This is over a month late, but it’s taken that long to summon enough energy to summarize 2019. Here in New Zealand, it was marked by two terrible tragedies: the terrorist attack that claimed fifty-one lives at two mosques, and the eruption of Whakaari on White Island that killed twenty-two people. This isn’t taking into account the injuries both physical, mental and emotional.
But the latter was a natural disaster, the former was man-made, and as many said at the time, it destroyed the innocent of this country. Though it wasn’t our first mass shooting, it was the first that has been so racially motivated and certainly our biggest hate crime.
We’re coming up to the anniversary in March, and though it brought out the best in some (most) people, it also brought to light the unmistakable racism just brewing beneath the surface of our seemingly idyllic culture.
Working at my local library I was approached by an elderly man who opened the conversation with: “there are over a million Muslims in America, isn’t that scary?” which is without contest the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to me on so many stupid levels, as well as the elderly woman who complained about how taxpayers were going to pay for the funerals of the victims and the other elderly man who dropped: “not all Muslims are terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims,” like it was the most profound fucking thing anyone has ever said (by this time, I was seasoned enough to challenge him on it).
If there is one consolation, it’s that all these people were in their seventies, which means their stupidity and hatefulness will be dead in the ground along with them sooner rather than later (too harsh? Don’t care) but it’s a chilling indictment of what’s really going on in some people’s brains – especially since they were clearly motivated by the attack in their decision to say these things aloud.
The underlying sense of victim-blaming combined with bizarre resentfulness that they were not the victims of a Muslim terrorist attack is grotesque, and openly smeared on their smug, entitled, wrinkly little faces.
That’s not even getting into the ongoing prejudice and racism towards Maori in New Zealand, which certainly isn’t going to go away any time soon (choice quotes from customers: “they’re as cunning as a Maori dog,” and the old git who rambled on about the double-standards Pakeha are subjected to before my colleague dropped: “my husband is Maori” into his stream of verbal diarrhoea. He buggered off rather quickly after that, but guess who got an earful of his nonsense next time he decided to visit? Me, it was me).
So yeah. This has been the worst year since 2016 in terms of the horrible things that’ve happened in the world, all the more so because terrorism finally came to our isolated little islands, which I’ve long since believed (naively) would always be spared such horrors.
In the world of fandom, things weren’t much better – in regards to quality, not actual human suffering, obviously.
A staggering number of popular shows and franchises came to an end in 2019: Poldark, Orange is the New Black, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Elementary, iZombie, Killjoys, Into the Badlands – even stuff I haven’t gotten around to watching yet, like Jane the Virgin, Gotham, Mr Robot and Veep. There’s more scheduled for the chopping block in 2020: Arrow, The Good Place and Anne with an E have wrapped up, soon to be followed by the final seasons of Vikings, The 100, Homeland, How to Get Away with Murder… even Supernatural and The Big Bang Theory, after what feels like an eternity.
The Netflix Marvel shows came to a premature end, cheating both Luke Cage and (believe it or not) Iron Fist out of third seasons to wrap up their storylines, and among movie franchises we saw the X-Men go out with a whimper, How To Train Your Dragon manage considerably better, Toy Story 4 negate pretty much everything the last three films tried to teach us, and whatever the heck M. Night Shymalan’s Unbreakable trilogy was. Even It: Chapter Two brought home the concluding sequel this year.
And of course, the big three: The MCU, Game of Thrones and Star Wars. Ironically the one I cared about the least stuck its landing the best, whereas the latter two are currently undergoing a world-wide memory scrub.
Unsurprisingly there’s going to be a LOT more coming from all three of these franchises, but I find myself in a blissful state of calm knowing that I’m not going to watch any of them. I haven’t even seen TROS yet, and I doubt I will for a while given that fandom is a nightmare, it doesn’t sound very good anyway, and I’m totally oversaturated by the whole thing. I think it’s time we as a whole stepped away from these big blockbusters and sought out smaller, more interesting projects, which have a greater chance of being good (or at least thought-provoking) and result in fandoms that aren’t as insanely hysterical.
So it was the end of an era in many ways, and I had plenty to keep me busy: I got through all the Disney Princess films with a friend who had never seen any of them, cracked down on my TBR books and now only have a few thousand left to read, and saw some great stuff like The Dark Crystal: Resistance, Carnival Row, and the third season of Stranger Things. I suppose His Dark Materials fits in here too, as it was a treat to see it re-adapted for the screen, though it wasn’t anywhere as good as it could have been.
It was also a good year for the theatre, and I got to see Aladdin on stage, Swan Lake, The Wind in the Willows and Measure for Measure. Some times it makes all the difference to see a live performance instead of something on the screen.
There was also plenty of Alfred Hitchcock, though he’s not going to fit well into my New Year’s Resolution: to focus on stories that are female-centric and female-written. If 2019 taught me anything it’s that male writers in general (not in specific cases) still have a staggeringly long way to go when it comes to depicting female characters in ways that don’t render them as victims, sacrifices, nurturers, villains, or vessels for some dude’s redemption, emotional growth, or man-pain.
With that in mind, I’ve tried to make the following list something of a tribute to the women who didn’t get horribly treated by their respective stories in 2019…
Sunny credits her bravery to Violet in A Series of Unfortunate Events
I had mixed feelings about this adaptation – heck, I have mixed feelings about the book itself, but there is one moment towards the end that would make the staunchest heart melt. Due to one of the titular unfortunate events, Sunny finds herself in a cage while her sister Violet tries to rescue her, only to realize that for plot-reasons, she can’t manage it.
Not to worry, her baby sister (thanks to some sharp editing) scoops up her hair in a ponytail, copying her sister’s trademark gesture as a way of telling her that she’ll invent a way to secure her own escape. And when Violet asks her: “how did you get so brave?” Sunny responds like this:
Awwwwwwwwwwww.
The mansplainer gets what’s coming to him in Star Trek Discovery
I really enjoy this show, though it seems to be beset with complainers, which is a nice lead-in to what it casually pulls off in the premiere of season two. The arrival of Captain Pike (lovely man, deserves all good things) to Discovery also comes with Lieutenant Connolly, whose arrogance and dismissive treatment of our heroine Michael Burnham immediately gets your hackles up.
The three of them end up in small explorer pods to navigate an extremely dangerous asteroid cluster, at which point he starts loudly correcting Michael when she offers him pertinent advice over how to best steer his ship. And since she’s the one who has piloted these ships before, it would pay him to heed her words.
But he doesn’t, an asteroid hits his ship, and he dies instantly, mid-mansplain as to why he is right and she is wrong. Believe it or not, I didn’t get it the first time I saw it, and it was up to Tumblr to point out exactly what had just happened. But I’m in on the joke now, and it’s great.
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Nadia talks Alan from the ledge in Russian Doll
Groundhog Day Loops are almost always about learning to become a better person, with a side order of pondering the meaning of life in the midst of an existential crisis brought on by an ever-repeating day. Fun stuff. This time around Nadia Vulvokov constantly dies and reawakens in the bathroom of her friend’s apartment in the midst of her thirty-sixth birthday party.
The twist halfway through the series is that another person is going through the same experience: Alan Zaveri has also died hundreds of times, only to reawaken on the same day he realizes his girlfriend is cheating on him. Once the two realize what’s happening to the other, they team up in order to try and break the cycle, eventually tumbling to the idea that they’re being punished for not helping each other the first time they met.
Unfortunately, by the time they figure this out the timelines have deteriorated, and in the desperate attempt to find each other, they realize they’re each in separate timelines – leaving each one to earn the other’s trust and (literally or figuratively) talk them off the ledge while also trusting that the other is doing the same for them.
Because by this point Alan is reliving the way he died the first time around: jumping off a building in despair. But this time Nadia is there to offer him one tiny thing that might make all the difference: not a promise that life will get better, but that he won’t have to do it alone.
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And what do you know? It’s enough to save them both. Given the general theme of this list and the ranting I’ve been doing throughout the latter half of this year, you might be thinking something like: “wait, that sounds like Nadia is doing serious emotional labour for Alan and isn’t that a bad thing?”
No, because the thing is that GOOD WRITING transcends the roles that women are usually forced into. Nadia is a mess of a woman who can only save herself by saving someone else, and it’s clear in a myriad of ways that he is helping her just as much as she’s helping him, even if he’s playing the Distressed Dude in the climactic scene.
Look, it’s on Netflix right now and I binged it in a day. Go see what I’m talking about.
Arya kills the Night King in Game of Thrones
Okay look, season eight of Game of Thrones was not good by any stretch of the imagination. The second you take this scene and examine it in the wider context of the show, it doesn’t really make much sense, either in its own grasp of logic (is Arya… flying?) or in the seasons-long build-up to it (what was the point of all those Azor Ahai prophecies?)
But as A MOMENT, as a singular, self-contained scene of suspense and music and pay-off for all those endless montages of Arya learning how to become an assassin in Braavos, it works magnificently. And even if they did rather clumsily recontextualized Melisandre’s words to her back in season two (the whole “eyes of blue” thing), they did do a good job in seeding her dagger trick in her sparring session with Brienne.
Arya probably got the best deal out of the whole damn cast of characters when it came to satisfying endings and a coherent arc. Plus, she was a teenage girl who saved the world and made a bunch of male nerds really pissy. They trotted out the old “she’s a Mary Sue” complaint. AHAHAHAHA! What fools.
More than anything else, I just love it for this reaction video:
The Agents of Liberty miscalculate in Supergirl
Season four of Supergirl was so heavy-handed that it actually had its villains wielding tiki-torches for absolutely no plot-logical reason. At one point this anti-immigration organization metaphor had its members head out to beat up aliens in their home, which is truly one of the stupidest ideas anyone has ever had (while simultaneously highlighting the problems with these types of overt metaphors, as you simply cannot equate vulnerable minorities with aliens who can defend themselves with superpowers).
But let’s stick with what happens: Agent Liberty sends his henchmen to various alien-inhabited households with instructions to break in and cause havoc, only for said henchmen to be faced with – ya know, actual aliens.
So we see Brainy effortlessly using his foresight and agility to take down a gang with his hands literally behind his back (all set to soothing classical music) while another group bangs on a door only to see their own masked face looking back at them: it’s Manchester Black, who simply shoots them dead. Great plan, guys.
Finally, another gang bursts into a house where a terrified middle-aged man and a little girl are taking cover. But it turns out they’re not the aliens at all: the pet iguana is, who promptly turns into a massive dragon and starts breathing fire all over them. This leads to a pretty cool fight between Kara’s ice-breath and the alien’s fire, until Alex hears the other side of the story and communicates the creature’s true identity to her sister, allowing Kara to change tactics and calm back to normal size.
It’s Supergirl at its best, when it’s simply telling a fun story that remembers compassion and communication are stronger than any superpowers.
The crucifixion in Good Omens
There’s a poignant scene in the montage episode of Good Omens, in which Crowley and Aziraphale meet up some distance away from the crucifixion of Christ, and the former asks the latter: “What did he say that got everyone so angry?” Aziraphale’s sad response:
The miniseries isn’t interested in exploring the teachings of Christ in any detail after this scene, and to say that Christ was executed just because he told people to be kind to each other is a pretty massive oversimplification, but it’s a powerful, poignant scene, and one wrought with tragic irony considering so many followers of such a gentle man (notwithstanding the merchants in the temple episode) are such hateful assholes.
In goes hand-in-hand with another insightful look at the Son of God in the otherwise dreary second season of American Gods, when the goddess Bilquis eyes a statue of Christ and points out that he wasn’t someone who upheld the status quo, but that he was: “a troublemaker.”
Two such small exchanges, and yet they cut right to the heart of what religious belief should be about.
Bradley and Alex speak the truth on live television on The Morning Show
I’m cheating a little with this one, as I actually watched it just this month, but it fits perfectly with the general theme of this list. Alex Levy is a famous news broadcaster, who is the only thing keeping the network’s flagship show – The Morning Show – on the air after her long-time friend and colleague Mitch Kessler is fired for sexual misconduct.
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The ten episodes of the show explores the ins and outs of a high-stress workplace environment in the context of the #timesup movement; particularly the rape culture that permeated the network, the corruption and cover-ups that went into protecting Mitch, and the culpability that everyone, including Alex herself, shared in looking the other way while it was all going on.
But after a series of increasingly serious events (no spoilers!) takes place over the course of the season, Alex has finally had enough. Tired of the culture of silence and her own hypocrisy in letting the men in her life take advantage of vulnerable young women, she and her new co-anchor Bradley decide to take advantage of the live broadcast and simply speak the truth: complicity in Mitch’s behaviour went all the way to the top, young women were bribed with promotions to keep their mouths shut, and Fred Micklen (the president of the network) is poised to release the results of an internal investigation that blames everyone but himself for the toxic environment he cultivated.
The best part is that the rest of the network team lock him out of the room when he rushes inside to try and (once again) silence the women.
The cherry on top is that they do all this without the help of Mitch, who was due to come on the show for a secret interview and expose Fred himself. By forging ahead by themselves, they destroy the last bit of his leverage, leaving him with absolutely nothing.
It’s probably the most cathartic and rewarding conclusion to a long-simmering storyline since the Monterey Five attacked Perry on trivia night, and if you don’t scream with delight when Jennifer Aniston throws a glass of water in the face of the obnoxious new producer’s face… well, I don’t know what to tell you.
Robin comes out to Steve on Stranger Things
I can honestly say I didn’t see this coming. After poor old Steve Harrington is dumped by Nancy in season two, it seemed only natural that he would get a “replacement” girlfriend. After all, doesn’t he deserve one? Isn’t he a good person? Hasn’t he proven that over and over again? Doesn’t he have one of the most satisfying redemption arcs of recent years and now operates in the role of Dad to a bunch of pre-teens?
So the story goes, and this was clearly the expectation that the Duffer brothers were leaning into when they introduced Robin Buckley to the cast. She’s cute, she’s acerbic, she works alongside Steve at an ice-cream store, and their adventure together seemed a clear case of the whole enemies-to-lovers narrative – even Steve seems to think so when he admits his feelings in a bathroom stall (it makes sense in context).
But Robin has a confession to make: when she admitted that she was “jealous” in high school, it wasn’t Steve’s popularity she was referring to – it was the attention he garnered from other people – one in particular: Tammy Thompson. The penny drops. Girl is gay.
Admitting her sexuality is a huge leap of faith for Robin, as despite the bonding experience they’ve shared over the last twenty-four hours, she can’t be totally sure how he’ll react.
But after taking a moment to process, Steve rises to the occasion and promptly begins to tease her for her taste in women. I can’t be the only one who sighed in relief, not only for Robin’s sake, but for Steve’s as well. We can keep stanning for him, and look forward to another season of a beautiful platonic friendship. As The Rolling Stones said: “you can’t always get what you want, but you get what you need” – and Steven surely needed a friend (that wasn’t a child).
And also, a special shout-out to Dustin and Suzie’s rendition of The Neverending Story, which was truly the funniest sequence this show has ever had. It’s worth it just for the look on Hopper’s face.
Exposition is explained through puppetry in The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance
Would you like to know what true joy is? It’s when I watched Netflix’s prequel series to The Dark Crystal and was able to revisit the beautiful, imaginative world of Thra. Granted, the story wasn’t flawless – no story is – but there was one sequence that chased and attained utter perfection.
Our young Gelfling heroes have arrived at a mysterious place in the middle of the Crystal Desert, where they hope to find some answers. To their shock, it is a Skeksis that has been waiting for them, though he’s soon joined by another creature they’ve never seen before: a slow and gentle Mystic. Reading between the lines of their enigmatic riddles, it would seem the two of them are linked in some way.
Of course, if you’ve watched the original film, you understand the context behind all of this. The twist of that story is that the terrible vulture-like Skeksis and the wise Mystics are actually two halves of a singular species, one that was hewn apart after their experimentation on the Dark Crystal. This is the story that the Heretic and the Wanderer want to share with their young guests, and they’ve had plenty of time to prepare their tale. And how do they choose to share this complex backstory?
With that most ancient and sacred of arts: puppetry!
I may have squealed with delight when the history of Thra is conveyed to their (hilariously sceptical) Gelfling audience, and the sequence itself is beautifully rendered with shadow puppets, hand puppets, string puppets and other special effects, such as a constellation of wire and sparklers, which promptly catches fire. And not only does it beautifully convey the sad tragedy of the past, but offers a glimpse of the future, with a little Gelfling puppet that strongly resembles Jen of the original film. When it flies through the air and topples the Skeksis Castle, a shiver ran down my spine.
It makes you wonder just how long the two companions had been practicing all this, but the results were worth it. Puppets puppeteering puppets. Genius.
Anne Lister shuts down the creep who raped her friend in Gentleman Jack
The courtship of Anne Lister and Ann Walker isn’t going particularly smoothly, as the latter is clearly hiding some hidden terror from the former (and it’s not just confusion about their sexualities). Anne soon hears the full confession: Ann is being pursued by Reverend Thomas Ainsworth, a man who took advantage of her while she was staying in his house (nursing his sick wife!), and now fully expects the two of them to get married, utterly oblivious to his own wrongdoing.
But Anne Lister is not a woman to be intimidated, bullied or bullshitted. As Ainsworth uncomfortably tries to justify himself, she (politely and repeatedly) tells him to fuck off. And when his façade drops and he shows his true colours, she only fights back harder. And sure, the vulnerability of Ann’s reputation means that Ainsworth will never be held accountable in a court of law for his crimes, but at least Anne managed one heck of a parting shot: watch it here.
Powerful men taking advantage of defenseless women has happened since the beginning of time, and it’s not going to end overnight either. But we can look to people like Anne Lister, who stand up for the weak, cut through to the truth of abuse, and send manipulative abusers on their way. Whether it's 1832 or 2019, having someone believe you makes all the difference.
Hiccup and Astrid take their children flying in How To Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World
All things considered, Dreamworks stuck the landing with the third instalment of the HTTYD franchise. I’ve already spoke about how the separation of humans and dragons felt rather manipulative and contrived, especially since the threat to them was gone and there were plenty of ways around their conundrum, but it was the end of an era and it had to go out with a bang somehow.
And the story makes up for it with its final scene, in which Hiccup and Astrid – many years later – take their children to meet Toothless and his family. Never underestimate the power of coming full-circle.
People will tell you these movies are coming-of-age stories, and they’re wrong. Okay, they’re not wrong, but growing up isn’t the intrinsic overarching theme of the story: it’s trust. Trust lies at the core of these stories, and it’s right there in the iconic shot of Hiccup closing his eyes and reaching out his hand, not knowing whether he’s about to lose it in Toothless’ jaws, but trusting that he won’t.
Trust informs everything about not only their bond, but every other significant relationship across the films. Astrid has to trust that Hiccup knows what he’s doing when he introduces her to Toothless and they go on their first night ride. Stoick has to trust Hiccup when he’s presented with a brand new way of seeing the world.
Hiccup takes a leap of faith when he gets on Toothless’ back for the first time, and Toothless learns to trust him in return.
And this final scene is all about trust. The kids have to trust their parents will keep them safe. They have to trust the dragons won’t hurt them. Hiccup and Astrid have to trust their dragons and trust each other as they literally throw their kids through the air.
I watched The Hidden World right after seeing Aladdin on stage, complete with the famous “do you trust me?” line, and it’s so clear that the reason the Aladdin/Jasmine and Hiccup/Astrid relationships work so well is because they’re built on the same foundations. I’ve always said that in many ways trust is a more powerful concept than even love itself. Love is easy, trust – that’s something hard-won.
And honestly, after watching beloved characters from Harry Potter, Star Wars and Avatar: The Last Airbender grow up to be not-particularly-good parents in their subsequent sequels, it was truly nice to see Hiccup and Astrid raising a happy, loving family.
The “Getting Up” montage from Captain Marvel
This movie has a strange place in my heart, as I saw it with a friend only a few days after March 15th. In many ways it’s a typical Marvel film, with the expected combination of humour, heroism, and love for the US military, though like Black Panther, its key point of difference was its choice of protagonist.
There were plenty of scenes to love, from Carol testing out her powers to the sound of No Doubt’s Just a Girl, to the reveal of Goose the cat’s true nature, to the scene in which Jude Law tries to drag her down to his level, and Carol nonchalantly refuses to engage. There are some things in life we truly need to fight, but half the battle is knowing what to engage with and what to meet with utter indifference.
Heck, I even liked the deleted scene in which Carol steals the motorbike from the guy who tells her to “smile”, simply for the hilariously transparent pearl-clutching and pant-soiling reaction from the usual trolls who acted like society was about to crumble due to its existence.
But my favourite would have to be the “getting up” montage, in which Carol reclaims her memory by watching past versions of herself, as a child, teenager and adult, all take a tumble in some way, whether it’s crashing a go-kart or falling from a military obstacle course. She’s shown these images to humble her, to remind her that she’s a weak and defenseless in the face of her oppressors – but what her torturer fails to realize is the key component of these memories is Carol’s determination, and that fact that after each fall she gets to her feet again.
It’s a powerful segment, one that was sadly spoiled in all the trailers, but one that leaves a lasting impression. As Carol glares out at the audience, pushing herself upright again and again, it feels like she’s sending a message to the idiots who wasted so much time on trying to hold her back: you lose, losers.
Honorary Mentions:
Elsa versus the ocean in Frozen 2
I confess that I have not yet watched Frozen 2, but I think this is one of the best trailers I’ve ever seen: it’s evocative, it contains powerful images, and most importantly, it doesn’t give anything away!
What really caught my attention was the set-piece designed to showcase the extent of Elsa’s power, while still providing a challenge: for whatever reason Elsa is trying to cross an ocean, and in order to do that she has to use her cryokinesis to freeze the water. This is clearly easier said than done considering the choppiness of the waves simply cracks apart the ice almost as soon as Elsa can form it, and the height of said waves makes it nearly impossible for her to breach them.
But the true power of the sequence isn’t in the impossibility of the situation, but the fact Elsa keeps on trying. Twice we see her fail, and twice we see her back on the shoreline, psyching herself up for the next attempt. She takes her gloves off, she ties her hair back, she plants her feet in the ground… the film clearly isn’t going to make this easy for her, but as with Captain Marvel, her strength lies in her ability to keep getting up on her feet again.
Karen Duvall unsettles a pervert on Unbelievable
I would definitely recommend watching Unbelievable despite its tough subject matter. As two detectives investigate the case of a serial rapist operating across state lines, a scene occurs which could have been cut from the show for its lack of impact on the plot, but which depicts a silent power-play that has thematic weight within the context of the case.
Karen is sitting by herself at a bar, going over her day’s work. She realizes she’s being watched, and looks up to see a man quietly summing her up – not threateningly exactly, but obviously. She stares back for a moment, then gets back to her work. She looks up again when a crowd of young women walk through the door, and though they’re in and out again quickly, the man once again is clearly and deliberately sizing them up.
On noticing he’s eyeing her again, she casually pushes back her coat to reveal her badge – and he immediately recoils and tries to make himself as small as possible, confirming his dark intentions. As she leaves Karen can’t resist pausing behind his chair, letting him know that she’s watching him, and she’s not intimidated.
Like I said, it’s an incredibly short scene, and one that’s extraneous to the investigation itself. But it’s a reminder that even as predators lurk everywhere, they are cowards who prey on the weak and vulnerable, and Karen takes home a victory over one without uttering a single word.
The “milady” exchange in Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
This is a short but sweet one, which occurs during a flashback episode that details how Carmen met Brooklyn siblings Ivy and Zack. Teaming up to complete a mission, Carmen picks up a heavy grappling hook, glances over at the siblings, and asks: “a little help here, muscles?”
At which point Ivy shoulders her brother aside, takes the hook and effortlessly throws it over the nearby rooftop, before offering the rope to Carmen with a: “milady?”
At a time when that word is a red flag (or at least a tiresome cliché) to any woman who hears it, this show hilariously gender-flips the scenario and puts it in the mouth of the queer-coded Ivy, who is easily the show’s funniest character. Here, watch the whole thing...
***
So 2019 wasn’t a total wash. Yes, Game of Thrones and Star Wars came to disappointing conclusions that (for the most part) treated their female characters like shit, but I’m nothing if not an optimist, even if I have to drag myself toward a better world with a mortis grin. Things will get better, they have to.
I am still very annoyed to the ending of A Series of Unfortunate Events (the series). It's like Daniel Handler left the production for the last ten minutes and somebody else made arrangements in his absence. I'm not sure I've ever seen an adaptation so spectacularly miss the point of its source material.
ReplyDeleteIn the sense that they answered some of Handler's unanswered questions? (the sugar bowl, the fate of the Quigleys?) Because I can kiiiiiinda understand why they couldn't bring themselves to leave those plot-points hanging.
DeleteOr is it another reason?
I got the impression that somebody got cold feet about a series aimed at children having the more ambiguous ending of the books, but went too far in the other direction - the Quagmires being reunited and not disappearing into the Great Unknown, Lemony meeting up with his niece rather than just the implication he will that it was in The Beatrice Letters, Olaf's henchmen not dying horribly...
DeleteI was reminded of the 2004 film, which by all accounts Handler had very little creative control over, and at one point the powers that be were trying to insert a different ending where Olaf was arrested and there was an unambiguously happy ending, which they gave up on when they realised it would make it difficult for there to be any sequels. This is the reason why the ending to the film is so choppy in places, with the narrator abruptly saying that Olaf "disappeared" rather than his escape being shown onscreen.