Reading/Watching Log #44

I had nearly finished this reading/watching log when my laptop abruptly decided to restart itself, thereby losing a good chunk of what I'd already written. Is there anything on this earth more infuriating (besides someone walking in front of you really slowly?) So if any of these entries seem a little half-assed, it's because they are.

August was a good month, especially since I got the last week off, which gave me the chance to delve into my to-be-read pile. Having finally completed my "finish what you started" list, I'm now finally cracking down on my Treat Yo Self collection, filled with all my favourite authors - and that's gonna last me a while. 

This month saw my usual helping of Disney, Star Wars, superheroes and phantoms - plus the next lot of She-Ra episodes. But most of all was that most holy of all entertainment pilgrimages... not D23 Expo, but Disney on Ice...

Disney on Ice

Yes, Disney on Ice '19 has rolled around and I took my god-daughter Lucy. I had only ever been once before, years ago with my sister, but I remembered some of the staple aspects of the experience: the hideously overpriced merchandise, the onslaught of lights, colours and sounds, and the legions of over-stimulated children, most of which were dressed as their favourite Disney princess.

My friend tells me that the show is updated every year to reflect what's most popular with their target audience, which meant that the second half of the show was largely dominated by Frozen and Moana. And honestly, when Elsa appeared for the first time, you'd have thought Elvis had just landed. It was pretty amazing actually, to be surrounded by children all belting out Let It Go as Elsa ice-skated her way around the rink.

Still, I think that most of this sequence was extracted directly from a complete performance of Frozen on Ice, as it ended with Anna badly wounded and Elsa promising to get her back to Prince Hans... at which point the DJs came out to hand-wave the fact they lived happily ever after. C'mon Disney, you can do better than that.

But the Moana segment was pretty cool, with a faithful-but-truncated performance of the entire story via its songs, complete with the sting-ray, fiery special effects, and Moana interacting with the big-screen to reenact her character giving the stone back to Ti Fiti. Here, I recorded it for you, in terrible quality:

Then there were the expected acts: the Disney Princesses, the Toy Story characters, Finding Nemo, Mickey and friends, and ... the emotions from Inside Out. Yeah, they weren't on for very long. But the biggest surprise was Mickey's rendition of The Sorcerer's Apprentice, complete with the original symphony and almost the entire company dressed up as broomsticks (though Lucy was absolutely baffled by the whole thing, and she certainly wasn't the only child who had never seen Fantasia).

I'm glad I didn't have to take any of the children home with me, as there would have certainly been plenty of sugar-high tantrums taking place that afternoon, but it was a fun afternoon: a taste of that particular brand of high-gloss manufactured Disney magic.

Batgirl by Hope Larson

I'm not a big comic book fan at the best of times, which is strange considering everyone's entertainment bread-and-butter is superhero films these days, but on seeing Hope Larson's four-volume take on Batgirl on the library shelf, I thought: "eh, why not?"

Last time I checked in with Barbara Gordon, she was in a wheelchair and calling herself Oracle - now it seems she's gotten better, and has relocated to a suburb of Gotham City called Burnside. Along with the usual larger-than-life villains, she also has to deal with issues such as gentrification and homelessness, which leads to an interesting mix of crazy comic-book escapades contrasted with more mundane social problems that aren't easily solved.  

One thing I appreciated was that Batgirl really feels part of the community, who contributes just as much to it as Barbara than as Batgirl. She has a strong support system of friends that enrich her life and support her day/night jobs - and you know I'm a sucker for female friendships. They're fun, quick reads and I especially liked that they manage to stay on the optimistic side of things despite dealing with some hefty stuff at times.

Baba Yaga's Assistant by Marika McCoola and Emily Carroll

A graphic novel about the Slavic witch goddess Baba Yaga illustrated by Emily Carroll? Hell yeah! Through the Woods is one of my favourite graphic novels, and Carroll is a match made in heaven for this material: rich colours, evocative imagery, fairy tale ambiance - she's got this.

Masha is a young girl struggling with the recent passing of her grandmother (her mother having died years ago) and her father's attempts to integrate a new wife and step-daughter into the household. Realizing she no longer has a place in her own home, Masha decides to answer a strange advertisement in the newspaper: an assistant for Baba Yaga.

The old witch of Slavic folklore is one of those mercurial figures who could either eat you or reward you depending on what mood she's in. Although McCoola makes her more of a trickster archetype than usual, Carroll makes sure she retains her bite, and Masha has to use all of her cunning and guile to get the upper hand.

Best of all, the two are clearly familiar with the source material, as there are plenty of nods to the old fairy tales in the way Baba Yaga operates, and the methods Masha uses to outwit her.

Leia: Princess of Alderaan by Claudia Gray

I've said it before, and I'm saying it again: the biggest problem with the recent Star Wars tie-in novels is that Disney wants to hedge its bets and ensure that all the good stuff happens on the big screen. The television series, comic books and novelizations are therefore restrained as to what they can actually be about - obviously major character deaths and pivotal confrontations are completely out of the question, which means that they can only add colour and texture to the minutia of the universe.

They're probably best described as "fillers", adding details to what we already know. In this case, we learn more about Leia in the year she turned sixteen, which (as a princess of Alderaan) involves her undergoing several trials to prove her worth.

All things considered, it's pretty good. We see her learning hard lessons about diplomacy and subtlety, redefining her relationship with her parents, realizing what her physical, ethical and political limits are, and even falling in love for the first time. Perhaps the most valuable material that Gray illuminates is the characterization of Bail and Breha Organa, for it's their upbringing that shapes Leia into the woman we all know and love from the original trilogy. It's nice to get to know them better here.

There's also a glimpse into the early friendship of Leia and Amilyn Holdo, as well as cameos from Mon Mothma, Tarkin, Artoo and Threepio - even Captain Panaka, remember that guy? He was Padme's bodyguard in The Phantom Menace, and he has an interesting reaction to Leia here.

It's not a bad read, in fact Gray is probably writing the best of the tie-in novels. I'm just always aware that there's a "hierarchy of content" when it comes to what these supplementary books can contain, and as such they'll never be truly mind-blowing.

Winter of Fire by Sherryl Jordan

You know you've read a good book when you can remember plot, character and details over twenty years later. I must have first read Winter of Fire back when I was eleven or twelve years old, and with the recent reprint (in honour of its twenty-fifth anniversary) I was astounded at how much I had retained. As soon as I saw that cover art of the woman in the red dress and fur cloak, it all came back to me.

A dystopian novel long before The Hunger Games was published, Winter of Fire involves a population divided into two distinct sects: the Chosen and the Quelled. The former live in relative ease and luxury, while the latter are branded slaves forced to mine the precious firestones that provide necessary warmth in a world that has no sun.

Among these Quelled is a teenage girl called Elsha, who feels in her bones that this is not how the world should be, and that somehow she will be called upon to change it. Then, on her sixteenth birthday, she is selected as a handmaiden to the Firelord: the most powerful Chosen of them all. He alone has the power to divine for the firestones, and his selection of a Quelled for the position of handmaiden is unprecedented.

In this new position of influence and power, Elsha struggles to find way to help her people despite the Chosen's hatred of her, and the religious edicts that insist her gifts and behaviour render her a heretic.  

On the whole, the book presents an extremely simplistic portrayal of slavery and oppression, yet I have to give Sherryl Jordan credit for the way she manages to end things on a hopeful note that doesn't sugarcoat her heavy subject matter. Yes, some narrative shortcuts are taken - but it's also a standalone novel with a sincere attempt to address important social issues in a fantasy context. And it was doing this twenty-five years ago, so I think we can cut it some slack.

It was quite a trip re-experiencing Elsha's journey, and I was astonished at how much of the detail I was able to remember. As relevant now as it ever was, I hope the reprint brings more people to Elsha's story.

Dreamdark: Blackbringer by Laini Taylor

Although now best known for her Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy, I was interested in checking out some of Laini Taylor's early work, specifically her duology Dreamdark, made up of Blackbringer and Silkspinner.

Magpie Witchwind is a young faerie that travels the globe, searching for devils (or "snags") that are gradually creeping back into the world. Originally trapped in bottles and other containers, the arrival of human beings and their insatiable curiosity means that these devils are now escaping their prisons and leaving destruction in their wake.

Imagining a tiny winged devil-hunter armed with knives and accompanied by a murder of crow was one of the best parts of the book, even if the story doesn't quite live up to its premise, or its amazing protagonist.

Feeling in over her head, Magpie decides to return to the secret country of Dreamdark, a forest-city where most faeries live and which she hasn't visited in years. Naturally it's not as she remembers, though the political and social upheaval isn't quite as compelling as it could have been. There's a false queen that has installed herself as Dreamdark's ruler, but she's a fairly two-dimensional villain and has no connection to the greater threat of an escaped devil that destroys all that it touches.

But there are plenty of plot twists and fun ideas, and interesting themes about how even long-lived creatures can forget their heritage to their own peril. Plus who doesn't want to read about a diminutive knife-wielding faerie that hunts devils with her family of crows? It wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, but still a fun read and an interesting look at Taylor's early work.

A Skinful of Shadows by Frances Hardinge

READ FRANCES HARDINGE

I'd like to lead with that, because about three chapters into the first book of hers I've read (Cuckoo Song) she rocketed straight into my top ten favourite authors of all time. Dark fairy tales is my jam at the best of times, but she nails the trifecta of astoundingly original ideas, complex yet relatable characters, and beautiful, thought-provoking prose. I really don't have enough good things to say about her, so definitely add her to your reading lists.

Set in the 17th century during the beginning years of the English Civil War, Makepeace Lightfoot is a child raised among Puritans who suffers from terrible nightmares. Her mother is a strict, emotionally-distant woman who demands that Makepeace comes to terms with her night-horrors, often by shutting her up in an old chapel overnight.

But then a disaster occurs, brought on by the conflict between King and Parliament, and Makepeace finds herself among her father's people: the grim, foreboding Fellmottes. Clearly there is a secret to Makepeace's past, not only in the identity of her missing father but the reason behind her horrifying nightmares.

I came into this book cold, without even reading the blurb to get an idea of the story, and this was definitely the best way to enjoy this book. Discovering the strange circumstances of Makepeace's life works better when you're just as much in the dark as she is about what's happening, so if you just want to take my word as to the brilliance of Hardinge's work, then just get reading.

Her real gift is creating morally complex situations without committing to any side. There are few true heroes or villains here, just normal people trying to do what they can with the cards they've been dealt, and though some have clearly crossed the line into true evil, you can still understand their points of view and why they do what they do.

Hardinge is also a master at conveying human nature, with plenty of thought-provoking passages that bring the characters and their thoughts to life. This for example: "If someone throws aside their pride and begs with all their heart, and if they do so in vain, then they are never quite the same person afterwards. Something in them dies, and something else comes to life."

It's not something I've ever seen articulated, and yet it rings so very true. Damn, I can't wait to read more of her back catalogue.

The Phantom of the Auditorium by R.L. Stein

I couldn't wrap up my Phantom of the Opera phase without revisiting my favourite Goosebumps book. I had dozens of R.L. Stein's most famous series as a kid, and when the inevitable time came for me to pass them on to the next generation, I held on to this one. It was perhaps my first introduction to The Phantom of the Opera (last month I thought it was the Return of the Phantom computer game, but this definitely pre-dates that) and it's pretty cute.

Zeke and Brooke are eager to be part of the school's production of The Phantom, even though the play is rumoured to be cursed. Years ago the lead actor in the play disappeared on opening night and was never seen again, and as the strange accidents begin to pile up, suspicion is cast on them, the school's notorious pranksters. Wanting to clear their names, Zeke, Brooke and their new friend Brian start their own investigation.

Reading through adult eyes, it's... not really that good. As a kid I remember being absolutely blown away by the final twist, which reveals that Brian was the phantom the whole time, and honestly - that part still holds up. But the rest of it... not so much. There are too many red herrings that go unexplained and bits of the story that could have used some more detail (like, who wrote the play in the first place?)

And the person ultimately responsible for most of the sabotage is just a homeless guy living under the school's auditorium. Like any self-respecting Scooby Doo villain, he doesn't just lay low until the heat dies down, but instead creates a tantalizing mystery that the meddling kids just can't help but investigate. And then they rat him out and he evades the cops, presumably ending up back on the streets - not that our protagonists give a shit.

Ah well, it was a fun trip down memory lane and I am extremely jealous of kids in Dallas who actually got to see this on the stage...

Alice in Wonderland (1933)

This was on a brand new DVD at my library, and I can't resist a DVD that hasn't been scratched to pieces by apathetic customers. I have to admit that I've never really enjoyed Alice in Wonderland, in fact I was downright creeped out by it as a child, but in recent years I've learned to appreciate it more.

Like most adaptations of Lewis Carroll's work, it combines elements of Alice in Wonderland with Through the Looking Glass, with Alice first passing through the mirror on her parlour wall, and then falling down a rabbit hole. Along with the familiar characters of the story: the Mad Hatter, the March Hare, the Cheshire Cat, the Queen of Hearts, are some of the more obscure ones: the Sheep, the Red and White Queen, the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon... I shudder just thinking about them.

The whole thing is a series of vignettes involving Alice interacting with Wonderland inhabitants, and there are some eye-opening effects along the way. I'm pretty sure the Duchess is throwing around a real baby, and the flamingos are certainly alive and kicking. Things like the shrinking/enlarging scenes are handled as well as could be expected, and the costumes are extremely faithful to John Tenniel's original illustrations - though they make it impossible to let any of the actors, you know, act.

Charlotte Henry in the lead role is remarkably chill, and I prefer an Alice that can bite back at some of the ruder denizens of Wonderland. But she's also allowed to be surprisingly physical given all the leaping, running, falling and rolling down hills she does - and she gamely plays croquet with the aforementioned real-life flamingos.

This take on the material apparently didn't do so well when it was first released to the public, but it's interesting enough as a curiosity piece.

The Little Mermaid (1989)

I think we should all take a moment to thank the fates that this version of The Little Mermaid was released in the eighties and not today. Because yeesh, the discourse on Tumblr would be unbearable.

I mean, that's not surprising in one sense: it's the story of a sixteen year old who trades in her voice for a pair of legs because she's fallen in love with a prince at first sight. That's not getting into the drag queen inspiration of the villain, the violent tendencies of her father (this time around, Sebastian's abject terror of Tritan was a HUGE red flag) and the oft-mentioned attractiveness of a woman who literally cannot speak.

But with these early Disney films, it's a relief to just let the story unfold, knowing that the writers and animators weren't hung up on any external factors and could focus solely on their own creative endeavour. That lack of strain gives the film a potency and purity that I can appreciate so much more as an adult - all the more so because I was actually pretty terrified of this movie as a kid.

But this time around I was truly moved by Ariel's visceral longing for the human world; the way she grabs that rock and nearly launches herself after Eric as he leaves the beach is a masterpiece of single-minded teenage determination. This girl is gonna leave her family, abandon the ocean, and risk her own life for the sake of a dude she's just met... and you totally believe in her will to do so.

That it immediately cuts to Ursula spying on her and laughing: "it's just too easy!" is a fantastic story-beat in a movie that's filled with them. The songs! The colours! The flow and ebb of Ariel's hair! Is there anything more magical than the little fish swimming deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, the sights growing more and more awe-inspiring, until finally the silhouette of the merman glides across the screen?

In the wake of the impending live-action adaptation, I did come across one critique that interested me; one that suggested it was going to be nearly impossible to get around the issue of consent when Ariel was unable to verbally communicate. And yet this gives Disney too little credit - even back in the eighties the courtship between Ariel and Eric is deftly portrayed: all of her body language just SCREAMS her enthusiastic consent, and Eric is so laidback and non-threatening (in ways I never even realized as a child) that there's not even the slightest hint of dodgy dealings.

It's all in that moment when he offers the reins of the carriage to Ariel, and then casually folds his hands behind his head and lets her take control. Well played, Disney.

The Phantom of the Opera (2004)

Having recently read Leroux's novel and watched the Albert Hall Live musical, I went into the Joel Schmacher film with an eye for the details that caught my eye the first two times around. Despite its reputation, I don't hate this movie. It serves no purpose but to put the stage show on the big screen, and hey - it succeeds. Not particularly imaginatively and certainly not in any definitive way, but with plenty of opulence and flair.

The move from stage to screen means that the perspective can move around a bit more, and in that respect I actually kinda like that they expanded the framing device of Raoul taking the mechanical monkey to Christine's grave, of Madame Giry's history with Erik, the flashbacks depicting Christine's childhood and first meeting with the Phantom, and even the action sequences (was Raoul's sword fight in the graveyard and fall into the torture chamber pointless? Yes, but I don't care).

Some of the tinier changes are actually pretty good, like Madame Giry telling Joseph: "keep your hand at the level of your eyes" while demonstrating the Punjab lasso (thereby introducing the concept early) instead of: "he will burn you with the heat of his eyes." Likewise, when Christine hurries Raoul to the rooftop, she sings: "he'll kill you," instead of "he'll kill me," which completely changes the dynamic of her fear.

Patrick Wilson as Raoul solidified the fact that I love Christine/Raoul as a ship not because he's simply the better option, but because he's a good man, and Minnie Driver is a lot of fun as Carlotta (whatever happened to Minnie Driver?)

And if you keep your eye on some of the background players, there are mini story-arcs given to the theatre crew: the stuffy conductor, the chorus girls who end up on the arms of the new managers, and Carlotta's long-suffering coterie.

Of course there's some bad stuff too: Gerard Butler's singing voice, his hilarious lack of a facial deformity (seriously, it's just a bad sun-burn), the absence of any colour in Masquerade, the implication that Madame Giry is helping Erik prey on Christine, and the completely unimaginative staging of the musical numbers. Most of the time, the actors just stand still or walk slowly in a line while singing. Neither is there any consistency in the way the songs are performed: the first verse of The Phantom of the Opera takes place in Christine's mind; by the second she's singing out loud.

Other times they speak the lyrics of certain songs, which only makes the characters sound like they're reciting little ditties. Musicals have to work twice as hard to suspend an audience's disbelief, and all this is incredibly jarring.

But having my head recently filled with the novel and musical, plenty of ideas occurred to me about the story while watching this. For instance, I really liked Emmy Rossum's performance, and she manages to do some pretty interesting stuff here. Christine's arc is that of a grieving young woman coming to terms with the fact a man is gas-lighting her, and so her take on being led into the catacombs by the Phantom is an interesting one: she's entranced, but also clearly trying to figure him out. Is this an angel? A man? Something else? You can see the wheels in her head turning.

Her arc continues as she goes from starry-eyed believer to disillusioned woman, culminating in the Final Lair when she sings: "you deceived me, I gave you my mind blindly." This time around you can feel the sting of betrayal as she gradually realizes how deeply she's been manipulated.

It made me wish for a version of Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again sung with anger and frustration at Gustave Daaé, a man that Christine is still grieving and yet who started this whole mess by promising her he would send her the Angel of Music, thereby leaving her psychologically vulnerable to the Phantom's tricks.

The graveyard scene is where the final blinkers are taken from Christine's eyes after Erik impersonates her father, and it would be fascinating to see lyrics like "her father promised her," and "why can't the past just die?" sung with resentment instead of sadness, by a woman whose rite of passage into adulthood is letting go of the childish illusions she's been clinging to, forced upon her by a romantic fancy that her father burdened her with.

I also have new appreciation for the line: "he was bound to love you, when he heard you sing," and Erik's realization that it was he who made it possible for Christine and Raoul to reconnect. In fact, there are so many self-defeating moves throughout this story; for instance, Christine's terror of the Phantom is what drives her into Raoul's arms, and his promise of safety and security from Erik's horrors - her stage career is therefore both created and destroyed by the Phantom.

And Erik is a grade-A creepster, with lines that come straight out of How To Groom a Naive Teenager ("my power over you grows stronger yet", "I have needed you with me, to serve me", "only then will you belong to me," "your chains are still mine, you belong to me,") and yet this fine line between love and obsessive possessiveness ultimately awakens his latent humanity and leads to him letting her go. So many self-perpetuating cycles - I love it.

Whew, I sure do have a lot to say about The Phantom of the Opera.

Down a Dark Hall (2018)

SPOILERS

Well do I remember the summer of Lois Duncan. I was in my early teens, nothing much was going on those holidays, and so I ended up going to the library and reading Lois Duncan's extensive body of work. That school break was filled with ghosts, witches and outer body experiences. It was great. And this one in particular was one of my favourites: several young girls are brought to the exclusive Blackwood Hall for a higher education, only for their gifts in poetry, music and art to grow uncannily quickly under the tutelage of the strange staff.

It seems odd that Down a Dark Hall would get adapted now considering that Duncan's books are so inherently seventies/eighties in tone and content, and apparently the reprints had to go to a lot of trouble to explain why teenagers couldn't just whip out their cellphones at the first sign of trouble.

Here the film does a fairly good job of updating the students into teenage delinquents (thereby making them less "valuable" to society) and immediately relieving them of their cellphones so they have no access to the outside world, but the sense of unease and the detective work that goes into finding out exactly what's happening at Blackwood Hall is replaced with meaningless jump-scares (and I do mean meaningless - most of them are just nightmares).

They do manage to capture the psychological toll that the possessions have on the students, but for the climactic final act they take the lazy way out and simply set the place on fire, killing off most of the characters as they go. (And yup, the black girl dies first). The book treats Kit's successful attempt to get everyone out alive as her moment of triumph, so it seems especially mean-spirited that they changed it here.

SophiaAnna Robb (haven't seen her in a while, she was a contemporary of Abigail Breslin and Dakota Fanning, but seemed to disappear after her child roles ran out) and Uma Thurman carry the movie, but aside from some atmospheric cinematography, it's pretty forgettable.

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)

Remember how amazing the first Lego Movie was back in 2014, when a film about small plastic bricks that seemed designed to sell more plastic bricks was actually a fascinating story about the power of a child's imagination, the true purpose of toys, the subversion of Chosen One narratives, and even some rudimentary theology questions?

I'm pretty sure the idea came from the opening of Toy Story 3, which depicted the toys inhabiting a hyper-real "playtime" that involved Andy projecting their adventures onto a vast imaginative space that was presented to the audience as a real environment. But that set-piece encompassed the opening act of the film and no more; it was The Lego Movie that picked it up and ran with it.

Given how the first film ended, it's of little surprise that the conflict of the sequel revolves around the desire of Finn's little sister Bianca to be allowed to participate in her brother's games, which manifests as Emmett and his friends living in an apocalyptic wasteland before they're kidnapped by one of Queen Watevra Wa'Nabi's agents and taken to the Systar System. Dance parties, makeovers and songs about how she's totally not evil commence...

As good as the first movie was, there was one criticism that had some merit: that Wyldstyle (or Lucy) was a near-perfect example of Trinity Syndrome: a female character with talent, experience, confidence and purpose... who still had to play second-fiddle to a less interesting, less talented, less experienced male protagonist.

So my ears pricked up when Wyldstyle is confronted early on by Queen Watevra's messenger, who points out the frustrating sexism of this trope, telling her: "so you fought and masterbuilt and kicked butt, and then the hapless male was the leader?"

Hah. They acknowledged it. That's probably going to be it, right? Well, it turns out that after Lucy's kidnapping, she takes control of the situation and tries to find out what's really going on with the Queen. Nice, I thought - they're letting her do more this time around. But sooner or later Emmett is going to show up and save the day.

But through a twisty series of events, it turns out Queen Watevra isn't the bad guy of this particular story, and Lucy's insistence on Emmett becoming more grim and tough and mean has terrible consequences. He screws up, and it's Lucy's fault for trying to inflict her grimdark mentality on him.

This is the part where Emmett comes in and rescues her with his boundless optimism and charm, right? WRONG AGAIN. It's Lucy that once again takes control of the situation, finds a way to escape an impossible scenario, and ends up saving Emmett.

Her actions drive the plot. She makes a mistake that results in character development. When Emmett is in mortal peril, she shows up to save him. Phil Lord and Chris Miller not only heard the Trinity Syndrome complaint and made a quick reference to it in the film's opening act, but took it fully on board and wrote their screenplay around it. Every time I thought they were going to pull back, they just pushed harder. This is Lucy's movie from start to finish. Reader, I gasped.

I could go a step further and say The Lego Movie 2 is a critique of our current obsession with dark-and-gritty narratives, where people like Emmett are mocked for being too sweet and kind, and the villain is toxic masculinity personified, taking a jab at everything from Chris Pratt's roles as man-children in Jurassic World and Guardians of the Galaxy, to edgelords who mock teenage girls for liking things. All this in a LEGO MOVIE. I mean, wow. These are strange times we live in.

Detective Pikachu (2019)

You know all that positive stuff I said about The Lego Movie and how it manages to be incredibly thoughtful and intelligent despite being based on a children's toy? Well, that's not the case with Detective Pikachu, which is built entirely on capitalizing the hell out of this generation's resurgent interest in Pokemon.

I don't have much to say, guys. I missed the whole Pokemon phenomena when it took off in the late nineties, and this film itself is so by-the-numbers that it hurts. I mean, consider this: the main actor is called Justice. He plays a character called Tom. Changing something cool and funny into something bland and boring seems to be the entire point of this movie.

The ABC Murders (2018)

It had been a while since I last read Agatha Christie's The ABC Murders, and so went in uncertain of the solution... though it eventually came back to me as the episodes went on. This is one of Christie's seminal mysteries, largely thanks to her use of a serial killer who follows a strict pattern to the murders he commits - but naturally, this is all part of a much bigger deception.

It's now impossible for me to see John Malkovich as anyone but John Malkovich, but he does fine as Poirot, and is backed up by the usual array of "hey, it's that guy!" British thespians, including Rupert Grint in what just might be the first role I've seen him in since the Harry Potter days.

But I'll admit to getting increasingly annoyed by these latest adaptations, as screen-writer Sarah Phelps once again decides to fill the run-time with all sorts of sordid and gross details. Here the landlady is pimping out her daughter to her guests, while one of the suspects pays her to blindfold him and walk all over his back with nailed shoes. There's a guy with a giant boil on the back of his neck, a man who kicks over the (full) chamberpot while he's being murdered, and a man who's constantly vomiting up blood.

What's the point of it all?

Oh, and we get an entirely superfluous series of flashbacks that reveal Poirot was once a priest whose congregation was burnt to death inside his church during the war.

The adaptation at least keeps details regarding the killer and his/her motivations intact (unlike Ordeal by Innocence) but it makes for very unpleasant viewing. I'm ready for Death Comes as the End, if not simply for the setting and time period, but with the exception of And Then There Was None, I can't say I ever really enjoy what Phelps brings to these adaptations.

Wellington Paranormal (2018)

Okay, so I STILL haven't seen What We Do In The Shadows (I'm a bad kiwi) but I did spot this at work and nabbed it, knowing it was a spin-off for the two oblivious cops that featured in the film. As with the movie, it's filmed like a mockumentary, alternating between live footage of their investigations and talking heads.

Officers Minogue and O'Leary are two officers that are inducted into the paranormal division of their station by Sergeant Maaka, a true believer. Across the first six episodes they encounter demonically possessed teenagers, aliens, ghosts from the seventies, werewolves, vampires and zombies, and respond to all of them with the same casual demeanour - though occasionally they can be shaken out of their stupor (the scene in which they're accosted by creepy clowns, which quickly escalates into full-blown panic, had me in tears of laughter).

New Zealand comedy is a strange thing to describe, though if I had to define it somehow, it would be "well-meaning idiots respond casually to absurd situations". It was all over Thor: Ragnarok, and it's here as well. It's certainly an acquired taste, and there are plenty who just won't get it, but watching Minogue and O'Leary conclude that competitive sportspeople are behind the theft of blood bags at the local hospital is definitely another incentive to get my hands on In The Shadows.

She-Ra: Season 2 and 3 (2019)

So let's be honest, season three is actually the last six episodes of season two. It completes the arc that was started in the premiere episode, ends on a far more appropriate note, and takes the episode count up to thirteen (the exact number of the first season). To me, this is the entirety of season two, and I really wish it was called as such. I'd much rather wait for a bit longer to get the whole season, rather than get it halved into these unsatisfying little bits.

Anyhoo, She-Ra does what any good follow-up season should do: expand the world, introduce new characters/conflicts, and deepen the dynamics that were established in the first season. As adorable as the trio of Adora, Glimmer and Bow is, the heart of the show is the fraught friendship-turned-acrimonious-rivalry between Adora and Catra, which is just crackling with tension and emotion and psychological drama.

One had the fortitude and self-awareness to leave a destructive and abusive environment, the other... not so much. But Catra remains the show's most fascinating character, considering she's aware of the Horde's cruelty and doesn't really care. She's so focused on what she thinks will bring her happiness: power, appreciation, validation - that she doesn't grasp (or refuses to grasp, as she's not stupid) that this path only leads to misery.

You've probably seen fandom refer to her as Zuko; the truth is she's probably closer to Azula. Granted, Azula's relationship with the Fire Nation and its ideology wasn't fully explored; she was certainly a committed agent of its colonization and genocide, but she never seemed to have a personal stake in its expansion. By comparison, Catra is driven by what the Horde can do for her; she's bound herself to their goals partly for self-gain (unlike Azula, who was already at the top of the hierarcy) and as a response to her percieved abandonment by Adora.

So much of what drives Catra in this season is an attempt to prove herself superior to Adora, who she was unfavourably compared by Shadow Weaver on a regular basis during their upbringing. While the two of them were on the same side, it was something she could endure - once Adora leaves, Catra is out to prove herself in the eyes of those who always deemed her second-best.

It's a tragic mentality, and yet one that makes perfect sense given how she was raised. Yet the show doesn't excuse her choices and actions - much like Xena coming to terms with Callisto, this season has Adora finally reject Catra's ongoing mantra that everything is her fault, and in the final episode the two exchange A Look that indicates Catra has crossed a moral line. It's great.

The rest of the season provides plenty of material for Glimmer and Bow as well (the former takes Catra hostage, which leads to some great interactions) and we meet the latter's dads (though the idea that Bow has been lying to them about his involvement in the rebellion for years is a little hard to swallow). And would you believe, even Hordak gets a sad backstory!

Unfortunately, all the supplementary princesses are underused (especially poor Spinerella and Netossa, who don't even get lines) and Seahawk is relegated to a cameo role. Still, there's plenty of time to delve into these characters, provided Netflix allow Noelle Stevenson to tell the story she's got mapped out (according to interviews, there's a five-season plan, which hopefully means five sets of THIRTEEN episodes).