"Accomplishments"
In theaters: Well, it was kind of in the title, but I still didn't expect The Death of Robin Hood to be as bleak as it was. The film takes little time stripping all the romanticism from the legend, and we're left with Robin Hood and Little John as murderous brigands about whom a lot of stories have been told and embellished. The first half hour is brutal, filled with ugly violence, and Hugh Jackman's Robin is ready to die because it's all been quite pointless. After he's wounded in what was meant to be a suicide run, he finds himself in a remote priory, what could be a second chance at life. But does he deserve one? This is where the film really kicks in and asks whether redemption is possible, or even warranted. We like a redemption story, but even if one turns a corner, morally, does that mean a redemption arc is at all acceptable - to the audience, to the victims, to the person themselves? Hard to stomach, but it gets to internally complex and interesting territory, and then there's that perfect death scene. If not redemption, then perhaps one can do is to receive and accept a little... grace.
At home: When 2018's Robin Hood says "forget about history", it really means it. Taron Egerton's turn as young, hot Robin Hood has more in common with A Knight's Tale than it does The Adventures of Robin Hood. Honestly, as a big, dumb action spectacular, it's a lot of fun. And part of that fun - but also the film's downfall - is that it really wants to be about the contemporary world, so Robin fights in the Crusades, which are shot just like the war in Iraq; bows might as well be guns and crossbows machine guns; Little John (Jamie Foxx) is a Saracen; Nottingham is such an claustrophobic, urban city (with ironworks that spew flames into the sky like the Los Angeles of Blade Runner) that you wonder why the poster shows Robin in a forest (of giant arrows, but still); and Will Scarlet (Jamie Dornan) is more politician than Merry Man. Where it goes a bit too far, in my opinion, is in styling Ben Mendelsohn's Sheriff of Nottingham (who doubles as Prince John) as a modern politician, complete with a modern haircut and clothes, just screaming at the audience to recognize the parallels to current-day corruption. It's a bit much. And disappointingly, the movie does little to reflect the best-known Robin Hood tales (the contest, for example) in its modern action flick idiom, possibly because they kept things in reserve for a follow-up that never happened (there's sequel bait at the end). As you can see, there's a lot of talent on screen (we also have Tim Minchin as Friar Tuck, Eve Hewson as an activist Marion, and F. Murray Abraham as a corrupt cardinal), but they are often let down by plot holes and odd choices. Still quite entertaining, but I can't give it more than a passing grade.
I tend to find a lot of Kevin Costner movies overlong and rather dull, which explains why I waited 35 years to watch Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Well, it's hardly going to change my mind, is it? The one complaint I professed to have for decades, sight unseen, was that Costner didn't even try for an English accent. That isn't necessarily disqualifying, but it's damn distracting, especially with all the talk of England up top, and all the other American actors approximating one. His just doesn't make sense given the idiom that was on the page, and he's just terrible as Robin Hood besides. Michael Wincott as Guy of Gisborne tries to make him look good by affecting an over-the-top growling voice, and Alan Rickman's Satanist(!) Sheriff of Nottingham is cartoonishly evil, but these don't prop Costner up so much as drag the whole film down. It makes number of weird choices (some the 2018 Robin Hood foolishly took on board), like using the same "secret family member" twist twice. As the villains become increasingly silly, the rest of the film eventually succumbs to it, and the climax is goofy as hell, while also including an objectionable "comedy rape" scene. I expected Prince of Thieves to be a bit boring - and it often is - I just didn't expect it to be so stupid!
Nabwana IGG's follow-up to Who Killed Captain Alex? is Bad Black, and it had me laughing my head off only a few minutes in like its precursor. What makes these wall-to-wall action flicks from Uganda for me is the V.J. Emmie's non-stop commentary over the proceedings - sometimes narration, sometimes mockery, sometimes putting words in the characters' mouths, sometimes just shouting "MOVIE!" or "VROOM VROOM!" (during car action, for example) - creating the experience of seeing a badly made film with a rowdy audience. You can almost see popcorn being thrown at the screen. This is almost three films with the first part a long action sequence that eventually has a tenuous connection to the rest, the middle part about an American doctor who gets all his stuff stolen by gangsters and is not so much trained as shamed into becoming a "commando" by street kids (he just wants his dad's dog tags back, the stakes couldn't be any lower), and the third act makes it clear that "Bad Black", the female gang leader was the protagonist all along (you're mostly on her side because she's a ghetto Robin Hood), and through various convolutions, we'll see her take her revenge on those who took everything from her. It's bonkers and knows it.
Part of the Steve Carell realizes his marriage is dead in a restaurant cinematic universe: A bit like the American Love, Actually, but less of an anthology and more of a farce in the way the various threads are connected, Crazy, Stupid, Love. (though I've never heard anyone pronounce the punctuation) is very charming, genuinely funny, and though it plays with the romantic fantasy of soul mates, plays things real enough to avoid becoming sappy. Carell gets dumped by the love of his life (Julianne Moore) after 25 years of marriage, a crisis that sends him into the arms of Playbook Bro Ryan Gosling who teaches him out to pull, while himself in danger of abandoning one night stands in favor of a girl who seems immune to them (Emma Stone). Meanwhile, things come a head for Carell's 13-year-old boy (Jonah Bobo) who has a massive crush on his babysitter (Lio Tipton) who, in turn, has one on Carell. Marisa Tomei is Carell's first pull, and may prove important; Kevin Bacon is Moore's office tryst and the reason we're here. A stacked cast, to be sure, and despite his handsome leading man looks, Gosling is always very funny. There's a nice vibe on set, with banter that feels real, possibly improvised, and characters laughing when it's funny. Can Carell get his marriage back, or is moving on the best thing for him? Three generations, three possible outcomes, and though we hope for a happy ending, there's just enough reality to make us fear we won't, but in a satisfying, relatable kind of way. Lovely.
[1969] Hello, Dolly!: The most expensive musical yet made, so expensive, in fact, that it failed to recoup its money despite being a hit, Hello, Dolly! indeed looks SPECTACULAR. Giant sets, the back lot dressed up as a young New York right up to the horizon, a huge parade, and Barbra Streisand looking fabulous. It may have "killed" the big budget musical at the time, but I was into it. Streisand plays a turn-of-the-century matchmaker (and general life guru) who wants a little sugar for herself, and deftly manipulates four couples into existence including one of her own. Her "match" is Walter Mathau, who apparently hated her with a burning passion, and that works for his character (how they get together is simple movie magic). There was a lot of jealousy on set, which seems ridiculous given that Mathau doesn't really have any kind of singing voice, and Streisand proves the better actor just by looking like she's interested in this curmudgeon despite the conflict on set. Pretty sure that's a no-contact kiss at the end. The whole thing is right out of commedia dell'arte, with Harlequinesque servants who pretend they're upper class, an uncle who wants to marry his niece off to someone other than her beau, asides to the audience, and a lot of silly misunderstandings besides. Having been raised on Molière, I had to love it. Streisand isn't just a powerful and emotional singer, she's also great at high-speed banter (see also What's Up, Doc?) and her fast-talk seduction of Mathau's character is absolutely wondrous. And then there's Gene Kelly directing and giving gag-happy dance numbers a place between the verses - a lot to like on that score, too. I guess he hard to herd a lot of cats on this one, but he herds them in step.
[1970] The Ear: It's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for communists! After a party engagement, a bickering couple comes home to a darkened house and have it out despite a growing worry that the State (the Ear) is listening to their every word. The man is increasingly fearful, the woman, openly defiant. How much trouble are they actually in? Flashbacks to the party reveal that something was off, and the man's colleagues have already been removed... but when you're paranoid, ambiguous moments become clear confirmations, and the audience is playing that game with them, too. And sometimes, something IS happening, but it may not be what you think is happening. The Ear was naturally banned by the Czech government and would only be released 20 years later, but it stands as a great document of the pressures of living in a surveillance state (hey, that might be relevant again today), and can work as a metaphor for what that does to the population (if you put the wife in that symbolic position, for example). An easy decision for the ministry in charge of banning films, but very glad it wasn't destroyed. Quite absorbing.
[1971] Punishment Park: Too real! TOO REAL!!! This fictional documentary may be set in Nixon's America, just a shade into a dystopian present, but it might as well be about today's world. Not so much prescient as a document that these problems have always been with us. The fantasy element - if you want to call it that - is the option to participate in "Punishment Park" instead of going to prison, a two-day manhunt across the desert which proves deadlier than advertised - even with camera crews present (well, how much police brutality is caught on the daily by camera phones without any systemic change?). In another gut punch ripped from the headlines, all the participants were simply convicted of anti-war activism, daring to speak out against the government, and/or dodging the draft. While the the manhunt has its metaphorical parallels, the tribunal/kangaroo court aspect feels totally real. Here, a different group continues to speak out while ultra-conservative leaders condemn the youth as unpatriotic. Like I said, too damn real. And amazing.
[1972] The Red Queen Kills Seven Times: Setting your giallo in the fashion world has become a trope, but it's a good one - everyone is so fabulous! But I think the film gets into trouble early, or else I kept missing key pieces of exposition, for example when we flash from the characters' childhood to the present and there's an extra sister present. Indeed, if I had trouble getting into The Red Queen, it's that characters kept showing up and I wasn't sure if we'd seen them before or they were new, perhaps because they were styles differently from scene to scene..? (Is this what face blindness is like?) But it is quite fun, nonetheless. There's a curse in the family castle that dictates that every hundred years, the Red Queen (one of the sisters living there or a ghost of the original) will kill seven people, the last being her own sister. But surely, it can't be the problematic sister this time, because she's dead. It's giallo, so the explanation is quite convoluted, but that's entertaining in and of itself, and the murders are varied despite the frequent use of a dagger. Barbara Bouchet is the "good sister", looking younger than in anything else I've seen despite it being a later project - I'm never unhappy to see her. Trigger warning for a sexual assault.
[1973] Robin Hood: What the heck is that hillbilly sitcom opening? Well, when you put honky-tonk singer in the role of Allan-a-Dale, you imbue your film with a certain Southern style, and characters in Disney's Sherwood are as likely to have an American drawl as they do a British accent. Despite it all - and the fact the big D made it on the cheap by recycling animation from part projects, mostly The Jungle Book - it works remarkably well. Peter Ustinov is an amazingly pathetic Prince John. The swashbuckling action is great and provides a lot of opportunities dramatic and comedic. The vibe is a lot more romantic than you'd expect. Oh, and Kaa - I mean Hiss - is a great addition to the legend, as a long-suffering sycophant of the evil prince's. For a lot of people, this is THE Robin Hood, I shouldn't doubt. For Disney, it was a last heave in an era where their animated projects weren't doing well, and wouldn't again until the 90s. No wonder it's a bit of a screed against taxes. ;-)
[1974] Je Tu Il Elle: Chantal Akerman's first narrative feature formally has a lot in common with her earlier "documentaries" - long static shots, letting the action (or inaction, depending) unfold in real time - and she stars much as she did in early shorts. An examination of sex and love in three possible "tenses", she conjugates herself alone, with a man, and with a woman. We will come to understand the story as that of a queer woman who has suffered a break-up and dallies with a man before returning to her ex for what a booty call (this leads to the first explicit lesbian sex scene in film history, and still one of its longest). In the first section, Akerman moves her mattress around her apartment, an image of unsatisfaction and listlessness, being alone an unnatural, or at least uncomfortable, state for her. When with the man, he is in control, and reveals a type of masculine sex drive (he's a trucker) that is unidirectional, selfish, functional, meaningless if he can help it. His is a mobile bed. When with a woman, Akerman is now in control, but the relationship is more two-sided, and the sexual embrace is dangerously meaningful, the bed is huge and comfy, and the human figures like Roman statues wrestling themselves to a peace. This bed is well anchored, and you'd be sorry to have to leave it. Personal, yet universally revealing, everything seems to be said while nothing is happening.
Books: Bob Mortimer's first novel, The Satsuma Complex, has a lot in common with his most recent, The Long Shoe (I read them out of order, bear with me), with an anxious people pleaser who talks to animals getting embroiled in a mystery plot, a frothy neighbor, some nasty villains, and a female co-lead who gets her own chapters but spends part of the plot under lock and key. That's The Long Shoe's problem, of course, since Satsuma is the original take, but you do tend to prefer the first one you read (or at least, I do). Nevertheless, Mortimer is a great humorist and I like his characters and their points of view. Here, paralegal Gary has a fateful night where a private investigator pal slips him some important (but mysterious) evidence AND he meets the girl of his dreams. And it's all connected somehow, and either we're heading for a total fiasco, or it's true love, or perhaps both. I see that Gary's misadventures continue in The Avocado Hotel - hard to believe there's more to say, but I'll be picking it up. Mortimer's world entertains even if his tropes and interests are pervasive and perhaps repetitive.
Maria and Peter Hoey's first graphic novel, out from Top Shelf, is a collection of shorts called Animal Stories, a kind of Twilight Zone compendium of weird, semi-connected tales featuring, funnily enough, animals and their relationships to humans. A carrier pigeon brings a girl sweet messages and she wonders from whom. A dog is found happily swimming in the middle of the ocean. The Garden of Eden as represented by a modern-day park where you shouldn't feed the animals. A cat hocks up a jewel. A dog is president of the United States. A silent parrot stages a revolution inside a pet store. Part fable, part allegory, part campfire tale, each is properly intriguing. The art style is very "design", with very straight, architectural lines, and the characters having limited expression, creating a reality that's askew from ours, like dreams. I was reminded of Chis Ware's ACME Novelty Library, between the interesting layouts and strict drafting style. Feels more computer-assisted than Ware's comics, but less depressing. Still a similar, at arm's length vibe, though.
RPGs: Played my first session of Masks, a rather narrativist superhero game in the style of Young Justice, and as reported here, I play the young legacy of the Dial H heroes, using my uncle Chris King's dial-watch to become various AI slop heroes I cribbed off the internet. And boy, wait 'til you see what I dialed/rolled. The session was meant to ease us into the "Apocalypse" rules, and I found that with eyes on the Moves description sheet, I was quickly able to implement actions and reactions. Our GM also set us up to find each other at the local mall with some quick introductions for our supporting casts (parents, school friends, haunts - mine is a comic book store), and the scenario involved people getting turned into ravenous monsters by Pandemonium, a little girl so obsessed with her favorite vampire romance show, she used crazy tech to turn herself into a teenager and kidnap the stars. The Midway Masks jumped into action and saved the day. I love a game that gives me the chance to describe the action and never says "you can't do that", and it was especially useful when I rolled a notionally useless hero (19 on my 20-hero table, no cheating, see below). My team mates, a young new Hawkgirl and our "dark phoenix" Telkine were quick to make me leader (the team requires it for a mechanic, though I wanted it to be a more horizontal structure), so I took a lot of room, but then, when your powers are (checks) to talk to plants(!), you'll need to do a lot talking - to plants, yes, but cracking wise (vegetable puns!) and getting information out of the villain, etc. Leave the combat to the people with actual powers. And so I give you: The Vegetarian!
Origin: Most of the characters I put on the Dial are born of some character I created at some point, probably as a kid, or perhaps based on PCs in my own superhero games (as an homage). In this case, I gave this guy a very dumb power that I had given as a silly example on a Who's Who page for my own superhero identity back in 11th grade. I had made these for my group of friends, so we each had one, and my own hero identity had a different power every day. They could be great, they could be lame, you just never knew, and that's pretty much like Dial H. And the dumbest power listed was the ability to communicate with plants by eating them (not required here). It was actually a good thing get such a weird concept for my inaugural Dial-up because it meant all eyes were on him, I had to go weird and entertaining (where a simple blaster would just have blasted), and he could (had to) take the detective role, which is more my speed anyway.
Best bits: Arguing with plastic greenery in public until an actual fern finally gave up the goods. I'm glad we decided early to let ourselves be inspired by the art to develop the powers, and so the Vegetarian survived a claw slash thanks to his bark-like armor (made a "sappy" joke), and could float on the air like a leaf. Popped a coffee bean from the coffee shop under attack, which sent all the information directly into my brain (good on the GM for bringing hyper, caffeinated performance to this particular member of the Green, each plant had its own personality). In the grocery store, took time out to tell the produce they'd be safe, while Telkine ripped the candy aisle out of its shelves to feed the monsters (very weirdly, Pandemonium's "Mister Element gun" turned the candy into chocolate hamsters after Telkine used them a sweet, sweet shield. Having figured out the villainess' motivations, we made her release her favorite vampire character and shocked her into realizing he's just an actor and really super-lame by teasing out all the vegetable matter in his stomach so he would puke all over himself and freak out. And while Hawkgirl did all the big action stuff that made the resolution possible, I failed her as a leader as she mostly rampaged to avenge her friend who had been turned into one of the creatures and ended up locked in one of her doom visions. It's a hard life for a reincarnated teen.
We had to finish up the previous Act of our Torg Eternity quickly (didn't happen despite best attempts) so last session's missing player could reintegrate the game, the final fight between the shipboard assassin and our team on that Cyberpapal cruise from Spain to Brazil. Said assassin quickly made for the lifeboats with the stolen tech, but some shenanigans - and some wetness - both were recovered and we got on with the next thing. The Living Land Delphi Missions book features a scenario where a Nile Empire villain breaches the Yucatan with his War Zeppelin, but in our campaign, that region is no longer the Living Land - it's Azteca! So I rewrote most of it, replacing Edeinos and the like with Aztecs, and it's probably better that way because my players tend to shoot (or at least mistrust) lizard men on sight despite the fact that they're just people and have often proven not to be on the High Lord's side. I also had a lot of fun sourcing Aztec myth for the demons attacking in the night. Because of the delay up top (part of it was technical issues), once again only had time to set up the final fight and leave it for next time. I'd love to resynchronize sessions with acts...
Best bits: As the assassin started swinging the high-tech lifeboat off the ship, the Apostate shot hellfire at the mechanism and melted one of the moorings - it hung over the side for a bit before dropping and good thing for the Wrestler, too, because he was right underneath, after a mishap sent him down into the drink. It eventually falls, he swims for it, and wrestles her down inside. Meanwhile, the Realm Runner swings the briefcase robot (which was doing mucho damage with its machine gun attachment) into the top deck pool and BZZZZT! The Aztecan adventure coincided with the full moon, and our Demon Slayer is also a Were-Bat. Instead or role-playing it as usual, I just made him transform and fly off in the night, creating confusion as to who the "demon" who killed and ate two villagers up-river could be. That village, displaced by the Nile Empire villain, worships a cat head based on the Cosm talisman used by that villain, hoping to protect against further attacks, but it's drawing feline demons to it! Not our Demon Slayer, phew! Sensing this, to a point, the Realm Runner makes a speech to convince the villagers to destroy the cat head, which solves their problem. Also, thank you GURPS Aztecs for giving me the menu for the villagers' feat when the players asked. The Wrestler was especially fond of the grilled armadillo. Good preparations for the final battle with "Captain Zeppelin", whose confidence is already undermined by the Team's cat calls and mockery of his name (in fact, all his names because he's one of those villains who can't settle for his final identity).
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