Reading/Watching Log #64

This month involved a concentrated effort to watch a selection of shows and films that were (somewhat) connected through either theme or content, which meant that I got through a lot of stuff. Generally speaking it involved puppetry, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the trio of animated Cartoon Saloon films.

That said, I’m going to hold off talking about The Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea and Wolfwalkers until next month, so I can do a proper post on them. (For now – just watch them!)

I also made a miniscule dent in my TBR pile, so a few books can be taken from the pile on the floor and put into an actual bookshelf. Hey, it’s a start!

Ragtime in Simla by Barbara Cleverly

The second book in Cleverly’s Detective Joe Sandilands series is definitely not as good as The Last Kashmiri Rose, but it’s still a decent story if not a mystery (it doesn’t really count as a whodunnit since you don’t get the clues you need to solve it yourself). Set during the British Raj in the 1920s, Joe is traveling to Simla as the guest of the Governor of Bengal, his friend and superior, George Jardine. Simla itself is a British settlement in the Himalayan Hills that exists as a microcosm of England, as well as being infused with the culture and wildlife of the India that surrounds it.

On the train, Joe strikes up a friendship with a Russian opera singer called Feodor Korsovsky and ends up offering him a ride into Simla. However, when the two of them stop to take in the view at Devil's Elbow, Korsovsky launches into song, only to be shot dead by a sniper right before Joe's eyes.

On arriving at Jardine’s house, Joe discovers that there was another shooting in the exact same place some years ago, so it doesn’t take much to deduce the same culprit was behind both murders. The trail leads straight to Alice Conyers, easily the book’s best character, a beautiful young businesswoman who is clearly harbouring plenty of secrets.

The main drawcard to these books is Cleverly’s interest in her period setting. I can’t speak as to the veracity of it, but it certainly reads as though she knows what she’s writing about, and India is vividly rendered in all its heat and beauty – along with plenty of brothels, antique stores, theatres, séance parlours and jungles. Definitely not my favourite in the series, but it picks up again with the third book: The Damascened Blade.  

See You Later by Christopher Pike

I hit adolescence a few years after Christopher Pike’s heyday, so I never really got around to reading any of his stories at the appropriate age (my slightly older cousins did though, and I remember staring at the creepy covers whenever I went over to their house). But this one was at the second-hand bookshop so I grabbed it, motivated mostly by the fact that the podcasters on Teen Creeps had gone through it, and their commentary on the pulp horror of the eighties/nineties is always hilarious.

Pike is best known for horror, though more often than not there are surprising levels of sci-fi and mysticism sewn into his stories. Occasionally there’s a mid-book twist that changes the entire context of the story taking place. And sometimes, things can get batshit insane.

Mark is a teenage loner with a heart defect who is nursing a crush on a local video store clerk called Becky. He’s had a couple of conversations with her, but is well aware that she’s got a boyfriend. Then he meets Vincent and Kara, an older couple who befriend him and take him under their wing. Vincent wants him to test-try a computer game that he’s designed, while Kara becomes strangely obsessed with the idea that he hook up with Becky.

The back of the book (or at least the copy I read) has a ridiculously in-depth synopsis; going into great detail as to the meddling Kara does to ensure that Becky breaks up with her boyfriend and starts dating Mark instead – so much so that you’d think it was some kind of weird teenage love triangle drama story. But never fear, there’s also the threat of nuclear war and time travel and celestial beings that may be aliens, angels or something else altogether – vintage Pike, basically.

Not his best, but I liked it.

Frankly My Dear by Molly Haskell

This was handed to me by a co-worker who thought I might be interested. I never say no to a book, though it’s taken me so long to get to reading it that my colleague had completely forgotten about giving it to me in the first place. It’s a rather cluttered look at Gone with the Wind, both novel and film, made up of disparate facts, anecdotes, meta commentary and personal opinions, as written by a long-term fan of the story, with no central hypothesis or underlying argument. Haskell is just a fan that wants to talk about the thing she loves.  

Which, fine. I’m not writing any sort of academia on the subject, so I just enjoyed accumulating some insight into the now-controversial book/film, which is a rare case of a source material/on-screen adaptation that are considered largely inseparable, neither one overshadowing or undermining the other. Reading the book these days, it’s impossible not to visualize Vivian Leigh or Clark Gable in the lead roles, and some of the film’s most memorable lines of dialogue (“has the war started?”) are nowhere to be found in Mitchell’s manuscript.

Speaking of Margaret Mitchell, she had a strange, rather sad life, and was killed while still in her forties after being hit by a car on her way to the movies. Haskell tries to draw some connective tissue between her life and her characters (she had a very tempestuous Rhett-like first husband) as well as those of the actors: apparently Vivian Leigh was having an extramarital affair during shooting (is it relevant to her performance? Haskell thinks so).

There were some interesting tidbits through: I never realized that the book was published in 1936 and the film released a scant three years later in 1939, which demonstrates just how quickly and profoundly it gripped the United States.

And incredibly, Scarlett O’Hara’s original name – as written throughout the entire first draft – was Pansy. I wish I was kidding, but according to this, it’s true. I mean wow. It’s hard to believe that a character like Scarlett could have been called anything but Scarlett, but that it was originally Pansy?? Oof. Not so much a bullet as a TRAIN was dodged with that creative change.

Haskell deals with the topics of slavery, misogyny and the glorification of the South with a light hand, and on some level you can tell she a. doesn’t feel qualified enough to delve into it too deeply, and b. is simply more interested in the plot, characters and “making of” components of the story than any of its political or cultural ramifications.

By now you’ve already made up your mind on how you feel about Gone with the Wind. This just provides a little bit of context to it.

The Chestry Oak by Kate Seredy

Another co-worker handed me this one, though it was at the bookshop rather than the library. He was a fan of the author in his childhood, and given that he’s an enthusiastic amateur historian (especially concerning the two World Wars) it soon became clear why. Kate Seredy was a children’s writer who won several awards, focusing her work strongly on her native Hungary, particularly during WWII.

Prince Michael of Chestry lives in the midst of a Nazi takeover, in which his castle and kingdom have been invaded by the Third Reich, with his father retaining his title and status only as a formality. Taking upon himself the burden of a spy, knowing that the rest of the world will consider him a collaborator and a traitor, Michael’s father warns him to keep his identity and mission a secret at all costs: no matter the hurt or humiliation.

It’s a pretty intense setup, but one that takes a sharp left-turn about halfway through the book. After a bombing in Chestry Valley, Michael is rescued and shipped off to America, where no one is any the wiser as to who he truly is. The only thing he takes with him is an acorn from the famous Chestry Oak of his home valley, which he vows to plant when the war is over.

It’s a sad book, and an old-fashioned one in many ways, with the rather long-winded writing of the time and plenty of intrusive religious commentary (including a bizarre need to differentiate the Nazis from good Christians by referring to them as pagans). Seredy doesn’t stint on the danger Michael is in or the true depths of the evil that the Nazis committed (one of the village boys is shot dead as a warning to others) though it does slow down in the second half when he reaches the USA as a refugee, and gradually warms up to the American family that takes him in.  

It was an interesting enough change of pace. Now I better get the book back to my co-worker – it’s only been a year or so since he gave it to me.

DC Superhero Girls: Tie-in Moves (2016 – 2018)

Back in March of last year I watched the web-series of this show – which has since been rebooted as a proper cartoon with Lauren Faust as showrunner – and decided to follow up with the direct-to-home-video movies, because I am nothing if not a completist.

There are four altogether (technically six, but two were Lego movies and even I’m not pedantic enough to track those down) and are largely designed to introduce very young viewers (girls specifically) to the DC superhero roster... and sell toys, obviously. It’s quite fascinating seeing these iconic characters in “preschool” mode, what with the bright colours, simple designs and storylines that basically amount to “friendship solves everything.” Even alien invasions from Apokolips. Seriously.

Basically, I love the way there are so many profoundly different variations of these characters, directed towards so many types of audiences. Watching this, it’s incredible to think there’s another version of Wonder Woman in the hands of Zack Snyder who throws people into brick walls so hard their heads explode. This is a high school AU in which adolescents with super powers come to hone their abilities and occasionally fight crime, in which Amanda Waller is principal, Wildcat is the gym teacher, and Parasite is the janitor. That makes a crazy amount of sense – emphasis on the crazy.

Super Hero High is essentially the pilot episode of the show (though it came out after the first season of the web-series) in which Supergirl arrives at the school, befriends Batgirl, feels inferior to Wonder Woman, and eventually foils an Apokolips invasion headed by Granny Goodness, the Female Furies, and a pet parademon, who enter the school through a Boom Tube located on the school campus that opens directly into one of the most dangerous planets in the entire DC universe.

I mean, wow. Squint and you’ve got Justice League: The Snyder Cut and the third season of Young Justice right there.

Hero of the Year involves the students completing for that titular prize, only to put aside their squabbling for some world-saving shenanigans. They cram so much into this movie: Big Barda tries to fit in at school, Supergirl struggles over the death of her parents, Hawkgirl teaches Beast Boy to be less annoying, Bumblebee gets trapped in “small mode”, Lois Lane is running around trying to get a scoop, Wonder Woman deals with the high expectations placed upon her by her mother – and a supervillain called Dark Opal is stealing various artefacts from the heroes for some nefarious reason or other.

In Intergalactic Games the Female Furies and Korugar Academy come to Earth to compete with the superheroes in superhero-themed Olympics, leading to lessons on sportsmanship and working together and so on, with a tacked-on evil plot concocted by Lena Luthor. Legends of Atlantis is probably the best of the lot due to its streamlined story that doesn’t try to pack in a gazillion other subplots and characters, instead focusing on Wonder Woman, Mera, Raven and villain Siren. Yeah, it’s a weird combination, but it works. And hey, who doesn’t enjoy an undersea adventure?

As with Teen Titans, no one ever calls these girls by their first names, going by the logic that young viewers can’t relate to having a secret identity. That’s always struck me as rather stupid – kids know what nicknames are, and seeing Ma and Pa Kent refer to their adopted daughter as “Supergirl” is even more bewildering. The animation isn’t great either, and every single girl has the exact same body type and facial features – were it not for the distinctive outfits and hairstyles, they’d all be identical (thankfully this was rectified in Lauren Faust’s reboot).

And all of the films end with a stinger that suggests the villains aren’t totally defeated, even though none of them are ever seen again.

Ah well, watching these checks a box off my list, and it’s made me curious about what Faust does with the material in her own series...

Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? (1962)

I wanted to watch Ryan Murphy’s Feud starring Jessica Lange and Susan Sarandon as Joan Crawford and Bette Davis respectively, but to do that, I first had to watch the movie that inspired it. And I honestly had no idea what it was about: I went in thinking it was literally about a baby called Jane that went missing and never found.

It’s not. Instead it’s about two feuding sisters living in an increasingly dilapidated Hollywood mansion, with one trapped in a wheelchair after a mysterious accident, and largely left to the mercy of the increasingly erratic Jane, who was once a child star and can’t quite get her head around the fact she’s no longer young. The mind games escalate between them, till eventually it ends in... murder!

It’s a fun movie with an interesting history (thus the “making of” miniseries Feud) and some unforgettable performances from Crawford and Davis. That said, there are some nasty undertones as well: this movie is credited with starting the “hagsploitation” trend that one of the more unsavoury characters in Feud explains for us: a range of aging actresses past their prime are turned into deranged grotesques for the Schadenfreude-esque thrill of the audience.

But it’s still a great movie, and though Crawford would hate me for saying this, it’s largely down to Bette Davis’s fearless performance. She designed her own makeup for the role, and it’s unforgettable. Watching this directly prior to Feud made for a great viewing experience, so if you’re interested in one or the other – try to manage both.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

Critically panned but a huge financial success back in the nineties, the thing about this take on Robin Hood is that it’s not bad. In the wake of the 2010 and 2018 offerings, it’s downright good. Seriously, why was everyone so down on this movie? It’s got some great action sequences, beautiful cinematography, Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham, and a chance for almost every single Robin Hood character (Prince John and Allan-a-Dale are the only notable absences) to exist in some capacity, and get a moment to shine.

And heck, I don’t even care that much about Kevin Costner’s American accent. Christian Slater has one too, and no one ever gave him a hard time for it. (Also, Christian Slater in his prime? Whew!)

This was also the movie that codified the inclusion of a Saracen or Moorish character among the usual line-up of outlaws – in this case, Morgan Freeman as Azeem. Rumour has it that the screenwriter didn’t know much about Robin Hood, ended up watching Robin of Sherwood (which featured the first example of such a character) and wrote him in without realizing he was an original Kit Carpenter character. Thus the name change from Nasir to Azeem.

But he’s a great character, without him we wouldn’t have gotten Djaq in the BBC’s Robin Hood, and with only one exception (2010), this specific representation has been included ever since.  

In any Robin Hood film or series, I’m always fascinated by how they play around with the relationships. Robin’s closest friend can be anyone from Little John (animated Disney) to Much (BBC) to the Saracen (here). Of late, the adaptations have also liked playing around with the concept of half-brothers – in this case, Robin and Will Scarlett are half-brothers, the latter being the illegitimate son of a peasant woman Robin’s father hooked up with after his wife’s death (Robin of Sherwood and the BBC did something like this too, but not with those particular characters).

Marian is cousin to King Richard (making her of royal blood), and the Sheriff is cousin to Guy of Gisborne (imagine the BBC versions in that scenario!). And there are tons of other original characters, all just as interesting and developed: John’s wife Fanny, their son Wulf, Marian’s handmaid Sarah, Robin’s manservant Duncan, the Sheriff’s witch Mortianna – they’re all great!

There are worse Marians, but this one isn’t particularly interesting: in fact she only really gets three scenes: one in which she’s established as a swordfighter who attacks Robin for no real reason before being promptly disarmed, one in which she’s shown around the outlaw’s camp, and of course, the now infamous wedding/attempted rape scene, which is played for both drama and comedy, and is difficult to really get one’s head around. It’s a thing that happened.

Oh, and SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO KILL THE SHERIFF. The setup was there, what with him giving her a dagger (that she then gives to Robin, but she could have easily held onto it herself) and it would have been poetic justice for her to stab him with it when he finally had Robin cornered. Tell me that wouldn’t have been a better movie.

If you haven’t seen it in a while, maybe think about revisiting – especially if it’s the extended edition that sheds a new angle on the Sheriff/Mortianna relationship.

Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993)

Well obviously I had to follow up with this: the Mel Brooks spoof that skewers Prince of Thieves more than any other Robin Hood adaptation – not only with Cary Elwes’s: “unlike some other Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent” burn, but stuff like the blind manservant and the old witch in the tower, which were all unique to Prince of Thieves.

As a kid, this was the pinnacle of comedy, as an adult – yeah, not so much. There are still some things that genuinely made me laugh: Marian’s cry of alarm when Robin starts singing in her face, the famous bridge fight with Little John, the delivery fox that inexplicably sounds like a dolphin... but dick and fart jokes just aren’t as funny when you’re not ten years old.

I forgot how beautiful Amy Yasbeck is in this, and she’s seriously one of my favourite Marians. She’s like Amy Adams’s Giselle in that she commits utterly to the breathless, come-hither affectations and doesn’t drop them for a second. She manages to be funny when she’s just reacting to things, so it’s a shame she sorta disappeared after this (as far as I know).

Some bits drag (what was the point of the Mafia scene??) but Cary Elwes is genuinely charming and Roger Rees as the Sheriff of Rottingham was awesome. It doesn’t hold up really, but it brought back some good memories.

Strings (2004)

This is a true oddity of a film that nobody’s ever heard of, but one that’s completely hypnotic. I’ve had it on DVD for years (having randomly chanced upon it in a local bargain bin) and return to it every few years or so. Made by a combined group of Danish-Swedish-Norwegian-English puppeteers and actors, the entire story is acted out by marionettes – but stark contrast to things like The Dark Crystal and Thunderbirds, these marionettes are aware that they’re puppets (though they’re still characters, with the semblance of sentience and free will) and their limitations are woven into the world-building of the film.

There are wide shots of landscapes in which millions of strings stretch down from the sky. Architecture is designed to accommodate these strings (obviously there are no roofs, and prisons involves a horizontal criss-cross gate being raised and lowered, trapping prisoners in a square of space). The birth of a child involves the parents carving a baby out of wood, before strings miraculously descend from the heavens to provide life.

It’s fascinating stuff, and naturally the puppets themselves have no idea who controls the strings or how they work – the audience can only assume as they do: that it’s a mysterious higher power.

And it begins with a suicide: King Hebelon kills himself by cutting his head-string, leaving his son Hal and daughter Jhinna to the mercy of their wicked uncle who wants to usurp the throne (don’t they all). Uncle Nezo promptly hides his brother’s suicide note and tricks Prince Hal into taking vengeance on the Zeriths, wandering nomads and long-time enemies of the kingdom, blaming them for the king’s death and sending along a compromised bodyguard to ensure his nephew never returns.

But of course, Hal ends up learning some life-changing truths about his enemies.

It moves at a snail’s pace (or a string-puppet’s pace) but watching the way the creators incorporate the marionette nature of their characters into the world they inhabit is genuinely fascinating. And it has pretty stacked voice-cast as well: James McAvoy, Julian Glover, Derek Jacobi, Ian Hart, Samantha Bond, David Harewood... If you can find it, try it.

Team America: World Police (2004)

I mostly watched this for the way it fits in with the general theme of the month, though it’s quite a coincidence that two marionette movies were released in the same year. As commentary on Bush’s War on Terror, it’s obviously dated, and its skewering of celebrities is pretty mean-spirited, even by South Park standards (though I can’t say I disagree with their take on celebrity activism: “as actors, it is our responsibility to read the newspapers, and then say what we read on television like it’s our own opinion.” Seriously guys, just donate a few million to a good cause).

It still works as a spoof of stupid Hollywood blockbusters, from the trite dialogue: “maybe... feelings are feelings because we can't control them,” the flat character types (golden boy, sexy action girl, belligerent asshole, ethnic minority with psychic powers that involve stating the obvious), and the ludicrous premise that an actor picked up off the street can act his way into a terrorist cell.

There’s even a fun parody of the Bechdel Test (which admittedly, could be a total accident) given that all Sarah and Lisa talk about is boys – so perhaps cognizant of this, they tack “I treasure your friendship” onto the end of their conversations. That said, I was actually impressed that they let Lisa be the one who took down Kim Jong II.

The puppets are obviously based on the Thunderbirds models, but the whole thing is actually surprisingly beautiful: the backdrops, the miniatures, the details... With that mind, the best jokes are the ones based on the actual puppetry: kung fu fights that are just puppets jiggling around each other, black kittens standing in for bloodthirsty panthers, and of course the extended puppet sex scene.

And the songs! Say what you will about Trey Parker, but some of his lyrics are genius:

Justice League vs Teen Titans (2016)

Still chugging along with these, though I actually watched this one back in 2017. It’s another round of various storylines we’ve seen countless times before: Raven’s father Trigon is preparing to take over the world, and he ends up brainwashing members of the Justice League in order to do it (though the “vs” part of the title is a bit of misnomer, as any conflict between League and Titans is fairly minimal).

I’m still surprised that I like Damien Wayne (I hear he’s worse in the comics) though among his own peers instead of precociously bouncing off adults, he’s a lot more insufferable. Batman has finally decided to ship him off to the Titans Tower (still can’t get over the fact they live in a giant T on the coastline) where he immediately starts dick-measuring with the other boys.

This is a very different line-up of Titans than the one I’m used to: we’ve got Damien instead of Dick as Robin, Blue Beetle instead of Cyborg, and Starfire as a much older mentor. Only Raven vibes the same, and she’s possibly the best character. It makes sense that she and Damien would bond over the fact that both have been groomed for a role they no longer want, and she ends up being the centrepiece of the story (not difficult considering she’s intrinsic to her dad’s evil plan).

There are some weird little bits and pieces though: Diana and Clark go to a movie together, and she remarks that the female character only seemed to exist in order to be rescued by the man – and then... this is exactly what happens between the two of them in the final battle. She gets into trouble and he rescues her. They set that up only to not subvert it? Weird.

And frankly, they did this storyline between on Cartoon Network’s Teen Titans – though in that case they had four seasons to build toward it.

A Dark Song (2016)

I’ve had this ready to watch for a few years now, and... I’m not sure what to say! It’s a pretty intense psychological/metaphysical thriller, with a pretty rock-solid premise: two complete strangers cut themselves off form the world inside a dilapidated mansion in order to engage in a months-long ritual to summon beings from the other side. Once inside, they cannot leave. If the steps of the ritual are disturbed then there could be devastating spiritual consequences.

That’s enough of a hook already, but throw in the fact that at least one of these two is in the house under false pretenses, and you’ve got a fairly riveting supernatural drama.

First of all, I was happy-surprised to see Catherine Walker in the lead role: she’s not a particularly famous actress, but I really liked her as Francoise de Maintenon in Versailles, though you’re probably more familiar with her as Nimue’s mother in Cursed. She has a real cold elegance and control about her, which naturally is used to good effect here, when all her walls are gradually eroded over the course of her ordeal. She’s the one that is initiating this ritual, and paying good money to make it happen.

She’s joined by occultist Jospeh Solomon (Steve Oram) who certainly doesn’t look or act like a spiritual man – he’s surly, abusive, arrogant and dismissive, making it difficult for Sophie to take the absolute leap of faith that’s required of her. The tension between them is secondary only to the strange forces at work in the house, and there’s a great build towards the arrival of the supernatural – things start subtle and only escalate from there.

It’s almost ruined by one really gross scene in which Solomon commits a pretty horrific breach of trust for his own sexual gratification – what makes it worse is that it has no bearing on the rest of the story, and you’re welcome to fast-forward through it if you want (it’s not rape, but it’s still awful). Other than that, it’s a pretty gripping experience, with lots to say about the nature of grief, vengeance, suffering, the afterlife and spiritual matters.

I’m not sure I was 100% sold on the ending, but it’s one that will probably grow up me when I watch it through for a second (or third) time. I’ve no doubt director/writer Liam Gavin set up for it – it’s just a matter of going back and seeing the thematic clues that leads to Sophie’s ultimate decision.

Yamasong: March of the Hollows (2017)

This is another puppet movie so obscure that I could barely find any information about it (and it feels like a miracle that I was able to find it on-line at all). There are only two Rotton Tomatoes reviews for it, and though I remember first seeing it promoted on Tumblr, there are absolutely no posts about it at this stage. Even IMDB doesn’t have the cast listing – which is surprising, since voices are provided by the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, Nathan Fillon, Abigail Breslin and Freida Pinto.

Some rudimentary research did explain the film’s rather odd opening: apparently it was preceded by a nine-minute film in which a robotic patchwork girl (or “Hollow”) called Nani and Shojun, a Terrapin warrior from a fishing village, travel the world of Yamasong in search of a falling star. This is quickly recapped in the opening moments of the film, which explains the weirdness of what seems like a random backstory that takes place off-screen.

It starts properly with Nani back on the moon-like prison that contains the rest of the Hollows, and which silently orbits Yamasong. Apparently her fellow robots were imprisoned after trying to transform every living being on the planet into a lifeless automaton, and when the penitentiary falls out of orbit, they waste no time in setting off to finish what they started.

So Nani sets off in search of her old friend Shojun, hoping that they can combine forces to stop the Hollows. Along the way they are joined by Geta, a deer-like alien creature who throws her lot in with them, even once she realizes her brother is on the wrong side. Looming over them all is the threat of Nani’s mother, the Hollow Queen, convinced of her own righteousness.  

By this point I was used to the movement and pacing of puppetry, and there are some fun little techniques here and there, especially when it came to fighting and leaping. It’s a shame this film is so obscure, as I imagine plenty of puppetry fans would be eager to know of it’s existence.

It’s a fascinating watch, though I wish I could give you more details on how and why it was made. There just isn’t anything! Glad I finally got to see it though, this one has been on the to-watch list for a while.

Feud (2017)

This was a great companion piece to Whatever Happened To Baby Jane, chronicling the making of that famous film and the reported feud that erupted between stars Bette Davis and Joan Crawford – I’m just sorry I didn’t also catch Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte beforehand, another film which is also featured during the course of the miniseries.

Focusing not just on the way Crawford and Davis interacted with each other, but also the wider scope of their lives and waning careers, it’s an interesting look at the two screen legends, their very different lives, and how they handled the onset of old age. Yes, there is a lot of lamenting on the subject of growing old, to the point where it gets a little tedious – but then, what else are two wealthy actresses past their prime living in Hollywood going to worry about? Certainly not their children.

Jessica Lange as Joan is the undisputed star, portraying an absolute tragedy of a woman with more hang-ups than a therapist could ever unpack in one lifetime, though she never goes too soft on her genuine unlikability (the woman cannot have a conversation with another woman without throwing in a passive-aggressive jab of some kind). There is her desperate need for attention, her admirable professionalism, her brittle but impeccable manners, her alcoholism, her pathetic attempts to clutch to her fading beauty, her hypocritical morality – it’s a tour de force.

The show ends up giving her a pass as a mother though: the book Mommy Dearest by Christina Crawford is mentioned, though the author never seen, and Joan herself is consoled on the topic of motherhood by one of her other daughters (plus they get a dig in at Faye Dunaway, who played Joan Crawford as an absolute psycho in the film of the book).

In comparison, Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis is... well, she holds her own, but Jessica Lange is definitely the star. Thankfully their rivalry doesn’t emerge from (just pettiness), but a real clash of incompatible personalities; two absolute divas going head-to-head. In the framing device, which has a camera crew interview the likes of Olivia Haviland and Joan Blondell, they discuss that despite how the media pitted them against each other, they were always going to be at each other’s throats.

I enjoyed the whole thing: despite some heavy-handed Ryan Murphy moments, it had a real feel for the period and some interesting insights into these two formidable women.

Hollywood (2020)

Can a film end racism? This seven-episode miniseries, also from Ryan Murphy, would like to think so, and it’s difficult to know what to do with that. On the one hand, it can’t rid itself of a painfully self-congratulatory tone, for this is a story that truly believes that storytellers and filmmakers have the power to actually solve racism. And homophobia and misogyny to boot.

I’m not saying films and representation don’t have a hand in such things, but there are millions of activists both past and present that would rightfully give that premise the side-eye.

On the other hand, it’s not really trying to be anything other than a feelgood piece. A cast of young hopefuls – actors, directors, screenwriters – come to Hollywood to try and make it big, all getting attached to a film called Peg, written by a Black gay man, directed by a passing Asian man, financed by a Jewish woman, and eventually starring a woman of colour.

And it is ludicrously upbeat. Yes, there are racial and homophobic occurrences, but the inner circle of producers and crew is so supportive, so understanding, so WOKE, that it beggars belief. Of course, the show asks nicely for this suspension of disbelief, as the finished picture goes on to sweep the Academy Awards and everyone goes on to live happily ever after with convenient romantic partners, in what seems to be a new Hollywood Utopia.

The strangest thing is that in the midst of all this, Camille, the actress who takes the lead role in the film, is very nearly a complete cypher. She’s given no interior life, no background and no agency – except on two accounts: first sexually manipulating her director boyfriend into considering a woman of colour for the lead role, and then standing up for herself at the Academy Awards ceremony when an usher tries to prevent her from entering the auditorium (which is admittedly, very awesome).

It’s quite a shocking oversight really, all the more so since it’s the aging white male producer who points out that the optics of the original ending – that Peg kills herself – won’t fly with a Black actress. That he comes up with this, as opposed to the Black scriptwriter or the actress herself, is fairly astounding.

But there is a lot of fun to be had throughout. Queen Latifah guest-stars as Hattie McDaniel. Holland Taylor is always a delight, and I cheered when she hooked up with Dylan McDermott, who... holy shit, I haven’t seen him since The Practice in the nineties and he looks amazing. Those cheekbones will never age. Patti LuPone is as great as ever. And hey, that’s Mira Sorvino! I haven’t seen her in ages.

And yet... some creepy stuff too. The white male lead is almost astoundingly boring, who behaves badly towards his pregnant wife before the narrative gives him a “get out of jail free” card, and ends up proposing to the woman whose mother he was screwing for money. The treatment of the fictionalized Rock Hudson – portrayed here as the most innocent man to ever emerge from Illinois – is difficult to watch, as he’s sexually exploited by his agent in increasingly cruel ways. And like I said, it’s baffling that Camille isn’t the lead, even amongst the ensemble cast.

It jives badly with the overwhelming kindness of the rest of the story, in which a woman can gift her husband’s mistress with a juicy role in her own movie, or a crotchety old editor makes sure there’s a copy of the film stashed away before the nefarious lawyers burn it, or a rich white girl decides to botch her own screentest in order to give the role to her rival. Basically: mixed bag.

Dickinson: Season 2 (2021)

I really enjoyed the first season of Dickinson, though it was a little uneven at times. Season two fires on all cylinders, combining deliberate anachronisms with Emily’s creative process, as well as crafting fun subplots for her various friends and family members. Lavinia nearly steals the show this time around, whether it’s becoming enamoured with talk of her surprise fiancé’s ex-girlfriend (a woman who apparently did something called “the spider dance”) or quoting directly from Pretty Woman when they go to visit the opera.

Emily’s parents get some focus here as well (love Jane Krakowski), and there’s some great material among the Black characters, quietly going about their civil rights business directly beneath the noses of the white folk. My favourite moment would have to be Ayo Edebiri’s delightful Hattie “borrowing” one of Sue Dickinson’s dresses and attending a secret abolitionist meeting that is concluded with a celebratory dance party in the barn.

Finn Jones joins the cast this season as well, who was (not unjustifiably) criticized for Iron Fist, but puts on a great show here as a potential publisher for Emily’s poems. He’s someone that you suspect might be slimy, but who conveys such sincere charm that when he does turn out to be a creep, it feels more of a disappointment than an inevitability.

It’s a lot funnier this season as well (Lavinia’s fiancé proposes to her by painting “will you marry me?” on the barn door and explaining: “I forgot that a girl needs to feel fully blindsided by a wild prank in order to commit to a marriage.”) Definitely recommend this one, especially if you have a book of Dickinson’s poems on hand like I did.