Well, Spooks is done. Done! All ten seasons and the movie. It was a great ride: half brand-new experience (since I’d never seen it before) and half trip down memory lane (since it took me all the way back to 2002). I enjoyed my visit to the noughties so much in fact, that I think I’ll stay there a while longer. I’ve found Inspector Lynley on a free streaming service, and have Hustle ready to go as well. It’s so nice to enjoy shows that don’t get cancelled after a single season!
I find myself in a bit of a reading/watching routine lately: more graphic novels, more Slavic fantasy, more Babysitters Club. And by a complete coincidence, I managed to read/watch three stories about the Holy Grail this month: a graphic novel, a short story, and a film. What are the odds? I’ve also made it through Genndy Tartakovsky’s latest offering, the third season of Harley Quinn (and the Valentine’s Day Special), the fifth of The Dragon Prince and the next Indiana Jones movie. Oh, and two more Robin Hoods. Whew.
The Magic Fishbone by Charles Dickens
But then she put it on hold under my name and it turned up at my library a few weeks later – and sure enough, Charles Dickens had written a children’s fairy tale. It’s about what you’d expect, vibing with authors like George MacDonald and Charles Kingsley: a picturesque depiction of fairies that was popular at the time, with heavy didactic underpinnings to the story and a dose of sheer weirdness disguised as whimsy.
A king and queen have nineteen children, looked after by Princess Alicia, the oldest. On his way to the fishmongers, the king is stopped by an old lady who introduces herself as the Good Fairy Grandmarina. She instructs him to invite Alicia to eat some of the salmon he’s just bought and tell her to dry and keep the fishbone left on the plate. It will bring her, just once, whatever she wishes for, provided she wishes for it at the right time. The king passes this advice on, and Alicia dutifully obtains the magical fishbone.
Misfortune follows: the queen becomes ill, a younger prince is badly injured, and the baby falls under the grate and gets a black eye. But in all cases, Alicia foregoes the use of the fishbone in order to fix things up through practical means, even though her father disapproves. It isn’t until he discloses that they’re broke that the fishbone is finally called upon for assistance, after which the coffers are filled and Grandmarine turns up to marry Alicia to Prince Certainpersonio.
Um, sure. Alicia did the right thing in abstaining from magical cures for her sick and/or injured family members, but financial difficulty is when miracles should be granted. And as a reward, she gets to marry a guy she’s never met before without any warning. Then Grandmarine prophesies that Alicia will have thirty-five children. Run, girl!
And the whole thing ends with this passage, I kid you not: “[Grandmarine] took [the fishbone] from the hand of the Princess Alicia, and it instantly flew down the throat of the dreadful little snapping pugdog next door, and choked him, and he expired in convulsions.” It’s so random and yet so specific that are we to assume there was a yappy little dog in Dickens’s vicinity that he hated?
The story is illustrated by Dagmar Berkova, whose images are rather whimsical (a narrow crown actually grows out of the princess’s head) but also mildly creepy. And she didn’t appear to be paying close attention to the text, as the dog as-depicted is not a pug but a sausage dog. It’s annoying when illustrations don’t match the story.
City of Dragons: The Awakening by Jaimal Yogis and Vivian Truong
A few years after her father’s death from cancer, Grace and her mother move to Hong Kong to be with their new husband/stepfather (Grace is half-Asian on her father’s side; her stepfather is white but works in the city).
Trying to adjust to her new school and family life is one thing, but then a strange elderly woman in the marketplace gives Grace a strange egg to look after – and as you’ve probably guessed by the title, it soon hatches into a small blue dragon. Her father used to tell her stories about dragons before he died, and she’s eager to discover more, especially when her new friends get involved. Though the story takes a while to get started, with plenty of character establishing and scene setting, it soon turns into a fun adventure of the “young teens get in over their heads” type.
The illustrations are fairly simplistic but the colours are bright, and though I’m not quite sure how accurate the depiction of Chinese mythology is, the backstory is woven into the contemporary events quite nicely, with a few elements seeded early and paid off later. I appreciated the look of the dragons in particular – you could really feel the weight and power of them, not to mention the awe-inspiring effect they had on others.
I suppose my main complaint is that there’s very little here that I haven’t come across before: familiar pieces put together in an equally familiar way. For instance, Grace’s acquisition of the dragon reminded me of Gremlins, the family tragedy and eclectic friend group reminded me of Big Hero Six, the sight of a young teen trying to raise a dragon is everything from How To Train Your Dragon to Game of Thrones (though what came to me most vividly was Tamora Pierce’s The Immortals quartet) and the third act twist reminded me of all the other third act twists that are so prevalent in these types of YA stories.
There are some interesting cultural details that I imagine would resonate with a specific demographic (like how Grace looks Asian, but can’t speak Chinese despite people assuming she can) but for the most part, it’s just not a particularly memorable offering amongst the rest of the material I’ve been reading lately.
The Dragon Prince: Puzzle House by Peter Wartman and Felia Hanakata
Soren has just recovered from a mysterious illness, their mother has disappeared, and their father’s mentor Kpp’ar has recently gone missing. (Kpp’ar? Urgh. How on earth are we supposed to pronounce that? I hate it when fantasy words have no vowels and apostrophes thrown randomly in the middle). Whether any of this will have a bearing on the television show remains to be seen, but it appears significant considering how it’s all presented in this story.
Claudia is a young mage in training, though she’s still on a steep learning curve, causing plenty of mishaps with her magical experiments. After a particularly messy accident, she ends up eavesdropping on a conversation between her father and the king, learning that Viren’s former mentor was preparing a surprise for her (and Soren) in his castle home. Naturally, she wants to investigate.
She talks Soren into accompanying her, and the two discover a house full of traps, puzzles and other contraptions. Much like in The Pathfinders Society, which I read back in March, the infrastructure of this place is insane. I suppose you could handwave it all with A Wizard Did It, but it’s presented as mechanical and the sheer level of engineering that would have been involved is mind-boggling. We’re talking trapdoors and false ceilings, revolving staircases and glowing walkways, and carousel animals that move on a suspended rail system through several floors of the house. Who the heck designed all this? And just to entertain a couple of kids? Much like the vampire-elf in Rayla’s graphic novel, it doesn’t fit the setting of the show at all.
Eventually Claudia discovers a chained-up troll that looks like a deformed ARRRGGHH! from Trollhunters and who might be turning up on the show based on his parting words to her, along with a map now in her possession. We’ll see – I’ve no idea how connected these books are to what Aaron Ehasz’s master plan is.
The artwork is... fine. The most honest thing I can say about it is that it matches the animation of the cartoon, which is to say it’s sparse. For example, when we first see the castle where Kpp’ar lives, the children respond with awe. It’s impossible for the reader to share that reaction when the vista is so basically rendered. No shading, no details, no evocative atmosphere.
But little Claudia and little Soren are very cute, and their rapport is spot-on. There’s a reason they’re my favourite characters on the show, and Claudia in particular is well-served here. We get a real sense of who she is and what’s driving her: it’s clear she subconsciously relies on magic to give her a sense of control after several traumatic events in her early childhood. We’re also reminded that whatever else his faults (and there are plenty) Viren truly loves his children.
Which is all to say, I’m ready for the next season, and to see if any of this has any bearing on what comes next.
Treasure in the Lake by Jason Pamment
Iris and Sam are two friends living in a sleepy town near a river, who love nothing more than to spend their afternoons poking around in the water: fishing, relaxing and treasure-hunting. Or at least, that’s what they’ve done for many years now. Iris has recently become restless with life in a small town and longs for the wider world, while Sam is a homebody who is perfectly content with his lot in life.
One day, the two of them discover that the river has dried up, leaving behind all sorts of paraphernalia in the muddy riverbed. Following the trail, they eventually stumble across an entire township that had (up until recently) been submerged. Iris is eager to explore, while Sam is more hesitant, and a squabble over what they should do sees them go their separate ways.
Then the story really cracks into gear: while Sam ends up rescued by an elderly man who begins to spin a yarn about his childhood in the very village they’ve just discovered, Iris is shocked to come across another little girl hiding in the clocktower. Not only that, but the town now looks dry and pristine, with leaves on the trees and furniture in the houses.
It’s not a spoiler to say that some time-travel has just occurred, because the genius of the book is that it’s never explicitly stated. It just happens, the characters just go with it, and the old man’s narrative of his early years eventually intersects with Iris’s adventure in a very elegant way. It’s a time-slip story in which the time travel occurs without anyone ever realizing it!
Strewn throughout the book is an assortment of visual clues that gesture to what’s happening without spelling it out, leaving the reader to connect the dots. Keep your eyes on necklaces, beetles, hats, carvings, photographs and wooden dolls, all of which denote character’s identities, as well as what time period they’re in. The effect is that it’s almost an interactive graphic novel – you have to pay attention to what’s going on, and have the freedom to interpret events as they occur.
There are also some imaginative panels that convey information in very fun ways: at one point we hear the story of two children building a yacht. But in the storyteller’s narrative, the yacht is life-sized as it’s being built and taken out on the water. It’s only when it breaks that the illusion is broken and we see it as it really is: a small model.
The art is just gorgeous – if I hadn’t already spent too much of my fortnightly income on a copy of The Daughters of Ys, this would have also been a “must-buy” (and it still might be once my finances have improved). Pamment uses golden yellows for the ambrosial glow of childhood, and deep luminous green/blues for the water-leaden village and surrounding area. Just look at that cover, it captures it perfectly. It’s all so effectively rendered, with the streets and houses carefully mapped out, and the artwork makes the most of how the natural elements impinge on the area’s spatial relationships.
Okay, that was a mouthful – but remember how effective it was seeing Kiki flying her broomstick while interacting with stationary objects in Kiki’s Delivery Service? The same thing happens here, only with water instead of air. The art is deeply interested in how rising water forces people to higher ground, the sudden uselessness of bridges when a river breaks its banks, how boats on the surface of the water can unexpectedly reach high belltowers that would otherwise be inaccessible. There's a tunnel that leads down a well to spacious sewers that takes a person beyond the borders of the township, and a tiny replica of the village that matches up with its buildings and landmarks – it’s hard to articulate why, but it’s all fascinating to look at and ponder.
A lot of these children’s graphic novels are compared to Studio Ghibli films, due to their relatively low-stakes and heavy dependence on atmosphere, and that’s definitely a worthy comparison to Treasure in the Lake. The most obvious example would have to be When Marnie Was There, a comparison which occurred to me even before I remembered Joan Robinson’s original book had been adapted by Ghibli. That story also involves a young girl time-travelling in an ambiguous way, where the point is not to meddle with the past, but to repair a present-day relationship. Both stories even have the same emphasis on water.
My only real complaint is that Iris is perhaps criticized a bit too much for wanting to leave the town and see the world. That’s not a crime, and yet by the end it feels as though the narrative is telling her that the “right” choice is to stay where she is. Is it too much to ask that she go to a better school? The last thing we see of her acceptance letter to a prestigious boarding school is her leaving it in a muddy puddle. And Sam – a bit of a stick-in-the-mud – is apparently right for just wanting to stay where he is, with no aspirations or ambitions whatsoever.
Despite this, it’s a stunning book that demands close attention and at least one re-read. It would also make a fantastic gift if you were on the lookout for a child’s present, as I suspect even reluctant readers would be engrossed in this.
The Daughters of Ys by M.T. Anderson and Jo Rioux
The daughters of the legendary city of Ys are also the daughters of King Gradlon and Queen Malgven, who met in strange circumstances (she rescues him from drowning in exchange for his help in slaying her husband) and together founded a glorious island city, where they raise their daughters Rozenn and Dahut. The sisters are close, but very different, and after the death of their mother the two begin to live out separate lives.
Rozenn takes to the moorlands, where she befriends the commonfolk and the wildlife, while Dahut is more comfortable with court life, and follows in her mother’s footsteps when it comes to the magical arts. They grow from children to young women and become further estranged, especially when it becomes clear there’s something rotten on the isle of Ys.
I don’t want to give away too much of the story, as it’s expertly told through the words and illustrations, in which every panel is a commentary on the characters and what shapes them into who they are. The thing I loved best is that even though the two sisters are on opposite sides of the central conflict, neither one is let off the hook. Rozenn is technically the “good” sister, and yet she chooses to turn her back and ignore the obvious problems in Ys instead of taking action, while Dahut is the “bad” sister, and yet is only out to protect the stability of her home and do what her father is too weak-willed to do himself.
Like a great Shakespearean tragedy, it’s got bloodshed, familial betrayal, seduction, court intrigue, and a dark secret at its heart. My favourite aspect would have to be the bitter unfairness as to how King Gradlon is treated in comparison to his daughters – because of the place/time he inhabits and the position that’s been bestowed on him, he’s endlessly coddled and cared for, while his daughters and the other citizens of Ys have to endure the worst of the suffering. As the hermit sardonically says towards the end: “miracles have a dismal way of favouring the rich.”
Rioux’s artwork is glorious, like a darker take on Cartoon Saloon’s gorgeous animation. It’s heavily stylized, and yet every expression and gesture are crystal clear, and the colour palette is perfectly chosen to capture the decadent luxury of court and the wild, windswept countryside that surrounds it. And the detail! From Rozenn’s little bird companion to the silent recurring figure of Dahut’s dogsbody, every panel is so rich and evocative.
There are even some panels that have nothing to do with the plot at all, such as Rozenn watching several strange spirits dance around a ring of standing stones. None of it is explored in the narrative; it’s just there, adding depth and richness to the setting. Like most good retellings of ancient tales, it brings human motivation and immediacy to its characters while still retaining the eerie otherworldliness of the inscrutable legend upon which it’s based.
(For what it’s worth, I wasn’t hugely familiar with the story of Ys, beyond the fact it was a Breton variation on the sunken city of Atlantis, but a little research tells me Anderson derived his retelling from several sources – not just the old legends and ballads but a French opera from which he borrows the character of Rozenn, a figure not found in the older tales).
Like I said, it’s one of those books that feels like it was written for me personally. I’ve been enjoying a lot of children’s graphic novels lately, but this is the first one that I’m going to purchase. I have to own a copy for myself.
Chivalry by Neil Gaiman and Colleen Doran
That afterword is actually quite eye-opening: she was such a fan of Gaiman’s 1992 short story that she’s spent decades trying to adapt it into a graphic novel. The delay had a lot to do with the rights being tied up in Hollywood, her ambitions in making it a genuine illuminated manuscript with parchment and gold leaf (which was completely unfeasible for practical and monetary reasons) and a breakdown once she was given the greenlight for having put too much thought into this project in the years leading up to it. And Covid, of course.
So, it was a very long road to bring us this graphic novel, and though I have nothing to back this up, I’ve always suspected Gaiman was inspired by the alternate ending to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, in which the titular grail is found in a department store. This story is about how the Grail is discovered by old Mrs Whitaker at an Oxfam shop, and bought for fifty pence to put on her mantlepiece. The numinous nature of the holy relic is deliberately juxtaposed with her ordinary, humdrum routine – baking, cleaning, visiting and having visitors, with this strand of the story given just as much care and attention to detail in how it’s described as the other.
Then not long after, a tall and fair knight identifying himself as Galaad turns up at her doorstep, on a quest for the Holy Gail. On realizing it’s in Mrs Whitaker’s possession, he offers up a number of objects to trade for it. But she likes her new acquisition, and won’t give it up easily.
For anyone versed in the Grail legends, it’s quite charming to watch as Mrs Whitaker takes on the role of a Grail Maiden, tasking Galaad with several chores to earn possession of the Grail (though it’s essentially just an old woman taking advantage of a strong pair of arms to clear out her attic) and naturally he achieves this through demonstrations of obedience, hard work and – of course – chivalry. Finally he comes to her door with another rare treasure of equal worth in exchange for the Grail, and it’s suddenly Mrs Whitaker who must unexpectedly fight temptation.
Having never read the original short story, I found myself wondering if a few things had been lost in the transition from text to comic (there are some hints that Mrs Whitaker has a preternatural ability to know what a thing is, which never gets explored in any detail) but the artistry is gorgeous, moving from dark lines to pure watercolours, where the outlines become misty and vague in moments of spirituality and mysticism. Doran has crafted some spectacular images of firebirds and castles, serpents and gardens – my favourite would have to be when a visual link is made between the knightly Galaad holding up the pommel of his sword, and a photograph of Mrs Whitaker’s late husband enjoying an ice-cream at the seaside.
I truly hope Gaiman and Doran keep collaborating, for so far their efforts have resulted in two gorgeous books.
Mallory and the Mystery Diary by Anne M. Martin
This is an immediate carry-on from the previous book, with Stacey and her mother getting settled into their new-old Stoneybrook house, and Mallory being sent across with a casserole from her mother. It’s nice that these two characters (who have never had anything to do with each other so far) now have the unique rapport of being neighbours.
Helping Stacey and Claudia stash some packing boxes in the attic, Mallory is thrilled to discover that the room is a true storybook attic: there’s a rocking chair, brass bedhead, birdcage, old radio, and other typical attic-things – including a huge old trunk. Oh, the joys of finding and old trunk! In a rather odd move, Stacey’s mother gives Mallory the trunk and she lugs it back to her place, where the triplets smash it open to discover old fashioned clothes and a diary.
Is there anything more thrilling than a pre-teen protagonist finding an old diary? I should start keeping track of them, because I’m sure these girls find dozens of them over the years. Mallory begins to read the story of Sophia, whose grandfather disapproves of his daughter’s marriage to a man called Jared, whom he suspects of being a gold-digger. When Sophia’s mother dies in childbirth, her grandfather cuts off the entire family, having accused Jared of stealing a portrait of Sophia’s mother from his house.
The diary concludes with Sophia defending her father’s innocence and vowing to clear his name – or else never rest in peace. Naturally, Mallory comes to the obvious conclusion: Stacey’s house is haunted.
Unfortunately, the mystery rather fizzles out at this point. We’re treated to some filler chapters, one of which involves the girls trying to conduct a séance with Kristy dressed as a gypsy and called herself “Madame Kristen” (not sure if they’ll keep that in the reprint – on the one hand, they kept the Siamese cat called Ling Ling in Jessi Ramsay: Pet Sitter, but changed Charlie’s line from “you girls are crazy” to “you girls are silly” when he drops them off at the graveyard in Mary Anne and the Bad Luck Mystery. The censorship seems completely arbitrary).
Another involves Kristy just exploring her own attic with David Michael, Karen and Andrew (does it strike anyone else as weird that she’s always babysitting them on the alternate weekends her stepsiblings come stay over? You’d think Watson would want to spend that quality time with his kids) and Stacey learning from Charlotte Johanssen’s reading of Katie and the Strange Noise that things are not always as they seem (the book is set at Christmastime, which isn’t apparent from the story itself, only the illustrations. This is a rather vague analogy to what’s going on with Sophie).
Mostly though, the major subplot involves Buddy Barrett needing a tutor in reading, and Mallory volunteers for the job. She eventually discovers a way to pique his interest by bringing him material he actually enjoys reading, and of course, the diary figures into it eventually. Buddy ends up finding a confession from Sophie’s grandfather hidden in the lining of the trunk that explains what happened to the missing portrait.
So a babysitting charge ends up solving the mystery. I suppose the kids had to be involved somehow, but c’mon!
Ultimately, not a particularly satisfying mystery, though I do commend it for being somewhat grounded in reality – once the mysteries spin out into their own subseries, these girls will be busting actual organized crime syndicates. Also notable is that the past three mysteries have formed a sort of unofficial trilogy: The Ghost at Dawn’s House, Mary Anne’s Bad Luck Mystery and Mallory and the Mystery Diary are connected via the history of Stoneybrook.
Here, the babysitters wonder if Sophia’s father Jared is actually Jared Mullray, the titular ghost at Dawn’s House. (They never find out for certain, as the dates/stories don’t fit with what’s already been established about Jared, and Dawn can’t find her history book on the subject. I suspect Martin just saw an opportunity to link the two stories while knowing she couldn’t commit to any real connection). But they do confirm that Sophie’s grandfather James Hickman is the very same Old Hickory whose gravestone the girls had to visit in Mary Anne’s Bad Luck Mystery.
It's kind of neat the way the three stories are built on each other, with the series’ trademark refusal to explain every single detail of the mystery. As stated, the girls never learn for certain whether Sophie’s father was Jared Mullray or whether the same name was just a coincidence, and they can only offer a theory to explain how the trunk and its contents (which includes Old Hickory’s confession) got from the Hickman residence to Stacey’s house.
We’ve also reached the stage in the series where the second chapter is officially the skippable exposition chapter, in which the narrator spends the whole thing explaining who everyone is and how the club works. It took a surprisingly long time to get to this point. And even though she was probably the most unpopular babysitter, Mallory makes for an endearing point-of-view character. I love her love of reading and her awe of the older girls (especially when she’s describing their weird fashion choices).
And the whole thing opens with what is probably the funniest opening lines of the entire series. Mallory writes in her journal: “If only I were thirteen instead of eleven. Life would be a picnic,” and “I feel as if I’m going to be eleven forever.” I’m sorry to tell you this, kid, but you’ll be stuck in a prepubescent hell for the next decade-and-a-half.
The Babysitters’ Winter Vacation by Anne M. Martin
Having already spent summer vacation together at Camp Mohawk (or Moosehead) in the last special, it stands to reason that the next would cover the Club’s winter holiday – although by this point, time has no real meaning. Three winters have probably passed at this stage. As in the previous episode, one of the seven babysitters provides the framework for the story – in Babysitters on Board it was Kristy, putting together a scrapbook for the assorted parents who organized the trip, and for The Babysitters Summer Vacation it was Stacey, wanting to create a souvenir for herself.
This time around, it’s Mary Anne, who wants to put together a journal of the Club’s trip to Leichester Lodge in Vermont as a gift to Logan while he’s vacationing with his family in Aruba. It’s a very bizarre setup all things considered: apparently the Lodge allows different schools to visit so the students can enjoy a variety of winter sports, and the annual trip is mandatory for those attending Stoneybrook Middle School. Except for Logan, who is going away with his family. So it’s not, in fact, mandatory. How could it be when it impinges on public holidays?
In any case, the Club sets off with the rest of their class, looking forward to (among other things) the Winter War, in which everyone is split into two teams and competes against each other in a variety of activities: a snowball fight, an ice-sculpting competition, ice-staking relays and two kinds of skiing (speed and cross-country). Once they reach the Lodge, they learn that there’s been an accident with the buses carrying another school: one veered off the road and the kids inside need rescuing.
You know what that means! I actually laughed out loud when Kristy stepped up and announced: “we’re the Babysitters Club” as if a. every adult present knew what that was, and b. the problem was now solved. Ah Kristy, never change. In any case, the Babysitters Club go with the other adults to collect the stranded children, and of course end up volunteering to be their supervisors while their teachers are in hospital. This is so beyond the bounds of realistic childcare laws, but let’s just roll with it. We HAVE to get babysitting into the plot somehow!
As ever, every character shares their own subplots via their own point-of-view chapters, though the problem with this book is that none of them are particularly interesting (and most are repeats of stories that’ve already been told in previous books). Mary Anne pines for Logan in a frankly disturbing manner, imagining him to be cheating on her with the girls in Aruba. This leads to her writing several equally disturbing love letters, which mercifully she never sends. Her school assignment while at the Lodge is to write up a report on its history, and she discovers that the place is rumoured to be haunted. This goes absolutely nowhere.
Kristy is in charge of preparing her team for the Winter War, and – as is her way – ends up getting stupidly competitive about it. After acting like a psycho for almost the entire book, one of the children in her care is injured after she pressures him into entering the skiing competition, and she’s guilt-stricken as a result (only this happens at the very end of the book, and her reaction to it is explored in other people’s chapters).
Dawn’s story is a bit of a dud. She ends up being really clumsy in the snow/on the ice, and getting embarrassed at losing all the time. She tries to vent to Mary Anne, who is obsessing over Logan, and they get in a fight. Meanwhile, Mallory gets the same arc she got in Babysitters on Board, in which she creeps around with a journal and takes notes on people. This time she’s determined to write only facts, and it’s exactly one page before she’s jotting down that the cook is trying to kill them all because he sprinkled something from an unmarked jar into the food.
She’s also beside herself with worry about going to a co-ed dance at the end of the vacation. She goes and it’s fine. Meanwhile, Jessi volunteers to look after a young girl who was mildly injured in the bus crash only to find she’s a horrid brat who orders Jessi around. She comes to the conclusion that she’s racist, only to eventually discover that a. the girl was being rude to everyone, and b. was just homesick. Jessi is left to ponder if she is the truly prejudiced one. Wow... I don’t know what to say about that one.
As for Stacey and Claudia... well, Stacey falls for a guy called Pierre and they spend all their time together before realizing bittersweetly that their time is coming to an end (this was Claudia’s exact subplot in Babysitters’ Summer Vacation) while Claudia gets a massive crush on a much older ski instructor before learning he’s married with a young child (which was essentially Stacey’s story back in Boy Crazy Stacey).
It's all very piecemeal, and many of the plots go absolutely nowhere. I was actually mildly interested in Mary Anne’s discovery of a ghost in the lodge, but it’s given no resolution whatsoever. Speaking of, Mary Anne is a pretty awful person. If you’re going to constantly shill her as the “kind and sensitive one” then maybe don’t have her change the subject onto her own problems when Dawn is talking to her, or internally grimace when she sees a man with a missing front tooth, or snidely think to herself that a mean song sung at a fat girl on the bus: “didn’t stop Edith from eating three Snickers bars.” She’s the worst.
In all, this one was rough going. Definitely the worst of the Super Specials so far.
The Lotus and the Grail by Rosemary Harris
According to the author’s introduction, the theme of the stories was originally meant to be “the Search,” only for her to realize that some counties had none, others were disappointing, and too many were rather repetitive. Instead, the common element becomes the protagonist attempting to grasp or attain something, whether that be wholeness, a blessing, another person, or strong magic. None of them are meant to be the definitive versions of the legends they retell, but rather fresh interpretations told in the author’s own voice.
Harris goes on to say there was a secondary attempt to find stories that were typical of each one’s country and culture, as opposed to anything brought in by conquerors (for example, the story set in South America is an ancient Inca legend, not a Spanish-Portuguese tale). The net is cast wide, as there are eighteen stories in all, from India, China, Japan, New Guinea, New Zealand, North America, Hispaniola, Peru, West Africa, Egypt, Persia, Greece, Romania, Russia, Iceland, the British Isles, Germany and France – beginning with an Eastern Prince’s quest to find the Lotus of Enlightenment, and ending with a peasant boy’s similar quest to find the Holy Grail.
Having been published first in 1974, there are certain dated aspects you have to take into account. There are plenty of extremely well-meaning white authors who genuinely want to tell stories of other cultures with respect, and yet the passage of time since the seventies means there are a couple of cringy moments – if any woman has dark skin, you can guarantee it’ll be described as coffee, chocolate or caramel. But it’s more than that...
As a kiwi, reading “The Cockleshell” gave me no real sense of Aotearoa as a place. There were Māori names and places, but the landscape, the weather, the cultural depths – nada. And if Harris didn’t capture the spirit of my country, then I seriously doubt she captured it for the others either. You can be a well-read expert on something, but still not feel the essence or meaning of it.
But like I said, she clearly means well, and any flaws come from a place of ignorance, not malevolence. And I have to give the book credit for providing eighteen folktales from around the world that I had honestly never heard of before. I consider myself pretty well-read on this subject, but every single thing featured here was brand new material for me. Kudos for that.
A Wolf for a Spell by Karah Sutton
It's also a nice little fantasy-mystery that weaves together the usual suspects of Russian folklore: the heroic Ivan, the grey wolf, and of course, Baba Yaga, with alternating points-of-view chapters. We’re introduced to Zima the wolf, who has been warned to stay away from all humans after her brother was badly injured, and Nadya, a young orphan who is preparing for the wedding of her quasi-foster sister Katerina to the tsar himself. Nadya wants to follow her sister to her new home in the palace to work as a servant, but doesn’t feel she’s good enough.
What follows is a surprisingly clever plot, involving misconceptions, long-laid plans, and a network of laws, bargains and loopholes in magical deals. On the heels of reading Spinning Silver, it held up surprisingly well (nowhere near as intricately plotted, but still good). The usual themes of teamwork, understanding and found family were familiar enough, but there was also some commentary on first impressions and assumptions being wrong. One must take time to get to know a person.
There are plenty of great female characters: Zima, Nadya, Oksana, Katerina, Orlova – but of course the highlight is Baba Yaga, complete with her chicken-legged house and mortar-and-pestle mode of transportation. As in The House with Chicken Legs, she’s someone whose name is more of a title than a name, one that can be passed onto another person when the time is right.
This might be a return to the prose of children’s books, where everyone’s thoughts and feelings are clearly stated and every last sentence of a chapter essentially a sum-up of what just happened, but I was pleasantly surprised by this. And I can definitely get behind its underlying message: never give up your power for a man.
Don’t Call the Wolf by Aleksandra Ross
Elsewhere, Lukasz is a young man who is one of the ten Brothers Smokowi: Wolf-Lords who come down from the mountains and make their living slaying dragons and other terrible creatures. Only, Lukasz is the only one left. One by one, his older brothers have heeded the call to return to the mountain from whence they came and kill the Golden Dragon. None have ever returned, though Lukasz is still holding out hope that he might track down Franciszek, the youngest-but-him.
Naturally, Ren and Lukasz are destined to meet, and when they do they realize it’s in their best interests to team up and go dragon-hunting – up the forbidding mountain and into unknown territory.
There’s nothing wrong with this story, but nothing hits very hard. Not the character deaths, not the inevitable romance, not the big twist, not the reunions at the end – nothing. I liked the dark atmosphere of the monster-ridden forest and the long defeat that Ren and her allies are fighting. I liked some of the flashbacks to Lukasz and his brothers, giving us a sense of what exactly he’s lost over the years. I liked some of the “cameo appearances” of familiar figures from Slavic mythology, such as the tricksy leshi and (of course) Baba Yaga in her chicken-legged house.
There are some good action scenes here and there, though it’s surprisingly violent and bloody at times (without having watched a single episode, I get the distinct impression this book has big The Witcher vibes).
But like I said, there’s no real oomph to any of it, and the ending is so rushed that I wasn’t quite sure what was happening or why. If a reader can’t connect to the characters, it’s difficult to care about what’s going on, and it ended up being one of those odd stories in which the supporting cast is infinitely more interesting than the bland leads, but who fall out of the story about halfway through.
I really like the cover design though. The black wolf facing the purple lynx? The dragon’s serpentine body wound throughout the forest and around the castle? Nicely done.
Robin Hood: The Prince of Thieves (1948)
That said, few of them can resist adding a meet cute between Robin and Marian, but I suspect if you watched them in order of release, you’d more or less get a singular, non-repetitive narrative. With a bit of squinting, they could hypothetically all be part of the same continuity.
This one is based on Alexandre Dumas’s 1872 novel Le Prince des Voleurs. Yes, that Alexandre Dumas, of The Three Musketeers fame. I had no idea he’d also written a Robin Hood story.
It opens on a young couple merrily trotting through the forest and stopping for a drink... though the man is not Robin Hood as you’d expect. He turns up soon after to relieve the couple of their valuables, and they’re soon introduced as Sir Allan Claire and his sister Marian. Having been fighting in the Crusades with King Richard, he’s returned to marry his betrothed, Lady Christabel. Recognizing the name, Robin has some bad news: she’s now engaged to someone else.
The two men quickly become allies, and Robin promises him assistance in rescuing Christabel from her father and new fiancé (before ascertaining how Christabel feels about all this, but never mind).
It's a fairly ho-hum film, which takes it’s time with various set pieces and action sequences. It’s motto seems to have been “two for the price of one”, in which there are two damsels in distress, two moustache-twirling bad guys, and two swordfights in the big climax. I’d like to say it ends on a double-wedding, but they actually go one better and make it a triple one thanks to the addition of a third female character called Maude.
Speaking of, she’s easily one of the best characters of the movie and completely outshines both Christabel and Marian (the latter of whom is rather unpleasantly shrewish and haughty, and who ends up getting kidnapped despite Christabel already fulfilling that narrative role). She’s flirty and quick-witted, first switching a compromising letter with an innocent one to save Christabel’s bacon, and later saving Robin himself from the dungeons. (He remarks: “you’re too popular,” when she uses her charm to distract a guard, to which she responds: “can I help it?”)
Little John, Friar Tuck and Will Scarlett are present and accounted for, though they don’t get much to do (or perhaps that was just because John and Will are interchangeable) and it all ends with Robin, Allan and their men rushing off to meet King Richard, literally leaving their new brides at the altar. I’m going to assume their subsequent honeymoons will not be pleasant ones.
I’ve no idea whether Dumas based this particular story on the Robin Hood legend of Allan-a-Dale, whose Child Ballad recounts how Robin helped him rescue his childhood sweetheart from marriage to a much-older knight, but Wikipedia tells me that a later variation of the story (written by Pierce Egan the Younger in 1839-ish) did indeed rename the character Sir Allan Claire, who was not a minstrel but a knight, a brother to Maid Marian, and who called upon Robin Hood’s help in saving his betrothed, a lady called Christabel.
Those details are all too similar to be a coincidence, right down to Christabel being the daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham, but I’m having trouble finding any solid confirmation that one was derived from the other.
Like most of the Robin Hood stories of the day, it’s wonderfully campy, from the posturing of Robin Hood to garishness of the sets and costumes, and it stands in stark contrast with the other Robin Hood adaptation I watched this month...
Wolfshead (1969)
It’s essentially an origin story, and one that ends with the formation of the Merry Men and a declaration of who they are and what they stand for. Everyone is prime and ready to take a stand and fight back against the cruel Normans and their oppressive regime. Then the credits roll.
Right on the cusp of the seventies, this take on the legend is a million miles away from the campy joys of Robin Hood in the fifties and early sixties. It’s foregoes the usual colour and pageantry of earlier adaptations to attempt a more realistic depiction of medieval England, making the most of the surrounding countryside for stark, vast establishing shots that favour rocky mountainsides over cheerful greenwoods.
An opening narration intones:
England in 1190 was an unhappy land. Its people divided into two distinct classes: the Saxons, a slave race, and the Normans, masters who ruled without justice. More than a century before, the Saxons had been a free and happy people. But in 1066, they were beaten at Hastings by Duke William of Normandy - William the Conqueror. And to preserve their rule, the Normans built their castles and introduced brutal, repressive laws. The harshest were the Forest Laws. A man could be tortured and hanged for hunting for food to feed his starving family. Or made a wolfshead -- an outlaw whose head was worth no more than a wolf's.
You don’t need me to tell you that Norman/Saxon tension was well over by the time King Richard sat on the throne, but we can thank Sir Walter Scott and the popularity of his Ivanhoe for that enduring anachronism. In any case, it allows for a Romeo and Juliet angle to be added to the romance between Robin and Marian, with the former depicted as a Saxon yeoman and the latter as a Norman noblewoman (as Robin says: “This is England. We were born here. We're not Saxons or Normans. We're English. Can't we be together like free human beings?”)
It's an interesting take on the famous romance – or at least it would have been interesting if Marian had had more than two scenes. Unfortunately, Wolfshead features another disappointing Marian, who is certainly less of a haughty snob than she was in The Prince of Thieves, but who gets absolutely nothing to do. She was no doubt a casualty of the filmmakers believing that there was an impending television series to flesh out their material, as there are some vague hints she’d end up working as a spy for Robin, and that a love triangle would rear its ugly head (she was intended in marriage for one of the many villains, even though the two characters never share a scene together).
In the writer’s idea to draw upon the very oldest ballads to craft the story, there are some interesting variations on what we’re used to in a standard Robin Hood story. For starters, it’s set in Yorkshire on the borders of Barnsdale Forest, the location of the characters in the ballad A Gest of Robyn Hode. That’s also where the villains of the piece are derived from, with the usual Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisborne replaced with brothers Geoffrey and Roger of Doncaster, not to mention the corrupt Abbot of St. Mary's.
They also throw in a sister to the Doncaster brothers, a rather sultry woman called Adele who was no doubt going to be the Veronica to Marian’s Betty in those hypothetical episodes to come, and a game warden called Legros, who operates as the movie’s Warm-Up Boss.
There are more intriguing departures from the norm: Robin isn’t actually the character’s real name – it’s Robert, with Robin being a nickname from childhood that Marian bestowed on him. He also gets a mother and a sister, which I’d never come across before (he has a foster mother in The Prince of Thieves, and a sister in the utterly bonkers The Siege of Robin Hood – but in both cases, the latter gets fridged). Much, Friar Tuck and Little John are all accounted for (along with the famous quarterstaff bridge fight) but Will Scarlett gets the older moniker of Will Stukely, and is more of a mentor figure than a best buddy.
All things considering, I found it quite fascinating – not necessarily for what it was, but what it represented. This feels like a very clear stepping stone between the campy hijinks of the past and the more serious depictions of the legend in works to come. Indeed, Richard Carpenter directly credited Wolfshead as the inspiration for Robin of Sherwood, which is considered one of the quintessential takes on the Robin Hood legends. This film might languish in obscurity, but to quote the Arc Words of Carpenter’s more famous show: “nothing is ever forgotten.”
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
This is also the first Indiana Jones movie I ever saw, which means that its nostalgic value is high, but I really could watch this on a regular basis and never get bored (which I did often as a kid – that is, watch this movie, not get bored). Because everyone knows you can’t watch your very favourite movies too often lest they lose their magical lustre. But The Last Crusade hits the spot.
In many ways, this film was a course correction for the franchise after the mixed reception of Temple of Doom. We’re back to a Judeo-Christian religious artefact, Nazis as the antagonists, familiar sidekicks with expanded roles, and minimal amounts of gore, carnage and gross-out sequences. I’m torn, because even though this is my favourite Indy film, in hindsight it’s a depressing reminder that it’s often the fans, not the creatives, that decide the direction a franchise is going to take. And fans don’t want anything new or innovative – they just want something that reminds them of the last good time they had. Thirty years later, this mentality brought us The Rise of Skywalker.
So lets say that the movie hits familiar beats, but has managed to refine them, and with enough originality to compensate for returning to the well. (Plus, back in 1989 this wasn’t as irritating a regurgitation as it would have been in 2023, where EVERYTHING is being squeezed for Member Berries juice).
After a prologue that showcases River Phoenix as a teenaged Indy, neatly explaining several of his latter-day idiosyncrasies (cue Moe: “and that’s the origin of that!”) and providing George Lucas with the inspiration for The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, we fast-forward to Harrison Ford being commissioned for another treasure hunting adventure. This time around, he’s asked to go in search of the Holy Grail – or rather, for his father Doctor Henry Jones, who has disappeared in Venice during his research for the Grail’s location.
Hired by American Walter Donovan and joined by Doctor Elsa Schneider (Indy’s third love interest in as many movies, and the last person to see his father before he went missing) Indy begins the hunt, hoping to find the tomb of one of three knights rumoured to have found the Grail in the twelfth century.
The thing about this movie though, is that it’s not really about the search for the Holy Grail or the spiritual enlightenment that supposedly comes with it. It’s about Indiana finally connecting with his emotionally distant father. For what it’s worth, this is the highlight of the film. Sean Connery and Harrison Ford’s rapport is fantastic – easily the best onscreen relationship Indy has ever been a part of (sorry Marion and Shortie). Their every line, gesture or pointed look at each other is pure gold, though there’s some amusement to be found in the fact that if they were truly father and son, Connery would have become a father at age twelve.
Marcus and Sallah are back, the former with a much larger role than in Raiders – though I can see why some fans would be a bit miffed. He’s more of an idiot used for comic relief compared to his characterization in the prior film, even with the badass line: “you’re meddling with powers you cannot possibly comprehend.” Likewise, John Rhys-Davies’ Sallah is given virtually nothing to do. It’s nice to see him again, but he’s really just there for the sake of it.
Likewise, Walter Donovan is a rather weak villain (though has there ever been a truly memorable Indy foe?) and when the characters finally reach the Grail Temple, it’s somewhat clear that the screenplay doesn’t really know what to do with the MacGuffin. As mentioned above, there is no real spiritual component to the artefact, it’s really just a gizmo for obtaining eternal life. It has nothing to say about Christianity or Jesus or even Arthurian legend – I’m not even sure they establish it was said to be the vessel that caught Christ’s blood at the Crucifixion.
That’s not to say I wanted the film to be a sermon, but the Grail ends up being rather milquetoast compared to the Ark of the Covenant. To put it another way, the Ark was a singular MacGuffin, in a story that could only ever be about the Ark. Here, the Grail could be anything – the Philosopher’s Stone, or Excalibur, or the Spear of Longinus. The three traps put in place to guard the temple and Indy’s wisdom in realizing: “that’s the cup of a carpenter” are both more interesting than the Grail itself.
It's simply the Plot Coupon that instigates the reconciliation between Indy and his father – the thing that the film is really interested in. How disappointed you are by this probably depends on a. how invested you get in the Indy/Henry relationship, and b. how interested you were in the Holy Grail and its meaning. Because only one of those two things is done justice.
Also, catacombs in Venice? Really?
Back to the good stuff. The opening prologue is a masterclass in misdirection and character work, from the audience initially assuming that the fedora-wearing man in the cave is Indy (until he turns around and the second boy scout addresses the other as “Indy”) to the wry smile on the face of said fedora-wearing man when Indy gets the better of him and escapes successfully with the golden crucifix. It’s a damn shame River Phoenix didn’t return for Young Indiana Jones, as that would have made for a fantastic continuation of this sequence.
It’s also full of great lines, from the aforementioned “you’re meddling with power you cannot possibly comprehend” (thanks Brody) to “goosestepping morons such as yourself should try reading books instead of burning them” (amen, Henry – and you can tell Sean Connery really relished that line). And the payoff for Indy’s early admonition: “X never, ever marks the spot” is just *chef’s kiss*. I never get tired of that one.
I’m also (surprisingly) a huge fan of Elsa, to the point where – controversial opinion! – she might well be my favourite Indy girl. Not as a person, but as a character. I enjoy cold, blonde Femme Fatales at the best of times, but the after the reveal that she’s in league with the Nazis, the film choses to keep her morally ambiguous. She’s holding back tears during a Third Reich book burning rally, and passionately tells Indy: “I believe in the Grail, not the Swastika.” Later she cries out in horror when Donovan shoots Henry in the stomach to galvanize Indy into fetching the Grail, and is the one to take him out when she tricks him into drinking from a false chalice. Spielberg teases us with the possibility that she and Indy may yet ride off into the sunset together.
But of course, she doesn’t. Because all the regret in the world at books being destroyed and innocent people getting shot doesn’t matter IF YOU’RE IN LEAGUE WITH THE NAZIS. I actually really love how the film handles this character, and I wish more stories had the guts to follow through with what they convey with Elsa. How you feel about something doesn’t mean a damn thing if you continue to side with pure evil. I’m thinking about all the “morally ambiguous” characters who look mildly perturbed or occasionally conflicted while in the midst of committing horrific crimes, leading to scores of viewers calling out for redemption arcs and whittering on about their “character depths.”
This movie says: nope, don’t care. Because if you stood up to be counted with the enemies of everything the Grail stands for, then who gives a damn what you think?
Inspector Lynley: Season 1 (2001)
In any case, thanks to Spooks I’ve been enjoying a visit to the early noughties, and Inspector Lynley is certainly more of that. As with the very earliest seasons of Spooks, there’s a stagey, almost awkward feel to the first few episodes of the show, and the amusing sight of dated technology from twenty years ago being treated as cutting-edge tech.
It does bother me that the show (and the book series upon which it’s based) is called Inspector Lynley, as this is very much a team effort between Thomas Lynley and his partner Barbara Havers, who is easily the more interesting of the two. The crux of their dynamic is that Lynley is a titled lord, with great wealth and an estate to his name, while Havers comes from a working-class background. Initially put together because no one else wants to work with them, they end up becoming an unstoppable team.
Well, that’s the gist of it anyway. To be honest, the mysteries are probably the least interesting part of this series, and considering Elizabeth George’s novels are pretty hefty tomes, I imagine that quite a lot of material gets lost in the transition from book to screen. Thinking back, there are a couple of episodes where I honestly couldn’t tell you who the murderer is. The real drawcards are Nathaniel Parker, Sharon Small and the rapport between them, which goes from suspicion and scepticism to trust and respect. You love to see it.
You’ll be unsurprised to hear that I didn’t ship it, though I know that a lot of viewers did, but it’s always nice to see a stable male/female partnership that’s void of any romantic tension. One of Lynley’s major subplots is his ongoing relationship with Helen Clyde, an old friend and criminal profiler. I’ve no doubt she came in for plenty of Die For Our Ship back in the day, though the truth is the writers never really get a handle on this character, as evidenced by the fact she goes through three different cast changes over the course of the series.
As part of season one I’ve included the three-part pilot episode “A Great Deliverance”, which were clearly filmed some time before the rest of the season considering Emma Fielding initially plays Helen, who is then replaced by Lesley Vickerage. Also, Lynley’s emotional turmoil in those first three episodes is that his best friend is marrying the woman he loves – and he’s the best man at the wedding. It gets somewhat resolved by the third episode, and then neither character is ever seen or mentioned again.
Rather less romantically, Havers struggles with looking after her mother, who has dementia, and the fact that all her colleagues (sans Lynley) are just so mean to her. It almost verges on the absurd, how all these people will go out of their way to be unpleasant and cruel to her.
But of course, the show provides plenty of scope for the “before they were famous” game, and you would not believe who turns up. Henry Cavill! Idris Elba! James McAvoy! It’s insane, I tell you. I also spotted Miranda Raison in a small role, and usual suspects Brendan Coyle, Bill Nighy, Tim Pigott-Smith, Adam Godley, Selina Cadell, Samuel Barnett... I think most of these people end up on Downton Abbey eventually.
Spooks: Season 9 (2010)
But I knew none of the particulars, and had assumed the reveal would be that he had secretly been a Russian mole all along. Not so. I suppose they realized they’d already done that with Connie, as what we get here is considerably more convoluted. Turns out he was never Lucas North at all, but a man called John Bateman who assumed this identity after getting caught up in some dirty dealings with a man called Vaughn, which culminated in the bombing of a British embassy.
The real Lucas was a friend of John’s who was about to be accepted into MI-5 (though no face-to-face interview had taken place, which feels both extremely dubious on a Watsonian level and hugely convenient on a Doylist one) and who was murdered by Vaughn so that John could safely flee the country after assuming his identity.
But there’s an extra twist on top of this twist – though John tells Harry that he had no idea the briefcase contained a bomb and that Vaughn was the man behind Lucas’s death, the actual actual truth is that a. yes he did know, and b. he strangled Lucas himself.
If you look at the character’s corruption arc strictly within the confines of this season, it’s all fairly riveting stuff. Watching Lucas gradually succumb to Vaughn’s machinations, which compromises him to the point of no return, is genuinely compelling. But I can understand why fandom at the time was ticked off, and not just because Richard Armitage was once more having to play a loathsome killer when they just wanted to lust after him without any self-imposed guilty hangups.
Firstly, the new backstory he’s been given doesn’t necessarily contradict anything that was established in the previous seasons, but it’s still a massive retcon they clearly had no inkling of when they first introduced him. The same thing happened to Connie and Nicholas Blake, who were good guys up until the point the writers realized they could throw in a “gotcha!” to the audience by making them retroactively evil. You can tell they’re not long-term plans, just something the writers have come up with at the start of each season.
(In the case of Nicholas Blake, it turns out he was part of Nightingale all along, even though he was the one that brought Harry’s attention to it in the first place. And are we really meant to believe that Lucas’s true identity never came up while he was being tortured for eight years in a Russian prison?)
Secondly, the major leverage that Vaughn uses to manipulate Lucas is an ex-girlfriend called Maya, who Lucas apparently knew while he was still John, and who he now wants to rekindle a relationship with. The problem here is that we know absolutely nothing about Maya, have never even heard of her before this season, and so get no chance to understand why on earth Lucas is going to such insane lengths to be with her. I mean, have the writers forgotten he had an honest-to-God WIFE while he was still Lucas? (I realize that Maya knowing him only as John was an important component to their relationship, but surely with a little finagling they could have found a way to reuse Paloma Baeza as Elizabeta).
Why he suddenly decided to track down Maya, beyond the fact that the writers needed a lazy plot device to get him riled up and easy to manipulate, is a complete mystery, as is her decision to restart a relationship with a man she hasn’t seen for decades.
But after a few fallow seasons, we’re back to a bonanza of familiar faces. It’s a veritable treasure trove: Iain Glen! Simon Russell Beale! Benedict Wong!! Colin Salmon, Fiona Glascott, Vincent Regan, James Faulkner (Rose’s father-in-law on Downton Abbey), Donald Sumpter (the Fisher King on Merlin), Amanda Hale (Margaret Beauford from The White Queen) and Jonathan Aris (Anderson from Sherlock, or more recently Lord Roke in His Dark Materials) also appear. Even Malcolm pops back for a quick visit.
We also get an influx of new characters, who unfortunately are too quickly introduced (and in one case, written out just as speedily) to make much of an impact. There’s Dimitri Levendis, who is fairly bland, and Beth Bailey, a former mercenary who wants a chance to walk the straight and narrow.
I thought she was a decent character with some interesting shades of grey, and a bit of a change from the usual forthright, uncompromising female leads. And she’s played by Sophia Myles. Whatever happened to Sophia Myles? I feel like she was everywhere at one point, and then she just disappeared overnight – much like Beth Bailey, who is decommissioned in the gap between seasons nine and ten and never seen again.
With that in mind, it’s clear the show is on its last legs. There are some innovative ideas behind certain episodes, such as an assassination attempt getting hijacked by another group of assassins targeting Beth, or Ruth getting approached by a council worker who thinks he’s found a dead-drop (a story which goes on to explore just how profoundly desensitized our main characters are) but also some fairly idiotic stuff. One episode involves a young woman attempting to kill President Obama by... poisoning her blood with explosives?
The dialogue has also taken a hit, with several characters being forced to state the objectives of each mission for the sake of the audience’s comprehension (this got really grating after a while) though I did appreciate the show finally addressing the fact that when a character dies, everyone else gets over it pretty damn quickly. As Ruth says at one point, they’re all severely messed up people due to the fact that when traumatic things happen, they simply brush it off and get back to work.
Spooks: Season 10 (2011)
As it stands, Peter Firth as Harry was the only cast member to appear in every single episode, though others clocked up an impressive tally. According to IMDB, other long-runners were Malcolm Wynne-Jones (65 episodes), Ruth Evershed (57), Adam Carter (41), Jo (37) and Ros (34) – which actually surprised me, as Ros always felt more central than Jo. The numbers start to dwindle after that, all the way down to poor Ben Kaplin, the shortest-lived MI-5 agent who only managed 11 episodes before he was unceremoniously killed off.
You can see why the show had to end here, and not just because it was up against the Downton Abbey juggernaut. Harry and Ruth may have formed the emotional backbone of the show in its entirety, but it really needed a strong and engaging team to carry its plots. The changeover from Tom, Zoe and Danny to Adam, Ros, Zaf and Jo was handled extremely well – but the same can’t be said about the switch to Lucas, Beth, Tariq and Dimitri, especially since there’s yet another cast shakeup for season ten.
Lucas wasn’t even Lucas by his final episode, Beth is abruptly written out between seasons, Dimitri is given no personality at all, and Tariq (the last holdover from season eight) is killed only two episodes into the last season. Yet this doesn’t stop the writers from adding yet MORE main characters: Erin Watts and Calum Reed. As nice as it is to see Lara Pulver, there’s simply not enough time to develop her properly, and (according to TV Tropes) Calum was the despised Scrappy.
It was never going to be perfect, but the show really needed to keep Beth, spare Tariq, and give Dimitri more of a personality earlier on. I think this team could have carried the show to the end, but instead we’re left with characters we don’t know and have no real investment in. It’s a shame we have to end things with a cast of mostly strangers.
By this point, the show has also strayed far from its original premise. Originally committed to its grounded realism, in which spy-work is depicted as menial, unrelenting and distinctly unglamourous, we’re now dealing with a work environment that is glossy and sleek. Erin in particular constantly wears heels and has her hair loose, which is totally detrimental to the work she’s doing.
Yet it never becomes truly bad. On the contrary, I was fairly riveted by what was going on, which was a tight arc involving the Russians and Harry’s murky past in the Cold War with the usual standalone spy stories. Jonathan Hyde and Alice Krige are introduced as Russian diplomats, the latter being a double agent for the Brits and Harry’s former lover. Naturally there’s a web of intrigue to pick through once Harry realizes that someone is still running Elena, posing as himself in order to get intel from her.
Complicating matters is that Elena’s son Sasha is Harry’s love-child, one Elena has passed off as her husband’s legitimate son for the past thirty years, and who is becoming increasingly aware of what’s really going on. There were some twists and turns in this arc that I didn’t see coming (and had miraculously remained unspoiled for).
But I knew about Ruth. In fact, way back in 2011 I watched the final ten minutes of the last episode on YouTube, which was my very first glimpse of the show (I was in the Robin Hood fandom, and most of the other members were big proponents of Spooks as well). So for the last decade I’ve known what was coming, which kind of takes the sting out of the Cruel Twist Ending.
Because it is very cruel, and in many ways very stupid as well. Harry and Ruth have saved the day and are looking forward to retiring to a little cottage in the Cotswolds, when Sasha comes out of nowhere with a bit of broken glass and somehow manages to fatally stab Ruth through her very thick winter coat (which presumably would have had several layers underneath it to boot). The attack itself is badly shot, and she bleeds out almost instantly.
On the one hand, it is in keeping with the nature of the show, which is that a spy’s life is harsh, bleak and short, and the final moments of Harry going to visit a private memorial in the depths of Thames House (which has the names of all the agents who’ve died in the line of duty etched on the walls) and returning to his office, gathering himself and answering the telephone (back to business as usual) are beautifully done.
On the other, I can see why the fans would be pissed off. Would it have been so difficult to just give these two a happy ending after so much pain and despair? Sometimes finding joy in unexpected places can be just as cathartic and powerful as a tragedy. Or at least, make sure Ruth’s death feels inevitable (as she says: “we were never meant to have those things”) instead of stupidly contrived.
That the show ends with a six-episode season is a poetic parallel to the fact that it started with a six-episode season, and there’s a nice little cameo from Matthew Macfadyen’s Tom Quinn thrown in as well. I enjoyed Lara Pulver (she looks great!) though it’s amusing that she never got the chance to interact with Richard Armitage, they having played siblings in Robin Hood (ironically, he dies in the episode directly before she appears). And as despised as Calum apparently was, he gets what is essentially the last line of dialogue in the entire show, and it’s a banger. After Erin asks him for an update, he just replies: “bad people want to kill us.” That’s the whole premise of the show in a nutshell.
More than anything, it feels like the end of an era – which it was. For a British series to run for ten seasons over the course of a decade is frankly a miracle, and that it sustained its quality from start to finish despite every young British actor’s reluctance to commit to any project for more than three seasons is equally impressive. There were inevitably a few hiccups along the way, but the acting and production values were always top-notch. I always appreciated the standalone stories at a time where absolutely everything now has to be part of a complex arc or expanded universe, and I consider my time well-spent.
Spooks: The Greater Good (2015)
Yes, it plays out like a very long episode, and in many ways it lacks the cinematic quality you’d expect from a big-screen outing (besides a few panoramic establishing shots, there’s really nothing here that you haven’t already seen on the show) but it’s still a solid two hours of entertainment. Because of the nature of the show, which was comprised of very self-contained episodes, someone completely new to the franchise would have no trouble whatsoever picking up on the characters or plot, while the fans get to see Harry Pearce go on one last mission with some familiar faces along the way.
Well, kind of. Lara Pulver and Geoffrey Streatfeild reprise their roles as Erin and Calum from the final season, but both of them are quickly dispatched. Pulver only gets two scenes, the latter of which is her begging Harry to shoot her so that her daughter doesn’t see the video of her execution that the terrorists surrounding them are threatening her with, and Calum only gets a few second-long scenes before he’s shot in the head so anticlimactically that it’s easy to miss it. I mean, I know he was an unpopular character, but that’s just... mean. It’s like they brought him back just to kill him off.
They’re perhaps a casualty of the problem that plagued the final few seasons of the show: no strong supporting cast. It’s no coincidence that Harry Pearce is the co-lead of this film along with a brand-new character we’ve never heard of before played by Kit Harington, because there’s simply no one else from the show left to pick up that baton.
Malcolm gets a quick-but-delightful cameo (I bet his appearance drew cheers from the movie-going crowd) but Dimitri is gone without explanation, and – to be frank – probably wouldn’t have been able to carry the lead role anyway. Sophia Myles as Beth would have worked quite well in Kit Harington’s place, as a trained professional that Harry could trust but who no longer worked for MI-5, though I can understand why they’d want to cast a more famous actor, even if Harington is a bit of a charisma void. He’s playing Will Holloway, an ex-field agent who was decommissioned by Harry after an operation went wrong, and whose father was killed in action some years ago. He has real beef with Harry for these reasons, which is why he’s as bewildered as anyone over why Harry would try to contact him after faking his death.
After a clandestine meeting with his former boss, he learns the truth: a terrorist has recently escaped MI-5 custody and Harry is convinced it was an inside job – which means that some high-ranking official is deliberately sabotaging Central Intelligence. Will reluctantly agrees to help Harry, though naturally nothing ever goes smoothly in the world of espionage. Tuppence Middleton and Eleanor Matsuura are on hand as other agents who might help or hinder Will, and they even bring back Tim McInnerny, a recurring guest-star on the show and constant thorn-in-Harry’s-side, as Director General Oliver Mace.
The plot itself is pretty sound, and I liked the recurring theme of “the greater good” and what that means to different people. How much collateral damage is worth saving a greater number of people? Especially if the collateral is your friends and colleagues? And how do you live with yourself after making a call like that?
The villain isn’t very interesting; in fact, it’s much more interesting trying to ferret out the potential traitor among the ranks of political officials: Jennifer Ehle, David Harewood, Tim McInnerny, or Elliot Levey (yes, this film brings our number of Robin Hood actors on Spooks up to four, Levey having guest-starred as Benjamin Palmer in a season three episode – though again, it’s amusing that Pulver and Harewood have no onscreen interactions despite their shared history on RH).
In short, it’s a good swansong for Harry Pearce. Sure, he’s well past his prime but he still comes out on top, even though he compromises himself to such an extent there’s no therapist in the world that could help him at this point. Towards the end, another character calls him “a psychopath!” and she ain’t wrong. The whole thing would feel like a passing of the torch onto a younger generation were it not for the fact that we’ll probably never return to this franchise, and so with that in mind I liked that it closed on Will getting the chance to do what no one else in the show (sans Zoe, I suppose) ever could: simply walk away from the service and live a decent life.
Though I also liked that it was left ambiguous – that’s perfectly in keeping with the tone of this franchise in its entirety.
Beauty and the Beast: A 30th Celebration (2022)
Beauty and the Beast is the crown jewel of Disney Animation Studios, I doubt anything they’ll ever release will ever attain the utter perfection of that movie. I grew up with it, and there are very few things in this world that hits me as profoundly as that opening sequence: the falling strains of music, the woodland glade, the stained-glass window montage, David Ogden Stiers’s narrative voice. I just want to wrap myself in that entire sequence.
The movie that follows is a masterclass of tone, pace and atmosphere. It’s genuinely astonishing that the whole thing clocks in at about ninety minutes, because it’s such an emotional journey that it feels so much longer. Every character feels whole and three-dimensional, and every scene not only builds on the one before, but is a work of art in and of itself. I should probably stop talking about it before this entry just becomes an essay on how and why it’s so good.
Disney was inevitably going to throw a birthday party for its finest achievement, though I’m somewhat amused that it was officially called A 30th Celebration as opposed to A 30th Anniversary. This makes it sound like it’s the thirtieth time it’s been celebrated, not the thirtieth year since it’s release. Or, they could have just gone with Beauty and the Beast Live!
Of course, they pull out all the stops. The sets and costumes are gorgeous, with a cast that includes Martin Short as Lumière, Shania Twain as Mrs Potts, David Alan Grier as Cogsworth, and Rita Moreno as the presenter. As for the titular roles, we’ve got H.E.R. as Belle and Josh Groban as the Beast – they’re clearly more comfortable with singing than with acting, but then – we’re not really here for that. This is a showcase of the musical numbers, with the rest of the story filled in with clips from the movie itself.
Filmed in front of a live audience, with ongoing movement between Rita Moreno’s presentations, performances of the famous songs, scenes of the film played on a movie screen, and behind-the-scenes clips from the making of both the original film and this production, it’s a bit of a hodgepodge of material. The performance of “Belle,” for example, moves from the Disney Studios backlot to the auditorium, which then cuts to original storyboard sequences, and from there to fully animated clips and back to live-action. Strewn throughout are some interviews with the cast and footage from the rehearsals, and it’s hard to know what’s being experienced by the live audience, and what’s exclusive to the viewers at home.
There is at least an attempt to make this transition flow smoothly, with the use of large “paper” props and sets that are meant to evoke the scribbles and half-completed images of concept artists that H.E.R. moves through on her way to the stage, which is decked out to look like the castle ballroom (or at least a completed set).
All of the famous songs are performed, though with some... let’s say interesting choices. The “Belle” reprise features a dancer number involving about a dozen or so women dressed as Belle, and I’ve no idea what they’re going for with this. Is H.E.R.’s Belle hallucinating? Is it meant to represent all the girls that have projecting themselves onto that character over the years? Not sure. “Be Our Guest” involves a number of contortionists hiding under a banquet table covered in tiny trapdoors that let the performers move and manipulate the objects on the tabletop – it’s an innovative idea, but probably worked better in theory that in practice.
“Gaston” is always the big show-stopper on the stage (yes, even more so than “Be Our Guest” in my opinion) though the camera work is so choppy that it’s hard to appreciate what’s happening. Come on, let us enjoy the cinematography! Naturally you don’t cast Josh Groban without letting him sing (the animated Beast only gest to sing a couple of lines in “Something There”) so they give him “Evermore” from the 2017 film, even though it should have been “If I Can’t Love Her” from the stage musical. They also force him to wear a large Beast bodysuit, which really has to be seen to be believed, as it makes it look like he’s been eaten alive by a sentient cosplayer costume.
Come on Disney, was this really the best you could do for one of the most evocative animated characters of all time?
Shania Twain does fine with her rendition of “Beauty and the Beast,” and Martin Short gives it his all as Lumière (even though his French accent keeps disappearing). Original voice actors Paige O’Hara and Richard White cameo as the bookseller and the baker in the opening number which was a nice touch. They cut the line: “we’ll bring back his head!” from the “The Mob Song” which was disappointing, and the kid they cast as Chip only got one line! One! I hope he didn’t get teased too badly at school after telling everyone he was going to be in this.
Other highlights – on account of their absolute weirdness – were the wolves whose attack of various characters is actually threatening interpretive dancing, and that they actually personify the rose, with nine dancers who perform a dance that’s a fusion of ballet and calisthenics. It took me a while to grasp what was actually going on (people don’t exactly look like rose petals) but clicked when they started dramatically falling about the stage.
Unsurprisingly, H.E.R.’s ballroom dress is much better looking than the one Emma Watson wore in the live action movie (though people gave her such a hard time for that that my contrarian nature kicked in and I almost felt compelled to defend her) and she even plays part of the ballad on the electric guitar. Hey, use your gifts. I’ve no complaints about either H.E.R. or Josh Groban’s singing, and their duet was lovely.
The one issue was that there were two many scenes from the animated movie, to the point where they were relying on it to get most of the plot-points across. But if I wanted to watch the movie, I’d just watch it. They probably would have been better off just filming a variation of the stage show.
Harley Quinn: Season 3 (2022)
Still in the glow of newly realized love, Harley enthusiastically supports Poison Ivy’s latest evil plot: to use toxins from her earlier attempt to recreate Eden on earth and terraform Gotham into her own primitive paradise. Girlfriends support girlfriends, no matter how unhinged they seem. Most of the episodes revolve around Ivy putting this plan into effect: stealing necessary artefacts from the museum, experimenting on different chemicals, seeking out Swamp Thing for advice – but along the way Frank is kidnapped. (You know, Frank the talking mutated Venus fly trap?)
The culprit is quite a surprising figure. SPOILERS. Turns out that it’s Bruce Wayne, who has gotten wind of Ivy’s plot and sees it as a way of resurrecting his dead parents. Which... he does. And starts a zombie apocalypse. Which he remains completely unaware of. It’s quite something, and it’s up to Harley (surprisingly!) to save the day, from both Ivy and Batman. Who could have seen that coming?
There are plenty of minor subplots strewn throughout: Joker runs for Mayor, Clayface accidentally kills Billy Bob Thornton and takes his place in the movie he’s making, King Shark attends his father’s funeral and tries to reconnect with his brother (it doesn’t end well) and Nightwing comes back to town and tries to integrate himself into the Batfamily (Barbara is fairly welcoming, but Damien ain’t having it).
Man, a lot of stuff happens in this show. I didn’t even get to the orgy at the Court of Owls, or Catwoman breaking up with Bruce, or Nora Fries desperately trying to rebuild her life. She’s a total mess and I love it.
There are cameo appearances from Billy Bob Thornton and James Gunn, who are good sports at poking a little fun at themselves, as well as Matt Ryan reprising his role as Constantine (he really loves that character, doesn’t he). There are also so many hilarious throwaway gags and cameos that we’d be here forever if I listed them all. Suffice to say, the writers of this show are deeply familiar with the complexities of comic book continuity, and are having as much fun with it as they can (and as someone who generally hates fanservice and Easter eggs, it’s all kept under control).
But the show wouldn’t be anything if it didn’t have a genuine emotional core. Not only do we see Harley and Ivy go through the growing pains of a new relationship, but Harley also makes an unexpected connection to Bruce Wayne. Through a mildly convoluted series of events, Harley ends up in Bruce’s subconscious, which unsurprisingly (and sadly, and somehow hilariously as well) features his parents’ murder playing on repeat. Like, it’s all the guy ever thinks about. Harley describes it as an inversion of a repressed memory. It defines his entire personality. But Harley is a qualified therapist, and she manages to get through to him in quite a heartwarming way.
This show is so rich: in meaningful relationships, in jokes, in slightly skewered versions of the familiar DC characters, and ends on a note that demonstrates the showrunners are far from running out of ideas. Harley and Ivy have a strong and stable relationship, but now it’s Harley’s turn to figure out what exactly she wants from life, and who she’s going to work with in order to achieve it.
Harley Quinn: A Very Problematic Valentine's Day Special (2023)
Ivy says it’s all been “amazing”, but Harley can’t help but be a little disappointed. If this wasn’t Ivy’s best Valentine’s Day ever, then what was? She decides to escalate things and call on some magical forces to really make the night unforgettable... which is how we get to the citizens of Gotham having sex with strangers on the street while a giant Bane wanders around, attempting to copulate with buildings to sate his raging libido.
It’s... maybe a bit much. Also, Harley tries to defend the outcome of her actions with: “if the end result of this is just that everyone is super horny and they all go and have amazing consensual sex on Valentine’s Day, then I really don’t see the problem” – even though these people are under a spell, and so obviously not behaving as they ordinarily would.
But it’s nice seeing the couple work through relationship troubles. Ivy is much more well-adjusted about how unstable she is, though Harley is at least self-aware about how much she isn’t. Brett Goldstein pokes fun at his own image in a guest-starring role as himself (he’s reading poetry live onstage while polishing his Oscar, sans a shirt). But the best part is the When Harry Met Sally scenes strewn throughout, where famous DC couples (Superman and Lois, Diana and Steve, Arthur and Mera, the Hawks) monologue about how they met. It’s genuinely a delight and I wish we’d seen more of it. Plus, I loved the reveal of what Ivy’s best Valentine’s Day actually was.
Like most specials, it doesn’t advance any plots in any way (the end of season three involved the couple gearing up for some career changes – this is just about one particular holiday and how they celebrate) but it’s fairly fun and... okay, not inoffensive, but it wouldn’t be Harley Quinn if it wasn’t.
Unicorn Warriors Eternal: Season 1 (2023)
In the far-distant past, three heroes band together to defeat an undefined evil. They are Seng, a holy monk, Melinda, a powerful sorceress, and Edred, an elfin warrior. Realizing they cannot overcome their enemy within the span of a single lifetime, the wizard Merlin has their souls trapped inside an automaton called Copernicus, to be released once more when the need arises. All throughout history, various individuals have housed the souls of Seng, Melinda and Eldred, for their foe has never been truly defeated.
When the story begins proper, we’re in Victorian England – or at least an alt-world steampunk version of it. Emma Fairfax is delighted to be marrying her childhood sweetheart Winston, only for the wedding ceremony to be interrupted by Copernicus, who captures the bride in a blast of energy. Now she’s levitating in the air and spouting purple-black flames from her palms. Terrified, she flees the scene.
The emotional core of this show, at least so far, is Emma’s ensuing identity crisis. Naturally, having to give up a happy future with the man she loves in order to fight a terrifying evil she’s never even heard of before is not something she accepts particularly well. It’s only a matter of time before the reawakened Sen and Edred join her, also in new bodies, and the trio turn their attention to the evil forces that are once more rising in their city – seemingly in the form of a humanoid fox carrying a parasol.
This is one of those shows in which the story and characterization (though I suspect Tartakovsky would hate to admit it) is secondary to the aesthetic. Emma is a likeable girl with an interesting predicament to work through, but you can tell Tartakovsky is more interested in how everything looks and plays out. He’ll take several seconds to depict a character walking down a pathway, having carefully chosen the angles and framing of the scene, for no other reason but that he can.
It's really the look of the thing that sets it apart, and Tartakovsky has gone for hugely stylized. Every character looks like they belong in a completely different show, which means their interactions with each other feel disconcerting somehow – Emma for example is clearly based on Max Fleischer’s Betty Boop, while Seng is just as obviously inspired by Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy (though I can’t get over how much he looks like the Four Square man – a mascot for a supermarket line in New Zealand).
It's one of those shows people will rave about – it’s so fresh, so blissfully not a sequel, prequel, spin-off or other entry in a preestablished franchise, that it’s easy to ignore some of its flaws. I really could have done without the love triangle between Emma/Melinda, Edred and Winston, as once again a woman’s choice about what kind of life she wants to lead is signified by what man she’s going to end up with.
Likewise, there are some weird subplots that don’t seem to be connected to the main story-arc, like Winston getting stranded out at sea and turned into a werewolf (buh?) And quite a few of the jokes land with a thud.
But it’s so unlike anything else on television right now, that it’s worth commending simply for that. I was happy to put myself in the hands of a master storyteller and trust him to tell his tale in the way he thought best, and for the most part that leap of faith pays off. I’m intrigued and invested... now it’s just a matter of seeing whether HBO will give it a second chance or whether it’s yet another project that’ll be prematurely terminated.
The Dragon Prince: Season 5 (2023)
It's fine, but Avatar: The Last Airbender it ain’t, and I fear that streaming services have robbed writers of the art of properly structuring their story. Perhaps because they know everything is going to be dropped at once and then binge-watched over a weekend, no attention is given to what each episode should contain or how things should conclude. Things drift along and then abruptly finish. Season five of The Dragon Prince is certainly more compelling than season four, which was largely table-setting, but it’s essentially more travelling from one place to another with very little forward momentum in the actual story. Would you believe me if I said that Aaravos, the character after which this part of the story is named, is still imprisoned? And I can guarantee he will be for the duration of season six as well, with his escape probably being the cliff-hanging conclusion.
The seasonal arc can be roughly divided into three strands: Claudia and her father Viren are still travelling to reach the prison of Aaravos in order to free him and save Viren’s life – but Aaravos being such a mysterious being, it’s obvious there’s going to be some sort of catch involved. Plus, Claudia is growing evermore compromised in what she’s prepared to do to attain her goals.
Queen Janai has just banished her brother, who allies himself with other exiles and plans to seize the throne of the Sunfire elves by stealing the Sun Seed (can’t remember what this is or why it’s important). This is done with the help of a Moonshadow elf called Kim’dael, answering my question as to whether the graphic novels will be tied-in with the show. Yes, they will be. Rayla encountered Kim’dael as a young girl in Bloodmoon Huntress, and Viren’s old mentor Kpp’ar turns up in an episode as well.
Finally, the rest of the gang – Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Soren – attempt to beat Claudia to Aaravos and prevent her from freeing him, with lots of detours along the way of course. I really need to go back and watch all this from the start, just to iron out some of the details for myself. Raya’s parents are alive and trapped in coins? I honestly can’t remember any of that.
But they undoubtedly get the best of the three storylines, which manages to have forward momentum and plenty of fun dynamics – even if we do spend a little too much time with the pirates toward the end. There’s not really a lot more to say. In terms of the show’s main goals, we’re not any closer to them now than we were at the start of last season, and I don’t feel any sense of urgency or suspense regarding the threat of Aaravos. Protip: it shouldn’t be called “The Mystery of Aaravos” if Aaravos is still just a bit character.
I remember Mallory and the Mystery Diary being one of my favourites - the part where they realise the portrait had been painted over it etched in my memory! My niece is currently reading the Little Sister books and really loving them, so I'm looking forward to introducing her to the BSC.
ReplyDeleteUnsurprisingly, Last Crusade is also my favourite Indiana Jones film - I can't remember if it was the first one I watched as a kid, but it was certainly the one I watched the most. I'm not sure I agree that the film has nothing to say about the Grail though, because it ultimately reveals the worth (or lack thereof) of those who seek it and judges accordingly - the Ark required only humility before God, but the Grail requires penitence, knowledge, and faith to reach the Grail, and then wisdom to recognise it for what it is. Even then the prize of immortality has a price in that it cannot be taken beyond the seal - the seekers are either enlightened by their ability to leave the Grail behind, or destroyed by it. As Kazim warns Indy: "Why do you seek the cup of Christ? Is it for his glory, or your own?"
I'm not sure I agree that the film has nothing to say about the Grail though, because it ultimately reveals the worth (or lack thereof) of those who seek it and judges accordingly - the Ark required only humility before God, but the Grail requires penitence, knowledge, and faith to reach the Grail, and then wisdom to recognise it for what it is.
DeleteTrue... I suppose what I mean to say is that it has nothing to say about Christianity specifically (those virtues are lauded in plenty of other religions). In fact, the only time Christianity DOES come up is when Indy swears "Jesus Christ" and Henry slaps him for blasphemy. Though I suppose the counter-argument to THAT is that the Grail isn't really orthodox. It's never mentioned anywhere in the Bible (unlike the Ark) but is a myth that belongs more to the Arthurian legends. It can be anything the movie WANTS it to be.
Regarding the immortality it bestows, I recently heard of an interesting theory/alternate ending in which Henry could have become the new keeper of the Grail, taking the old knight's place in exchange for his life. Not sure if that would have worked better, but it was an intriguing proposition.
Interesting, I'll have to look out for any other Christian allusions/references next time I watch it! (although I'm pretty sure Donovan does mention the grail as catching Christ's blood at the crucifixion).
DeleteRegarding the immortality it bestows, I recently heard of an interesting theory/alternate ending in which Henry could have become the new keeper of the Grail, taking the old knight's place in exchange for his life. Not sure if that would have worked better, but it was an intriguing proposition.
Hmm, I actually think that would kind of sour the ending for me? The irony that despite being obsessed with the Grail his whole life, Henry is the one who pulls Indy back from reaching for it at the end - to have him again choose the Grail over Indy to become it's keeper rather than a father would seriously undercut his character arc.
Hmm, I actually think that would kind of sour the ending for me? The irony that despite being obsessed with the Grail his whole life, Henry is the one who pulls Indy back from reaching for it at the end - to have him again choose the Grail over Indy to become it's keeper rather than a father would seriously undercut his character arc.
DeleteTrue, and I think that's the crux of the argument I'm making: for whatever reason, this film only had room for one thing - Indy/Henry reconnecting with each other, or the meaning and spiritual purpose of the Holy Grail. They went for the father/son relationship, which meant the grail has none of the narrative power that the Ark of the Covenant does (which is the centrepiece of "Raiders" in a way the Grail isn't of "Crusade").
I do like that Indy goes for the Grail to save his father, and that in turn Henry choses his son over the Grail - though like I said, the Grail could have been ANYTHING under those circumstances. Like, I'm sure you're right that Donovan mentions it caught the blood of Christ at the crucifixion, but it's so irrelevant to the plot I couldn't remember it at all.
Had the filmmakers instead decided to really explore the Christian meaning of what the Grail embodies: spiritual enlightenment and reconnection with a higher power, then maybe Henry getting his "five minutes" with Indy before embracing that higher calling by becoming the next guardian would have been the more fitting end.
But... it wasn't. That's neither good nor bad, just how the chips fell in the scriptwriting room.