Relationship Spotlight: Thor & Loki (The Avengers)

It occurs to me that the MCU really doesn’t have too much in the way of actual family relationships (plenty of the-family-you-choose relationships, but here, we’re talking about biological and/or legal families.)  There have been a few prominent instances – Hank & Hope and Scott & Cassie in Ant-Man, the Maximoff twins, Gamora & Nebula in Guardians of the Galaxy (in a “hey, we were both abducted by the same guy who waged war against our home worlds and then raised us” kind of way,) and now Spidey and Aunt May (and I hear T’Challa has a sister?  We gonna meet her?), but really, the MCU is full of people with empty branches on their family trees.  Lots of orphans, lots of only children, lots former child assassins raised by Russian operatives (okay, so many just one of those.)

So that leaves us with the Asgardian royal family, and most importantly, brothers Thor and Loki.  The interplay between these two, and the incredibly screwed-up drama therein, is the best part of the Thor movies, and while the Cate Blanchett and Tessa Thompson of it all is awfully enticing, it still tops the list of reasons why I’m looking forward to Ragnarök.  (Thor-and-Loki-related spoilers.)

It’s a time-honored sibling dynamic:  charismatic golden boy Thor (who, in his first film, is too cocky for his own good) and bitter also-ran Loki (who, of course, goes progressively further off the rails over the films.)  Thor is his father’s heir, wielder of the mighty Mjolnir, and he has no problem expecting to get whatever he sets his mind to.  Loki, meanwhile, festers at the slights he perceives against himself and delights in psychologically manipulating his less-cunning older brother.

I’ve said before that Loki is a great villain for Thor, because he creates situations that Thor can’t simply fight his way out of.  Untangling himself from one of Loki’s stratagems requires Thor to think harder and plan more carefully, and he needs to stretch different muscles in order to succeed.  The more often they face off against each other, however, the more difficult an opponent Thor is becoming for Loki.  I’m not sure if Loki still thinks of Thor as a self-involved oaf or if his increasing off-the-rails-ness is tripping him up, but he doesn’t seem to realize how much wiser Thor is getting to his tricks, and he’s not stepping up his game accordingly.  But when he’s on, no one can play Thor like Loki, who know just what knives to twist.

Their opposition is made even better by the fact that they are brothers and, as much as Thor knows he has to do whatever it takes to stop Loki’s evil schemes, he still can’t bring himself to finish Loki off (it’s one of the few instances where it makes sense that the villain continues to be allowed to live.)  Loki resents Thor and wants what Thor has, which he feels should be rightfully his, but Thor still loves Loki despite everything.  It says a lot that after the events of Thor and The Avengers, Thor still tells Loki, “I wish I could trust you.”  At this point, he knows he absolutely can’t, and kudos to him for taking that into account in their dealings together in The Dark World, but he still wishes he could.  I love that.  It shows how deeply Thor’s loyalties run, and it also demonstrates just how skewed Loki’s view of their relationship is.  I don’t doubt that Thor has always been Odin’s Number-One Son, but they’re at odds because of Loki’s perception and choices, not because of what Thor has unjustly done to him.  Where will Ragnarök take them?  Six months before we find out…

Ms. Marvel, Vol. 5: Super Famous (2016)

Man, Ms. Marvel just keeps getting better and better.  I’m continually impressed with this comic’s sophisticated handling of its themes, its fun humor, its compelling characters, and its thoughtful inclusion.  I’m officially going to stop gauging how this or that volume compares to the ones before it, because honestly, it’s all great at this point. 

Two main plots this time around, both linked to the overall theme of Ms. Marvel’s rising star.  Since the almost-world-ending events happening around the time of Last Days (which were evidently resolved in a different comic, presumably The Avengers,) Kamala has had her chance to more than just play with the big boys:  she’s become one of them.  She’s a bonafide Avenger, fighting alongside the likes of Iron Man, Captain America, and Spider-Man.  She’s beyond thrilled to get her shot in the major leagues, but it takes a toll.  Kamala is shocked by all that’s been happening in her life that she straight-up hasn’t noticed because she’s so busy, both personal (her close friend Bruno getting a girlfriend who isn’t her) and professional (a definitely-shady real-estate outfit using her likeness to promote their gentrification agenda.)  Frantically playing catchup, Kamala tries to do it all on her own, wanting to prove she can handle herself, but with less-than-stellar results.

The comic has been doing a great job with casual inclusion over the last several volumes.  After seeing Kamala balk at the idea of a traditional marriage in Crushed, her brother Aamir embraces that ideal here, going on chaperoned “non-dates” with his prospective marriage partner.  His would-be bride, Tyesha, is awesome, Black, and a convert to Islam, opening the door for some really interesting interactions between the two families (and introducing me to the wonderful word “Blackistani”) during the scenes when crazy comic-book disasters aren’t happening.  Similarly, I’m an instant fan of Bruno’s girlfriend Mike, who’s cool and intelligent and whose curves Bruno appreciates; I also like that her two moms are introduced without comment.

But yeah, there’s a story, too, and I think it mostly hits all the right notes.  I really enjoy the theme of Kamala having too many balls in the air but stubbornly trying to do it all – both because she genuinely loves everything she’s involved in and because she doesn’t want the Avengers (read:  her heroes/new colleagues) to think she’s just some kid who’s out of her league.  The mistakes she makes here feel real and well-earned thematically, and even though some of them are definite doozies, they’re drawn so organically from who she is as a character that I can totally buy Kamala getting herself into this situation.

I especially love the storyline with Hope Yards, the real-estate developers.  The references to gentrification are played with a deft hand, but the points don’t need to be overstated for it to be clear that Kamala is horrified to find someone using her as a symbol for something she doesn’t support.  In addition to being a good, personal story about her and her community, it’s a great exploration of the nature of heroes, the notion that, when you put yourself forward in that way, you cease to be entirely your own.  Anyone can take you up as their symbol for goodness knows what, and you don’t always get a say in the ideas or values people ascribe to you.  All in all, just really well-done.

Film (1965)

Next up on Buster Mondays is a few miscellaneous shorts, pieces that don’t fit in with Buster’s shorts with Fatty Arbuckle, his independent shorts, or the shorts he made for Educational and Columbia.  As per IMDb, Buster actually has a small handful of projects that fit into this category, but I’ve only been able to see a few of them – haven’t been able to get my hands on the rest.  If I find more, I can always circle back later to include them.

Film was written by Samuel Beckett, and that pretty much tells you everything you need to know.  Almost totally silent, the short follows Buster (literally follows, always shooting him from behind) as he struggles to get away from prying eyes.  He covers his face on the street, and in the privacy of his squalid little home, he’s still plagued by the fear of being watched:  he shies away from the windows and covers the mirror, he shuffles his pets out of sight, he tears up the picture on the wall that seems to be looking at him, and even the decorative holes cut out of the back of his chair appear to be eyes gawking at him.

Remember when I said The Awakening was one of the more unique entries in Buster’s filmography?  I had to say “one of” because I remembered that this short existed and knew it definitely claimed the top slot.  Even before getting into the “why Buster?” question, it’s just odd.  It’s very still, with lots of lingering extreme close-ups and recurring moments, and it’s absolutely quiet.  Not like a silent film, which removes the sound of the dialogue and the action and replaces it with music.  Not even like some of the longer wordless bit in the Educational and Columbia shorts, that feel a little static with no music to accompany Buster’s antics.  This is silent, not even background noise.  If Beckett thought, “Hey, I’m making a silent movie, I should get an old silent movie star to be in it!”, it’s not because this short in any way captures the feeling of watching a movie from that era.

So why Buster?  Other than the above supposition, the only reason I can think of is that they needed someone who could convey story convincingly through their body language alone.  Never mind the silence, or even the lack of intertitles – because “The Man” is shot almost entirely from behind, that means the actor can’t use his face to express anything (insert Great Stone Face joke if you wish, but even stone-faced, Buster was still quite expressive.)  So, maybe they needed a physical comedian who was very comfortable telling a story with his body in order to make the ideas come through while just showing his back and the back of his head, arms, and legs.  As for actual Busterish-ness, the only moment here that feels like Buster is a little bit where he’s trying to put his dog and cat out into the hallway, and every time he opens the door to send one out, the other scurries back in.  It doesn’t have the same feel as it would in one of Buster’s comedies, given the overall foreboding nature of the short and the sterile atmosphere created by the intense silence, but it is the one thing that seemed like something Buster would do.

Buster wasn’t shy about admitting he had no idea what the film was about, and far be it for me to pretend I understand Beckett.  A strange little curiosity, morose, mysterious, and pretentious.

Warnings

Nothing of note.

Doctor Who: Series 10, Episode 7 – “The Pyramid at the End of the World” (2017)

I’m still mulling over this one.  While watching, the overall impression I had was that I liked it (although there are definitely aspects of it that I don’t like,) but afterwards, the (many) plot holes looked much more prominent to me.  What we’ve got here is a decidedly mixed bag (premise spoilers, along with brief allusions to last week’s “Extremis.”)

The creepy-looking, unnamed “Monks” from the last episode are back in the flesh, plopping their spaceship (which is rather incongruously “disguised” as a 5000-year-old pyramid) down on Earth.  Much to the surprise of the Doctor, Bill, Nardole, and co., the Monks insist they are not there to invade the world but to be given it.  They warn of an impending disaster that would wipe out all life on Earth, one that they’ll gladly prevent – in exchange for total control of the planet offered willingly.  The Doctor, naturally, isn’t keen on the idea of the human race giving up their free will, and he urges Bill and Nardole to help him in his race against the doomsday clock to find/avert the disaster and render the Monks’ offer moot.

I like the whole basic set-up, with the Monks wanting humanity to exchange freedom for safety, and I enjoy the theme of huge catastrophes hinging on tiny moments.  The story here gives us a great one-shot character in the form of Erica, a woman who is smart and capable in a crisis and serves as an excellent pseudo-companion for the small amount of screentime she shares with the Doctor (side note:  I love that this character is a little person simply because she is.  There’s no in-story “reason” for it and it’s not commented on by any of the other characters – beautiful.)

Once we start getting into what the actual disaster is, though, it’s a bit of a mess.  The whole thing depends on massive amounts of stupidity and carelessness that distract from the point.  We’re talking plotholes that you could drive a truck through, and they undermine both the story itself and the characters involved.

Meanwhile, the Doctor is quite on-point for much of the episode – I especially love his sly way of narrowing down the search for the disaster, and I like his ongoing battle to make his voice louder than the humans’ fear telling them to take the Monks’ deal.  Bill and Nardole have less to do, but each gets in at least one good moment.  However, although things take an intriguing turn at the end, I’m more than a little apprehensive about it.  It’s all just so massive that it seems like we’ll be dwelling for quite a while on what happens here and the fallout thereof.  And we’re already more than halfway through the Twelfth Doctor’s last season, and I don’t relish the thought of such a heavy storyline getting the way of his remaining chances for fun adventures in time and space with Bill and/or Nardole.  As I’ve said, I love the Doctor-Bill dynamic, and nothing that messes with that gets my votes.  (Even Nardole, who I’ve enjoyed getting to know these past few episodes, is a little iffy for me, if because when he’s involved in the adventures, it seems Bill doesn’t get to do as much.  And not just because a third person is sharing the screentime – it just feels like, when it’s the three of them together, Bill doesn’t ever get to be the one to have the ideas, and that bums me out.)

Don’t get me wrong.  When done well, the big stories can be super satisfying.  But more than anything, I’m here for the characters and the relationships between them, and as I prepare to say goodbye to Twelve, I want to see him get just a few more opportunities for enjoying the wonders of the universe and thriving on the thrill/danger of it all instead of just getting Big! Important! Dramatic! plots until he goes.

Some Thoughts about the Into the Badlands Season 2 Finale

Into the Badlands wrapped up its second season earlier this week.  Getting into spoilers here (for this episode, as well as Sleepy Hollow’s “Ragnarok” and Orange is the New Black’s “The Animals.”)

After being separated for the whole of the season, Sunny and Veil finally find their way back to one another, with Sunny fighting and slashing his way across the wastelands to return to his family and Veil holding out in a hellish prison, hoping Sunny’s still alive but having no assurance of that fact.  In the finale, Sunny has finally made it back to the Badlands and hits Quinn’s compound with Bajie, tearing it up something good, and Veil and Sunny are finally reuinited… for about two seconds.

I know that’s an exaggeration.  They share a beautiful time-stopping kiss together and Sunny is introduced, at last, to his son Henry.  There are all kinds of baddies (and explosions) for Sunny to contend with, and Quinn in particular has a knock-down drag-out fight with Sunny that gets super dicey in places.  It seems like, after all the pain and all the time apart, Sunny and Veil are going to get their hard-fought chance to begin a life together, and the show does give that its due.  It just doesn’t feel like it when, at the last second, Quinn staggers back to his feet and grabs Veil, holding a blade to her as he demands that Sunny hand over Henry in exchange for Veil.  Sunny cries out in anguish as the woman he loves makes the choice, stabbing Quinn through her own body to take him down with her.  With her final breaths, she implores Sunny to teach Henry how to be good.

This episode naturally brought to mind the deaths of Abbie on Sleepy Hollow and Poussey on Orange is the New Black, and after my brain was able to compose thoughts more complex than, They did it, they really killed her – damnit, I started to compare my feelings here to my reactions there.

First of all, since Veil is very squarely Sunny’s love interest and her characterization has, if only slightly, coasted on that a bit, that makes this the most classic fridging of the three deaths.  Veil does have a small amount of agency in her death scene – if she had to die, I like that it was while simultaneously killing Quinn, who was such a skin-crawlingly vile captor to her – but ultimately, she’s dead so Sunny can mourn her (and feel guilt about her death being caused by his past sins catching up to him, as Nathaniel Moon hinted to him earlier in the season.)

In terms of comparing it to the other two episodes, Veil’s death doesn’t make me see red to the extent that Abbie’s did.  Sleepy Hollow made me feel like it was throwing half of its foundation as a show in the garbage, undermining that wonderful character’s worth to the series while reframing her entire narrative as having been about propping up Ichabod’s story.  I don’t get that with Veil, in part because, while I really liked her a lot, Into the Badlands is more of an ensemble and has never been “about” Veil the way that Sleepy Hollow was about Abbie.  On a more positive note, I don’t really see the show devaluing her.  It will be telling how the series moves forward, if the events here continue to reverberate with Sunny for a long time, but at least in this moment, the episode is heavy with the loss that Veil’s death brings.

That said, Poussey’s death was done in such a way that I lamented that it had to be her even as I understood the story reasons why they did it.  It was a heartbreaking episode for me, and I still miss Poussey terribly (it’s going to be such a different experience watching season 5 without her in it.)  But just as Veil’s death doesn’t infuriate me like Abbie’s, it also doesn’t move me like Poussey’s.  That’s because the story doesn’t do the work to make it tragic but inevitable.  In fact, it’s pretty downright sloppy.  There’s no way Quinn should’ve still been alive after Sunny running him through multiples times with his sword (with rings on it!), but even if that wasn’t the case, there’s nooooo way Sunny would’ve turned his back on Quinn without cutting off his head first.  After what happened with them at the end of last season, Sunny would’ve made damn sure Quinn was really dead, and the way he’s freely slicing off limbs and heads and cutting a dude in half earlier in the episode only highlights how stupid it is for him not to do the same here.

So, if Abbie’s death left me shaking my fist and Poussey’s left me shaking with tears, Veil’s left me shaking my head.  My prevailing thought, still, is for what?  Why was it so essential that she had to die in such a hastily-done way, and why am I seeing such a disappointing fridging on a show I’ve come to expect more of?  Badly done, show – badly done.

News Satire Roundup: May 21st

Sunday, May 21 – With the exception of a brief bit at the end, in which John tried to cram a 20-minute story on the TSA into the last three minutes of the show, there was just one story tonight:  the Russia investigation, or as John calls it, “Stupid Watergate.”  All the latest on this has been in the news so much that the show didn’t give me much that I hadn’t already heard, but John of course included some great jokes (my favorite being how he admonished the 6’8” Comey for trying to blend in with the Oval Office drapes instead of and pretending to be a tree.)  However, I thought he had some good points to make about the story.  As unpleasant as it may be to think about, he reminded us that Trump could very well wriggle out of this one, and even if he doesn’t, the line of succession doesn’t inspire much confidence.  I also really liked his point about all the other news that’s slipping by while everyone is looking at the implosion at the White House.

The Daily Show was off this week (and Last Week Tonight is off next week, what’s a news satire fan to do?), and it increasingly feels like even a few days off is too much for this show.  The past two weeks especially have seen an explosion of news from the White House – it seems like lately, every episode has started with Trevor saying, “Okay, so we didn’t have enough time to put together a story on today’s late-breaking news, but we’ll get to it tomorrow, we promise.  Now, for our story on yesterday’s late-breaking news…”  Team Trump has been continually upping the ante, and it seems like not a day can be wasted in even trying to cover all this stuff.

And, as the show has been demonstrating with its “Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That” segments, that isn’t a good thing.  Not just because this tire fire is bad for the U.S. as a country, which it is, but also because it’s so insane and so unceasing that it makes you think it’s the only story in town.  The developments and reveals just keep piling up, and the show has to devote a huge chunk of every night to covering it, and as a result (like John pointed out on Last Week Tonight,) other newsworthy stuff is tumbling by without anyone’s notice.

I do appreciate that, even in the midst of all this, the show is still spending at least a little bit of most episodes away from Trump, although that time isn’t always spent on other big news stories; sometimes it’s just a brief, silly respite from all that, like Ronny’s recent piece on flying cars.  Breaking news?  Not at all.  “Thanks, show – I needed that”?  Yeah, maybe.

As such, “Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That” is turning into a nice recurring piece to momentarily catch hold of some of the many news stories that are rushing past us in the deluge.  When the segment first started, I wasn’t sure it was all that necessary.  I thought, “News item, punchline, repeat – isn’t that basically just Weekend Update?”  However, “Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That” is made up of more than blurbs.  It really is more like a series of mini news stories, often including relevant clips along with a few jokes and an insight or two.  And more than that is Trevor’s “this is not normal” reiteration of how, ordinarily, they would’ve devoted an entire segment to each of these bits, whether due to their importance, insanity, or just pure entertainment value.  But there’s no time.  Because this Trump stuff never stops coming, and they’re left to cover the rest however best they can in the time remaining.

The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian (2008, PG)

Continuing my ongoing tug-of-war with the Chronicles of Narnia films.  Although, on the whole, I’d say Prince Caspian is a more uneven film than The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and mostly lacks the best elements from that movie, the script explores themes that make it a much richer film for me, which helps me forgive some of its deficits.

A year after the events of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are called back to Narnia.  They find themselves in a Narnia that’s nearly foreign to the land they knew – centuries have passed, and their time as kings and queens there now falls somewhere between history and legend.  They’ve been called by the young Prince Caspian, who is on the run from his usurper uncle with an eye for Caspian’s blood.  The four children do what they can to aid Caspian, and the Narnians who’ve rallied behind him, in ridding Narnia of the cruel ruler and proving that the old magic, and Aslan, is still with them.

Far and away, my favorite part of this film is the way it examines what it’s like for the children, both being back in our world after having been in Narnia and returning after such a long absence.  I love the meditations on how they can never be normal English schoolchildren again, that even though they’re kids once more, they can’t forget what it was like to be monarchs.  This theme is especially evident in Peter’s storyline; back in Narnia, he chafes at being dismissed as a “mere boy” and fights hard to show the Narnians and Caspian that, despite his youth, he is still the high king of old.  I also like the slowly-dawning realization for the children that hundreds of years have passed in Narnia since they were last there.  It’s a melancholy reveal that has no solution, and even though they’re able to move past it and press on, the film gives them time to face up to the understanding that everyone they knew there is long dead, that this isn’t the Narnia they remember.  And even after they make up their minds to move forward, reminders keep creeping up in subtle ways, like when Peter’s navigation attempts are marred by how the river has eroded the land over the centuries.  Just as they can’t go back to their naïve childhood before Narnia, they can’t go back to Narnia as they once knew it, either (these are the kinds of things that happen, I suspect, when screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely are allowed freer reign of the script, and I feel it really pays off.)

But while these themes are fascinating and well-explored, the story itself doesn’t really measure up to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  I appreciate little touches here and there, like Edmund mixing 20^th-century English technology with a Narnian battle and a few nods to the imperialist weirdness of Narnians always being ruled by humans instead of one of their own, but there’s just not as much “there” there from a straight plot perspective.  Miraz, Caspian’s uncle, is no White Witch as far as baddies go, and although Peter Dinkalge and Eddie Izzard both do a fine job with their characters – Trumpkin the dwarf and Reepicheep the mouse, respectively – I can’t help wishing I could trade either of them for Mr. Tumnus.  Now, these are issues with the book itself, which the movie can’t really be blamed for.  Still, it keeps Prince Caspian from being the excellent movie that it hints at when it delves into its more complex themes.

Warnings

Scary moments for kids, thematic elements, and Disney violence.

Character Highlight: Sam Wilson a.k.a. Falcon (The Avengers)

Sam is still a fairly new presence in the MCU, but he’s definitely a welcome one.  I like seeing nonpowered people fighting in the big leagues, and paratrooper-turned-Avenger Sam fights with style.  I’m looking forward to seeing more of him in future films (a few Civil War spoilers.)

First, we’ve gotta talk about the wings, because they’re so cool.  Yes, the Iron Man/War Machine suits are better equipped with weaponry and protect their wearers better, but those wings are awesome.  Seeing Sam in flight is so badass and visually-impressive.  I like how he extends and retracts them as need be, how he can use them to shield himself, and how he twists and flips through the air.  What’s more, I like that they’re not one of Tony’s inventions or something to come out of SHIELD.  Sam was already using them for pararescue  in his military days, and when he first shows proof of them to Cap and Black Widow, both are taken aback.  That’s nice, having a tech-based hero whose tech isn’t made to be “super” but who uses it in “super” ways.  (Tony, it seems, has since given Sam more toys to play with – much love for Red Wing!)

Not having powers or a bona fide super-suit means Sam has to have a huge amount of fortitude and be very good at what he does to face the enormous foes he does with the Avengers.  He’s a loyal, incredibly brave soldier who throws himself into the fight with dedication, not just to the cause, but to the people he fights alongside.  I like that Cap turns to Sam in The Winter Soldier when everything is insane and he needs somewhere to hide out, and I like that Sam then goes way above and beyond providing a safe haven, stepping up as a volunteer to help Cap and Natasha confront Hydra.  At this point, he’s met Cap maybe twice, and yeah, there’s at least a little hero worship at play here, but it also says a lot about Sam that he would so immediately sign up to risk so much.

We haven’t really seen it post-The Winter Soldier, but I also like Sam’s history working with the VA and helping soldiers with their transition back to civilian life.  This makes another strong statement about Sam, I think.  He’s a tough, capable fighter, but he’s also an empathetic person who uses his own painful experiences to connect with others who are struggling and wants to fight the good fight on and off the battlefield.  Like I said, this aspect of Sam is really only on display in The Winter Soldier, and I wish we’d see it again.  It seems like it would have made a lot of sense for him to be compassionate about Bucky’s circumstances and try to offer support for him.  (I get that Bucky’s programming means he still poses a threat, Sam worries that Steve’s devotion to Bucky might be getting the way of his judgment, and Sam isn’t thrilled about risking his life for this guy, but still.)  That said, I do find it cool that, even though Sam has his doubts about the save-Bucky mission and clearly doesn’t like him, he still throws his own life into a lot of havoc on Bucky’s behalf; even if he’s mainly doing it for Steve, I like that he can fight to keep Team Iron Man from getting Bucky despite his less-than-fuzzy feelings for the guy.

So, I’d like to see more of that side of Sam in future films (maybe in helping Tony address his (many) traumas whenever the Avengers finally get back together?  Or maybe Wanda?)  What else?  I’m not sure.  I know he’s nto a very prominent character, and unlike Rhodey, Civil War didn’t really set up anything major for him going forward.  I suppose I’d like to see more of his dynamic with characters other than Cap because, while Civil War starts incorporating him more into the team, he’s still “Steve’s guy” and as a result can feel a bit sidekicky.

Legion (2017-Present)

I’m really glad I decided to check out this show.  Objectively, I can recognize that it’s not perfect, but I love it so much that I really don’t mind.  It’s offbeat, engrossing, and visually arresting, full of terrific acting and neat themes.  In a media landscape with many, many flavors of superhero/comic book shows, this might be the most original and ambitious that I’ve seen (premise spoilers.)

For most of David’s life, it’s been his understanding that he’s sick, and he’s been in and out of mental health facilities for a number of years.  Things seem to start looking up for him when he meets Syd, an engaging fellow patient, and they enter into a relationship (working around Syd’s intense aversion to being touched.)  However, a freak incident at the hospital turns David’s entire life inside out, and before he knows it, he’s kidnapped by a shadowy government organization and then broken out by a clandestine group of mutants with the most mindbending claim of all:  that David’s apparent mental illness is actually a collection of unrecognized superpowers.  He dives headlong into the idea of being immensely powerful rather than sick, but as he and his new friends delve into his past to sort out the truth of his powers from the trauma of his experiences, they realize that things in David’s psyche might not be as clear-cut as originally anticipated.

The X-Men universe and mutants have always provided fertile ground for exploring issues of social oppression and discrimination in a superhero format, and Legion does some tremendous work in looking at how thoroughly not knowing you have powers could potentially mess someone up.  When your telepathy is called “hearing voices,” when your insistence that you’ve seen objects move by themselves are called hallucinations, and when the destruction caused by those objects actually moving (never when anyone else can see, of course) is called a violent outburst.  Even if matters weren’t more complicated than both David’s doctors and mutant friends might think, that right there is more than enough to do a lasting number on his sense of who he is, and I love watching David and his friends grapple with it.

Like Into the Badlands, the other recent show I’ve picked up, Legion is a visual feast, but in a completely different way.  While the former reminds me somewhat of Kings, the topnotch production design and attention to visual detail here makes me think more of Hannibal – fitting, since both shows deal heavily with mental states and depict that in a primarily visually-inventive way.  What Legion lacks in Hannibal’s sumptuously-grotesque beauty, it makes up for in psychedelic trippiness (the fairly-rudderless timeframe setting helps in that regard.)  I really like how it portrays the freaky goings-on in David’s head.  It’s not afraid to get super weird, flitting between different genre conventions and pulling out numerous subtle cues and tricks as the narrative slips off its linear tracks in disorienting ways.

At the center of the show is Dan Stevens as David.  I think he does a great job with the character, leaning into David’s fragility and confused psyche while still maintaining his dignity and personhood – this is a character who can veer wildly between extremes, but Stevens’s performance helps it all feel cohesive.  Also, his American accent sounds great.  The series also features great work from Jean Smart, Bill Irwin (who became something of a surprise favorite for me,) and an excellently-offbeat Jemaine Clement.  I’m less familiar with Rachel Keller, Amber Midthunder, and Jeremie Harris, but all of them do fine work as well, and Hamish Linklater turns in a cool performance in a more minor role.  When it comes to the acting, though, all praise to Aubrey Plaza.  In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I won’t say anything about her character, but over the course of season 1, she’s an absolute force of nature – so, so great.  Even if the show were lacking on the whole (which it isn’t,) I’d be grateful to it just because her performance exists.

Warnings

Disturbing images, strong thematic elements, violence, sexual content, language, and drinking/smoking/drug use.

Top Five Gags: The Navigator

Like Our Hospitality, The Navigator is a film where, really, the best I can do is narrow my favorite gags down to extended gag sequences; each is filled with way too many good ones to only choose specific moments, and even as it is, there are some fantastic sequences that didn’t make the cut.  Nice problem for a comedy to have!

Searching for Company

Waking up on the empty ship, Rollo and Betsy both search it top to bottom for another soul.  Unfortunately, despite being able to hear each other calling, they can’t manage to actually walk or run in one another’s direction.  In an astoundingly-choreographed sequence, both characters traipse all over the ship with an incredible talent for just missing each other, and when Rollo finally does stumble onto Betsy, the sequence is perfectly capped by his renewal of the marriage proposal she turned down earlier in the film.

Breakfast Fail

The second breakfast scene is amazing, too (I love Buster’s labor-saving inventions so much,) but you can’t beat this one for sheer calamitous hilarity.  Neither Rollo nor Betsy have ever so much as poured their own lemonade, and their trials in the kitchen are a hoot.  Highlights include Rollo turning to big knives and carpentry tools in his futile attempts to get at canned food, fun with eggs, and Rollo’s reaction to Betsy’s coffee.

A Passing Ship

Really, I’m mostly interested in what happens after Rollo and Betsy give up trying to signal the other ship, but I can’t not mention Rollo in the life boat trying to tow the Navigator.  The best part, though, is Betsy’s subsequent efforts to get Rollo out of the water and back onto the ship, efforts which nearly drown both of them.  This is another sequence with a perfect ending:  Betsy fainting in Rollo’s arms at the bottom of the rope ladder, and his panicked look up at the camera as he realizes how far he’ll have to carry her.

Diving-Suit Adventure

So many fun gags here mixed in with the suspense of repairing the ship underwater before the islanders board it.  A lot of them are pretty cartoony, but they work well.  I like the “caution” sign Rollo puts up around his work area, his duel with a swordfish, using a lobster as a cutting tool, and my favorite, “filling” a bucket with water, “washing” his hands in it, and then “dumping” the water out.

Tiny but Deadly Cannon

So simple, but so fantastic.  Who doesn’t love the sight of Rollo desperately trying to run away from a miniature cannon that he’s accidentally tied to his foot (don’t ask how – it’s Buster)?  His flailing and running around is great, and I love it when he figures out how to use it as a weapon against the islanders.