Browsing through my reading/watching logs for 2022, I found myself struck by the fact that this year it was remarkably easy to pull together twelve list-worthy moments featured in film and television, even though few of the things I watched this year really enraptured me. Compare this to 2021, in which I had the exact opposite problem: having to shave the list down to only six entries, but which were comprised of scenes and set-pieces that completely blew me away.
This year’s Fear Street trilogy (by which I mean a project I wasn’t expecting much from, only for it to end up living rent-free in my head for a couple of months) was Andor, the latest entry into Disney’s Star Wars canon, which ended up being so good on so many levels that every other Star Wars project that’s come out of the studio since its acquisition should feel embarrassed.
It also had the side-effect of making other shows, which I probably would have enjoyed just fine otherwise, feel clunky and strained in comparison. House of the Dragon, The Rings of Power, even The Sandman simply did not measure up to the absolute mastery of Andor’s world-building, pacing, dialogue, suspense, and characterization. And unlike the Fear Street trilogy, which does come with my caveat that it’s great for what it is (a YA shlock fest with clever twists and weighty underpinnings), I have no qualms about recommending Andor with the most effusive of praise. It really is that good.
So most of what you’ll find below the cut are impressive scenes within projects that were a tad lacklustre... or at least didn’t engender the powerful response in me that I would have liked. But there was still a lot here to enjoy, much of it based on either grand spectacle or emotional torque, and featuring – as you’d expect – a lot of great female characters.
Here, in no particular order, are my personal top twelve film and television moments from 2022:
1. Everything comes up roses for Moseley in Downton Abbey: A New Era
Julian Fellowes took a completely unnecessary victory lap with Downton Abbey: A New Era early last year, offering up a story with all his usual tricks, an excuse to visit the French Riviera, and stakes that went no higher than whether or not an actress’s Cockney accent would ruin a film.
But if there was one thing that had been missing from the series finale and the follow-up movie, it was that final bit of character development for Joseph Moseley, the hapless valet. Although he and Phyllis Baxter had been casting eyes at each other for a while, nothing was set in stone in the aforementioned finale or film, but now – finally – Moseley crosses the finish line to become a financially independent and happily engaged screen-writer.
Why is there a live microphone in a room no one is using? It doesn’t matter, because it provides the opportunity for the rest of the household to listen in on the couple finally declaring themselves, and a joy shared is a joy quadrupled. It’s corny as hell, but sometimes that’s just what you need in life.
2. Poor Lucerys gets chomped in House of the Dragon
If I’m being really honest, my real favourite moment of House of the Dragon was when the Small Council convened the morning after the king’s death, those that had been plotting a coup crank their long-laid plans into gear, and three people at the table – Queen Alicent, Lord Beesbury and Ser Harrold Westerling – glance around in complete bewilderment, having been utterly blindsided by the conspirators in their midst.
But the Game of Thrones franchise has always excelled at spectacle, and the big set-piece everyone was talking about after the show’s finale was naturally the leadup to the death of Lucerys Targaryen, which is (as much as I hate to admit it) a masterclass in rising tension.
The boy arrives at Storm’s End to secure Lord Baratheon’s support for his mother’s claim, only to find that someone else has gotten there before him. That moment when the colossal silhouette of Vhagar rises above the battlements of the keep, dwarfing the up-until-then impressive Arrax, is the first tip-off that things aren’t going to end well for Luke.
After being humiliated in the grand hall and setting off into the storm, he’s followed by his cousin Aemond on the back of Vhagar, and as the chase intensifies, the two riders lose complete control of their dragons. Luke flies above the cloud-line to evade his pursuer but that’s naturally when Vhagar emerges from beneath him, killing both dragon and boy instantly. They never stood a chance.
It's a beautiful payoff for Viserys’s portentous words in the very first episode: “The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with.” These are ancient, magical beings that may form bonds with certain people for reasons that have never been fully explained in either book or show, but which are fundamentally too powerful to ever be tamed. The tragic death is a solid way to end the season, with the inevitability of war now that first blood has been drawn.
3. Dewey finally succumbs in Scream 5
I think deep down we all knew this was coming. The “golden trio” of Sidney, Gale and Dewey had cheated death so many times, that on some level it felt like the right time and place to lose one of them.
Yes, it’s cruel that it was Gale’s phone call that fatally distracted him at a critical moment, and yes, the hateful killer saying “it’s an honour” as the knife goes in is more of a mockery than an accolade, but the circumstances of his death are still pitch-perfect for his character. As new protagonist Sam makes her escape, Dewey lags behind, genre savvy enough to know that any Ghostface Killer needs to be taken out properly by shooting it in the head. When Sam cries: “who gives a fuck?” he only replies: “I do” as the elevator doors close on his face.
Despite his failed marriage, his obvious health problems, his downgrade to living in a trailer, he’s still Dewey: a good man who will do the right thing.
With that in mind, the scene also has to be followed up with the coda to his death, in which Gale and Sidney once again sit together in an ambulance after yet another mass murder, and Gale (who really started this whole thing by writing about Sidney’s mother’s death in the first place) announces that she’s not going to waste any more ink on serial killers. It feels like a pointed commentary on those that study and revere murderers, deeming them “fascinating” despite their only claim to fame being the slaughter of innocent people.
As Gale puts it, they deserve to die in obscurity – instead, she’s going to write about Dewey, a hero.
4. “This Wandering Day” from The Rings of Power
The fandom drama surrounding The Rings of Power was as tedious as it was pointless, and I ended up sitting on the fence when it came to the quality of the finished product. There were some things I really liked (the dwarfs, Galadriel, the design of Númenor) and some things I remain ambivalent on (the use of mithril, the twist regarding Sauron’s identity).
But there was one moment that hit the spot. As the proto-hobbits resume their annual migration, they ask one of their number for a travelling song. Poppy Proudfoot begins to sing, and we’re treated to a montage of their journey, filled with hardships and obstacles, but also companionship and cheer.
The song itself is beautiful – I actually heard it before ever watching a second of the show itself, and it has that elusive, numinous quality that brings it closer to anything else in the series to touching the spirit of Tolkien. The show is not without its flaws, but when the lyrics end with: “not all those who wander are lost...” well, it hits something real deep with that; something that’s impossible to describe.
5. The Aldani heist from Andor
In a way Andor was too good, as I could pull out any number of scenes and they would be a worthy addition to this list: Maarva’s eulogy, Luthen’s monologue, Kino’s rousing speech, the prison break, the riot, the shootout, the torture session, the Imperial Security Bureau meetings... all of it is riveting.
The highlights of this season will naturally vary from person to person, but for my money, the three episodes that comprise what’s known as the Aldani heist, from the planning stages to the inevitable spanners-in-the-works once the operation gets underway, is the show at its apex.
The heist itself takes place during the celestial phenomena known as the Eye, which not only creates a perfect diversion for the rebels, but also allows the show to explore the way in which local customs (in this case, a religious pilgrimage) are being systematically suppressed by the Empire. This is a recurring theme of the show, and in this case it’s also based on historical events in the Scottish Highlands, and everything in this show is JUST SO RICH.
The heist itself is ingenious in its stakes (steal the payroll of an entire Imperial sector) and simplicity (take the ranking officer hostage, get his own men to load the escape vehicle, fly out under the cover of the Eye) though naturally when things start to go wrong, the suspense skyrockets.
And because the show has taken the two previous episodes to carefully lay out the plan and the people involved, the audience is fully engaged with their success (or fail). The proto-rebels don’t really know or trust each other; some are true believers, others are mercenaries. There are certain contingencies that they can foresee and prepare for, but others for which they know they’ll be working in the dark. And ultimately, they’re not even trying to blow up the Death Star or overthrow an Imperial base – they’re just trying to steal a lot of money to fund further operations.
Oh, and just as an added bonus, it’s all exceptionally beautiful. Those hills and that dam? Real places that are shot on location. There’s one shot of an anonymous Imperial pilot climbing down into a tie-fighter as the lights of the Eye stream behind him that truly made me gasp. And finally, when the team escape through the meteor shower, relying on the power of the natural world to aid them as so many other rebels have and will, both before and after this moment – well, it’s possibly the most cathartic moment in Star Wars since… ever?
The whole mini-trilogy is a masterclass of suspense, world-building, character work, set-up and payoff. But if I had to narrow it down to a single moment; to a scene within an action sequence, nestled within an episode which is itself part of a three-episode arc...
Picture this: a group of officers have found themselves taken hostage by a group of terrorists who want access to the vaults, and clearly who mean business. They are armed to the teeth, and making no secret of the fact they’re prepared to kill to get what they want.
There’s only one glitch: a child, the young son of the highest-ranking official present, is among the hostages. An officer steps forward, pointing his gun at the terrorists, insisting that they let the boy go. Immediately, one of the rebels points his weapon directly at the boy’s head. Tensions escalate, a shoot-out seems imminent... and then another rebel appears and shoots the officer dead.
In any other show, it would be clear who are the good guys and the bad guys in this scenario. Here, it’s our protagonists who are endangering the life of a child, and an Imperial officer who is insisting on his safety. It’s a gloriously complex moment in a show that pulls no punches when it comes to the lengths our ostensible “heroes” must go to in order to achieve their ostensibly “noble” goals.
It plugs straight into the underlying theme of the show in its entirety. What does it take to radicalize someone? Is that even a good thing? How much is too much when it comes to fighting the forces of evil? Can you resist without losing your soul? When is it justifiable to let the cause override your sense of morality? Is the ends ever worth the means? These are massive, difficult, impossible questions, and the show is ambivalent about the answers.
I forgot television could be like this, and I’m so glad this show exists. Watching it almost came as a relief, not just for the state of Star Wars, but for scripted genre television in general. To think, this is what Disney’s Star Wars could have looked like this whole time.
6. Freydís kills an evil priest in Vikings: Valhalla
Look, I am a simple being. Sometimes I just like to watch a gorgeous warrior woman straight-up behead a misogynistic killer.
7. Pregnant lady fights in The Wheel of Time
Speaking of warrior women…
My feelings were relatively neutral when it came to The Wheel of Time. It wasn’t exactly mind-blowing television, but at the same time I found it full of intriguing ideas and fascinating female characters, with several great set pieces strewn throughout.
And if you thought Freydís was impressive, then wait until you see Brand’s mother. Heavily pregnant (as in, she gives birth in the same scene) she nevertheless fights for her life with just a couple of spears and some gravity-defying leaps. It goes well beyond the realm of physics, but you’ll be unsurprised to hear that I don’t give a shit.
What I love most is that despite her appearance amounting to just this fight scene, she feels like a fully fleshed-out human being. This is a real person, with a history and a backstory and a personality, fighting for her life – and that of her unborn child’s. In a matter of just a few seconds, I am completely invested in her survival.
8. Introducing Viktor Hargreaves in The Umbrella Academy
I actually started season three of The Umbrella Academy back when it first dropped, but got swamped with a bunch of other stuff and have yet to finish it.
An obvious contender for this list would naturally be Diego’s dance-battle hallucination, which sees his siblings face off against the Sparrow Academy and end up dancing all through the manor house (such is the nature of this show that even if it hadn’t been a hallucination, it probably wouldn’t have been questioned by the audience) but I was also curious as to how they would handle Elliot Page’s transition, or even if they would at all.
Would it be integrated into the story? Would it be an arc? Would they ask him to continue playing Vanya as a woman for a little while? Would there be some sort of trans-interdimensional handwave? Would it come across as a PSA?
Turns out, they take the best option, and just have the character transition without much in the way of fuss or focus. It involves a haircut, a request to be addressed henceforth as Viktor and the assorted Umbrella siblings just going with it (well, Alison is a little upset with herself that she didn’t see it coming, but the boys just shrug their shoulders and move on).
It’s really the best way they could have dealt with the off-screen decision of the actor, and manages to be three times as heart-warming for downplaying its impact. Because it’s really not that big a deal.
And here’s the dance battle:
9. Final montage/cameo in Derry Girls
Derry Girls was a consistently good comedy, about five stupid teenagers living their adolescent years during the Troubles, and the seasons always ended on a high, whether it was the titular girls (and James) joining in with Orla’s aerobics performance while their parents absorbed news of a fatal bombing, or the girls (and James) fighting with each other on the same stage while their friends and neighbours celebrated the ceasefire.
Somehow each of these moments managed to elude my end of year “best moments” list, and either one was going to be hard to top, but the third and final season managed to hit a new emotional high – as well as an incredible cameo.
The politics surrounding the Good Friday Agreement managed to elude me back in the nineties, but as far as I can tell the gist of it is that a choice was put forward to the people of Northern Ireland in a referendum: a yes/no vote on approving the Agreement, with a majority vote required for it to pass. (This is a gross simplification, but I don’t have all night).
They overwhelmingly chose in favour, with a montage of practically every character (including guest stars) entering the polls and taking a moment to process the weight of what they’re about to do; the history that they’re making. And then, to “Dreams” by The Cranberries, a voiceover of the results, and clips of the future – including David Cameron’s 2010 apology for the events of Bloody Sunday – Erin puts on her denim jacket (the one she claimed made her an individual in the premiere and which her mother immediately told her to take off) and leaves with her friends and family.
Her grandfather and baby sister are last, and there’s a chance the little girl’s jumping was spontaneous. But when her grandfather mimics her excitement, it’s a perfect capper to the episode: the old generation and the new, each looking forward to what’s to come.
But of course, there was still a coda to come. That letter the girls (and James) wrote to Chelsea Clinton back in season one, who at the time was the “first daughter” of America? Over two decades later, it finally reaches its mark – and yes, it’s Chelsea Clinton herself that opens it at her front door.
The huge time gap between the girls writing it in the nineties and Chelsea opening it in 2022 made me a little dizzy, but the empathy of their words, of acknowledging that Chelsea had to spend her most awkward years on the world stage, got to me a little, as did the postscript: “we think your hair is absolutely cracker.”
Not every show manages to stick the landing, but Derry Girls proves it can be done.
10. Epic Bromance Bridge Rescue in RRR
I may be cheating a little with this one, as I watched it only a few weeks ago – but it was released in 2022, so it’s going on the list. Though not technically a Bollywood film, RRR has managed to make itself known to Western audiences in a way that no other Indian film has before, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure why.
Perhaps it was the bombast, or having the bragging rights of being the most expensive Indian film ever made, or even the opening disclaimer, which assures audiences that none of its long list of animals (including tigers, wolves and oxen) were harmed during the making of the film.
Or maybe the magical ingredient was its absolute sincerity. RRR has a tone that I don’t think I’ve ever really seen before: that of things being taken with the utmost seriousness, even as individuals survive fireball explosions by wrapping themselves in a wet flag while swinging from a rope down the side of a bridge that is also mostly on fire.
Yes, I have to say that the greatest set piece of the film is the rescue of the young fisher boy, which is not only a high-octane spectacle in its own right, but which introduces the epic bromance of the film, in which Rama Raju and Bheem set eyes on each other for the first time and are immediately able to communicate without words.
It’s… it’s… I’m not sure how to describe it, so just watch:
And then it segues into a montage of how great friends they are. Like Honest Trailers said: “just beautiful stuff, man.”
11. Catherine the Great: baby steps in The Great
This is a small but sweet one. I had my issues with the second season of The Great, largely because it decided to keep Peter on past his expiration-date when the story should have been focusing on Catherine’s rise to power (though of course, we now have to grapple with fact that Catherine was not on the right side of history in regards to the ongoing Russia/Ukraine conflict).
But there was one scene that gave me the warm-fuzzies. Catherine (or at least the highly fictionalized version of Catherine that’s depicted here) is an intelligent, educated woman who wants to bring the light of culture and progress to Russia. It’s not going well.
The aristocrats ridicule her, the church hates her, and the peasants don’t give a shit about her reforms. Her people are dying in pointless wars, the coup isn’t going as well as planned, and she’s mourning the death of her lover. In this moment, she’s comforted by Marial and Aunt Elizabeth, though their words are clearly not having their intended effect. Catherine’s goals are too lofty, her grief is too deep. She can’t do this.
And then, who should wander past but Katya, the appointed schoolteacher, and a row of little girls who are hanging on her every word, drinking in the education that’s been offered to them. Catherine rallies herself. “Let us go,” she says. “There’s much to do.”
Sometimes change for the good is small, infinitesimal even, but it’s always there, always happening.
12. Naru takes out the Predator in Prey
A young Comanche warrior emerging victorious from a one-on-one fight with the technologically advanced and physically superior Predator was always going to make for a great sequence, but the way in which Prey elevated the climax to an edge-of-your-seat battle is down to how carefully seeded all the various components of Naru’s victory were throughout the course of the film.
The sink-hole, Naru’s tomahawk with the rope attached, that wonderful dog – it all comes into play at precisely the right moment. We also know how the Predator is going to respond: his weapons, his tactics, his infrared mask...
It silently asks the question of the audience: are you smarter than the Predator? Are you smarter than the protagonist? Were you paying attention? Naru is victorious because her observational skills are established early and consistently; to compensate for her lack of strength in other areas, she knows she must use her wits to get the better of her opponent.
And of course, she does. Having parsed through how the Predator’s mask works, she lays the perfect trap for it: not only throwing him into the sinkhole, but positioning his own equipment so that when he fires his missile, it ricochets around the clearing and takes him out. The last thing he sees is his own weapons system being used against him.
It’s also a surprisingly beautiful scene, what with the snow silently falling around them and the Predator’s luminescent blood demonstrating where Naru’s hits have landed. And not since Buffy took out the Gentlemen has a young woman uttering a war-cry been so chill-inducing. A fantastic end to a great film.
Honorary Mentions:
You may be surprised that Stranger Things doesn’t appear on the above list, since its fourth season was as good as the show has ever been. I think the votes may have been split between its masterful reveal of Vecna’s true identity (he’s not only Number One but also the orderly who was helping Eleven and Henry Creel!) and Eddie Munson’s final stand, in which he rocks out to Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” in order to distract the demobats and allow his friends to move unhindered through the Upside Down.
Then there’s CBS’s Evil, a show I’m thoroughly enjoying, but which couldn’t make it onto the list because the example that occurred to me was less of a moment and more of an entire episode. The team visits an isolated monastery to investigate a possible miracle, and discovers on arrival that everyone there has taken a vow of silence – one they’re also expected to uphold. What follows is a fascinating episode in which our heroes have to negotiate the situation without saying a word.
They have Magic Slates to communicate the basics, and occasionally their internal dialogue pops up as subtitles (which are hilarious), but for the most part it’s an episode comprised of no verbal communication whatsoever. This makes Kirsten’s spontaneous friendship/quasi-flirtation with a young nun all the more delightful, as the two of them can do little more than mime and gesture to each other to get their meaning across – and it's just delightful, which is an odd word to use in the context of this show.
Elsewhere, I loved seeing Stacey Abrams cameo as the President of Planet Earth in Star Trek Discovery, while on the other end of the female empowerment spectrum, there’s a striking scene in the most recent Westside Story in which Graziella desperately attempts to prevent Anita from being raped by the Jets. On the one hand, it’s heartening to see solidarity between women emerge even in such horrific circumstances, on the other, my newfound cynicism wonders if it would really overcome a lifetime of racist prejudice.
But then maybe last year has just done a number on me. There’s a reason the phrase: “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy” exists, and what the Jets try to inflict on Anita is clearly a step too far for their girlfriends.
Then there’s Bridgerton, a show I can’t say I’m a fan of, but which is like candyfloss: I can’t resist it either. And in season two, I think it finally found its footing, in the sense that it settled into what kind of tone it’s trying to convey. It’s to be found in the scene where Anthony and Kate dance to Vitamin String Quartet’s cover of “Dancing on my Own”, and for the first time, I felt like all the pieces came together: the candy-coloured costumes, the deliberately anachronistic musical score, and the heightened-yet-suppressed emotions of period drama romance.
And though I still haven’t watched Wednesday, the above scene stands in stark contrast to Jenna Ortega’s dance as the titular character on that show – which of course I watched on YouTube, because nobody could stop talking about it for a while there. This is exactly how Wednesday Addams would dance, complete with simulations of neck-snapping and the appearance of going boneless at various points. Don’t worry, I’ll get to the show eventually...
Finally, there was a singular scene as performed by Nicole Kidman in The Northman. I’m still unsure about that film – I think I liked it, but I’ll probably have to watch it a second time just to confirm. But I’ll admit, I like Nicole Kidman as an actress. Sure, she’s phoned in a couple of performances (Nine Perfect Strangers) but when she delivers, she really delivers (Moulin Rouge, The Others, Big Little Lies).
And it takes a fair amount of talent to change a film’s trajectory with a single scene. In The Northman she plays Queen Gudrún, who in the first act is kidnapped by her husband’s ursurping brother, leaving her young son Amleth to flee for his life, repeating a mantra he’ll carry with him into adulthood: “"I will avenge you, father. I will save you, mother. I will kill you, Fjölnir."
Years later, he tracks her down in Iceland, to discover that she’s married to his uncle and is now mother to a second son. Now comes his chance to free her... except that when the moment comes, she tells him the truth of her existence. She masterminded the overthrow of Amleth’s father, having been enslaved and raped by him. She wanted Fjölnir to murder her first husband, and she regrets that Amleth didn’t also die in the attack.
Oh, and as a final manipulation she tries to seduce her own son. Yikes. The whole thing is a profound subversion of the Distressed Damsel archetype, and well in keeping with the film’s underlying hypothesis that there are no good guys in such a brutal world.
What kind of person was Gudrún in the end? Sympathetic? Loathsome? It doesn’t matter, because it’s an unsettling, compelling, disturbing character and Nicole Kidman nails it.
***
As mentioned, the act of looking over my reading/watching logs for last year made me realize that there weren’t a lot of stand-outs. It was a lacklustre year, all things considered. That’s not to say stuff was bad, just that few things really took hold of my imagination.
If 2022 is remembered for anything within the scope of pop-culture entertainment, it will be for cancelling things. Netflix went a bit crazy, as did HBO, culling everything from Westworld to The Babysitters Club, Warrior Nun to The Midnight Club, 1899 to The Nevers. (Still no official word on Disenchanted, but I’m not holding my breath. I’m starting to get worried about Willow as well).
The year also marked the end of the CW’s Arrowverse, with the likes of Batwoman, Legends of Tomorrow and Stargirl getting axed, as well as Warner Brothers’ Snyderverse going out with a whimper: Batgirl was abruptly cancelled, Henry Cavill given the heave-ho, and the final films of that particular continuity limping their way into theatres before James Gunn reboots the whole thing. It’s not really an incentive to watch, is it?
I think the above tweet sums it up nicely, as do the comments for the trailer for Netflix’s Lockwood and Co, which are essentially comprised of people wondering if they should bother tuning in considering it’ll probably get cancelled immediately.
It was also the year of the legacy-quel and copious amounts of fanservice, with the releases of films/shows such as The Matrix Resurrections, Jurassic Park: Dominion, Scream 5, Obi Wan Kenobi, Star Trek’s Strange New Worlds and Picard – even Doctor Who got in on the act, and it’s not over yet! 2023 will see Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny and The Flash, which is already hyping up the return of Michael Keaton as Batman.
Oh, and apparently Dreamworks has decided to get in on the act of live-action remakes of their animation canon, with a live-action How To Train Your Dragon in the works. I’m so tired. What a profoundly depressing outlook.
I’ve already listed my recommendations from 2022 on this post (books, films and shows) but here are some other projects that I’ve enjoyed...
Bookwise, I ended up reading a lot from the children’s section. This is unsurprising since that’s my area of expertise at the library, and I still find that a lot of children’s books are more enjoyable than adult novels. They’re not a million pages long and they actually end.
Also, children’s graphic novels are incredible. One of these days I’m going to put together a decent list of the best ones on offer, but if you’re on the lookout for LQBT+ friendly stories with strong female protagonists, then holy shit! Graphic novels for children are the best way to go. Particular highlights were The Emerald Gate, which wrapped up the beautiful five-part 5 Worlds saga, as well as Ethan M. Aldridge’s two-part dark urban fairy tale Estranged novels, and Bree Paulson’s Garlic books (currently comprised of Garlic and the Vampire and Garlic and the Witch).
There are some exciting things happening in the realm of children’s graphic novels, is all I’m saying.
I finished a re-read of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy, and with the second season on the horizon, I’m looking at re-reading Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom in anticipation of the Netflix show (and then Rule of Wolves for the first time). On the subject of graphic novels, I also read the short story Demon in the Woods at the start of the year, and followed it up with the graphic novel adaptation at its end, which provides a surprisingly nuanced and sympathetic backstory for the Darkling – though sadly, not one that seems to be canon in the Netflix show.
I finished Katherine Arden’s unnamed horror quartet (it ended with Empty Smiles) which concluded reasonably well, though perhaps a tad too quickly. Still, I enjoyed that each of the four books (the others being Small Spaces, Dead Voices and Dark Waters) took place during a particular season, with Empty Smiles being set during that enticing combination of the carnival season and the height of summer.
I also started Joseph Delany’s Spook’s Apprentice books on the recommendation of a young customer at work, and damn – they’re scary! Drawing on the old school understanding of witches and demons, it tells the story of a medieval ghost-hunter and his apprentice, though it’s obvious that morality and belief-systems are going to get considerably more complicated as the books continue – especially as they pertain to Alice, the series’ most interesting character, a young girl raised by witches, who is trying to be better than her forebears.
There was plenty of Catherine Fisher, specifically her Relic Master quartet (which got me through endless shifts in the library foyer, repetitively scanning the passes of all those who had been vaccinated) and her short-story collection The Red Gloves (which belongs alongside Susan Cooper, Alan Garner, and the darker stories of Diana Wynne Jones in terms of its aesthetic).
A series I read but didn’t comment on (as I’d like to do a proper post on them once I’ve completed all of them) is Catherynne Valente’s Fairyland quintet, starting with The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making and ending with (though it’s still in my TBR pile) The Girl Who Raced Fairyland All the Way Home. So stay tuned for that one.
An ongoing project is my re-read of The Babysitters Club books, and since I’m averaging two a month, I’ll probably finished sometime around 2079. Honestly though, it’s been a great trip down memory lane, and for the first time they’re reading as time capsules: no cellphones, no internet, no laptops – just Kidkits and whatever happens to be on television at the time. Even this early on it’s fascinating to look back on how the girls are portrayed and where their stories are going, and since I tapped out of the series at around book forty, I’m looking forward to seeing where they all actually ended up!
This was also the year of The Lord of the Rings. I read The Silmarillion for the second time, and loved it just as much as I did several years ago, and followed it up with the more in-depth versions of Beren and Lúthien, The Children of Húrin and The Fall of Gondolin. Given that I also watched Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers and Amazon’s The Rings of Power, I think that having all that extensive backstory swilling about in my head made the adaptations more powerful. The events chronicled in The Silmarillion are seldom happy, and an overarching theme found throughout Tolkien is that of diminishment. Every new age sees a profound loss of wisdom and beauty and sanctity, which only makes the final battle against Sauron and his minions all the more fraught. This was a victory snatched at the conclusion of a millennium of relentless defeats, and all the backstory makes you feel the weight of that.
Finally, I re-read Barry Hughart’s Bridge of Birds, which is truly one of my favourite books of all time, and discovered this interview with the author which is profoundly sad. Apparently any talk of filmic adaptations was met with blatant racism, and he eventually gave up on writing because his publishers treated him so badly. Thankfully, Philip Reeve is still going strong: I re-read his Railhead trilogy and finally got around to Larklight, Starcross and Mothstorm, which were excellent sci-fi adventures in the vein of all those old-school pulp-fiction comics of the fifties.
Oh, and F.C. Yee’s The Dawn of Yangchen was good too, whetting my appetite for both the sequel and the upcoming Avatar-related animated films.
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As for films, I got some more old movies checked off the list, which always fascinate me in their portrayals of women. There are limitations obviously, but I find they’re less afraid of delving into the flaws of their female leads than quite a few movies are today: Gone with the Wind, Cleopatra, Vertigo, Lifeboat, Blythe Spirit – the women might occasionally veer towards archetypes such as the Shrew or the Distressed Damsel or the Femme Fatale, but at least they’re interesting shrews and damsels and femme fatales. (Well, in most cases. A couple were just plain boring).
I continued watching a variety of Robin Hood films, notably the Disney animated version with its anthropomorphic animals, 2001’s Princess of Thieves, which is fascinatingly of its time in the portrayal of Keira Knightley’s “strong female heroine” Gwyn, and a number of more obscure offerings: Rogues of Sherwood Forest (set in King John’s era and nicely incorporating the Magna Carta), Sword of Sherwood Forest (with Peter Cushing as the Sheriff!) and The Adventures of Maid Marian – but I’ve said enough already about that last one. Of particular interest was the earliest existing Robin Hood footage from 1912, a half-hour silent film, and The Siege of Robin Hood, a truly batshit action movie made on a budget of eight dollars that truly must be seen to be believed.
I ended up watching a surprising amount of romantic comedies from the eighties/nineties, including When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, While You Were Sleeping, My Best Friend’s Wedding and An Affair to Remember (okay, that one was from 1957) which ultimately made me realize that it’s just not the genre for me. I can appreciate some of what these films added to the genre, and to the crafting of specific tropes in general, but I definitely preferred the unorthodox love story of The First Wives Club, in which friends reconnect while plotting revenge on their ex-husbands.
A couple of months were devoted to period dramas: Love and Friendship, Sanditon, Mr Malcolm’s List, North and South and Northanger Abbey (from both 1987 and 2007) and I finally finished the second part of the BBC’s The Hollow Crown, which had a bit too much Benedict Cumberbatch for my liking.
Some filmic highlights were Andrés Muschietti’s two-part adaptation of Stephen King’s It, Robert Eggers’s The Northman, Joe Wright’s Cyrano, and (yes, I’ll admit it) Amazon’s take on Cinderella, which ended up being more fun and less cynical than I’d anticipated. I revisited Gosford Park (which is all the more amusing to return to after the saga of Downton Abbey) and saw The Cabin in the Woods and The Devil Wears Prada for the first time, which was long overdue.
And it’s always fun to revisit Hayao Miyazaki’s body of work: this year it was Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service and My Neighbour Totoro.
I also finally got acquainted with some of the most famous Final Girls in cinematic history, after settling down to watch Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth and A Nightmare on Elm Street for the first time. Oh, and I was unexpectedly charmed by The Curse of Bridge Hollow. I can’t say it was good exactly, but if it slowly gains traction as a cult classic, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Harlan Coben’s books always make for diverting entertainment, and this year I watched The Stranger and Safe with my mum (so idiotic, so entertaining), while performances by the likes of Rosamund Pike and Sophie Okonedo in The Wheel of Time elevated what could have been a very silly show. Netflix’s Arcane was filled with great female leads and gorgeous animation, while Vikings: Valhalla managed to catch some of the highs of the mothershow – and I’ve got the second season burning a hole on my USB drive. Basically, I got through a lot of shows that were good without becoming hyper-fixations: Hilda, Evil, Nancy Drew, The Gilded Age, Gentlemen Jack, Worzel Gummidge, Suspicion, Our Flag Means Death...
(Speaking of that last one, I’ve never seen anyone fall off the fandom pedestal as quickly as Taika Waititi did in the space between Our Flag Means Death and Thor: Love and Thunder. I almost got whiplash).
Sadly, I did not get much chance to get to the theatre, managing only three trips: once to see The Girl on the Train (turns out that on the stage is by far the best version of this story), again to take my goddaughter to an unofficial Harry Potter parody, and finally to watch the young ballet students of the Southern Ballet Company do Alice in Wonderland. Thankfully, as the fugue of Covid gradually begins to clear, I’ve already got some events on the calendar: Sense and Sensibility in March, and the Romeo and Juliet ballet in May.
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We’re now halfway through February 2023, and there’s plenty to look forward to. The second season of Shadow and Bone drops in March, and there are more Gargoyles comics courtesy of show-creator Greg Wiesman and Avatar: The Last Airbender films/shows overseen by the original creators on the distant horizon.
I’m going to keep chugging along with my Legend of the Seeker and Xena Warrior Princess episode reviews, and hopefully get to His Dark Materials this month as well. There’s definitely more Bluey to be watched (so glad the YouTube algorithms did something right for a change in directing me toward clips) and I’m still making my way through Sailor Moon (just finishing up on season three, with the complete DVD sets of four and five on loan from the library). Then hopefully I'll get a chance to finish The Owl House, Hilda, Ducktales and Tales of Arcadia – you know, like any self-respecting adult who watches children’s cartoons.
That’s not to mention catching up with M3gan, Poker Face and the second season of Carnival Row and The Nevers. Oh, and for the first time in years, I’m really looking forward to Doctor Who. Perhaps I’ll rewatch Donna Noble’s season just to refresh my memory. And I fully plan to continue playing and reviewing the King’s Quest games, plus posting my long-gestating deep-dive into the BBC’s Robin Hood (though that one may take a while yet). Also, I’m thinking of an eighties fantasy movie marathon...
Whew, I guess I better get back to it. The couch awaits.
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