Film Review: Cats

Yes, Cats gets a review all to itself, because my oh my there’s a lot to talk about. For starters, a personal qualifier: I love the stage musical. I own the specially filmed 1998 version on special edition DVD, and had the immense pleasure of seeing the show live at the Bristol Hippodrome a while back, a magical theatrical experience topped only by the out-of-this-world tour de force that was The Lion King. This is likely a big reason why I didn’t react nearly as violently as most to the original trailer for this film; I was a little taken aback, but intrigued, and willing to see where they were going. Now, finally, I have, and fair to say I have very mixed feelings about it.

Let’s deal with the main issue first, the thing that triggered the violent reactions to the trailer: the character designs. I don’t think there’s much doubt the idea was simply to make the stage characters real, to take that distinctive look and push it a whole lot further. It’s an interesting and quite bold approach, but really, really difficult to pull off. The stage makeup is heightened and stylised, almost impressionistic in a way, with feline touches throughout, especially the noses and the mouths. The film seemed to be going the same way, albeit with widely varying degrees of success, but then decided to pull back, have the faces be almost entirely human with feline around the outside. My impression is of ambition outstripping time and resources, and an unwillingness to fully commit to the approach – somewhat understandable after the reaction to the trailer – and the result is many different levels of uncanny valley discomfort, from the faint – Gus is actually pretty decent, and Victoria is reasonable – to the almost impossible to look at, like Bustopher Jones and the mice. It’s far and away the biggest misjudgement of the film, and seriously to its detriment.

It’s not the only one, either. The Jennyanydots sequence is dotted with jarring moments, most notably her snacking on the human-faced cockroaches, and the unzipping of her fur to reveal a costume underneath that’s disturbingly close to skinning. Nothing at all about Bustopher Jones works. The Rum Tum Tugger is lacking much of his rock ‘n’ roll swagger, and features a lot less than he does in the stage version. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer are thoroughly undermined by a take on their song that has little shape or substance. Grizabella isn’t the presence she needs to be, and the singing of Memory is a little shouty. It’s a long succession of off notes that collectively contribute to the second-biggest problem with Cats: the tone.

The stage version is light on its feet, shot through with knowing, playful, self-aware humour; it never takes itself too seriously. The film, however, certainly does, straining so hard to be grand and sweeping and majestic it weighs itself down, a problem it shares with director Tom Hooper’s other big film musical, Les Miserable, a prime candidate for another overrated movies list. It also flattens itself out, with little variation in mood or pacing or energy, and no room for expressions of personality, and means the attempts at humour mostly fail. It just rolls steadily from one set piece to another, with no opportunities to really drink in the world or the characters, and no real spark or spirit, wasting all the positive things.

Yes, there are positive things. Using Victoria as the spine of the story, a way into and through the world of the Jellicle Cats, was a good, solid choice. Mr Mistoffelees being clumsy and lacking confidence was a charming take on him, and the use of his song to find that belief in himself, with help from Victoria and the bond they form, is nice. There are enjoyable performances, such as Idris Elba’s as Macavity and Ian McKellen’s as Gus. There’s plenty of gorgeous singing, and stunning dancing. The cinematography and sets are superb. There are genuinely things to enjoy about this movie, it’s just hard to enjoy them, really hard, with all the things it does wrong.

And therein lies the rub. Why Cats was made into a film is no mystery, as it’s one of the most successful stage musicals of all time. It’s also, however, one of the most unusual stage musicals of all time, and that presented a huge challenge the makers of the film simply weren’t equal to. It’s impossible not to think about the maybes – maybe animation would have worked better, maybe fully anthropomorphic characters driven by motion capture, maybe Tom Hooper was the wrong choice to direct – and that only adds to the frustrating truth: there’s the basis for a good movie here, the kernel of one, but it’s lost beneath a welter of really poor choices. One of the biggest missed opportunities I’ve ever watched.

4/10

Monbiot and the Media

Fair warning: this is another political blog. Also, as always, these are merely the opinions of one person.

I like George Monbiot. I follow him on Twitter, often like and retweet his tweets and threads, which are usually eloquent, on point, and passionate. At the same time, I’m aware that other people don’t like him, including some people I also follow, but have never really been sure why. There’d be accusations, but no evidence to back it up, anger without explanation of the source, other than “you said nice things about Lisa Nandy once” and “you called Corbyn an antisemite”. It didn’t add up.

Now, however, things have clicked into place for me, and it has to do with Jeremy Corbyn, and Keir Starmer. Monbiot was, at times, critical of Corbyn, which is fair enough. Corbyn had flaws, made mistakes; for a long time I harboured doubts because of his seeming unwillingness to work with other political parties, which felt needlessly tribal; I honestly still have those doubts. True, not all of Monbiot’s criticism was apparently accurate, if he did use a misquoted and misrepresented speech by Corbyn as part of it, but that still isn’t quite enough to justify the anger. That Monbiot isn’t being critical of Starmer – at least that I’ve seen – on the other hand, just might be.

Where Corbyn had a few flaws, Starmer is all flaws. The evidence is overwhelming that the latter is a dreadful leader, failing in pretty much every way it’s possible for a leader to fail, and yet Monbiot has seemingly said not one word about him, critical or otherwise. Why not? If Corbyn’s missteps warranted a negative reaction, why not Starmer’s lurching from one crisis to another, in a disturbing mirror of Johnson? Monbiot rightfully shouts about the horrific bills the Tories are working through Parliament, one attack on democracy after another, but is ignoring Starmer’s enabling of them through his silence and abstentions.

It’s a stark contradiction, comes across as distinctly hypocritical, and undermines Monbiot more than a little. He surely has to be aware of that, and yet he persists. The same behaviour is true of other media, journalistic figures, such as fellow Guardian writer Jonathan Freedland and LBC presenter James O’Brien, though much more pronounced. They were, to my understanding, far more critical of Corbyn, including labelling him an antisemite, a false accusation, yet remain just as silent on/uncritical of Starmer as Monbiot. Part of a giant establishment conspiracy?

No. I believe this all comes down to basic human nature, the kinds of dynamics we’re introduced to in the playground, and that reverberate throughout our lives and society in general. If most of the kids in your playground insist that the quiet, awkward kid sitting by themselves in a corner is a freak to be ridiculed, a weirdo to be picked on, are you going to argue? Are you going to say otherwise, and risk being attacked like the awkward kid is attacked? Chances are that, no, you won’t disagree, just nod along to save yourself immediate pain, with no thought beyond that moment. The cumulative effect of peer pressure is just that strong.

I believe that dynamic is part of the reason for the double-standards of Monbiot, O’Brien et al. When the billionaire-owned media, the likes of the Sun and the Mail and the Times, starting screaming “antisemite!” at Corbyn, and the media wing of the goverment aka the BBC backed them up, and all of them attacked anyone who disagreed, self-preservation overrode principles and the likes of Freedland joined in. In-the-moment self-interest with zero thought of longer term ramifications.

Those ramifications proved to be grievous indeed. The worst government in living memory, perhaps in the entire political history of the UK, and arguably the worst opposition, at a time of global pandemic and a climate crisis that will literally end human society if not addressed immediately. It’s a nightmare situation that just keeps getting worse, and journalists such as Monbiot have to take a measure of responsibility for it. Corbyn may have been flawed, but he was a genuine chance for change, and genuinely popular, as his huge crowds repeatedly attested, and defintely the best chance in ages to unseat not just the Tories, but break the establishment stranglehold on this country. At the very least, we would not have been in the dire straights we’re in right now, we would not have lost tens of thousands to Covid, not be facing relentless attacks on our fundamental rights, not be making token gestures towards dealing with the greatest threat we’ve ever faced.

The thing is, they’re not going to accept that responsibilty, as borne out by their insistence on moving on. “Let. It. Go.” was Monbiot’s response to a critical comment on a recent thread of his. Ignoring Starmer’s endless list of failures, his own hypocrisy and corruption, is part of that. To criticise Starmer is to tacitly acknowledge that responsibility, that they made a mistake, so they instead offer meaningless puff pieces, or say nothing. It’s still about self-preservation, now mostly driven by another, unfortunate, facet of human nature: it’s hard to admit you’re wrong, let alone accept the consequences of that.

The higher-profile a position you occupy, the harder it becomes, as borne out by BBC executives insisting the broadcaster’s not biased or discriminatory in spite of the reams of evidence to the contrary, by Met Commissioner Cressida Dick insisting the force is impartial even as she resists investigating blatant law-breaking by the government, by Starmer and by Johnson as they persist in blaming their screw-ups on anything and everything else. Responsibility is to be avoided at all costs, even if the cost is increasingly undermining yourself.

That’s the vicious-circle position journalists like Monbiot have put themselves in. Short-term self-preservation has led to lasting, increasing damage, to themselves and their profession. The clearer it becomes they were wrong, the more they’ll dig in and insist they weren’t, or flat-out pretend it doesn’t matter, because they fear ever worse personal consequences. The ultimate irony, of course, is the old saw of meeting your fate on the path you take to avoid it. Trust in them and their profession is dying, they only really have themselves to blame, and the more they deny it, the quicker the trust dies, and the harder it will be to regain it.

There’s another facet to this. Responsibility is about more than admitting mistakes. It’s about acknowledging you can make them in the first place. Admitting you’re fallible. That’s a big part of why I start any opinion blog with a variant on the theme of “this is just the opinion of one person’. It’s stating up front that I am human, I am fallible, I make mistakes, and I cannot be solely relied upon as a source or an argument. It’s reminding people to seek out other opinions, other perspectives, as the wider a view you can get, the better.

Now, ask yourselves how often you’ve seen or heard a mainstream journalist make such a statement. Has O’Brien? Freedland? True, I sincerely doubt any of them would have openly stated “my opinion is fact”, but the language and attitudes they usually use strongly give that impression. It’s a world of absolutes, with little time for grey areas or qualifiers or alternative perspectives. It wasn’t “Corbyn may be an antisemite”, or “this person is saying Corbyn is an antisemite”, it was “Corbyn is an antisemite”. It wasn’t treated as a suspicion or a possibility, but as an already established fact.

True, O’Brien, Freedland and especially Monbiot didn’t go as far as the tabloids or the BBC, but they’re still tainted by that whole debacle. I keep referring to it as there is no clearer example of how broken our media truly is. The only evidence ever presented that Jeremy Corbyn was an antisemite was anecdotal, accusations by a selection of outspoken individuals with little to nothing in the way of counterpoint. As an example of the calibre of those individuals, take Margaret Hodge. When leader of Islington Council, she was embroiled in a paedophile scandal, and signed off on the destruction of a Jewish cemetery, which was stopped by the local MP, none other than Jeremy Corbyn. This surely renders her testimony suspect, yet it was never questioned. In contrast, the evidence that Corbyn was and remains a staunch anti-racist is a matter of public record stretching back decades, but was entirely ignored. “Corbyn is an antisemite” was as naked a lie, as transparent a fraud, as can be imagined, and it only gained the traction it did because no-one, not one person, in the mainstream media, was willing to stand up and challenge it.

They took the easy route, and the entire country has paid, and continues to pay, a terrible price for it. It’s a price so terrible, in fact, it may never be possible to restore trust in the media again. If there is a chance, I believe it lies in someone finding something largely dismissed as a weakness, but that’s actually a strength, humility, and standing up to say…

“I was wrong.”

Sing 2 Speculation

I’ve mentioned in a prior blog that I really enjoy Sing, thinking it comfortably the best movie Illumination have so far put out, and was greatly anticipating the sequel. With Sing 2‘s release imminent, and after the release of a third and final trailer – less than a month after the second, curiously; can’t imagine that happens too often – I figured, why not have some fun and speculate about it a bit?

The synopsis on the movie’s website is pretty detailed, laying out the bulk of the core plot, which is basically Buster’s ambitions getting the better of him again, just on a much, much bigger scale and with much bigger stakes. Classic sequel stuff. What I’m most interested in, being me, is the characters, what their respective journeys will be this time, and what the new ones will bring.

First off, there’s a notable absence: Mike. This makes sense for me, as there really wasn’t anything more that could be done with him. His self-serving, acerbic, shyster ways served their purpose in the first film, but would only feel forced and repetitive in a second, especially with how his story ended. There may well be a passing reference to him, but nothing more, and that feels right. Likewise, there’s nothing else to be done with affable Eddie, so his absence is equally logical.

The most prominent character in all three trailers is Johnny, meaning most of his arc is pretty clear, leaving little room for speculation. He needs to learn to dance for the new show, is worried about it, which is not helped by the overbearing choreographer training him, and ends up turning to lynx street dancer Nooshy for help. All we know of her is she’s “streetwise” and certainly comes to support Johnny, as shown in Trailer 3 when she beats on a drum to inspire him. A camaraderie, even a friendship, builds between them from the trailers, but no hints of anything romantic, and I think I’d prefer it that way. She clearly becomes part of the theatre group, but it seems doubtful she has a role in the Big Show.

In contrast, the least prominent returning character is Meena, seen only in glimpses of a production of what looks a lot like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and her anxiety flaring up anew. Wikipedia states she has a love interest in an elephant ice cream seller, who is also glimpsed in the trailers. I don’t think there’s much doubt he’ll comfort and help her, and things grow from there. Can’t say I’m entirely sold on the idea, as Hollywood is rarely great at romance, but I have hope Garth Jennings can at least do something worthwhile with it. There’s a self-centred yak character Meena’s going to be dealing with too, but he’s not in the trailers at all, and that her story thread is given so little attention makes me worry it might not be the strongest.

Ash’s story is clearly tied in with that of reclusive rocker Clay Calloway, but there are no hints as to what, if any, hurdles she’ll have to overcome. The only slim possibility I can see relates to the fact that, when she’s talking to Calloway, and holding a mug, her paws are bandaged up. True, it most likely is a brief, throwaway moment or gag, not least since her paws aren’t bandaged in any other scene in the trailers, although she is wearing gloves in her Big Show moment. However, an injury to the hands is definitely a serious obstacle to overcome, not least for a guitarist, and Calloway helping her, possibly because he’s the cause and he feels guilty, could serve as the catalyst for them to bond, and develop a parent/child, mentor/student relationship. In this way, Calloway can finally move past the loss of his wife and muse, Ash possibly becoming a new muse of sorts. As an aside, can’t help loving the naming nod to legendary bluesman Cab Calloway.

Rosita’s issue is pretty clear: a fear of heights preventing her from taking the lead role in the show, and the confidence struggles – spot the theme! – that result. Being seperated from her family is very likely a factor in her troubles, too. The interesting thing here is how her thread will tie in with that of the new character who takes the lead role instead, Porsha. Both the synopsis and Wikipedia simply describe the latter as “spoilt”, and her voice actor, Halsey, reportedly characterised her as “a bit Veruca Salt”, but what we see of her in the first and especially last trailer isn’t the stereotypical stuck-up, snotty brat. Instead, she seems innocent, even naive, a touch air-headed, and charmingly goofy, with plenty of enthusiasm and little to no concept of tact. She’s sheltered, and the idea that her story is to blossom free of her entertainment mogul father is really appealing, especially if Rosita helps her, or they even help each other. I was faintly worried she’d turn out to be a ‘twist’ villain, working with her dad all along to sabotage the show, or just a cheap source of conflict, but the more I watch the trailers the more sure I am that’s not the case. The gleeful way she embraces the alien persona and costume she was acting (badly) against earlier on, and the wistful way she stares out of the back window of a bus, alongside Buster, in a fleeting shot, tells me she’s, refreshingly, a positive wolf character, and in fact could well be a real favourite, not least since Halsey seems to have given a superb, ebullient vocal performance.

Jimmy Crystal, Porsha’s father, is presented as purely antagonistic throughout the trailers, a posturing heavy with more than a touch of the Rat Pack gangster about him, and there are no clues at all to how his story ends. He obviously dotes on his daughter, and that could well play a part, as could the notable absence of a life partner. That he’s seen dropping Buster from a high gantry does suggest any form of redemption is unlikely, though if Porsha were the one to save the koala, that could be quite the pivotal moment for both wolves.

If you have any speculations of your own, drop a comment, and we’ll soon see if any of them are at all accurate.

Film Reviews

Vivo: Heart’s in the right place, songs are fun, well animated, but a little hollow, and has one big issue in Gabi, a consistently irritating character who practically embodies trying too hard, right down to her messy, too-much-going-on, faintly 90s ‘edgy game mascot’ character design. Add to the ever-growing list of flawed SPA films. 6/10

Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings: This one could be added to my Overrated Movies blog. Looks good, well directed with some arresting camerawork, always good to see a different culture being represented (the abundance of Mandarin dialogue is an especially welcome touch) and briskly enjoyable to a degree, but still very much a formula Marvel movie, complete with one of their least engaging heroes. Awkwafina enlivens things, not least in getting to be the first to say ‘vagina’ in a Marvel movie, and so does a returning character from an earlier Marvel film, but overall unengaging. 7/10

Night at the Museum trilogy: I recall watching the first in the series when it came out, and finding it a little lacklustre, a Hollywood family film by numbers. Rewatching it, I discovered it’s actually quite a bit better than that, managing to be funny and clever and engaging with only one lapse into cheap humour. The sequels are even better, with again only one lapse in the last, and some touches that border on the subversive, like their treatment of General Custer. Really good fun throughout. 8/10

Red Notice: Glossy and slick and stylish, and sporadically amusing, but self-satisfied, and not nearly as clever as it thinks it is. Both Reynolds and Johnson are basically coasting on their usual film personas. Gadot is good but not given enough, and is a little undercut come the end. There’s a glib touch of the frat boy in its attitude, too, seen most clearly in a Reynolds line about ‘adult virgins’. Hard to know if this was meant as a homage to classic heist movies, or a parody of them; either way, it’s unsatisfying. 5/10

Wonder Park: The first film I’ve ever seen to have no Director credit, the result of the person originally in the post being fired for inappropriate behaviour, and no-one else wanting the credit. The latter is no surprise, as while its a gorgeous-looking film, it really lacks in the story and character department, and no amount of straining, on-the-nose sentiment, reaching a peak at the climax when the park is rebuilding and the main character feels the need to breathlessly exclaim as much, can overcome that. Tonally awry, insincere, and empty. 4/10

Uglydolls: Familiar themes, and it owes a lot to the Toy Story films, but has plenty of energy, great visuals, not least in the textures of the titular dolls, and good, catchy songs. Enjoyable enough while it lasts. 7/10

Free Guy: A serious surprise. Rides high in pretty much every aspect, with noticeably less crudity, violence and language than most PG-13 blockbusters (a jarring f-bomb aside; Hollywood really needs to learn that just because you can have one in your PG-13 movie, doesn’t mean you have to have one, even if it’s apparently written into Ryan Reynolds’ contract). Funny, sharp, with genuine heart, and serious fun from start to finish. 8/10

Storks: Rewatched it for the first time since it came out, and it’s still a delight. Zany, pin sharp, laugh-out-loud funny, and plenty of heart. The wolves are a particular highlight, subverting the usual tropes in all kinds of gleefully silly ways. Grin-inducingly good. 8/10

Tomorrowland: Here’s a first – an underwhelming Brad Bird movie. For all its technical pizazz and ambition, it’s weak in the last areas you’d expect a Brad Bird film to be weak: plot and character. There simply isn’t enough substance to connect, so it’s pretty, but oddly inert, and almost entirely without the usual Bird spirit. 6/10

Pokemon: Detective Pikachu: a solid, well-made, consistently engaging family film, with that extremely rare thing, a sincere Ryan Reynolds performance. I especially appreciate the total absence of crude humour. 7/10

Marvel Animation: Past, Present and Future

This is in large part a companion piece to the prior blog, but also serves to correct a pretty serious oversight on my part regarding a major factor I’d somehow managed to entirely forget, and provide some balance. I’ve realised, you see, the things I was craving in the prior blog may already be underway, and I even mentioned the start of it. First though, to the recent past.

The animated series that have been put out during the reign of the MCU have been pretty consistent, in being bright, noisy, repetitive and simplistic, as clear evidence as you could want of how safe Marvel are, or were, playing things. One particularly noticeable pattern is that they largely can’t maintain beyond one, maybe two seasons, Guardians of the Galaxy, for example, having a really good first season, a middling second one, and nothing else since.

The problem is that, despite the involvement of serious talent, such as Man of Action, Brian Michael Bendis, and even Paul “Batman” Dini, the formula is king. There must be lots of action, quippy, pop-culture heavy humour, and many, many guest spots from big MCU names. The clearest demonstration of the issues would be Ultimate Spider-Man. The first season was good and solid, if limited a little by its fairly simplistic characters, not a great deal more than archetypes in many cases, and the Ultimate versions of the classic villains basically just being bigger and more muscular, with a notable exception in Doc Ock.

These issues became more pronounced in season two, largely thanks to a one-note take on the Green Goblin that never engaged. The overarching plot, of Spidey gathering a second team while trying to prevent a villain recruiting them, didn’t last, which would become a hallmark of the series, undermined by the need to have Spidey tag along with a big name of the week, such as Cap, or Hulk, or Iron Man, or Wolverine. None other than Squirrel Girl exemplifies the troubles: not only is her depiction here irritating, a hollow joke with a lispy voice, at first she’s dismissed as a candidate for the team, then suddenly is among those joining SHIELD Academy. It’s all a muddle, and for me the weakest of the four seasons.

Season three came with a subtitle, Web Warriors, and a rework of the same core idea, Spidey building a team, just this time of fellow spider-heroes, but again the main plot dwindled out; at least Miles Morales adds some spark to things. Season four also has an expanded title, VS the Sinister Six, and gets off to a really good start, not least by bringing the best villain of the show, Ock, back to the forefront. Inevitably, though, it doesn’t last, the Six being seen off in a mid-season two-parter, and Ock all-but vanishing afterwards. Also absent for the last two seasons, bar occasional cameos, are the original team, and in season four White Tiger disappears completely until the two-part finale, despite having gotten a tweaked look in season three. What we get are even more spiders, eight at one point, and a string of multi-parters and one -offs. That extended title honestly feels redundant at that point.

It’s pretty clear that executives, suits, were firmly in charge, resulting in narrow narrative and tonal scope, an abundance of talent sorely underused, and a fixation on good old Peter Parker, and variations thereupon. In the prior blog, I talked purely about Marvel suits, but there are other suits involved, even higher up ones, because, of course, Marvel is owned by someone, the biggest media corporation on the planet, in fact: Disney. Disney are as infamous for corporate malpractice, from suing a nursery school for painting Mickey on a classroom wall, to repeatedly forcing changes in US copyright law to ensure they retain control of said mouse, as they are famous for creative excellence, and have for a long time been highly conservative, even a little repressive, in their attitudes.

Their malign influence would unquestionably have been a factor, a big one, in the problems with Marvel animation, and that’s reinforced by a series that’s only a little Marvel, and a lot Disney, Big Hero 6, following the familiar pattern of great first series, weaker second, and defaulting to stand-alones at the end, in this case in the shorter third season. The thing is, and here’s the turning point, Disney has undergone a dramatic change in the last couple of years, pivoting all the way from not allowing Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch to explicitly state the relationship between two male supporting characters until the very last episode, and then only fleetingly, to producing such openly, thoroughly queer shows as The Owl House and High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

It’s a remarkable shift, and a really welcome one, though I can only speculate as to the reasons for it. I imagine the departures of John Lasseter and Ed Catmull would have been a part, the effects of that being felt sooner in TV animation than feature, films taking a long time to make. Other changes in the executive halls of Disney could have contributed, or there could simply have been an epiphany on the part of someone, or many someones, in those halls, and its tempting to see She-Ra and the Princesses of Power being a catalyst for that, given the timing and a level of success for the latter that’s seen Amazon announce a live-action She-Ra series.

At the very least, Disney now seem to understand there’s serious money and success to be found in diversity, and the first expression of that I know of in Marvel TV animation was the most recent Spidey series, simply titled Spider-Man. Yes, it yet again stars Peter Parker, but it has a real ensemble feel, a proper cast of interesting characters who all have parts to play, and better story-telling, and thus manages two full strong seasons, before reverting to a short string of two-parters in the third. The clearest example thus far, though, is something I mentioned in the prior blog, but gave shamefully short shrift to: Marvel Rising.

True, it has issues. Ms Marvel isn’t the most engaging character, and compromising Squirrel Girl in the movie in order to bolster Ms Marvel was a poor choice, and arguably supportive of my contention that the latter is slightly underwhelming. A Muslim hero is a fantastic idea, and I vigorously applaud Marvel for it, but she needs more substance, to find her spark, at least in animated form. However, it does some very important things very, very right. There’s only one male in the main cast, and he’s black. America Chavez isn’t sanitised as she would have been before, retaining her two mothers and her queer identity. The biggest breakout among the characters, other than SG (movie aside, her best animated incarnation by a country mile, not least thanks to the spot-on voice work by Milana Vayntrub, who was originally intended to play her in live action in New Warriors) is Spider-Gwen, a sparky and vibrant delight; if Marvel wants to make another spider-series, she has to be the prime candidate to star, especially since the other option, Miles Morales, is finding great, and greatly deserved, success in the movies.

Marvel Rising stands in stark, wonderful contrast to the bulk of Marvel TV animation. The very title suggests this was intended to be the start of something, a springboard, and hopefully, now the immense disruption of the pandemic is finally easing, it can still be. On this evidence, whatever Marvel animation have planned, it’s unlikely to be just more of the same lightly remixed, but genuinely new and original.

Yes, nothing is certain, but the odds are pretty good that those great things are just over the horizon.

Why Squirrel Girl Won’t Be in the MCU is Also Why She Really Should Be

Cards on the table: I am a huge Squirrel Girl fan. I love her. She is comfortably my favourite superhero, largely because she wilfully and gleefully subverts so many of the standards and tropes of the genre. She’s a great big, grinning, bushy-tailed riposte to the Dark&Gritty ™ storytelling that came to dominate cape books in the nineties. That, of course, is key to why she’ll never appear in the MCU, and in order to fully explore that, we need to go right back to the beginning.

Squirrel Girl was introduced in Marvel Super-Heroes #8: Winter Special, cover-date winter 1991, the creation of Will Murray, with help from comics legend Steve “Spider-Man” Ditko. She came about because Murray was intent on doing something as different as possible from the Big, Dramatic, Self-Serious stuff that had monopolised comic storytelling in the wake of Moore and Miller (this being as clear an example as you could ask for of executives in creative businesses learning entirely the wrong lessons from success). She was purposely made silly and upbeat, for maximum contrast, but Murray and Ditko were far too good storytellers to leave it at just that.

Right here, at the very start, Doreen Green, visual design aside, is a likeable, engaging, enjoyable character, and she manages to take down top-tier Marvel baddie Doctor Doom when the airborne WMD that is Iron Man can’t, using wit, imagination and a whole heck of a lot of squirrels. She isn’t just silly, she’s subversive, upending the usual Marvel order of things in a manner that, the more I think about it, feels like a very deliberate swipe at Marvel’s higher-ups, Ditko and Murray saying in pretty unsubtle fashion, “There are other ways you can do things, you know.”

Her next major appearance was in the Great Lakes Avengers miniseries written by Dan Slott, in 2005, expanding that subversive aspect into a pointed, even vicious satire of Dark&Gritty ™ comics, and comic book deaths in particular. She’s given a Deadpool-esque medium awareness – she knows she’s in a comic book – that means she can directly address the issues at hand, highlight them more clearly than anyone else, not least in reacting to what happens to her beloved companion. Where Murray and Ditko jabbed, Slott and company batter; it’s brutal, and Marvel suits must have at least listened to some degree for it even to be published. The GLA/GLX/GLI (they never could settle on a name) appeared a few times afterwards, in specials and guest slots, always in the same satiric vein, to the point of Squirrel Girl tackling the zenith of Marvel’s grim melodrama, Penance (the self-punishing bleakfest super-upbeat hero Speedball became after the event that triggered the Civil War, as overblown and frankly ludicrous a piece of Dark&Gritty ™ storytelling as you’ll ever encounter) head-on.

Squirrel Girl existed and was used to make a point, that Dark&Gritty ™ wasn’t the only way to go, that funny and whimsical and upbeat and even openly silly stuff had a place, had real value. After a supporting role in the New Avengers series (the announcement of which at Comic-con 2010 was, according to series writer Brian Michael Bendis, greeted with a reaction comparable to that when comics colossus Stan “The Man” Lee entered the room) she was finally given the chance to prove it, in her very own comic series, and prove it she most definitely did.

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl debuted in January 2015, written by Ryan North, and Illustrated by Erica Henderson. I’ve so far read up to volume 7 of the trade paperbacks, and can state that, in my opinion, it’s a triumph. It’s funny, clever, heartfelt, imaginative, whimsical, exciting, open and progressive enough to give anyone who thinks SJW an insult a hernia, deliciously self-aware and yes, vibrantly subversive, playing with tropes and perspectives and the formats of the medium in endlessly inventive ways. Arguably the biggest subversion of all is that Doreen Green is the Queen of Finding Another Way. She’s fully capable of using the standard superhero hit-until-they-stop-moving method, a fighter skilled enough to go toe-to-toe with Wolverine and win, but much prefers to use her head, her heart, her imagination. You give Squirrel Girl a classic Either-Or Moral Dilemma, and she’ll find a way to do both. She absolutely refuses to play by the comic book rules, in a manner that seems a clear counterpoint to the nutbar, blood-soaked cynicism of Deadpool, and soars as a result.

USG was undeniably popular, running for a total of 58 issues, to my understanding an impressively long run for a non-Avenger, and only resetting once, notable in an era of endless Universe-Shaking Crossover Super Mega Ultra EVENTS!!!!, and spinning off a graphic novel and two Young Adult novels, all of which also did well. I seriously believe she has the potential to be a truly Big Thing, to breakout like the Guardians of the Galaxy did, but even after all her success, Marvel still won’t give her the Big Chance. She’s now in the latest incarnation of the New Avengers comic series, and was a main player in the Secret Warriors animated film and specials and shorts, showing Marvel know people like her, but they won’t put her in the MCU, won’t even give her an animated series on Disney+, which seems an absolute no-brainer to do, and I fear they never will. The closest she’s gotten is the New Warriors comedy series, but that got cancelled after the original network changed their minds, and no-one else wanted it; tellingly, it seems Disney+ wasn’t even considered as an option.

The main reason that would undoubtedly be given is “she’s too silly”, and you can understand, to a degree, where they’d be coming from. The same people, many critics among them, who sneered and snickered at and dismissed Rocket and Groot in the run-up to GotG would have a field day with Squirrel Girl…but I believe they’d be proven just as wrong, if not more so. The real reason, to my mind, is that word I’ve used multiple times in this blog, the thing she’s been since she first bested Doctor Doom: she’s subversive, and not just that, she subverts the very structure the MCU is built on.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe is hugely formulaic, as was inevitable when comic book suits met cinema suits, trotting out factory-processed minor variations on the same core template, to the point of using the same end battle structure at least twice. The MCU doesn’t take risks other than calculated ones, GotG being a prime example; it owes a serious debt to Star Wars, has a standard-issue cocky, womanising, likeable douche for a lead, albeit one who does lightly parody the stereotype, as well as an equally standard-issue Hollywood strong-but-not-too-strong woman and bruising musclehead in the group; the only real risks were Rocket and Groot, but they were much smaller ones, given precedent, than was often made out.

It took a decade and around twenty films for Marvel to finally put a female character in the lead of one, then a black character. They’re insisting Phase 4 will include LGBT+ rep, but I’ve yet to find a single person that believes this’ll be anything more than easily-edited token gestures, and there’s certainly no way we’ll ever get an LGBT+ lead. I can’t think of a Marvel animated series that doesn’t have a white male lead, and the first live-action Disney+ series to not have one is still a way off. A core tenet of the MCU formula is that might is right, that all problems can be solved with force; if you hit them hard enough, with a big enough fist/gun/explosive, they will go away, usually permanently. The only character who might be able to play with the formula at all is Deadpool in his upcoming third movie, his first as part of the MCU, but there it’s an aggressive, anarchic, negative approach that fits nicely with what executives think a cynical, hardened modern audience wants, and beneath all that it’ll still be playing things safe, will still have the same base ingredients.

Squirrel Girl is pretty much the antithesis to all of that, and moreover, a film of her would, if it cleaved to her character at all, undermine most of the presumptions of the MCU. She’d do what she always does, and prove there are other ways, and a ‘dangerous precedent’ like that is the last thing Marvel Studios want. They want to keep mining the same seam, keep doing what they know works, with only small shrugs towards variation or growth, risk-averse and short-sighted to the end. If you think we’ve seen the last of Iron Man, or Captain America, or Thor, or Hulk, think again; they’ll be back, mildly tweaked, because they work, because they’re safe.

Marvel and Kevin Feige have been making a lot of noise about progressing and evolving the MCU, but there’s little to so far show for it. It’s tentative, at best. If they truly believed in changing things up, in trying different things, then a Squirrel Girl movie would be the ultimate proof, an irrefutable statement that the MCU is bold, is brave, is willing to truly experiment, is open to anyone and everyone. If put in the hands of people who believe in Doreen as much as North, Henderson, Renzi, Charm and everyone else behind USG believed in her, as much as I believe in her, then it could well be the birth of a brand new Marvel superstar, and the beginning of a whole new world of superheroics.

It could be the start of something great.

Pondering Potter

Harry Potter, that is. I have a few thoughts about The Boy Who Lived, some on an aspect that I’m sure has been well-covered, and some on ones that may not have been. As always, these are simply the opinions of one person.

I’ll start with the well-covered aspect: the accusations that the Potter books heavily plagiarise the Worst Witch series by Jill Murphy, accusations J K Rowling firmly refutes. Personally, I don’t think there’s any doubt about it, Potter does plagiarise The Worst Witch, but it’s not the shared trappings – a magical school split into houses – that make me believe so, it’s the characters. A few prominent Potter characters are remarkably similar to Worst Witch ones. Draco Malfoy owes a serious debt to Ethel Hallow. Professor Dumbledore owes just as much to Miss Cackle. And Severus Snape is little more than a gender-swapped Hecate Hardbroom. Using the same basis as another book series isn’t really an issue, as considerable creativity can be found in taking something familiar and putting a new spin on it, taking it in a different direction, but lifting three of the characters, mildly reworking two of them, and making only surface changes to the third, certainly is. To be blunt, Rowling cheaped out, stole from The Worst Witch series to save herself effort, and the Potter series suffers as a result.

To be fair, the highlighted characters do evolve somewhat, veer away from the Worst Witch ones eventually, but that leads me into the two other aspects I want to cover, two linked assertions about the Potter books – that they grew with their audience, and that they were fully planned out all along – that I believe to be entirely false. The first big piece of evidence for this is The Goblet of Fire, a book that is exponentially longer than the three before it, a jump in scope so vast I well recall the startled, confused, questioning reactions at the time of its publication. This is not growing with the readers, it’s not a steady, planned evolution, it’s a jarringly huge leap from simple magical adventures to something much, much more involved.

A common trait of fantasy trilogies is the books getting bigger, volume two longer than volume one, and volume three even longer still. The reason for this is pretty simple: once you’ve published volume one it’s set in stone, so when writing volume two, and trying to evolve the world and the plot and the characters, you’re having to work around a great deal of unchangeable material, meaning more effort, more words, and more pages; this goes double for volume three. In longer series, you could end up like George R R Martin, taking years on end to write a volume of Game of Thrones because you’re dealing with so much accumulated baggage.

In my opinion, J K Rowling had no Big Plan for the Potter books at first, just a simple series of magical adventures with the light connective tissue of a Big Villain puppeteering the antagonists Harry had to deal with in each book, not to appear themselves until the last installment. You can see the bones of that still in the published books, each one having a core, standalone, in two cases mostly reused, concept – a magical tournament, a despicable substitute headteacher that has to be resisted and overthrown, a mysterious book of sinister authorship, powerful artefacts that must be kept from evil hands. When the books became such huge successes, and the inevitable fan speculation about Big Plans and Grand Mythologies built up, Rowling either decided she had no choice but to try and deliver, for the sake of her pride if nothing else, or just wanted to milk the fervour for all it was worth. Possibly both. The result was the tome that is Goblet of Fire, having to do huge amounts of heavy lifting to repurpose the series, to turn it into something much, much bigger, the fantasy trilogy situation taken to an extreme.

To again be fair to Rowling, she mostly does a solid job of this change, The Goblet of Fire and The Order of the Phoenix pretty successfully reworking their concepts to build and further the grander scope and more involved overall story. The Half-Blood Prince, on the other hand, doesn’t. At all. It’s mostly padding, filler, little of plot or character substance happening in it. The film version completely excises the very long and involved subplot of Hermione freeing the house elves, and still feels like padding. This book is proof, for me, that Rowling didn’t originally intend for there to be seven books, one for each school year; it reworks the McGuffin of The Chamber of Secrets, that mysterious book of sinister origins, and trundles along achieving little of anything until the very end, simply to make up the numbers.

There’s also evidence outside the books. For one, Rowling’s regrets, about killing off certain characters, or pairing certain characters when other couplings would have been better. Every storyteller has regrets about finished work, a list of things they’d change or do differently, but Rowling’s seem so reactive, generated in response to fan opinions and critical discourse rather than born of her own feelings and thoughts. Reactive is actually a very good word for her, always chasing things, trying to keep up, and in the process creating problems for herself. Witness the time she noted to a fan at a book signing that she thought of Dumbledore as gay. There’s not a trace of that in the books, but people loved the idea anyway, and she gained kudos from it, but crucially has never followed through on it, even when given a golden opportunity in the second Fantastic Beasts movie, which she scripted herself. As has since become painfully clear, she’s far too much of a bigot to ever want to, and has thus made, through what’s hard not to read as opportunism, a pretty sizeable rod for her own back.

Speaking of the second Fantastic Beasts movie, it’s further proof of how little planning she actually does, as it’s entirely padding, a patience-destroying exercise in stalling that achieves nothing whatsoever. True, the studio, ever keen on milking a good franchise, has to take some of the blame, but Rowling’s ever harder struggle to grow the world of Potter is a big part, too. Much has been made of her attention to detail, of the effort she puts in with the background stuff, as best encapsulated by the website Pottermore, but how much of that detail is actually pertinent? How much of it is truly relevant, truly enriches the stories and world, and how much is just, well, padding? Take the famous family trees. She’s, I believe, made one for each of the main characters, but only that of the Black family features in the stories, and then only briefly. It affects very little. Yes, a good storyteller sweats details, but they have to be the right details, ones that enrich the experience, not weigh it down.

I reiterate that Rowling is reactive, and that’s because she’s trying to maintain a lie, the lie that the Potter books were planned all along, rather than a simple series of five books that ballooned into a far more complicated one of seven, and inevitably, the lie keeps on growing. It’s getting seriously unwieldy, now, with all the after-the-fact shoring up of the mythology, and the signal failure to expand things where they actually matter most, in the stories, the films made since, and sooner or later, it will come crashing down. Given how toxic a figure she’s become in the last year or so, how toxic a figure J K Rowling has made herself into, quite possibly sooner.

More Underrated Movies

The Blue Lagoon – I’m not going to deny the film has issues: the body-doubling for Brooke Shields is so comically poor it does jar you out a bit every time it happens, and the sexual awakening element isn’t handled that well, and I’d even go as far as to say the film would be better without it. Look past them, however, and you’ll find a movie truly like no other, dreamlike, lyrical, charming, even beautiful at times, and well worth losing yourself in for a little while. A flawed gem.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – This was largely dismissed as a trite Hollywoodisation of Douglas Adams’ beloved radio series, TV series and book, but those doing so were missing a pretty big and really important point: Adams did the ‘Hollywoodisation’ himself. He treated each new medium HHGTTG was adapted into as a chance to try telling the story in a different way; with the movie, he framed the story in a more traditional fashion for the medium. If that grates, you’re never going to like it, but if you’re willing to open your mind you’ll find a blockbuster romp with Adam’s impish, imaginative, satirical style infused in its DNA, a pitch-perfect cast, from Sam Rockwell’s effervescent Zaphod to Bill Bailey’s whimsy as the tragicomically short-lived whale, and brilliant direction from Garth Jennings, the reveal of the planet-building facility a particular highlight. A genuinely fantastic movie that deserves a whole lot more love.

Sing! – Another underrated Garth Jennings movie – he’s a sorely underrated director and writer, for me – and the reason here is simple: it’s from Illumination. Every other Illumination film is an exercise in mediocrity, in pandering to demographics, from the hollow Despicable Me franchise to the painful Minions to their lifeless Seuss adaptations, so it’s little surprise that a genuinely good movie from them would be overlooked. Sing! is a genuinely good movie, visually superb, really well directed, handling its engaging ensemble with aplomb, filled with great music, and possessed of no small measure of spirit, heart and even soul. It’s a thoroughly enjoyable film, with a refreshing paucity of cheap humour, and that builds to a rousing finale. The best bit? The sequel looks like it’ll be even better.

The Tale of Despereaux – My recollection is of one big critical shrug toward this film, which confused me at the time, and still confuses me now, as it’s delightful. Winning characters – Dustin Hoffman’s soulfully genteel rat Roscuro the stand-out – populate a gorgeous storybook, fairytale world, and the way the three main threads twine together is superb, and really satisfying in its outcome. A warm, understated, utterly charming antidote to the noise and crudity of most other CG animated films.

The importance of: Tone

This is the first of a planned trilogy of blogs exploring three elements of storytelling I consider especially important. Each blog will feature examples of the focus element used badly, examples of it used well, will examine how a problematic movie scene can be improved using it, and how it factors into the creation of an original scene. The first element is tone.

Defining It

Tone is the mood and the atmosphere, how the overall story, and its component scenes, feel, and is important for giving your story texture and personality, and giving your audience a clear idea of what they’re in for. Characters and settings are the strongest influences on it, though such subtle things as weather conditions can also help create it. I’ve referenced it repeatedly in prior blogs, mostly film reviews, and it’s from those many of these examples will be drawn.

Doing it Wrong

The first example of it done wrong is Man of Steel. It honestly seems like neither the director, Zack Snyder, or the writer, David S Goyer – who I’m tempted to write a blog on, so let me know if you’re interested in that – really understand tone, as the film botches it at pretty much every turn. It’s trying to mimic the mood of The Dark Knight, but through flat characters, stupidly overblown action and one mishandled scene after another never even gets close. In my Rebound Effect blog I described MoS as tone-deaf, and probably the best illustration of that is Clark saving a busload of his fellow schoolchildren, then Pa Kent questioning whether he should have done it, as it could have given away that Clark has powers. The core idea is good, and a familiar one for Superman, but the execution is terrible; the rescuees being children, classmates of Clark’s, turns what should have been an emotional scene exploring an interesting moral dilemma into an awkward mess that just makes Pa Kent seem callous. It’s trying to be serious, but just ends up silly.

Super 8 is a film caught between two conflicting tones. One the one hand there’s the nostalgic, 80s-adventure-film feel, on the other a modern, hard-edged, horror-action mood, and the film’s inability to reconcile the two leads to a serious and persistent discordancy. As with MoS, a big reason is poor characterisation, not least of the alien, as noted in my Overrated Movies blog. Another one is that director JJ Abrams can capture the look of something, but really struggles with the feel of it, as illustrated by his Star Trek and Star Wars films. In Super 8‘s case, he overplays the horror-action, and misjudges the lighter, boys-own-adventure stuff, as best demonstrated by the projectile vomiting and an entirely gratuitous f-bomb. More restraint was definitely needed.

Speaking of restraint, a complete lack of it ruins Legends of Tomorrow‘s attempt at a broad tonal range. The moments of deep darkness and graphic violence and gore are so diametrically opposed to the generally goofy tone of the show they jar horribly. It’s just too extreme a shift, with little to no middle ground, and I doubt even the strongest, deepest characters could make it work, let alone the somewhat two-dimensional ones here. The only show I can think of that even comes close to pulling it off is Beastars, and the one time it falters is when it gets graphic.

Doing it Right

Examples of tone done right are the films of James Cameron. There’s the odd misstep – he’s seemingly incapable of getting sex or romantic scenes right – but when it comes to tonal shifts, you’d struggle to find better than how he transitions from quiet tension to explosive action in the two Terminator films. In the first, there’s the nightclub sequence; when the T800 and Kyle Reese arrive at the nightclub housing Sarah Connor, the film drops into slow-motion, serving both to set out with great clarity the geography of the scene, but also give viewers a chance to prepare for what’s to come; you know things are about to kick off. The same trick is used just as effectively in the second film when John Connor bursts into a corridor to find the T800 advancing from one direction, and the T1000 from the other. That lingering beat of a pause, an opportunity to adjust, makes all the difference.

In terms of tonal balance, there’s The Abyss, the director’s cut of which does a quite fantastic job of balancing tense, paranoid thriller with exploration and discovery that’s by turns mysterious, whimsical and wondrous. The key is in two characters: on the one hand, there’s SEAL team leader Coffey, a Michael Biehn masterclass in slow-burn, barely tamped-down psychosis, and on the other, Dr Lindsey Brigman, a driven, intelligent, highly inquisitive, open-minded, and at times even childlike individual beautifully realised by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. They personify the two tones, anchor them, and provide the basis for much of the film’s conflict, ably supported by the rest of the cast, and Cameron’s restraint and focused, fluid, naturalistic direction. Does it go too far at the climax? Possibly, but it certainly delivers the cathartic release needed after all that’s gone on.

For a good example of broad tonal range, it pretty much has to be She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. As detailed in my Reviewing Netflix Animated Series blog, this show manages to run a real gamut, from funny, to heartfelt, to kinetic, to scary, to intense, to moving, to joyful. The phenomenal characters are a huge part of it, but so is that word I’ve used a few times, now: restraint. The darker aspects work because they’re underplayed, understated, expressed through the characters rather than graphically depicted, and thus stay in perfect balance with everything else. Equally, it never becomes saccharine or too goofy, its lightness of touch and deft transitions an object lesson to other shows. This series knows its limits.

Scene Change

Star Trek Into Darkness is a film with no shortage of issues, tonal blips among them. My focus here is a moment featuring James T Kirk (Chris Pine) and Carol Marcus (Alice Eve). It starts as a walk and talk in a corridor, then they enter a shuttlecraft, and there Marcus instructs Kirk to turn around, and starts undressing as the camera pans from her. Kirk doesn’t keep looking away for long at all, though, and that prompts a lingering shot of Marcus in just her underwear, before, after being prompted twice more, Kirk turns finally turns his back again, and the scene ends. It is unquestionably gratuitous, and in tonal terms the problem is that we go from focused urgency to juvenile voyeurism with zero justification.

The challenge here is to keep the scene as is, with the undressing, but ensure it isn’t gratuitous, and the tonal aspect of that is as simple as altering Kirk’s behaviour. If he quits being a schoolboy leaning through the door of the girls’ changing room, and instead stays not just a Starfleet officer but a Captain, and respects her request, that immediately improves things. Stay on him as the conversation continues, keeping the focused urgency, and only pan back to Marcus when she’s fully changed. Or, have Marcus tell Kirk she needs to change, and why, and suggest he turn around if that makes him uncomfortable; it doesnt, so he doesn’t, and remains respectful and focused on their continuing conversation throughout; in this version the changing of clothes can be on camera, but not the focus, just one matter-of-fact part of the scene. Keeping the tone more consistent is key.

Scene Setting

Since all the examples used are from movies and TV, it only makes sense the original scene should be created as one, too. It’ll start in a small bar on the waterfront of a coastal town, where two people – we’ll call them Kate and Alex – are sharing drinks. They thought it would be a good, neutral place to meet and start to explore the connection they both feel, but that’s not how it turned out. It’s active and noisy, exacerbating their underlying anxiety, neither able to settle, and conversation only sporadic.

Obviously, the bustling setting helps greatly with the tone, but it’s important not to overplay it, not to make it too noisy and active. Peaks and dips in the surrounding conversations, louder moments and quieter ones, make the most sense, and the same for people passing by their table. Their postures will change in response, tense in the noisier moments, more relaxed in the quieter ones, their burgeoning connection subtly showing. Lighting should be somewhat stark, and mobile to match all the activity, with sporadic flashes of colour whenever a nearby slot machine is played. Camerawork will also be a factor, but again it’s important not to overdo it; handheld shots with a trace of restlessness to them, shifting only slightly, would work best, and they should focus almost entirely on Kate and Alex’s table in mid and close shots.

This part of the scene will be short, as once her drink is done Kate will decide she needs to step outside for a while. She tells Alex she intends to head to a private little spot she knows to skinny dip, an activity that always helps her relax, and invites them to come along; Alex tells Kate they’ll think about it while they finish their drink. Dropping the background sound to near-nothing not only puts focus on this exchange, but helps underscore a particularly strong moment of connection. A wider shot of most of the bar can capture both Kate leaving, and Alex watching her thoughtfully.

Outside, we follow Kate along the waterfront at the beginnings of dusk, out of the town, and down a coastal path in a series of shots, some handheld, some tracking, some fixed. The further she gets from the bar the quieter the soundtrack becomes, the more settled and natural the lighting, and the calmer the camerawork, in a slow, smooth transition, until once she reaches a fairly extensive swathe of lightly grassy dunes all that can be heard are the soft ambient sounds of the water, the wind and the odd bit of wildlife. Quiet music, a piano piece perhaps, can be used here, but isn’t required. The shift in the surroundings, from the bustle of town to the peaceful dunes, will certainly help, too. Her posture and body-language will also change, the tension steadily ebbing from her frame and expression.

Tucked away in the dunes is a sheltered little semi-circle of sand lapped by gentle wavelets, and it’s here Kate stops walking. She looks around for a moment, then calmly takes off her clothes and sets them aside, before standing facing the water with her arms at her sides and her eyes closed; she draws some slow, steady breaths, and the last of the tension visibly drains from her. The tone at this point needs to be peaceful and relaxed, reflecting the inner calm the act of skinny dipping provides for Kate, so ravishing her form with the camera ala Michael Bay or a soft porn film is definitely out. Being coy or censorious about it also won’t work; shots of just her head and shoulders, or legs from the knee down, or back above the hips, are too limiting, and could lend a contextually inappropriate touch of the illicit to what she’s doing; using the scenery to cover her chest, rear and groin would do the same, and at worst could actually objectify or sexualise by drawing attention to what you’re not allowed to see.

To maintain the peaceful tone, film her as if she were dressed, and keep things simple. A couple of static shots, one from the rear, framing her between the flanks of the dunes, one from the side with her on the left and the water on the right, would work for the moment she’s standing; a tempting addition is a front mid-shot from the waist-up with her again on the left, and a tiny hint of the town far in the distance on the right, above and beyond the dunes, her head turning and/or tilting towards it for a second, then shaking lightly before she opens her eyes and starts walking toward the water.

Follow or track her handheld into the water, and once she’s swimming, she can be filmed in many ways – from above, from below, camera pivoting to follow as she passes by at various distances, following, pacing, preceding, distant, mid, close – as long as it’s all naturalistic, like the films of Celine Sciamma or the swimming scenes from The Blue Lagoon (a candidate for a second Underrated Movies blog). it can last a little while, too, but not too long, and should end when she surfaces, looks back at where she came from, and sees Alex standing there watching her.

A touch of tension could be achieved by stilling the camera completely, and holding a near-silent shot from fairly close behind Kate’s head, with her to the left and Alex to the right. Then a close-up of Kate’s face as her expression turns decisive, then back to the shot behind her as she starts swimming for shore. Next shot is pacing her as she walks out of the water, widening as she halts in the shallows to bring in Alex, then holding, or possibly pushing in very slowly, as she offers a hand to them, again in near-silence. Then Alex smiles, quickly disrobes, walks forward to take Kate’s hand, and the camera comes to life, turning and moving toward the pair as they enter the water.

A few shots of them swimming together, filmed with a bit more energy and movement than before, and the return of the piano, with a touch more spirit than before, though still quite understated, would work well. The faintest hint of romance in shared looks, and touches, but no more; this is a big step in their relationship, but still only a step; there’s a long way to go, yet. Final shot of the duo lying together on the flank of a dune to dry, resting close, an arm loosely around each other, smiling and perfectly at ease as they both watch the last colours of the sunset and the stars starting to sweep the sky. Fade out.

Jigsaw Review

Brand: Puzzelman

Title: Gouda Sint-Janskerk (Willem van Oranje)

Piece Count: 1000

Price New: No longer available

I Paid: £0.99 for a second-hand one from a charity shop

Box: Pretty solid, decent design, but possibly a little too compact given the chunky pieces.

Image: An unusual one, of a portion of a stained-glass window depicting William of Orange, which with its strong colours and clear delineations would normally make for a good puzzle. In this instance, however, it’s entirely wasted.

Pieces: Very thick, at least as thick as Gibsons and possibly a little thicker, with a snug fit. Fairly sturdy, but not enough so to entirely avoid damage when separating stuck together ones, which you’ll be doing a lot. Don’t feel very nice to handle, especially on the coarse, rather gritty underside, and even second-hand are shedding puzzle dust. Modest shape variety, on par with Blatz/Schmidt Spiele, but so uniformly grid-cut it’s far too easy to put pieces in the wrong place. By far the worst aspect, though, is the picture quality, which is so dire – just blurry, slightly pixelated vagueness, as of a photo that’s been blown up far beyond its natural resolution – I actually gave up for fear of straining my eyes.

Overall: There are a couple of good aspects, and several less-than good ones, but this puzzle is rendered pretty much unbuildable by the horrid image quality. It’s notable there’s no manufacturer details on the box, just the brand name, a brand name you should be very sure to avoid. One of the worst puzzles I’ve ever encountered.

Rating: 3/10