbors will think of their friendship.  When it gets to these extremes, Mrs. Chan is ready to cut their losses and stop writing together, (not because she’s indifferent, not at all – it’s just how she reacts to things,) but Mr. Chow digs in.  After goodness knows how long, he’s found something that makes him happy, and he’s not about to let it go so easily.

He’s kind of a deceptively-intriguing character, and Leung brings him to life gorgeously.  What a great portrayal of a man slowly dawning on the realization that he’s been sleeping through his life, discovering what is to be awake, growing protective of the new sensations it’s brought him, and ultimately following it to the end of a path that he pretty much knows will lead to heartbreak, possibly wondering if he wouldn’t have been better off staying asleep and yet not willing to close his eyes again.  Just beautiful work, extremely subtle but wonderfully effective.  Leung, along with Maggie Cheung, delivers a master class in acting in this movie, and these performances are a major part of the reason why I’ve seen it probably half a dozen times but can still rewatch it with absolutely rapt attention.