The first kind of fire is what you saw at the edge of the horizon. Low and grey and intimidating certainly, but definitively far away. That was where it hid, in the complacency of distance and difference. It was happening there not here. To them not us. A fire, yes? But not one we could do anything about.
But fire spreads in a way which hypnotizes, which steals memory and perception of linear time. One day the fires were on the horizon. The next you walked past a lady having a nervous, hurried phone call about hand sanitizer.
That weekend the panic buying started.
*
The second type of fire is much closer to home. This is the sort encouraged, but never quite enough, by politicians as terrified as they are outmatched. These are the fires that set distances and because there are so many, for a while, this seems like the cruelest type of all. The archipelago of enthusiasm has always thrived on company in every sense of the word. Culture and joy are team sports, communal experiences where you come in alone but leave as part of a benign conspiracy of joy.
Now you leave one at a time, two meters apart. Now, the fire surrounds you, the floor really IS lava. Now you know where you aren’t provably safe and it’s basically everywhere. The clock is started. It will be stopped. But no one knows when yet.
*
The third type is the fire of the common purpose, of the actual truth spoken to power. A floundering government is worked around. Yet more senseless, un-regarded murders power countless thousands onto the streets, their fire internal, their fire shared. The virus, it transpires much later, not so.
The world, the archipelago is locked in place. But it isn’t frozen. That’s what this fire teaches you. It can be changed, even within your miniscule bubble. It can be healed. By all of you moving as one. Like a fire. Like a flame.
*
It’s the end of the year and you are so, so tired. You stare out across the archipelago, now a collection of islands again. All string lit and salt crust. A gentle tropical faded elegance, like Jagger before Richards fell out of the tree. Chiseled from hedonism and sandstone.
You haven’t heard from anyone for a while. That’s okay too, Everyone’s busy. Everyone’s sheltering under their tier. So you sit and you look absently at your computer screen. It takes you eighteen full minutes to realize it’s blank.
And a further ten to realize the fires are back. This time you don’t wait. This time you’re up and moving. Seal the island, lock the bridges and…
You stop and look around you. From your position in the archipelago of human enthusiasm you can see thousands of islands and islets. You can see the places which have been dark for too long. You can see others that may yet return and everywhere else?
Life.
People.
Fire.
Small groups, individuals but so many, dancing your gaze onto the next and the next and the next. Humanity. Damaged. Grieving. Isolated. Together. Burning the old year to prepare for the new one.
You set off for the beach. Time to start a fire of your own.
I’ve spent a little while trying to work out how to title this and honestly, I think ‘blunt instrument’ is the way to go.
I love the movies. I always have. Film was the medium that taught me there was life beyond where I grew up. Film taught me about stories and emotion. People taught me narrative and the amazing things that happen when you subvert it. Film is where I go to heal my hurt and I’ve never, not once, failed to feel better after seeing a movie than I was when it started.
I haven’t been to a movie theater since February. The last two movies I saw were Emmaand Underwater. Both pretty good and a deeply weird and lovely double bill. Check them out.
When lockdown took hold, I made my peace with the fact I wouldn’t be going to the movies again, odds are, this year. I have streaming services, we have a monthly rental budget, I watch plenty of movies. But I won’t be setting foot through the doors of a cinema again until there’s a vaccine. It isn’t safe.
This is not a memo several studios, and any government on either side of the Atlantic, seem to have received.
Let’s burn a couple of straw men before we go any further shall we? First off, if your first response to this piece is ANY variation of ‘It’s just the flu’ or ‘It’s a cover up’ or any of the bilious, clammy machismo drivel that’s been spouted by people who saw a scientist once on TV, then leave. Now. This is not for you. Go stand in the corner with the depressingly large bunch of professional MMA fighters so scared of admitting they’re scared they’re trying to out macho a virus.
‘But what about businesses? How will they stay open?’ This is a great point and it’s one there are two responses too. The first, which has zero empathy and isn’t one I back, is that capitalism’s greatest sin is that it isn’t dying fast enough and we should let it do just that. I see that point, I really do. But I’ve worked retail jobs. I’ve worked service jobs. I enjoy paying bills, eating food and not having to worry about either on top of a global pandemic. Jobs, if this is the societal framework we exist in, are good. People should have them and be paid fairly for their time.
But COVID-19 is an unprecedented global event. Every government has the responsibility to look after their people and their economy although God knows the last time they were mentioned in that order of priority. At times like this, governments need to crack open the piggy bank. Cinemas, theaters, the entire arts sector is in massive, relentless trouble in this country and it desperately needs help. Their help. Not our health.
A very brief diversion; this is the perfect opportunity to trial Universal Basic Income. Finland just finished a two year successful trial of this. It’s remarkably simple and terrifies the UK government because there’s no chance to hurt people who aren’t their voter base with it. Simply put, you get a flat, unconditional amount of money from the government every month. If it’s enough to cover your costs and everything else, you don’t have to work. It doesn’t go up if you’re fired. It doesn’t drop if you’re employed. It’s redirected instantly back into the economy whether through shopping, utilities, rent or whatever else. It’s a foundation for people to build on, not a cushion for the groups the UK has been conditioned to hate for decades to relax on. It’s a brilliant idea. We need it. Right now? It would mean retail staff wouldn’t have to risk their lives for minimum wage and the chance their company was still there in a year. But instead of that we get the richest chancellor in the country’s history handing out short term furlough grants, giving some freelancers two entire payments months apart of a percentage of projected earnings and basically saying ‘good luck’ to everyone else.
That’s a simplification sure, but not much of one. UBI is a good system, Finland just proved it worked. Everywhere else needs it, not to mention an unprecedentedly large amount of financial support to keepĀ organizations afloat while they functionally shutter for a year. We don’t have that, which means we’re now at the point where cinemas aren’t just reopening, they’re using this to entice people in.
I love cinema. I love breathing more.
And here’s the thing, I hear the folks saying the cinemas have to reopen, I really do. I know this is a no-win situation for them. I also know their staff will be directly impacted, in every way, long before any board members and shareholders are. Know what else I’d like them and every retail organization to do, if they are re-opening? Pay a living wage. Hey, Waterstones, what’s up? Aside from profits?
But that’s the choice we’re being given by multiple studios and, honestly, it’s made me angrier than I was expecting. Tenet opens over here shortly, and the few critics able to see it have said it’s definitely a Christopher Nolan movie for better and worse. Wonder Woman ’84 just released its second trailer which finishes with the words ONLY IN CINEMAS. New Mutants too will be cinema only and honestly, that one plays like a genuine crotch punch. The thing’s had it’s release moved around as much as Cabin in the Woods did, is an overhanging artifact of the Fox X-Universe and would have soared on Disney +. Instead, the football is being taken away YET. AGAIN.
Oh that Wonder Woman’84 trailer? Released at an online event, because San Diego Comic Con was cancelled due to COVID-19.
If you see irony at the bar, take his keys, yeah? The dude’s had a shitty year.
There’s no hint of a VOD release for any of these just yet although Tenet has a notional bluray release in December. Hopefully the others will follow, but even if they do, the studios behind these movies are doing two awful things, one awful for us, one awful for them. The first is they’re creating a class system which is based on a potentially fatal dare. Do you want to be spoiled on Tenet? Or do you want to maybe get sick for months? Step right up, folks! Christopher Nolan has a show for you and this time he’s remembered to put women in it!Ā That doesn’t just appeal to the sort of macho bullshit that only ever gets louder when people are bored. It preys on human weakness. It’s cruel. We’re all tired. We’re all scared. We all want to go out. The movies are right there.
The second, awful, thing it does? This is capitalism, a system designed to do nothing but perpetuate itself, leaving money on the table. Day-and-date VOD releases, Hell, VOD releases inside two months announced at the same time as the cinema date would clean up. Crucially, it would also send a message that every organization, for all their ‘we’re all in this together’ emails has utterly failed to communicate:
Everyone matters. Everyone gets to go to the movies, even if the movies have to come to them.
Imagine if that had happened. Imagine if, in this dog’s arsecrack of a year, studios had been together enough to reach out to their entire audience, not just the ones they could get the quick, possibly not sanitary, buck from. Some tried it. Disney releasing Hamilton to Disney + did remarkable business and the increasingly platform agnostic dual release of Mulan plays a lot like a pilot scheme for future titles. Meanwhile, Bill and Ted Face The MusicIS doing day-and-date cinema and VOD in the US but only the US (DUDES! *BOGUS*). Even the much rumored ‘mature tier’ on Disney + looks a lot like a possible home for Black Widow. There is some progress. There is some innovation.
But there’s also the doors to the cinema, open when they shouldn’t be, staffed by people who don’t want to be there and aren’t being paid enough, presented as the only option and surely if this horrible trudge around the Sun has taught us anything it’s that there should always be other, safe options. But instead of answering the call to welcome their whole audience, studios are preying on boredom, on the desire to escape for a while. In doing so they’re not just adding a distinctly sour note to movies about heroism, they’re also proving something else. Capitalism doesn’t care about us. So we have to do it ourselves. Look after yourself. And, next year, I’ll see you at the movies.
I have a book in my comiXology wishlist. Itās the first She-Ra graphic novel. Looks great, I love the show and this fits an extra piece of canon in there. I have a comics budget and I couldnāt quite stretch to the 8.99 it costs. I put it on my wish list and figured Iād come back later.
On Wednesday the book was 8.99.
Today itās 12.99.
With no warning or announcement, Comixology have rolled out a 66% price hike in the UK and Europe wide. The assumption is that this is to begin to recoup the amount theyāve lost subsidizing the industry over the last few years. The assumption is that this is yet another way that Brexit the eternal foot-to-own-bollocks of the UK has found another way to make this island smaller, more expensive and less joyful. The assumption is that this is just the way of late stage capitalism and we should all just shrug, accept it and move on.
Thatāll probably happen. The fact the comics press have rolled out one whole article about it certainly seems to suggest itās less important than the Black Catās new armour or the persistent rum ours that DC are about to retire every single one of their lead characters and replace them. Got to get the clicks, right?
But 66%.
That doesnāt just correct the subsidies talked about in the Bleeding Cool article. Thatās a 1:1 parity. Hereās how BC breaks it down:
(A quick aside: Hate on them all you want but they are the only site that bothered to report on this.)
That, by itself, is bad. But the manner in which this has been rolled out is bluntly offensive. Thereās been no warning, no statement, no explanation beyond a bland āWe take lots of factors into accountā. Just an eyeblink and suddenly the money that got me 4 comics last week gets me 2 this week.
Iām a comics reader. Iāve worked in marketing. Iāve done my time in customer care. This is genuinely one of the absolute worst ways to deal with customer relations Iāve ever seen. At best, it presents as cowardly. Hiding from the audience you know is furious and hoping none of them will notice. At worst? Itās arrogant. The same people who paid Ā£4 last week can pay Ā£6 this week.
So far, that second response seems to be the one theyāre getting. As part of the Amazon mitochondrial network. Comixology is simultaneously super available and remarkably difficult to talk to. Tweets and DMs (polite ones, you know me) go unanswered. Thereās no press release. No statement. But there is a message. Whether it’s one Comixology wants to send isn’t for me to say. But by not saying anything, they’re saying this loud and clear.
Youāre not a big enough market to care about.
Because itās not just this multi-currency price hike. Comixology run a service called Unlimited which is, in essence, a fire hose. You pay a flat fee a month and can access tens of thousands of books. Itās brilliant the sort of library you can lose yourself in for months.
Itās not available in the UK. And as of one day ago, the same account that wonāt answer questions about this was responding to queries about that with bland āno plans at this time but thanks for your interest!ā tweets.
So, to be clear, the week is closing with digital comics now more expensive to lease than physical comics are to buy, with no explanation or warning in a country where Unlimited isnāt available and exactly one article has been written about it.
In the dictionary under slow clap, thereās a picture of this.
I want to say this may help retailers, and it might. But retailers are hurting worse than this particular arm of the Amazon Mechalith ever could. Multiple stores are cutting their shelf copies to the bone and because the reordering system in comics is a joke told by a shrieking god to a sleeping giant in a rainstorm, thereās no certainty anything you want will actually be in print. And now, if you want to lease it digitally, it costs more than the physical copy you may not be able to get.
I used to work in this industry. I donāt miss it. But God does it make me sad on days like this.
This is going to hurt everything and everyone. Customers have seen their budgets cut in half, smaller titles that could find homes online will now continually lose out to the big names, retailers will be under more pressure, companies will get risk averse. This will shrink the industry. Demonstrably hurt it. And the only outcome that suggests it might not? Is one where we all shrug, accept that we really do live inside a commerce system that’s dead but somehow still moving and start saving up for the next issue of our favorite title. But hey maybe itās one our local retailer has risked a measurable percentage of their own profit margin to buy a shelf copy of. Living the DREAM.
So what do we take home from this? Two things:
-Pre order titles you want. Yes I know it means you basically have to be psychic. Iām sorry. This system is broken and shouldnāt have lasted this long yet here we are.
-Choose between what comforts you and what excites you. And get ready for it to be a very tough choice.
So Iāve checked outside and itās all still on fire. Thatās the bad news. The good news is that itās so egregiously and completely on fire that everyone can see it. The countryside is burninated. The peasants are burninated. The thatched roof cottages are going DOWN. Itās just a fact at this point.
That means, like I say, everyone can see it and if everyone can see it that means you donāt have to see it all the time. The single upside to culture-wide multi-quadrant fucktastrophe is ubiquity of observation. Youāre not going to miss anything, or miss an opportunity to do some good, by stepping away for a few hours. Or as Mike Doughty puts it….
First off, and miraculously still playing in theatres, Booksmart. Directed by Olivia WIlde (13 from House) from a script by Emily Halpern, Sarah Haskins, Susanna Fogekl and Katie Silberman. it stars Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein as Amy and Molly. Amy is recently out, kind of terrified and a straight A student. Molly is class president, a Supreme Court justice in waiting and absolutely prepared to take down anyone or anything that stands in her or her friendās way. They are brilliant, hard working, relentless and have never partied once. They had more important stuff to do. Until, on the last day of school, Molly discovers the kids who partied got into the same universities they did and makes a solemn vow; theyāre going to have fun. By any means necessary. Cue the music.
What follows is this beautifully balanced tango between abject teenage mania and painfully well observed characters. Thereās a moment where Amy correctly guesses why Molly is acting a certain way towards another character that will break your heart with its honesty. Likewise, Amyās catastrophic first kiss is romantic until it turns hilarious until it turns horrifically embarrassing. The movie features the single best written and acted argument Iāve seen this century, as the girls go from light-heartedly messing with each other to absolutely cutting loose. The frantic nature of late stage adolescence is hard coded into every single frame and itās at times a hard watch but always for the best reasons.
Itās also relentlessly funny. From the opening dance off to the magnificent final few seconds Booksmart is never well behaved, always goes for the best, smartest joke and always surprises you. Itās also littered with excellent cameos, the best of which by far is Billie Lourd as possibly supernatural, definitely massively high partygoer Gigi. Hilariously angry, completely driven and painfully sweet, Booksmart is a modern classic. Miss it at the theatres? Track it down on digital August 20th and blu-ray in early September.. Itās more than worth it.
Which brings us nicely to Chef. Written, directed by and starring Jon Favreau it follows chef Carl Casper through the worst, and also best, night of his life. Carl works at a high end Californian restaurant and on the night a big critic comes in, heās told to āplay the hitsā rather than experiment. He does. It goes badly. He freaks out. It goes badlier (a word). He freaks out again and heās fired. Until, with the aid of his ex-wifeās ex-husband, he buys a food truck and rediscovers the simple joy of cooking and of being a father.
On paper it looks sappy as hell but Favreau is a man who never met a piece of dialogue he didnāt love, or a scene he couldnāt frame. From opening to closing, Chef is a love letter to food and what food it is. With technical assistance from Chef Roy Choi (Whose Kogi food truck I have eaten from and remains one of the best meals I have ever had in my life), the techniques and recipes all work. But even more importantly, so does the culture. Carl works constantly, intoxicated and obsessed by food and Favreau, who trained with Choi, shows us everything. The rambunctious, cheerfully foul nature of every kitchen. The strict hierarchies, fierce loyalties and cut throat ambition. All of it stacks up and, brilliantly, evaporates once the truck gets on the road. It may be cramped but you can see Carl breathe out, see Favreauās burly shoulders droop as his guy rediscovers his love for the game. Given Favreau made Chef after several massive blockbusters, itās impossible not to draw comparisons between Carl and his creator too.
But the movie really soars in the gentle way it explores Carlās burgeoning friendship with his ten year old son, Percy. Emjay Anthony is fantastic as a calm, focused kid who wants more and has no problem telling his dad where to get off and he Favreau have great chemistry. The movie also takes the brave step of casting Carl not so much as a bad guy as not a very a good one. He knows heās a bad father and husband and while he tries to do something about it, thereās always the work, always the food. He and John Leguizamo as best friend Martin are born to that world. Inez, his ex-wife played by Sofia Vergara and girlfriend Molly played by Scarlett Johannsson are far less lucky. Molly in particular exists solely to gaze adoringly at Carl while he makes her lunch and then tell him to go find his bliss.
That element is a hard ask but get past it and Chef is the very best comfort food. Favreau is a great leading man, funny and naturalistic. Thereās a wide variety of fun cameos including several familiar Marvel faces. The food looks amazing, the creativity behind it is inspiring and the movie does a lot thatās smart, subtle and kind. Also do eat before seeing it. Or take notes while you are. Chef is available to buy now and honestly, get it. If a really great grilled cheese sandwich (And this movie features the best grilled cheese sandwich in cinema history) was a movie, it would be Chef.
So there you go, a little cinematic comfort food for these trying times. Dig in, trust me itās worth it.
About once a decade, everything lines up. A half dozen major cultural juggernauts all come into land at about the same time and some poor soul is paid to write the āGEEK CULTURE IS OVER. WE SHALL NEVER SEE ITS LIKE AGAINā piece. Hey if the check clears and the piece doesnāt hurt anyone, go with God. Weāre in one of those times now. Game of Thrones has under half its super short final season to go. Avengers Endgame is all over theaters everywhere and the ninth core Star Wars movie has been confirmed as the end of the Skywalker saga. If this was a concert, weād officially be into the āFreebirdā, āHotel Californiaā, āThrift Shopā, āSingle Ladiesā phase of the night.
These are emotional times. As geeks, as people who are alive in the ocean of digital information that 21st century life is, we assemble our armor from what attracts our attention. That top line is from Hamilton by way of Brooklyn Nine Nine. Iām writing this wearing an Autobot symbol t-shirt, on an iPad with a sticker of Hunk from Voltron on the case. Why Hunk? Heās a big, articulate, kind dude who likes cooking. Why the Autobot symbol? Have you met me? All this stuff is intellectual property, and yes all we do when we interact with culture is keep IPās alive. Go too far with that and you get to the kind of extremism that lives on the outskirts of very dark places. But be aware of the dangers of over-investment and culture becomes the lock pick for the door of life. You understand the world through the culture you use to interact with it. Itās why far left folks in the US default to Harry Potter metaphors. Itās why far right folks in the US invoke Newt Gingrich. Itās al so why the ādonāt politicize fictionā argument is just a massive Kaiju of willful idiocy, stomping across he innocent city of modern life. Like the song goes, yes itās political, everythingās political.
But at the core of any cultural interaction is emotional engagement. Emotional engagement is the fuel that drives story, its whatās makes us care about everything from soap opera to Shakespeare and everything in between. Stories are mirrors. You canāt see what theyāre reflecting without truly understanding it and that understanding has, as the price of admission, caring. We laugh at Jon Snow kissing Dani with one eye open and focused on her dragons. We cry as Leia hugs Rey, knowing whatever happens weāll never see one of them on the big screen again. We prepare the re-hydration salts for Endgame, as an epochal crew of portrayals prepares to take its final bow. We know this will wreck us. We know weāll learn and be stronger in the broken places. HEMINGWAY understood this for Godās sake. But the exact people whoād carry his boxing gloves for him and drink only Big Ernie approved whiskey seem to have forgotten this lesson. Instead, they listen to this guy.
Donāt do that.
The last few years have unleashed an impressive barrage of awful phrases onto the battered, flaming hulk of the English language. āFake newsā is far and away the worst but āsnowflakeā is the most insidious and, for me, the most toxic. Itās most commonly used to attack people whoāve dared to express an emotional response to something. Like, for example, not being happy about their rights to exist as humans being debated. Or pointing out demonstrable hate speech on a social media platform run by a sentient beard who thinks you can minmax yoga. Itās a terrible term, a blunt instrument used not just to insult your opponent but insult the very idea of emotional engagement. Linguistically, itās a nuke. Everyoneās got them and they lay waste to everything around them. Every time itās used, someone gets pushed further away. Itās a weapon designed to not just mock the idea of emotional engagement but the idea of emotional engagement with others. And whatās one of the biggest ways we engage with others?
Shared cultural joy. Fandom.
Gate-keeping in fandom is, often, whatās for every meal. This particular stripe of it instantly pushes my rage buttons because Iām a cishet notional and have fought the stiff upper lip my whole life. I was tremendously lucky to have awesome parents who werenāt afraid of their own emotional responses. I still took twenty years to realize that my emotions were something I was supposed to release in a healthy fashion as opposed to burying them. I honestly think this is one of the reasons why the default response for so many people is hipster snark. If you laugh at something you push it away from you and you focus your attention, and others, on what it is not how itās affected you. Thatās understandable. Iāve done it myself, more than once and will again.
But it never lasts. And it never should.
Kate Bush once sang just being alive, it can really hurt and she wasnāt lying. Modern life is exhausting and at times like this, when the support structures we rely on are evolving, it can be even more so. At times like these itās all too easy to fall back on defensive behavior and cover up instead of letting yourself get affected. But affected doesnāt always mean hurt, and covering up just means no one else can see you. Now more than ever, we all deserve to be seen.
So, the stiff upper lip is bullshit. Hipster snark is bullshit. Laughing at other people for their emotional honesty is bullshit. All clear? Great. Iām off to load up on tissues and re-hydration salts before seeing Endgame again. See you next time
So, letās talk about movies. Specifically, letās talk about the mildly confusing, and somewhat upsetting, news that Steven Spielberg is going to war with Netflix. Spielberg, word is, will lobby the Motion Picture Academy to change the rules covering the theatrical eligibility period for the Oscars. This is apparently in response to Netflixās growing success at the awards. Spielberg is on record as saying he feels Netflix content is better suited to the Emmys because of how itās delivered and this seems to be the next escalation of that belief. Like I say, itās kind of a downer. Like discovering that the cool Uncle who leant you all those great movies thinks the internet is a fad and insists on calling it āelectronic mail.ā I wanted to find out more about this, especially as the LOUD WORDS!/Content ratio on this story has been way off. Hereās what I dug up.
Spielbergās point of view first off. Heās a passionate advocate for the movie theater experience. So much so he feels that if a movie isnāt designed to be seen in a theater, itās not really a movie, hence the TV movie/Netflix/Emmy thing. That informs his argument now, which is that Netflix is essentially gaming or breaking the system by putting Oscar contenders in theaters for minimum runs to ensure their eligibility. And the thing is, heās right and also wrong. Hereās why.
Heās right because Netflix is playing the system, in the exact way every distributor does but with vast amounts more financial muscle. That breaks down into two sub issues. The first is Netflix movies taking up space other films would notionally have. The second is the sense of Netflix being the millennials at the gate; kicking the doors in, squatting in a movie screen for a week and showing up to the Oscar ceremony in a hoodie. The only one of those problems which actually needs attention paid to it is the first and the rumored proposal would certainly doā¦ something. Apparently, the plan is to extend the minimum eligibility requirement to a month in theaters. Itās not actually going to do anything substantial, because Netflix paid $100 million for another year of streaming Friends the same way you pay for a Freddo. But itāll cost them money and thatās a line in the sand. Even if a big red N shaped tank is going to roll straight over it. Ā As for the millennials at the gate, honestly, my one response is āGood.ā And to see if thereās a quick release switch.
Spielberg’s right about the theatrical experience too. I love the movies, even taking the eternal gamble of āWill the audience be terrible?ā into account. When I was a kid growing up on a tiny rock it was a magical wall that transported me to other places. When I was an adult who hated very nearly everything in his life it was an escape. Now, in my ongoing war against becoming a living deadline homunculus, itās two hours off from my head. The movie theater is my church. Itās where my hurt gets healed. And the only reason I can manage that is the theater is ten minutes away on foot and costs five pounds a ticket. A lot of people arenāt as lucky. Spielberg doesnāt seem to be able to see past his privilege in that regard, and thatās the first place heās wrong.
Privilege or idealism also seem to be at the heart of his second mistake. The idea of Netflix movies taking up space that āproperā films deserve more on screens and at awards is a willful refusal to both acknowledge the minimal times they spend in theaters and to see how distribution actually works now. The movie industry, like every industry in this entirely-too-late-capitalist hellscape we drag ourselves over is very VERY broken and distribution is a perfect example of that. Revenues shrink, blockbusters turn a profit so thatās all theaters show and smaller movies get squeezed out long before Netflix drops its designated golden child for the year into a half dozen locations for a week.Ā In those instances, it seems likely the changes Spielberg is proposing could damage the very movies he’d view as ‘deserving’ those slots more.
But while I donāt agree with it, I can see how, from Spielbergās point of view, that looks profoundly unfair. Movies not designed for theaters taking up space in theaters. Taking spaces that other voices need and deserve more. Plus, this is just the beginning and if Netflix isnāt curtailed here, how far will it go? Itās a compelling mindset and one that a friend and colleague perfectly summed up by describing Netflix as a Super PAC. Their advertising spend for Roma was massive, possibly unlawful and makes his point. Money talks. Or in this case, screens.
The fact those movies are available at all is a game changer. The fact theyāre available in your home is another and the closed captioning thatās available on them is a third. The existence of streaming services does an undeniably vast amount for accessibility in the exact way most theaters simply canāt. Or to put it another way, the theatrical experience loses itās shine when only one screening has closed captions or is autism friendly. Even outside those concerns, parents have access to streaming libraries and a volume control meaning they can still interact with movies without getting a sitter. And a parking space. And tickets. Time and again it comes down to money, both personal and corporate. Corporate because Spielberg, with some justification, looks at Netflix as paying to play. Personal because sitter, transport and ticket are all costs that renders Spielbergās beloved theaters from an affordable necessity to an occasional luxury for most of us.
But, to quote Billy Crudup in the best Mission: Impossible movie, itās complicated. Because while this plays more than a little like cloud shouting on Spielbergās part, Netflix are far from the wounded innocents theyāre being played as here by any means.
Then thereās the odd way they pay for movies. Or rather, when they pay for movies. Syndication and payment splits between initial costs and box office take are commonplace everywhere but Netflix. Instead of paying up front and then after the fact, they pay more than most up front. The upside to this is if your movie doesnāt perform youāve still got a payday. The downside is that if your movie performs brilliantly, youāveā¦got the same payday. Itās less of a gamble but also less of a jackpot. Itās also worth noting thereās repeated anecdotal evidence that the residuals actors and crew get from Netflix are very, very low. Like freelancer journalist level low.
So, we opened this piece with: Cool Uncle Fights The Internet which is a headline no one wants to read. Hereās what it looks like now:
Cool Uncle Fights What He Thinks Is The Good Fight For The Wrong Reasons Against Morally Bankrupt But Creatively Game Changing Mega-Corporation
Itās not punchy but itās way more accurate. Discriminating against āTV moviesā doesnāt hold weight anymore and hasnāt for this entire century. Netflix isnāt going anywhere even if the Academy shuts it out of the Oscars. More importantly, for Spielberg to focus on this is inherently conservative and backward facing at the exact time when the #metoo and 4% Challenge movements could do so much more with someone like him in their corner. Hell even if he didn’t want to throw his power behind them, the best way to save the theatrical experience he loves so much is to help change the economic model behind movie theaters to reflect the changing way people watch films. Build the future, don’t defend the past. To be clear, I think the fact he wants to protect movie theaters is admirable. But heās in the wrong field, heās yelling at the wrong people and he’s facing the wrong way.
Then thereās Netflix. The simple fact theyāre a global entertainment mega-corporation should make them basically impossible to back or trust but we live in a world of occasionally slumbering Corporate Kaiju whose tectonic movements affect us like the weather and offer us about the same control so Cultural Stockholm Syndrome is very much a thing. I love a lot of what they do. I hate a lot of how they go about doing it and perhaps if this fight indirectly makes them more honest, that would be a good thing. But I canāt help feeling there are better, more necessary fights for everyone involved. And the time to have them is long overdue.
Well, Matt Reeves is a safe pair of hands, thatās a given. I mean, sure, everyone has an Under Siege 2: Dark TerritoryĀ somewhere but look past that and youāve got Cloverfield, which is a legit epochal piece of cinema. Hate found footage movies all you want but Cloverfield is never less than visually impressive and changed the grammar of blockbusters in general and monster movies in particular. From there Reeves directed the critically acclaimed remake ofLet The Right One In and made the revamped Planet of the Apes trilogy not only his own but a strikingly intelligent, modern and bleak retelling of what could have so easily been a goofy cash in. And he wrote all of them too. Behind the camera is just fine, no worries there.
But in front of the camera, thereās an opportunity. An opportunity to break accepted wisdom and actually do something genuinely new and revolutionary with the character. We know Reeves wants to cast a young Bruce and that the movie is planned as an actual detective story with a large rogueās gallery as opposed to the yelling nocturnal punch fest that so many other Batman movies end up as.
So hereās how you do it. Or rather, how Iād do it.
David Mazouz
The kid has held Gotham, a series of 42 minute explosions, together for five years. Heās literally grown into the role, on screen and has the exact combination of presence, compassion, gravitas and literal batsarse crazy eyes to sell it. Plus you get instant good will from the Gotham crowd, you reward Mazouz for carrying that show on his back for five years and if weāre really lucky? The greatest version of Alfred Pennyworth ever committed to screen comes with him. āAve iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!
Michael B. Jordan
Oh you know this makes sense. Jordan is a fiercely intelligent performer and uses that intelligence in the service of his roles. Heās arguably the lynchpin of Black Panther and his Shakespearean Killmonger is, hands down, the best villain the Marvel movies have had to date. Imagine that intelligence, that focus, put to cleaning up Gotham City.
Then thereās the physical dimension. Jordanās extraordinary work in the Creedmovies shows heās ridiculously physically capable too. Plus heās a legit geek so thereās instant good will from the hard to win over members of the audience and his best performances sit absolutely in the sweet spot Reeves seems to want; a young, driven, slightly impulsive Bruce completely focused on his work but perhaps over-extending himself. Itās Creed in a cowl, and Jordan knows that territory very, very well.
Oscar Isaac
Just let me have this one. I know the age gap probably isnāt big enough and Isaacās blockbuster dance card is going to be good and full for the next few years anyway. But very few people could be Bruce Wayne better than him. Isaacās sophisticated without being sleazy, intense without being goggle eyed crazy pants and he can do grounded, mournful decency and swashbuckling charm with equal ease. Often in the same scene. I accept heās probably out of the range but if we canāt get him as Batman, then surely heās a Commissioner Gordon in waiting.
Colin Morgan
Morganās two best known performances in the UK are as Merlinin Merlin and Leo in Humans. The two roles are a textbook demonstration of his range and why heād be a good fit for the cowl. Morgan can do seething intensity, emotional damage and comedic awkwardness effortlessly and all of them with a guiding intelligence. Bruce Wayne as a player of games, as a mask worn by Batman is something Morgan could absolutely ace. Plus he looks good in a tux so thereās that.
Thereās the temptation to complicate matters of course. To fold in other members of the Bat family, to discuss the correct Robin for the occasion that sort of thing. Thereās also the compulsory requirement to point out that Batman is arguably one of the most over-exposed characters to hang a movie off if youāre looking to break new ground. Heās a guilt ridden billionaire trauma victim who sublimates his rage and guilt by punching criminals. Thatās slightly facetious sure but itās also a good chunk of the character and I worry that a younger Bruce would mean weād have to sit through the second most overplayed origin story in comics for the umpteenth time.
That being said, there are interesting things to still do with Batman and a raft of great Bat characters that are screaming out for a movie of their own. The Reeves movie won’t be that, but it is a new start and thatās something the DCEU has begun to see real success with. Wonder Woman was great. Aquaman, book torturing idiot dude bro lead aside, was great. Shazamlooks big fun and if it is itāll triangulate the idea that DC movies work best when they work alone. So bring on the new Bat, whoever he may be. Batfleckās era is gone, and thatās for the best for everyone, including him. Letās see who picks up the cowl next and if their luck is any better. It certainly deserves to be.
SJ Clarkson is about to have a very good year. You donāt know their name, odds are but believe me youāll have seen some of Clarksonās work. Sheās directed for everything from Life on Mars to The Defenders and is one of the never ending stream of excellent female directors who drive the US TV drama industry along. Clarksonās work, most notably on the first two episodes of Jessica Jones, is known for being clean, character-centric and elegant. Sheās excellent and when it was announced last year sheād be helming Star Trek 4 it was a pleasure to see her get the slot, and to see the franchiseās directorial blinkers finally be lifted It was also confidently announced that Chris Hemsworth would be returning as Kirkās dad. Most people instantly assumed it was time for the Mirror universe but I figured time travel and some sort of Quantum Leapsituation.
Regardless itās a moot point now as Pine and Hemsworth were caught up in a contract dispute with the studio that ended with them leaving the table. Now, Clarkson has left the project to direct the pilot of the upcoming Game of Thrones prequel and serve as executive producer for the series. Star Trek 4 appears to have been indefinitely shelved as a result.
And thatās brilliant news, for basically everyone, hereās why.
Clarkson first off. I wasnāt kidding about the legions of female directors keeping US TV afloat, there are dozens of them and theyāre all brilliant and underappreciated and underpaid. Sandra Ohās gag at the Golden Globes this year about āFIRST MAN!ā being the default choice for directors and a movie about Neil Armstrong is funny, and sad, because its true. So any time someone makes it over the fence, as Clarkson has done here, Iām delighted. GoT: 90210Ā Ā or whatever the Hell itās going to be called is the definition of a prestige gig and there must be a ton of confidence in her for her to be put in place. Deservedly so too.
Then thereās Game of Thrones itself. The worldās angriest Ren Fair is the largest TV show on the planet by a considerable margin and, now it has finally overtaken the books, has been having visibly more fun season by season. However, itās also got a justifiably shitty reputation for how it deals with female staff. And characters for that matter. This is a great breakdown of the showās massive fondness for ladymurder season by season but weirdly the horrific statistic isnāt the big number, itās the small one. In the entirety of its run the show has had 3 women on the writing and directing staff.
3.
In 73 episodes.
With none either writing or directing for the final season.
On its own, thatās a hilariously shitty metric. Placed against the showās cheerful willingness to use rape the way some people use punctuation marks, itās disgusting. The largest show on Earth has employed three whole entire women in its biggest roles. Thatās an unforgivable failure, if absolutely nothing else, of leading by example. But it does give you a starting position to row back from and, seven YEARS LATE, thatās exactly what the production office is starting to do by hiring Clarkson.
(As an aside, Mo Ryan should be your go to for this sort of thing on Twitter. One of the best entertainment journalists on the planet.)
But what of Star Trek? Well, itās good news for that too.
The Kelvinverse movies get a lot of hate and the vast majority of it is undeserved. The original Star Trek is great, everything in Into Darkness that isnāt Khan being whitewashed is fun and Beyond is a legitimate love letter to the franchise. In fact, Beyond is a perfect capstone for these movies for all sorts of reasons. Also THIS IS STILL THE BEST THING. It gives Kirk the test heās always needed and ties the present of this universe to the past it shares with the core timeline. It also sets up an ending thatās elegant, could absolutely stand a sequel or two but is in no way incomplete without them. And can stand toe to toe with the ending of The Undiscovered Country and The Voyage Home, where they get the 1701-A and the music swells and I become a human avatar of ugly crying.
But most importantly, bringing the Kelvinverse into land here salutes the cast members who are no longer with us. Don’t get me wrong, part of me would love to see a fourth movie with Jaylah sitting next to Sulu. But the rest of me is quite happy with that role being filled by Anton Yelchinās instantly likable take on Chekov, off-screen and quietly, enthusiastically immortal.
Besides, Trekās far more at home on bookshelves and the small screen now. Ā The astonishing work consistently being done by novelists like James Swallow and Doctor Una McCorrmack has continued to expand the core timeline. Meanwhile, the launch of Discovery last year, the imminent second season as well as the new Picard show and recently announced pair of animated series all speak to a new found dedication to Trek on TV.
Tellingly, the existence of The Orville does the same thing. Ā While the show is still very Seth MacFarlaneās bad days on its bad days, the rest of it is a fascinating look at established Trek tropes through new lenses. It is to Star Trek what Scrubs is to ER, a profoundly affectionate and respectful riff playing all the right notes, just in a different order. Thatās why the the people who cite it as the ātrue Star Trekā because it doesnāt let politics get in the way mystify me so much. Not just because theyāve presumably never seen Star Trek before but perhapsnot The Orville either. Social issues are at the core of both of them. Itās just sometimes on The Orville, thereās a punchline as well. Regardless, itās existence and success speaks to the strength of Star Trek as a small screen concept, whether itās branded as Star Trek or not.
So like I say, this is one of those rare occasions where a project falling through is good news. Clarkson has a great new job, Game of Thrones gets to take the NO GURLS ALOUD notice off the front door of the production office and the Kelvinverse gets the ending it deserves. Plus Trek as a concept gets to grow in new ways. Seek out new life and new civilizations. Perhaps even, boldly go?
Seriously though this is great news all round. Congratulations everyone. Now, whoās working on that Chief Miles OāBrien show? Take your time, Iāll wait. And turn up the beats and the shouting, yeah?
When Alasdair Stuart is not hosting PseudoPod and Escape Pod, or running Escape Artists Inc., heās professionally enthusiastic about genre fiction on the Internet at places like Tor.com, Barnes & Noble, The Guardian, Uncanny Magazine, SciFi Now and MyMBuzz. Heās an ENie-nominated tabletop RPG writer for his work on Doctor Who: Adventures In Time And Space. His other RPG writing includes Star Trek, The Laundry Files, Primeval, Victoriana, All Flesh Must Be Eaten, N.E.W. and Chill, meaning heās got a playbook for any variety of invasion you can name.Ā Ā He also makes ketchup sometimes and can bake the HELL out of focaccia. Read about his ongoing culinary adventures, as well as a whole lot of pop culture enthusiasm in his weekly newsletter, The Full Lid, published every Friday around 5pm.
He lives in the UK with the love of his life and their ever expanding herd of microphones. Follow him on Twitter as @AlasdairStuart, or at his blog, The Man of Words.
Good news everyone! Iām reliably informed by people in other time zones that 2018 does in fact end! Seriously, folks, the 1st of January 2019 has been confirmed as happening in several other places. Itās okay. Itās okay. This miserable hellscape of a year is about to be gone and the slate is wiped clean, the clock reset to zero.
I want to talk about that and why sometimes it can be frightening.
Like Ford once said, time is an illusion, lunch time doubly so. The end of a year is an entirely arbitrary temporal hinge, a left turn in our passage through linear time that itās super easy to put a whole lot of unneeded pressure on. Itās why most fitness related new yearās resolutions donāt work, because when it comes down to it itās only the top of the year for a little bit of time. 2019 only has that New Time smell for so long.
That can put extraordinary pressure on you, and by you, I mean us. But the thing Iām realizing this year is that pressure can be exerted two different ways. If you had a great 2018 part of you may be terrified that 2019 will be worse. If you had a terrible 2018 part of you will be terrified that 2019 will be worse. The House always wins. And the House is a Bastard.
We put ourselves under strain at this time of year even before you take into account the radical life reboots that are already rippling around the globe. Going from late nights back to early mornings if youāve had time off, the sudden gaping hole in your day where the Quality Street used to be, the total absence of any version of A Christmas Carol. Itās always a little frightening to deal with, you always find yourself shrugging the coat of responsibility back on and wondering if it always had the mittens tied to the cuffs.
(it did. And they look awesome.)
And then you decide to run three times a week, finish a novel, write a novella and plan something else.
Hereās the thing. Do that. But add something else in too.
Downtime.
My partner and I have, between us, somewhere in the region of four jobs. Sheās a lawyer, we run the podcasting company together, Iām an RPG designer and journalist, sheās an editor. We fight crime. And it really is, I am a blessed man who will go to his grave astounded at what his life is in the very best of ways.
But the one thing we absolutely stink at is downtime. And today we did something about that. Two nights off a week, one full day of weekend when we arenāt working. I promise you we will break those restrictions but I also promise we wonāt do it every time. Because you need downtime and if you donāt take it, your body will take it for you. And I say this at the tail end of my second cold in three weeks, so believe me, I know whereof I hack up phlegm.
The New Year attracts us because itās a new start. The New Year frightens us because itās a blank page and the responsibility of what to put on there can bend you in two. Donāt let it. Or at least donāt let it for long. This is a new start. Itās one thatās unique to you and owned by everyone. Itās one arriving at the end of two of the darkest years in recent memory and with more, odds are, on the way. But that isnāt going to stop you and itās not going to stop me either.
Write the words. Do the thing. Show it to others. Share your joy. Like the lady said, letās get a shift on. Tomorrow is a new start and tomorrowās on the way. Iāll see you in there.
When Alasdair Stuart is not hosting PseudoPod and Escape Pod, or running Escape Artists Inc., heās professionally enthusiastic about genre fiction on the Internet at places like Tor.com, Barnes & Noble, The Guardian, Uncanny Magazine, SciFi Now and MyMBuzz. Heās an ENie-nominated tabletop RPG writer for his work on Doctor Who: Adventures In Time And Space. His other RPG writing includes Star Trek, The Laundry Files, Primeval, Victoriana, All Flesh Must Be Eaten, N.E.W. and Chill, meaning heās got a playbook for any variety of invasion you can name.Ā Ā He also makes ketchup sometimes and can bake the HELL out of focaccia. Read about his ongoing culinary adventures, as well as a whole lot of pop culture enthusiasm in his weekly newsletter, The Full Lid, published every Friday around 5pm.
He lives in the UK with the love of his life and their ever expanding herd of microphones. Follow him on Twitter as @AlasdairStuart, or at his blog, The Man of Words.
John Lydon there, a few years out from being Johnny Rotten and a few years before splitting his time being a mouthpiece for Big Dairy and deciding Brexit was punk rock. It’s one of his best pieces of non Sex Pistols work, all righteous late ’80s piss and vinegar. Compelling argument too, because anger is an energy,Ā he’s right. If you ever want to gorilla up and over a problem, all you really have to do is get good and mad at it. āDRIVE OVER!ā As my tiny Welsh Rugby coach used to say, encouraging 500 pounds of adolescent scrum to do their best impression of a tank.
Hello Mr McGregor, by the way, if you’re reading.
Anger tends to power Difficult Men in fiction too. House? Pissed. Sherlock Holmes? Bloody furious. The Doctor? Often mad as Hell and not going to take it anymore. Peter Capaldiās epochal run as the 12th Doctor was driven, at least in its first year, by the Doctorās barely contained rage at everything he knew, could sense and that was not happening fast enough. That rich vein of tetchy has run through most of the previous incarnations too, always appearing in different ways. 11ās baby-faced old man persona, 6ās fundamental inability to not shout, 4ās occasional mercurial explosions of rage. 9ās tormented, embittered survivorās guilt that often threatened to tear him and anyone near him in half as he grinned as widely as he could to keep from screaming. Itās why āJust this once, EVERYBODY LIVES!ā Still makes you cry a full decade and a bit after transmission. Itās the feral desperate joy of a man who wants to save everyone who, just once, can. But the thing none of these Difficult Men, or to use the correct trope, Insufferable Geniuses know is that Anger is An energy, not the only energy. And based on her first appearances, the 13th Doctor has found and is building herself around something else; kindness.
To deal with the obvious comment head on, I donāt think this has anything to do with her gender. Anger isnāt something dependent on gender and never has been. Rather, I think 13ās approach to kindness uses the decades of Insufferable Genius that preceded her as a foundation and the environment sheās dropped into as building material to create something as new as it is necessary.
Peter Capaldiās 12 is, at the very least, my second favorite Doctor of all time so Iām not bagging on him in the slightest. But, especially in that first year, 12 was defined by his rage. āAm I a good man?ā Remained the driving question throughout his run and resurfaced when he flat out refused to regenerate at the end of his time. Anger at the world, at the injustice heād seen, at the fact there were still Things To Do drove the gloriously disreputable old punk right up until his final moments when he was finally allowed not only peace but to realize that someone other than him was allowed to shoulder some of the burden. I was basically a wreck for the entire back 20 minutes of Twice Upon A Time (The Lethbridge-Stewart reveal? Not enough tissues in the world) but those final moments, 12ās curtain call, were what really got me. Especially what seemed to be a good part of the mission statement for 13:
āLaugh hard. Run fast. Be Kind.ā
Itās a moment made all the more powerful in retrospect. 12, finally at peace with himself and his end, taking his final bow and throwing a typically dignified plea out into the world as he goes. One his successor picks up in her first three seconds of life, laughing at the sheer joy of having arrived, of having so much to do and so much time to do it. The torch being passed not reluctantly but with trust. The torch being picked up not out of obligation but choice.
And 13 is unfailingly, disarmingly kind. Sheās instinctively the Doctor from the first second we see her. Talking fast, solving a problem, collecting information. She knows who she is before she can remember who she is. Sheās also painfully aware of the toll events take on the people around her in a way almost no Doctor has ever been before. The Tenth Doctorās retrain of āIām sorry, Iām so sorryā was, at times, performative. Another excuse to rails against the universe so vast and malicious that even the Lonely God couldnāt save everyone.
13 has no such front. Or indeed, any at all. She apologizes when things go wrong, compliments her friends (And theyāre her friends now, not her companions. Thatās important too) for dealing with their situation and is engaged with everyone, not just everything. 13 builds the suit of herself from her environment. Her accent, her friends, her Sonic Screwdriver, her costume. All of it comes not from some conveniently hand waved alien box but from a northern town on a crappy night. I actually applauded at her costume coming from a charity shop because its such a perfect choice. A Doctor with no time, or resources, for the sartorial fripperies of her predecessors, rolling her sleeves up (Literally!) and getting it done. Brilliant. A Sonic Screwdriver made out of Sheffield steel and stolen bits of a Hersheyās Kiss from space. Even more brilliant. The iconic superhero elements of the Doctor stripped away to reveal the same person theyāve always been; never cruel or cowardly. Here to help. Hates empty pockets.
And behind all of it, kindness. Whitaker has the exact steel the Doctor requires and facing down Tim Shaw the tooth-faced pound shop Predator (And I mean that as a compliment) on a tower crane is a Hell of a first āIām the DOCTORā moment. But where she lives and breathes in the role is in her compassion. The offhand reference to how āeveryone is capable of the most incredible
changeā. The fact that she quietly positions Ryan, whose fault this indirectly is, so that he can be the one to bring the situation to an end. The fact too that she watches him try and ride his bike and doesnāt intervene. This incarnation of the Doctor is kind but not smothering, compassionate but respectful. Sheās here to help, she isnāt here to do it for us and thatās a distinction the show has rarely, if ever attempted before.
Itās also one that implies a welcome fallibility. The Doctorās decision to leave her friends to heal is one again borne of kindness. But fate, as we see in the final moments of this episode, has other plans for 13 and her odd, fractious survivorās club. Yazmin, so determined to prove herself. Ryan, refusing to break under the pressure of his dyspraxia and working to not be defined by it. Graham, united with Ryan in grief if not love. Survivors all, none of them happy about it and all of them about to take their first steps into a world that will show them just how much bigger they all are on the inside. And do so not as a punishment, but as a kindness.
Anger is an energy. Right now itās a mandatory one. Iām writing this on the morning an IPCC report is published, that will almost certainly be ignored, which says we have 12 years to correct or curb climate change before it begins having disastrous, Roland Emmerich-ian effects. Iām writing this in a country which in six months will merrily walk off an economic and cultural cliff because rich white sociopaths turned the very people they exploit the most into a weapon that will harm us all. Iām writing this on the other side of the Atlantic from a country I love whose Presidentās behavior degrades by the hour, which has just railroaded a probable sexual predator onto the highest court in the land and which looks dead set on rolling the clock back to the 1950s in every single one of the worst ways. Anger is an energy, a mandatory one.
But not the only one.
If anger is a weapon then kindness is a tool and Doctor Who has returned to place that tool in everyoneās hands where it fits so well we almost forgot we could wield it. Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind. Make your own future and bring people along with you when you go. That’s what this Doctor would do. Now, let’s get a shift on.
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