Thursday, October 31, 2024

A Little TLC(w): The New Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre: Season 1, Episode 36 (1986)

*Episode premise spoilers.*

We’re in the endgame now. Like The Duke of Mount Deer, this show makes for an odd viewing experience. Because, while watching one episode a week makes it stretch out quite a long time, things move so fast within the actual story. So it kind of feels like I’ve been at this show forever, while also feeling like, “How are we almost at the end already?”

Zhang Wuji has found Xie Xun and confronts the Shaolin monks that are holding him prisoner. As he tries to rescue his godfather, he also attempts to repair more of the fractures between the sects.

Although Zhao Min appears in this episode, she’s not nearly as much of a focus as she has been lately. Instead, it’s a lot more about the Ming/Shaolin conflicts, the captured Xie Xun, and the treacherous monk Cheng Kun. Which works for me—this is a show with so many moving parts, and whenever you dwell heavily on one plot for too long, the others inevitably take a backseat. So it’s good to mix things up.

I enjoy how Xie Xun has basically two modes: unstoppable badass who will absolutely wreck all your shit, and regretful old man brimming with self-sacrifice. He’s ready to throw down anytime, anywhere, and being blind and having lived alone on a deserted island for like a decade doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. And yet, he’ll pull the “you have to go on without me, promise you won’t come back for me” card at the drop of a hat, complete with sad violins. Love it!

Here, Zhang Wuji comes face-to-face with his goal of the last several episodes: finding and rescuing Xie Xun. But I appreciate that he doesn’t come in hot and scorched-earth and “let my godfather go or else!” Instead of spoiling for a fight, he tries to reason with Shaolin sect, warning them about Cheng Kun and telling them the history he learned behind the root of their conflicts.

This is a frequent move for him. In an odd way, it reminds me a little of Kipo and the Wonderbeasts. Even though Zhang Wuji and Kipo are wildly different in temperament and personality, this is something they have in common. When everyone around them says, “We have to fight!” and, “It’s do or die!” they consistently say, “Let’s talk.” “Let’s work it out.” “If you just listen, maybe you’ll make a different choice.”

It's an interesting quality for the lead of a martial arts show, or a post-apocalyptic action/adventure show, to have. In Zhang Wuji’s case, he very much has the skills he needs to take out practically any enemy, but he often only uses them to hold his opponent off while he tries to reason with them. In this episode, as he appeals to the Shaolin monks, he says, “Masters, I know I only have a slight chance of leaving this place alive. But I won’t die peacefully unless I tell you everything.” That’s something that’s very commendable about him, and it’s a trait that could easily feel hokey, but Tony Leung Chiu-wai makes it feel honest.

Tuesday, October 29, 2024

Other Doctor Lives: Jessica Jones: Season 2, Episode 11 – “AKA Three Lives and Counting” (2018)

*I’ll be as general as I can, but there are going to be a few spoilers here. This includes a major element from the season 1 finale and the ending of season 2, episode 10.*

Even though this post is coming immediately on the heels of the season 1 finale, I didn’t watch this episode immediately after. As I gradually worked my way back through a rewatch of all the shows in the Defenders sub-universe, I wrote the Jessica Jones reviews as I came to them, intentionally sitting on them until I made my way through the whole show. In other words, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Kilgrave, and a lot has happened since then.

Jessica’s latest case is deeply personal for her. It’s forced her to dig into her own history and face a ton of hard emotional stuff. At the end of episode 10, during a confrontation with a seriously bad guy, she let her strength get away from her, and self-defense turned deadly. Now, as she reels with what she’s done while still trying to stay on top of everything else—Trish has been on a downward spiral for a while now, and things are coming to a head in this episode—she keeps seeing visions of Kilgrave.

When Jessica realizes that she’s killed this man, Krysten Ritter impeccably captures her dizzying mix of horror, guilt, shame, and panic. You can see something break in her at this moment. Jessica Jones is a show that likes to flirt with antiheroism for its title character, but when Jessica crosses that line, even by accident, you can feel how devastating it is for her. That’s why she continues to be a hero—even when she makes bad choices or horribly consequential mistakes, and even when she doesn’t feel like one.

As Jessica is forced to deal with what’s just happened and pull herself together enough to try and stop Trish from going down a dangerous rabbit hole of her own, all with Kilgrave sneering in her ear, it’s a little impressive that she’s able to function at all. I really enjoy a montage of her getting creative with a dating app to pinpoint someone’s location.

As for the Kilgrave of it all, the show plays with the tone here. There are moments, especially early in the episode, where the hallucinated Kilgrave is as creepy and skin-crawling as he ever was in the flesh. Before we see him actually show up, he’s presaged by purple lighting, and in one of the earliest scenes where Jessica sees him, he sidles up behind her in the shower because oh my god of course he does. Later on, though, he becomes something between an irritating devil on her shoulder and an accusatory guilty conscience. In between pointed comments about how “good” she’s getting at killing, he simply pops up like a Whack-a-Mole, singing in the background or lounging on the bed of a hotel room she’s search.

David Tennant slips back into the role well, and he balances the shifts in tone, moving easily from vile to funny and back again. His performance is visibly Kilgrave while also being evident that he’s not the real Kilgrave. He’s the one in Jessica’s mind, filtered through her subconscious. This gives us moments like Kilgrave voicing Jessica’s PI instincts and observations as she investigates.

In the season 1 finale, Jessica killed Kilgrave: as revenge for how he violated her and to stop him from doing it to anyone else ever again. So when Jessica pictures Kilgrave dogging her steps and needling at her from the corner of the screen, it’s not just a hallucinated villain pulling out the old “you’re just as bad as me” card. It’s a villain taunting her about her body count, which includes him. “Extortion, forgery, now murder,” he purrs. “Is there no crime Jessica Jones won’t commit to get what she wants?”

Season 2, on the whole, is a big comedown from season 1, although I’m not as down on it as some. For me, it’s more that season 1 is just so good, so laser-focused on its strong central plot, that it flounders a little trying to repeat that success. As such, bringing Kilgrave back for an episode feels like a bit of a cheap grab, but I think it works with where Jessica’s head is right now, and Tennant makes the most of his time back.

Monday, October 28, 2024

A Few Thoughts on Big Neurodivergent Energy Stories: Style Edition

As evidenced by Neurodivergent Alley, Unhatched Observations, and more, analyzing media from an autistic/ADHD lens has become a bit of a spin for me. It floored me to realize just how many of my most beloved shows had that Big Neurodivergent Energy, like they were calling to me all that time and I hadn’t known. It makes me feel so happy and warm to revisit them now, and I’m having a great time discovering new shows that make my brain and my heart light up in the same way.

In all that watching and rewatching, there’s of course been a lot of thinking and pattern recognition, and I’ve noticed a number of commonalities popping up in these shows, films, and books. As I’ve said before, it’s more than just an abundance of ND-coded characters, although that’s obviously an important part of it. A BNE story feels neurodivergent in its bones and its wiring, altogether separate from its characters. On the face of it, some of these commonalities don’t seem inherently neurodivergent, and not every story like this displays all of them, but there’s too much overlap for it to feel completely random.

So that’s what I want to look at! This is going to be a short series, and today, I’m starting with the style elements. Take away the characters, take away the actual story: what are some stylistic choices that a lot of inherently neurodivergent stories share?

 

Unique Visual Aesthetics

A lot of these stories show a loving attention to detail in the narrative descriptions of settings (books) or production design (movies/shows.) And this design is often offbeat and inventive. Think of Eleanor’s colorful bungalow on The Good Place with its clown nook, or the costume differences between the Good, Bad, and Neutral Janets. Think of the whimsical world of Amélie, the distinctive look of each kingdom on Maya and the Three, or the detailed pop-culture visuals woven into the homage episodes of Community, which capture everything from its source material’s costumes to its lighting to its camera work. It’s especially evident in stories that frequently give us new visual palettes. Pushing Daisies has iconic looks like The Pie Hole’s crust roof and Lily’s fabulous eye patches, but each new case brings brand-new designs—from dandelion headdresses to mysterious sewer roamers to corpses in snowmen. Similarly, the TV adaptation of A Series of Unfortunate Events reinvents its look every two episodes, bringing the locales from each book to life in incredible ways.

 

Words, Words, Words

So. Much. Wordplay. Every Bob’s Burgers episode title is a pun, along with most of the shop names in The Good Place. Ted and Beard have literal wordplay on Ted Lasso, and both Pushing Daisies and A Series of Unfortunate Events have a particular love of alliteration, with A Series of Unfortunate Events also coming in hard with the anagrams and other word puzzles. On Doctor Who, one of the Doctor’s less-flashy talents is the way they can turn a phrase—plus, this is the show that gave us Raxacoricofallapatorius and its sister planet Clom. DuckTales has all its bird-based puns, and 3Below has plenty of fun with literal interpretations of English idioms.

 

Fantasy Sequences

Like all of these traits, fantasy sequences aren’t unique to BNE stories, but they’re more likely to be baked into the format of stories that have that neurodivergent vibe. The most obvious example here is Scrubs, where JD’s fantasies (and later, other characters’) are integral to every episode. Amina’s fantasies in the first season of We Are Lady Parts spread to other characters in season 2, and for another Nida Manzoor example, I have no fight how much of any given fight in Polite Society actually happens. In the TV adaptation of Ms. Marvel, some of Kamala’s daydreams are physically drawn onscreen, while others are acted out in her head. And while they’re not technically fantasies within the context of the shows, I put DuckTales’s assorted Scrooge flashbacks and Community’s extended pop-culture homages in this category too—blurring the lines of what’s really happening in the world of the characters.

 

Music

Although virtually every movie or show is enhanced by its music, BNE stories tend to place a greater emphasis on it. There are shows with built-in musical numbers every episode, either through fantasies like on Crazy Ex-Girlfriend or happening within the world of the show like on We Are Lady Parts. Random singing pops up on numerous occasions on Bob’s Burgers, Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, and Pushing Daisies, and elaborate musical numbers is how AFC Richmond says goodbye on Ted Lasso. The first season of A Series of Unfortunate Events ends with a random full-cast number, and every season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend has a different theme song. These stories can be notable for their non-diegetic needle drops too—there are certain songs that immediately make me think of their corresponding scenes on Ted Lasso or Scrubs, and one of the most iconic scenes on Our Flag Means Death is impeccably timed to Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain.”