Thunderous Applause?

The Marvel machine whirred along this past weekend with their new movie, Thunderbolts*. (The asterisk is officially part of the title; for the explanation, you have to see the movie.) The film feels like the product of a long dialogue between the Marvel and DC film franchises that arguably began with Guardians of the Galaxy. After that "team up" movie featuring an irreverent collection of not-quite-heroes, DC responded with Suicide Squad, swapping the "screw-ups" for villains. Marvel has now done their version of that, drawing upon characters from their nearly two decades of blockbusters.

Suicide Squad certainly left room for improvement (even after James Gunn came along to do it better). So it isn't surprising that Thunderbolts* is a more entertaining spectacle. But if you ask me why I think it's better, it's all about the casting. Granted, almost all of this casting took place years ago, as the MCU gathered up actors like Infinity Stones to set in their almighty gauntlet. But the way these performers come together really shows how expertly they were assembled along the way -- the perfect combination of established names, stars on the rise, and capable lesser-knowns.

Foremost, Thunderbolts* is as enjoyable as it is because Florence Pugh is the star. The movie is the quip-tastic extravaganza that everyone has come to expect from a Marvel team-up movie... but it also tries to have more heart than the last several MCU films have mustered. Pugh excels at both of these things, getting laughs for her flippant handling of the one-liners as she powers her way through to the movie's more dramatic moments. She's at the center of pretty much all of those, making her damaged character feel like more than a cliche, and her efforts to find good in the villain feel noble. Plus, she does it all with an accent that, coming from anyone else, would seem too goofy to believe.

A solid second is Sebastian Stan. While this is far from his first Marvel rodeo, he isn't phoning it in. Within the narrow confines of his "strong, silent type" character, he's great at letting the mask slip just enough to show his character's feelings and motivations. (And, of course, he's great in the action sequences.)

Even though the rest of the cast is neither up at Pugh's level nor given as much to do, most of them have a history of being good in exactly this type of entertainment, and so they serve this movie well. Wyatt Russell developed his action hero chops in Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, David Harbour did it in Stranger Things, and Hannah John-Kamen did it in Killjoys. They're all perfect to plug into this blockbuster team-up movie.

Meanwhile, Julia Louis-Dreyfus seems to be having a great time as her ongoing MCU bureaucrat. There's a fun bit of meta commentary in using her this way; after playing a bumbling narcissist for years on Veep, the MCU is showing us what happens if someone actively malicious and actually smart gets near the levers of power.

The plot is fine enough. Thunderbolts* does a better job of injecting personal stakes into the global catastrophe than many Marvel movies have done. But at the same time, the amount of "required reading" to enjoy this movie is off the charts; as someone who hasn't watched any MCU movie for a second time in nearly a decade, I often feel like I'm trying to carry water in my cupped hands when I watch one. And of course, Thunderbolts* was never going to be the movie to break that trend. (We'll see if the upcoming Fantastic Four can be the first truly stand-alone Marvel movie in years.)

But overall, I'd say Thunderbolts* did its job at entertaining. I give it a B+. I enjoyed watching it -- though it's not going to break that trend and be the MCU movie I expect to watch a second time.

I Reckon

Months ago, I blogged about Steelheart, the first book of the Reckoners trilogy by Brandon Sanderson. Now I'm back for book two, Firefight.

This trilogy is Sanderson's foray into a twisted version of a superhero story. In a version of our own world, the arrival of a mysterious celestial body seems to trigger the development of superpowers in a select few people around the world. Without fail, these "Epics" become corrupt tyrants who use their powers to oppress and control as they slowly destroy the world. The Reckoners trilogy follows one group of humans as they try to uncover the weaknesses of these Epics and fight back. This second book, Firefight sees the protagonist David traveling to another city to fight an Epic with a past connection to his group's leader. Once there, he finds there's also an important connection to his own past, sure to drive a wedge into his group if anyone else learns of it.

Firefight is an interesting "middle chapter" of a trilogy, with plenty I liked and some things I didn't. It's young adult fiction, which isn't always known for nuance: in this genre, you usually expect that the "good guys" and good, the "bad guys" are bad, and that's just all there is to it. But some YA stories like to explore the gray areas, and Sanderson chooses that more rewarding option here. Book one, Steelheart, ended with a revelation that things are not as black-and-white as the protagonist, David, might have thought. And now book two, Firefight, really follows through on this idea. The course of the story drives David to really resist the good/evil dichotomy even more, stirring up new conflict that's satisfyingly born of character and not plot contrivance.

Sanderson also builds out the world he's created in interesting ways. He could probably have stretched out an exploration of strange powers and weaknesses (and their ramifications) into dozens of books. (That's certainly what other superpower franchises do.) That he did not do so means that each "Epic" character who shows up in the story has a truly important role to play. Firefight digs deeper into how this world came to be, why people get the powers they have, and why the powers drive people inexorably toward evil. And as it does all this, it shifts the story to an interesting new setting that differs from the first book.

But Firefight also goes back on one of the things I liked best about Steelheart. In my comments on that book, I mentioned that blessedly, the conventional romantic subplot that shows up in every YA book did not follow its expected course. Firefight reveals that nope, we're actually going to do exactly the romantic subplot these stories always have. In particular, I didn't enjoy how much the main character was motivated by love -- particularly when it's portrayed in an (accurate) teenage way that might as easily be infatuation, lust, or something else. Even with a character in the story who openly mocks the idea of "love being the answer," I felt the story wasn't doing enough to depart from the trope. I guess Sanderson felt like he could only thwart so many conventions of the genre.

Still, Firefight offered a few nice surprises along the way, even if I sensed the gist of where it would end. The journey was rewarding, even if -- like the young sick child of The Princess Bride -- I would have preferred to skip all the "kissy stuff." I give Firefight a B+. I'll be curious to get to the final book of the series and see how Sanderson brings it all home.

Here, Here

Maybe it's time for me to give "gimmick" films a break.

Recently, I watched the alien invasion thriller No One Will Save You, mainly because of its unique premise of telling the story without dialogue. Then I watched the Robbie Williams biopic Better Man, because it was serving up a musical starring an ape. Both movies offered worthwhile moments, but ultimately couldn't rise above their gimmick to be truly good. Now I've completed my "disappointing movie gimmicks" trilogy with Here.

Here is a movie about a place. A locked-off camera remains completely still for the entire film as we hop backward and forward in time. We see one spot on Earth -- in the times of dinosaurs, pre-colonial natives, and the American Revolution. A house is built there in the early 20th century, and we're served glimpses of the lives of multiple families over the course of the next 100 years. Most our time is spent with the Youngs, a family who moves in just after World War II and lives there for over 50 years.

I was skeptical that a movie with no camera movement could be a compelling watch... but I was willing to take the chance that if anyone could pull it off, it would be director Robert Zemeckis. Besides him helming Back to the Future (my favorite movie ever), he gave us a masterwork of technical prowess in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and an emotionally moving story punctuated with tricky camera work in Contact.

But perhaps the past work I should have been thinking about was Forrest Gump, a treacly overdose of corrosive and regressive morality. The movie Here is a reunion of Zemeckis with the stars of Forrest Gump, Tom Hanks and Robin Wright. While I've loved separate work by all three, I might have expected that they'd come together again in service of something mawkish and trite.

It's almost stunning how many universal themes about life Here manages to touch upon in 104 minutes while hardly ever managing to evoke any feelings about them. Fortunately, unlike Forrest Gump, I don't think any messages are set in opposition to each other. Still, the emotional distance is as real as the physical distance, as events staged farther from the locked camera feel too far removed from the audience to engage the heart.

This is the reason I'm choosing to blog about a movie I essentially didn't like. I don't think Here set out to do so, but it winds up making a compelling case for the vitality of live theater. When you watch a live performance, you sit in your seat, your "camera" essentially locked off and giving you only one perspective on the action. The acting is happening at a distance (sometimes a great distance, depending on the size of the theater). And while not every live performance is emotionally transcendent, they sometimes are, in a way that Here really isn't.

Maybe that just means that if they made more movies like Here, some of them would be better -- just like those uncommonly good theatrical performances. Maybe. But I think the artifice of this storytelling device would weigh down any film, mostly because I can't imagine a movie working any better within the physical constraint than this one does. Here uses many clever transitions to evoke an illusion of motion, superimposing actions from more than one time frame on screen at the same time. Zemeckis stages the action so that most of the key moments happen as close to the camera as possible.

The movie also has actors working their asses off to overcome the artifice. Tom Hanks and Robin Wright are both very earnest and natural in their performances. Paul Bettany also plays a key role, and thanks to his work in the MCU, he's no stranger to acting through challenging technical constraints.

They're all assisted in the time-jumping aspects of the movie with much more credible "de-aging" visual effects than we usually get -- though I can imagine that being the combination of many factors. De-aging effects have thus far set the bar quite low; these actors all have long careers offering ample reference on how their younger selves looked; the fact that everyone is often quite distant from the stationary camera provides a way to hide the imperfections.

Indeed, Here is a clever movie. Having decided on its gimmick, it finds smart narrative ways to work within it, uses technology well to hold everything together, and employs good actors with enough experience to be up to the unusual challenge. All that adds up to something -- not as low a grade as you might expect I'd give the movie. And yet, the achievements end at the movie's cleverness. It doesn't make you laugh or cry; it can only make you nod politely and think, "I see what you're doing here." (Or "I see what you're doing, Here.") I give it a C.

Enterprise Flashback: Cease Fire

The writers of Enterprise probably didn't set out to create an ongoing storyline about the Andorians. But cast Jeffrey Combs, let him do his thing, and before you know it, you'll have a recurring character on your hands. Combs appeared as Shran once again in "Cease Fire."

Archer is called upon to mediate a territorial dispute between the Andorians and Vulcans. But the talks are to take place in a war zone, and when Archer's shuttlepod is shot down, it's unclear if he will reach the negotiations alive... or indeed, if all parties actually want him to.

To a great extent, this episode is all about the casting. You have Jeffrey Combs returning as Shran, Vaughn Armstrong appearing as Admiral Forrest, and Gary Graham back as Soval. To that, they add Star Trek veteran Christopher Shea as a new Andorian, and veritable Star Trek royalty in Suzie Plakson as Tarah. (Her appearances as K'Ehleyr on The Next Generation made a huge impact.)

If you're not into what all these returning actors are doing? Well, then there kind of isn't much to this episode for you. Star Trek has shown that it can put us in a war zone and make that believable, but then this episode isn't really trying to make a point about war or violence in the way Deep Space Nine did. This is a more workmanlike effort to just nudge along the ongoing Andorian storyline. It "does the job" narratively, yet we don't really care much that Shran is betrayed by a close advisor, that Soval is inching away from his xenophobia, or that Archer is gradually being respected by both sides.

Well... maybe we do care at least a little about that last thing. After a season-and-a-half of regular incompetence by the main characters of this series, they really need to start posting wins. Even if the idea of the show is that "these people haven't learned how to do all this Star Trek stuff yet," at some point they need to start showing that they are learning -- otherwise, they really are as dumb as you've been making them look all this time.

So it's much needed development for Archer that he can make logical arguments that Soval can't counter, has T'Pol truly "cheering" for him to succeed (as much as a Vulcan could), and has past relationships that here make him "the only one for the job." He's set up to do "in four hours" what previously took "eight years." And not only does he succeed, but both Shran and Soval (in their own ways) express their appreciation!

Other characters get nice moments as well. T'Pol is made to suffer veiled insults from Soval about how human she's become, but doesn't rise to the bait. Phlox informs us of his history as a medic in the Denobulan infantry, a minor detail that nevertheless adds dimension to his character. Trip takes command and this time shines, stalling armed conflict between Vulcan and Andorian ships by putting Enterprise between them (and bluffing almost as well as James T. Kirk would).

But the episode does feel a bit rushed to me. It builds to a climax that could easily be the cliffhanger for a two-part episode, but then quickly resolves everything. Part of the rushed resolution is the reveal of Tarah as a full-on, mustache-twirling villain. A lot of time is spent on action rather than character -- though the big brawl between her character and Archer works surprisingly better than I would have imagined. Suzie Plakson then delivers her "you meddling kids" monologue with verve, but it's still no substitute for giving Tarah a more detailed and personalized grievance for her opposition to peace with Vulcans. 

Other observations:

• T'Pol likens the Andorians claiming a Vulcan planetoid to "Klingons setting up a colony on Pluto" -- an analogy that hit a little harder at the time the episode was made, when Pluto was still officially classified as a planet. Though if anything, the current state of this comparison seems more apt.

• A more fun exchange involving T'Pol is when Soval asks her why humans are so fixated on Vulcan ears. "I believe they're envious."

I would have liked more character development in this episode, but I'm really happy to see the Enterprise crew notch a win. I give "Cease Fire" a B.

Paradise Found

For six seasons, This Is Us wowed me with its unique blend of family drama and genre-style time-hopping. I enjoyed it so much that I mentally signed up in advance for whatever the series' creator, Dan Fogelman, did next. That turned out to be the Hulu drama-thriller Paradise.

Paradise centers on Secret Service agent Xavier Collins. As the story begins, it's clear he's had some kind of falling out with President of the United States Cal Bradford. But when Bradford is murdered, it's up to Collins to solve the case. The investigation involves all sorts of narrative hopping back and forth in time, as we slowly learn about the history of the two men... and, oh, big spoiler for the end of episode one: that this entire story is taking place in some hidden underground bunker, in the aftermath of a global apocalypse.

With this show, Dan Fogelman brought with him many of the people who worked behind the scenes on This Is Us. The transition totally works; they already had experience with twisty mysteries and dramatic tension, and now are bringing their skills to bear on an actual thriller. And like This Is Us, Paradise gives the impression that its storytellers know where it's all going, and aren't making things up as they go along.

But it isn't just the plot that drew me in; the cast also had a lot to do with it. Sterling K. Brown is a dynamic anchor for the show as Agent Collins; he's just as compelling when bottling his emotions up as he is when they show through. James Marsden is great as President Bradford, whose facade as a spoiled rich man-child is steadily eroded as we learn more about the character with each flashback. Julianne Nicholson perfectly takes the reverse journey as Sinatra, whose early impression of stern determination grows increasingly dark as the season unfolds. And I'm thrilled to see Krys Marshall as Agent Robinson; here's a role for her in a genre show that doesn't require her to endure hours of old-age makeup.

It's difficult to get into why I enjoyed Paradise so much without mentioning any of the big reveals that take place over the 9-episode first season. But fortunately, this is not one of those shows you have to try for a few episodes before you know you like it. Either episode one will hook you immediately, or Paradise isn't for you. It was for me, an A- overall, and a clear contender for my Top 10 shows of the year when it comes time for me to make that list.

Enterprise Flashback: Stigma

In early 2003, Paramount's parent company Viacom enacted an HIV awareness campaign. Though purportedly they did not directly ask their various TV series to produce "very special episodes" on the subject, Enterprise decided to do so. The result was the episode "Stigma."

T'Pol has contracted a disease from her recent mindmelding experience. When Phlox attempts to surreptitiously seek a cure from Vulcan doctors, two things happen. First, Phlox learns that Vulcans have no interest in curing the condition, as it is only transmitted by fringe, undesirable "melders" in the society. Second, when an influential Vulcan doctor learns that T'Pol has been infected, he takes steps to recall her from her post on Enterprise. Meanwhile, one of Phlox's wives visits him aboard Enterprise... and displays clear attraction to Trip.

I had a lot to say about Star Trek: The Next Generation's run at a "gay episode" -- but in short, I felt that producer Rick Berman really didn't seem to understand the topic being explored. Yet people can learn and change, and I will concede that in the 11 years between "The Outcast" and this Enterprise episode, it appears that Berman evolved a little in this area. At least, this episode he wrote with series co-creator Brannon Braga does seem like its heart is mostly in the right place.

The conception of "Pa'nar syndrome" as a Vulcan analog for HIV works, as does the President-Reagan-style contempt that Vulcan authorities have not for the condition, but for the people most likely to have it. T'Pol's role in the episode is inspirational and noble. She refuses to curry favor by revealing that she contracted the disease by being melded with against her will; she'd rather stand up to power, not condone prejudice, and not perpetuate a double standard. She also will not "out" a mindmelder she meets just to help her own cause. To all of this, I say: Good. For. Her. And her integrity spreads; for once, Archer doesn't seem whiny when he mounts his high horse to yell at some Vulcan.

Still, I'd say the episode could have pushed even farther. The villanous Vulcans of this story are straw men, and the episode doesn't engage at all with the question of how they could be this bigoted to begin with. Prejudice is motivated by emotion, not logic -- but there isn't even a veneer of logic offered. A Vulcan rationale is sitting right there, unvoiced in this episode: that "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the view." How powerful would it have been to have Spock's famous words co-opted to justify prejudice? And how much more strong does a hero look when they overcome a more vile villain? Still... it's not like I'm really too down on the episode for failing to present "both sides" of a one-sided issue.

The bigger shortcoming of the episode is in its ridiculous "B plot" about Phlox's wife pursuing Trip. Sometimes, a story needs light and comedic moments to relieve dramatic tension before ratcheting things up again. Sometimes, humor feels like an unwelcome distraction from serious matters. To me, this feels like a case of the latter.

It starts with the fact that the issue getting comedic treatment is polyamory. Enterprise simply can't avoid trying to be "sexy." They're not quite "making fun" of the idea of polyamory, since Phlox and his wife Feezal aren't looked down on by the script. And yet there's something a bit uncomfortable in the implication that the show can be serious about being gay, while polyamory is a big joke -- playing out in preposterously suggestive dialogue, Trip's attempt to use Hoshi as a shield against Feezal's advances, and seeing Phlox's trademark enthusiasm applied here to encouraging a hookup.

Trip's reaction isn't great, either. Of course, it's fine for the character to not personally want to engage in polyamory, but he's portrayed as incapable of conceiving how it would work for anyone. It clangs to pair such close-mindedness with the gay-coded A plot. And it's unfortunate that Trip has the Southern drawl of a "good ol' boy" you'd expect to have exactly this attitude. I'd rather they'd ditched the subplot entirely to spend more time on T'Pol's story... but if they were going to do this, I'd wager it would feel a bit less icky with literally any other character. (And I was just saying how the show has been overusing the character of Trip.)

Other observations:

• In a fun bit of Denobulan world building, Phlox and Feezal greet one another by wafting each other's scent into their face.

• CG of this era really falls short in rendering people, at any scale. A sweeping shot of a medical conference is undermined by the fake-looking, unnatural movement of the "people" attending it.

• Enterprise continues to objectify its cast members to titillate its audience. In his visit to Sickbay, Travis Mayweather flashes his abs. (Feezal totally could have been into him rather than Trip.)

The episode means well, and in the A plot at least is mostly well done. But I think it could have been a lot better if it had ditched the silly subplot. I give "Stigma" a B.

Shore Thing

My blog has been silent for a week due to a family emergency. I might write about that in detail some day, when the troubles have truly passed. (Or I might not.) But I've decided that I need some normalcy where I can find it, and this is one place. So I'm going to try to go back to business as usual here. Maybe even lighter than usual to kick things off, as I say a few words about a real confection of a television show: Shoresy.

Shoresy is a spin-off centered on the chirping hockey player from Letterkenny, as he relocates to lead a struggling triple-A team. In equal measure, his trash-talking antics and dedication to his team begin to turn things around.

I always enjoyed Letterkenny, even as I thought that its schtick (and the quality of the jokes) declined gradually in later seasons. But one aspect I never liked about that show was the character of Shoresy. When they wrote him out to set up this spin-off, I really thought "good riddance," and was pretty sure I'd never check out the second show.

And yet... I had a little kernel of curiosity about Shoresy that I just couldn't deny. How would a show all about that guy even work? Even setting aside the fact that his face was never shown on Letterkenny, but would be on Shoresy -- he was just such a one-note character that I kind of had to see how big a mess the spin-off would be. Well, it turns out that series creator, writer, and star Jared Keeso seems to have known that he couldn't just stick Shoresy in a new show without some changes -- and the changes really work. 

First, Shoresy is much more of a story-driven show. Letterkenny was something between a stand-up comedy act and a live-action cartoon... a show that used the bare minimum of story necessary to facilitate jokes and riffs. Shoresy actually employs season-long story arcs, has a message in most episodes, and actually wants you to care for the characters beyond their ability to make you laugh. It's not as consistently funny a show as a result... but with the jokes thinned out a bit, there's room to be more invested in what's going on.

You probably have to care at least a little about hockey for that, though. Where Letterkenny sometimes used the ice rink or the locker room as a setting for comedy, Shoresy has way more hockey action than you'd probably expect for something branded as a sitcom. It has even more "hockey culture," so it's likely you'll know within just an episode or two if the show is for you.

But one thing that might grab you in that episode or two is another good strength of the spin-off: the other characters. Jared Keeso may be writing the show for himself to star in, but it doesn't really come off like a "vanity project." In particular, I feel like the team's managerial staff (all women, in a much-appreciated subversion of expectations) and coach bring a lot of heart to a show -- more heart than I ever would have expected.

Shoresy is four six-episode seasons in and counting, and is in the midst of a reinvention of sorts. (It's also a show willing to mess with its formula more than Letterkenny ever was.) Shoresy isn't exactly "can't miss" television... but somehow it won me over, and I plan to be there when the next season arrives. I give it a B+.