Black Panther (2018)

“It's hard for a good man to be king."

This is a hard film to review objectively. It's clearly a significant cultural artifact, far more so than a normal MCU film, and has connected with the African diaspora worldwide for its Afro-Futurism, a big part of a cultural movement that includes works such as Janelle Monae's ArchAndroid, and which constitutes a positive look at the potential of African achievement in spite of a background of colonialism and the Atlantic slave trade.

The central conceit of the character of T'Challa has been, of course, for 52 years, that he's the king of a fictional African nation- Wakanda- that secretly defies all African stereotypes to be the most technologically and socially advanced nation on Earth. It's an African paradise, yet the cause of a central debate between the traditional view of the late T'Chaka- Wakanda is for the Wakandans, not for all Africa or the world, and it must be protected; and the view-,expounded with militancy by Erik Killmonger, that Wakanda must share its bounty with the world. This is an interesting central dilemma, but one fundamentally divorced from real world concerns. And, while it's good to see a positive portrayal of Africa and Africans, it's also a little disturbing to see Wakanda presented as a mish-mash of various West African, East African and South African cultures, not all of them Bantu, as though they were the same- and they are not; sub-Saharan Africa is huge and impossibly diverse. I'm not sure that the message that African cultures are pretty much the same is fundamentally a positive one, whatever the merits of the film's upbeat message. Is it only white and Asian people who are allowed to have distinctly different ethnic identities?

Still, the film works as entertainment in the traditional Marvel mould, and Chadwick Boseman's lack of charisma is well compensated for by an awesome and largely female cast. Ryan Coogler has made a film that looks superb in every way, with nothing in the visuals that I can fault. But, much though I enjoyed the film, with its black female Q, its James Bond pastiche antics and the big final battle with war rhinos(!), the film is merely good, not great.

Fantastic Stan Lee cameo, mind, though obviously bittersweet...

Scrooge (1951)

"Humbug!"

Mrs Llamastrangler suggested that, as Gremlins counts as a Christmas film only on a technicality, I ought to do one (interpret that how you will) before the Chrimbo Limbo concludes. I think she had Jack Frost in mind, but heigh-ho...

Anyway, this is bloody good. Alastair Sim proves that actors associated with comedy can be truly arresting at straight drama- although his comic side is of course very much on display at the end..The entire cast is magnificent, though.

While bits are expanded from Dickens’ original novella, chiefly concerning how Scrooge got his wealth, this is a faithful adaptation, on the whole. The film deserves top marks, in particular, for taking care to include Dickens’ social commentary; the unreformed Scrooge refuses to forgive a debt, potentially forcing his unfortunate debtor to spend Christmas in a debtor’s prison, and announces that prisons and the Poor Law, cruel though they are, are a suitable response to poverty. Also it’s clear, in what we see of Scrooge’s past, that his hardness is a response to a perceived hardening of the world from the ore-factory age, when money wasn’t everything, to now (1843-ish?) where money is progress and traditional considerations for the less fortunate have fallen by the wayside. It’s very much about the problems of industrialisation, but it has much to say to That her’s children in this new age of austerity. And it’s heartening to see Christmas being set against all this, rather than as another commercial pressure.

It’s all full of Dickensisms, of course, from those inimitable character names to the poor working class family that inexplicably speaks RP, but that’s all part of the fun. This is the finest adaptation of A Christmas Carol that I’ve seen, very much including those with Muppets in...!

Sherlock Holmes and the Deadly Necklace (1962)

"I have only one ambition at the moment: to see you hanged."

Christopher Lee playing Sherlock Holmes; sounds fantastic, doesn't it? Thorley Walters as Watson? Terence Fisher directing? Why, that sounds amazing, right?  What could possibly go wrong?

What we have here is essentially The Valley of Fear with a bit of Moriarty stuff and a heist tacked on the end. It's an odd approach but it could have worked. Thing is, though, this was filmed in West Berlin with a German cast, and dubbed back into English so we don't even get Lee's voice. We see him playing Holmes... but we don't really experience it. It's so frustrating.

Worse, all the dubbing is awful, with ridiculous trans-Atlantic accents; the first thing we hear is a bunch of very American-sounding kids. And then there's the setting, and especially the cars- this seems to be set in about 1914 when the novel was written, whereas in fact Holmes was pretty much active (barring the very specific circumstances of The Lion's Mane and His Last Bow) from the early 1880s until about 1903. The cars feel wrong and jarring.

Lee's physical performance is ok, from what I can see; Walters is, I'm afraid, the bumbling type of Watson. The plot is engaging enough, but the whole thing is shot very flat and often feels am-dram with much of the acting. But the dubbing, in the end, makes it impossible to take the film seriously. You thought Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent was bad? Wait until you see Holmes in disguise here...

A real shame.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

"I've got a bad feeling about..."

"Quiet!"

"What...?"

I really am a long way behind on the Star Wars films considering I claim to be a fan. This is actually the most recent I’ve seen and I only saw it last night; I really need to get a move on, especially as this is really quite superb.

Part of what makes this film so good is a combination of a fast, action-filled plot that never feels slow; this is a fast-paced action film in the Star Wars universe. But there’s something else, too; all the “main” Star Wars films up to this point, good and bad, and including the prequels that I will blog one day, may have been full of droids and starships but we’re essentially stories told within the fairytale mode. This is not.

Hence we have characters, with arcs, but they are secondary to the plot, and there’s a constant mood of grittiness and a focus on just enough downbeat realism. This is the Star Wars universe, and the theft of the Death Star plans is pretty damn pivotal, but these people lead hard lives based in the reality of resistance to tyranny, not myth. So Jyn- a very different part for Felicity Jones after playing Jane Hawking in The Theory of Everything- has had a harsh life, and her character arc is to reconcile with her father, who had once seemed a traitor, and lose her apolitical cynicism to risk everything in getting the Death Star plans to the Rebel Alliance. Wonderfully, the blatant weakness in the Death Star which allows one hit to destroy it is a deliberate piece of sabotage by her father Galen. But there’s never much hope; idealistic, good people can be heroes without being fairy tale heroes.

Take Cassian; a hero of the rebellion, certainly, but one characterised by the kinds of difficult moral choices that always define resistance against tyranny in a world that is real, not fairytale. When we first meet him he shouts a man in cold blood for the greater good. His mission to kill Galen is secret and cynical, although in the end he doesn’t shoot. And his big speech, where he agrees to join Jyn in her mission, is about how he and his mates have done terrible things, but all in the name of the empire.

We also have K-2SO, the Marvin the Paranoid Android of Star Wars, voices admirably by Alan Tudyk; the blind warrior monk Chirrut, a standout performance by Arizona Ahmed as Bodhi, and a few other heroes who undertake a deeply entertaining, exciting and doomed mission. This isn’t a fairytale and no one is getting out alive. A brilliant film.

Except... well, the CGI resurrection of the late Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin just looks weird, and is a troubling can of worms to open. And the CGI restoration of Carrie Fisher just looks wrong. But these troubling aspects can’t take away from the fact that Nuneaton’s own Gareth Edwards has given us something very special. The codder done good.

The Gifted- Season 1, Episode 4: eXit strategy

"Call me Polaris. You're sending me to Hell; I think it's the least you can do."

So this introductory arc is over as this episode sees the springing and ultimate freedom of both Reed and Lorna as they are transferred to what we’re told is a helkush ultra-secure prison for mutants; I’m sure we will be seeing this place later but for now the good guys have won. For now. Now they can spend some time interacting with each other, the Mutant Underground and the Struckers together.

We get an interesting and charged chat between aliens and Reds while they’re in separate cells, reminding us that he has done reprehensible things and ruined a lot of lives, coming to an epiphany only when his own children were affected. This reminds us to pause before considering him a hero since his conversion. He has a lot to atone for; families torn apart and children separated from their parents forever, for no reason. His actions are as evil as those of Trump.

Last episode was about moral compromises; this time Marcos gets his turn as he finds out what is needed for the rescue by visiting his ex, Carmen, who proves to be the head of a drugs smuggling gang- and agrees to do morally dodgy stuff for her. Yet another character, in a world full of terrible moral dilemmas as happens under tyranny, dips his hands in the blood. Caitlin also learns that she has to let her children take some risks, and to be fair she is pretty badass herself.

We also have troubling scenes of Clarice dealing with the emotional after effects of her newly planted false intimate memories with John, but most of the episode consists of the rescue, with plenty of rather gripping action- not least due to the presence, on the Sentinel side, of Pulse, whose powers can among other things disrupt mutant powers. It’s an exciting and entertaining episode, but the end of an arc. So what next...?

The Gifted- Season 1, Episode 3: eXodus

“And you can shove that deal up your ass!”

I know it’s been a while since I blogged the first two episodes of this season; suffice to say this is me finishing it, and see the Marvel index for the previous two blog posts.

Anyway, where were we? We have the Struckers, a family thrown out of complacency by the revelation that their children are mutants in an America that’s very Days of Future Past, except with much cheaper Sentinels and obvious contemporary resonances in Trump’s land of the not-so-free- much of the harshness of the US law and justice system is from real life, and it’s not hard to see the allegories  in a real world America where the tiny children of othered immigrants are inhumanly ripped from their parents. The mutant underground is even likened to the Underground Railroad of slavery days by dialogue.

There are Marvel resonances- I know Polaris and Thunderbird from the comics but none of the other mutants, and the Strucker name is of course quite resonant, significantly or not- but for now we have the mutant underground, desperate and reactive, and the X-Men seem to exist but are nowhere to be seen. Other mutants include Eclipse, Dreamer and the powerful butcrecently awakened Clarice, who can make portals. Interestingly, we are told that mutant abilities first assert themselves during adolescence when the person is highly upset, and it takes a while to control them.

This episode is about the trade-offs and compromises of living under tyranny, resonant of a Milan Kundera novel; Lorna refuses to compromise, not betraying her friends at the cost of harsher treatment for herself. Her bid to escape, using her powers to destroy the door in spite of the extreme pain, is tragic, especially as an early flashback shows her to be rather lovely. Reed at first agrees to betray his family but changes his mind when he sees the moral consequences. Caitlin learns a harsh lesson that she cannot use the law in her favour, as even her own brother refuses to give any real help in order to protect his own immediate family.

But Dreamer makes a big moral compromise, controlling Clarice’s mind by implanting a false memory so she can produce a portal and save the day, the only compromised decision all episode. I’m sure there will be consequences.

This is all good so far, if dark, although leavening all this darkness with the odd bit of humour would be good.

Legion: Chapter 8

"Are you threatening the entire human race? Do I have that right?"

This season finale feels different, perhaps; relatively functional by the standards of Legion and unfamiliarly neat in how it ties up everything it wishes to tie up in a satisfactory but unexpected manner. Oh, there’s some directorial weirdness, but the whole thing feels almost linear. Heaven forbid.

It’s interesting, then, that the first few minutes are given over to the disfigured baddie who appeared at the cliffhanger- Clark- and takes time to establish how his painful disfigurement has affected his life and relationships, all of which is far more interesting and important than the casual and predictable resolution of the cliffhanger. He isn’t a threat, or so least not now. But, as dialogue later establishes, he represents the institutions and governments of homo sapiens, a seriously long term threat if mutants don’t succeed in getting along with those who fear and probably want to exterminate them. But that’s for the long term.

The episode is mainly about expelling the Shadow King from David, and how this is only possible because of Syd’s love. It’s about reconciliation, such as between Kerry and Cary. And it’s about the possibility of healing old wounds- Oliver may not remember Melanie, but he’s happy to agree to a date.

David gets an interesting few lines to Syd; he’s self-conscious enough to accept the possibility that, although his powers may be real, he can’t be sure that he doesn’t have schizophrenia. And he’s so tired of talking to various shrinks that he’s absolutely sick and tired of talking about himself; he wants all this to not be about him.

The ending is neat and satisfying, except where it chooses not to be; David is free of the Shadow King but it has moved on to Oliver, and then there’s the sequence after the main credits. It’s been a very different but extraordinary series, one with understandably limited appeal but one to which I shall return for the next season, late as I am. First, though, there’s some other unfinished business...

Gremlins (1984)

“Now I have another reason to hate Christmas!"

I’m 41 and I’d never seen this film until now. Yes, I know. And, er, I still haven’t seen The Goonies, which Mrs Llamastrangler tightly rebuked me for last night. Sometimes I’m not a very good ‘80s kid.

At least I’ve seen it now, though, and obviously it’s awesome. The Mogwai and Gremins look ok and are delightfully animatronic and stop motion, the script is fun and the cast (made up almost entirely of character actors rather than stars) is rather good. I do rather wish Spielberg hadn’t used his name to promote films he didn’t direct, but this at least feels like his “brand”. It’s a fun little tale and passes quickly and enjoyably, although for me what really lingers in the mind is poor Kate’s horrible childhood Christmas tragedy. Because this films is a classic Christmas movie, just like Die Hard.

Mind you, this whole thing of “wise old stereotypical Chinaman in his little shop with his vague Eastern Wisdom” would probably raise more eyebrows today than it did in 1984. The whole casual attitude towards getting a pet for Christmas is also perhaps a little dodgy. Drink driving is treated as a little joke. And yes, things do get a bit silly towards the end, with the Gremins smoking and drinking and enjoying Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. But the film is fun enough and plays things real enough to get away with it.

What’s really weird, though, is this is 1985, my childhood, and that can be eerie st times. The kid Pete looks and dresses much like I did, and everything was “neat”- never cool. This film, then, is very, very neat.

Batman & Robin (1997)

"This is why Superman works alone!”

Oh dear. What an absolutely terrible film. Incoherent, full of meaningless bangs and explosions, and with ridiculous overacting from Schwarzenegger and Thurman in particular, and a bafflingly miscast George Clooney who plays Batman as a generic superhero of the sort you simply can’t imagine beating up criminals for information like he used to when he was Michael Keaton.

Indeed, Clooney seems to be channelling Adam West as a goody-goody Batman but with absolutely none of the camp humour that was the whole point. And, after largely ditching Tim Burton’s moody darkness reflective of the ‘80s comics, this film drops it entirely. We may have the same Alfred and the same Jim Gordon, but this is otherwise unrecognisable from those distant-seeming Tim Burton days.

The whole thing is just cartoonish and silly. Arnie hams it up as Mr Freeze (always a rubbish villain) from the start, and those constant terrible puns completely erase any possible pathos that could potentially be supplied by his motivation to cure his wife. But even worse is the appallingly silly performance from Thurman, an otherwise talented actress, who completely sends up the character of Poison Ivy, although of course the script does that anyway. Bane is wasted as a generic henchman and Jason Woodrow just gets to be a generic mad scientist to twirl his moustache for a bit and get killed. The whole movie is a tick box exercise of featuring various characters for the sake of it and just wasting them.

Perhaps the worst case of this is Barbara Gordon, although for some reason here she’s Alfred’s niece instead of Jim’s daughter- she unexpectedly turns up from England without telling anyone, for some reason wearing her school uniform, and claims to be English although Alicia Silverstone isn’t bothering with the accent. And then plot convenience let’s her discover the Batcave and a costume that Alfred made for her on the off-chance(!), and she duffs up Poison Ivy in spite of having no apparent combat experience or athletic prowess. This is all just very silly.

And I haven’t even mentioned THOSE nipples, and the scenes with Batman and Robin bidding in the millions for Poison Ivy. Can we just end the franchise now? Oh.

Legion: Chapter 7

"On the chest of a barmaid in Sale
Were tattooed all the prices of ale
And on her behind
For the sake of the blind
Was the same information in Braille"

This episode is, of course, hardly linear; there’s an extended silent movie sequence, complete with intertitors and to the sounds of Ravel, in which Lenny tries to kill our heroes; there’s a scene in which David is spoken to by his “rational mind” who is, in a fourth wall-breaking nor to Dan Stevens’ origins, British. Yes, incredibly, we get the exchange “What, you’re British” / “Well, as I said, I’m your rational mind”, and this in a TV programme made after June 2016 when we Brits lost any such claim.

Anyway, after a surreal start, the mental home illusion of last episode is shattered and everyone (although Ptonomy is oddly silent all episode) more or less understands the situation- they are in the astral plane because of the Shadow King (we hear the name from Cary, as well as the name Amal Farouk, but no context yet), suspended in time just before they’re about to be shot. There’s a lovely scene where Cary innocently tries to mansplain all this to Syd but she pre-emotes him, confirming she’s worked it all out because “I’ve been paying attention.”

We also have the still-quite-surreal Oliver finally interacting with everyone- including, tragically, Melanie, whom he no longer recognises. Her resultant distress is not overdone, and all the more effective for it.

David, with help from his rational self, works out that his birth father must have been a powerful psychic mutant who defeated the Shadow King and quickly had David adopted to protect him, but the weakened Shadow King still managed to infect him as a parasite, blighting his whole life and drawing strength from David’s power; at last we begin to get a straightforward explanation as to what has been going on, albeit with gloriously creative visuals based on animated blackboard stick figures.

David ultimately saves the day in the real world, diverting the bullets and seemingly with everyone (including Amy and Oliver) sage- although didn’t Lenny/the Shadow King briefly do something to Oliver?

All this is shattered, though, as the real world baddies arrive and prepare to take David alive- and everyone else dead. And we end with an echo of last episode, with the Shadow King inside that coffin. But there’s a gap...

Legion: Chapter 6

“Deja vu, but not?"

Legion is already pretty damn experimental and avant-garde for prime time network telly, but this is a specifically experimental and avant-grade episode. Gulp.

The whole thing is set during a frozen moment in time as the bullet hurtles towards David and co. David, Sid, both Loudermilks and Ptonomy are in a mental home run by Lenny; it’s uncertain whether this is a shared dream reality or just David’s, but the set-up gives a good opportunity to give a bit of character background for everyone before the focus turns to Syd and David. Incidentally, Ptonomy mentions that his mother died while loading the dishwasher; this is the first inkling that the series is set in a post-60s time frame.

At first it’s all played straight, albeit with Lenny coming across like a bit of a Freudian quack, until suddenly the fourth wall smashes into a million pieces as she does a music video dance routine to Nina Simone.

But there are little kinks in this reality- Sid starts to remember things and notice a kind of Schrodinger’s door that is sometimes there, sometimes not. And so things finally collapse until the point where Lenny (briefly appearing as that demonic figure that I’m sure is the Shadow King) Who is sonehow orchestrating all this for the purpose of using David’s power in some way.

We end with David, in a box, falling in the dark, and two episodes to go. This is powerful, non-linear, weird, wonderful telly.

Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965)

“An unfortunate misnomer for I am the mildest of men...”

This is the first of the Amicus portmanteau horror films from Freddie Francis and Milton Subotsky, and the pieces are already in place- a number of vignettes of varying quality, An overarching framework that looks gradually more sinister as the film progresses, a troupe of British character a tor’s including some quirky choices, and of course the ever-splendid Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

The overarching framework is that Dr “Schrek” (Nosferatu reference alert) uses Tarot cards to predict the bleak future of each of the very male occupants of a railway compartments. Yes, compartments and, indeed, a steam train; 1965 feels so very long ago sometimes. It’s an odd structure plot-wise, as each character is told their ghastly tale of what awaits them only for none of that to happen and all of them to die in a train crash, but it’s a suitably atmospheric framework and Cushing is superb.

The first vignette, a Gothic take of a werewolf in the Hebrides, is probably the weakest. But the second, where a vine takes over the world(!) features a rare acting role by none other than future Radio 1 DJ Alan Freeman. Not ‘alf, pop pickers. And we get the interesting sight of him interacting with Bernard “M” Lee as a vine threatens to kill them all.

The third tale, with Roy Castle as a jazz trumpeter, is much stronger, as musician Biff steals the time of a Voodoo god that he finds in the Caribbean, with ominous consequences. But the absolute highlight is Lee’s snobbish and conceited art critic who gets his revenge from being humiliated by an artist he dislikes by running him over so his right hand is lost, only to be pursued by the disembodied stop motion hand until, poetically, he loses his hand in a car crash. I suspect an influence on Evil Dead 2 here, but Lee’s very real performance hopes the main thing work. The silly last vignette, with a young Donald Sutherland and  a very Bram Stoker take on vampires and an interesting effect of a bar, can’t follow this but nicely rounds things off.

The vignettes are variable but the Roy Castle and Christopher Lee segments are particularly superb, and the whole thing is atmospheric, fun and entertaining in equal measure in spite of the plot holes and the variable quality of the vignettes. Worth a look.

Doctor Who: The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos

“Don’t aliens ever bother with doors?”

Sigh. That was a season finale?

It’s the moment of truth; the season has fully unfolded in all of its dubious glory and, well, aside from It Takes You Away it’s been good but hasn’t wowed me. And this episode- penned, fittingly, by Chris Chibnall himself- is the perfect illustration of why this season is often good but hardly ever more than that, and I expect more from Doctor Who.

This episode gets the usual things right, of course. Jodie Whittaker is a deeply promising Doctor in the vein of a Davison or a Tennant, in spite of being worryingly underwritten as a character who just does Doctorish things but isn’t given an inner life. Graham, Ryan and Yas are a strong TARDIS team, making a crew of four work as it did under Hartnell, and the characters are all strong- but let’s see a bit more development of Yas in particular. The show also looks awesome. It’s a good set-up.

But the problem is that Chibnall just isn’t that good a writer, either of episodes or of season arcs. I mean, this is the season finale and, yes, it pays off the death of Grace and features the return of Tim Shaw. Even the Sniperbits are back. But, well, really? That, and Graham’s predictable revenge sub-plot, is enough meat for a finale? This is thin stuff.

Then there’s the basic plot. I’ll forgive the steal from The Pirate Planet as the mood is so different, but the whole set up- the idea of the Ux as a species of two, the engineering, the faith; it all feels sonehow like the early New Adventures. Like all the Chibnall-penned stories set in space it’s grim, joyless apart from the TARDIS crew’s banter. In fact, that’s a big part of the problem; under Chibnall, Doctor Who is hard science fiction instead of the whimsical science fantasy we’vecall Known and loved for the best part of 55 years. Perhaps that’s why lastcweek’s talking frog had me grinning; Paul Cornell used to talk about frocks vs guns. Well, give me frogs over po-faced witless plodding plotting any time.

I never thought I’d be the “x must go” type of fan, but this season has me concerned about the programme in a way I haven’t ever been before, and I’ve been a card-carrying fan since Part Two of Remembrance of the Daleks. I’ll never stop enjoying Who, even if not as much as I’d like, and I’ll never stop watching it, blogging it or being as much a part of fandom as work, fatherhood and caring for my disabled wife allow. But I will say one thing.

Chibnall must go.

Fifty Shades Freed (2018)

"So why do you defy me?"

"Because I can!"

 This is only the second film I've seen that was made in 2018. Right now it seems very possible that it may ultimately end up being the worst. It's that bad. In fact, Mrs Llamastrangler has just described it to me as being akin to "a disappointing fart. I concur.

So what is so deeply disappointing about this, the third in a series of films that, it's now clear, are all pants? Well, many of the same things. Let’s face the horrors, shall we?

Christian and Ana get married in a posh ceremony and then they do that bizarre and rather rude thing where they leave the ceremony that everyone had made such an effort to attend to drive off, cold sober, to a honeymoon by montage in Paris and the French Riviera. We get a few scenes reminding us what a control freak Christian is, presumably meant at least partly to humanise him, but in fact just making him look like a controlling twat. Some arson at home by nasty old Jack draws them both home early where married life begins properly.

Christian has an extraordinarily childish reaction to the inevitable conversation about kids but, well, why on Earth did they not have this conversation before trying the knot like all sensible people do? And, frankly, I don’t care about Christian’s poorly defined mother issues- he’s a billionaire. Why is parenthood an issue where money isn’t? Then there’s that ridiculous throwing of his toys out of the pram because Ana prefers to use her maiden name professionally, as that’s how she’s already known, which seems rather sensible. He seems to think he’s entitled to expect his wife to take his surname, which is frankly a load of misogynist bollocks. Yes, Mrs Llamastrangler ended up taking my surname, but it was entirely her decision and I made it very clear that I didn’t feel entitled to any such thing and, frankly, in her position wouldn’t have done the same. For a bloke to simply expect it to happen is a bit of a warning sign.

But then he does the other thing that emotionally abusive partners do, and buys her stuff, namely a new home to her tastes. It’s good to see Ana asserting herself against the flirtatious architect, but she’s very much living a life circumscribed by Christian, with him even controlling what she hears about the danger to her from Jack. There are disturbing hints of gaslighting here, and when she deviates from his plan to guarantee her safety by- heaven forbid- having a few drinks with her best friend. This leads to a bit of a kerfuffle with Jack and, more disturbingly, with Christian having another massive sulk because Ana has the temerity to show a little bit of independence. And so what could have been a rather erotic little kinky scene of him teasing and denying her just turns outvtonbevhom throwing a strop like a complete and utter child. But then none of the sexy scenes are sexy, and none of the kink is allowed to be just kink.

Incidentally, one of the many things that ruins this awful film is the constant use of unlistenable, badly produced, horrible chart pop which, with all its autotuned awfulness,  actively subtracts atmosphere and sexiness from every scene. The only decent bit of music in the whole film is Grey playing Macca’s “Maybe I’m Amazed”, which isn’t saying much.

Anyway, Christian’s reaction when Ana tells him she’s pregnant is utterly pathetic, and the perfect reason to leave him. He reacts like a proper child, sulks and confides in Mrs Robinson; no wonder Ana is disgusted. Yes, it’s wrong to spring a pregnancy on a man without his consent, but accidents are accidents, and any woman has an absolute choice on whether to keep her baby; making her get rid if it is just as immoral as being one of those anti-abortion zealots. And none of this matters much, anyway, if money isn’t an issue- why not just have the child? Bringing up kids is fun.

So we end up with a bit of climatic action between Ana and nasty old Hack, and she ends up still trapped in what she sees as a healthy relationship with Christian, and thinking the fact he’s into BDSM (she isn’t, not really, so it’s disturbing that he’s foisting it on her, and controlling how she perceives it) means he can get away with controlling her without her informed consent. She ends the trilogy still trapped in a relationship with this controlling man-child, and that is truly tragic. Poor Ana. But far more tragic is the thought that this film may give many people the idea that BDSM makes this kind of behaviour ok.

Legion: Chapter 5

“You know, they say the brain is the largest erogenous zone.”

More glorious conceptual weirdness this week, but as ever you have to pay attention. And as ever the cinematography is glorious, visually signalling this as art telly if the script wasn’t already making that clear. It’s weird, it’s non-linear, it’s magnificent.

So last episode Cary and Kerry weren’t killed; she was just badly hurt and it affected him. They’re fine. So is David, seemingly much more confident and together after his sojourn in the astral plane, even using his new abilities to find a way for he and Syd to touch each other and make love in some genuinely lovely, if surreal, scenes in a white room that must surely be meant to evoke the video for John Lennon’s Imagine. And yet, as the couple make love, the camera pans to some strawberries being crawled over by wood lice, a canker in paradise..

There’s some discussion of Oliver; he’s Melanie’s husband, trapped in the astral plane for 21 years because, essentially, he became addicted to being a god in his own world- both a mind-blowing concept and a cautionary tale for David, as well as an explanation for Melanie’s possible partial ulterior motive for helping him.

Then things start to get scary. A hugely powerful and scary David goes on an unstoppable mission to rescue Amy, killing all his enemies without a passing thought. And this leads Cary to theorise; is he genuinely schizophrenic as well as being a mutant of the mind? And is there some kind of malign parasitic presence within his conscious, editing his memories to hide itself? This is at one a brilliant concept and, well, this series clearly isn’t much interested in Marvel continuity and characters but... it’s the Shadow King, innit?

Then we get weirdness, disturbing things with Lennie/Benny, and David not responding well to being told by Amy that he’s adopted. Stuff happens in the astral plane, and then suddenly they’re all in a mental institution. This is absolutely brilliant.

Doctor Who: It Takes You Away

“I see the sheep have moved on. Probably off plotting.”

You know how I’ve spend the whole of the season so far whingeing that yes, many episodes are good, but none of them have wowed me? Well, with one episode to go, this season has finally gone and bloody done it. Ed Himes, you can write for Doctor Who again. This is a splendid fifty minutes of television. It still doesn’t mask some underlying issues with Chibnall’s reign, though; still no arc beyond very basic character stuff, leading to a sense of drift. And, while Jodie Whittaker is excellent as ever, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that her Doctor isn’t getting any character development.

Still, bravo. Big sci-fi ideas, for a start; a sentient universe that just wants to be friends but isn’t very good for the health of reality, and the subject of a bedtime story from one of the Doctor’s seven grandmothers to boot, plus of course the whole scene with the frog. It’s also about something; Hanne’s dad is a parallel bad dad to Ryan’s father at first glance, although he’s addled by grief and sees the error of his ways. And Graham’s own grief gets played with horribly by the “resurrection” of Grace. Yet the whole thing brings Graham and Ryan together sufficiently for Ryan to call him “Grandad”, an earned and powerful moment.

All this, and the lines about the sheep. And the flesh moths. And Kevin Eldon A’s a nasty, duplicitous demon. And the whole concept of “antizones”. And so much subtext I’m sure I’ve not even noticed half of it.  I don’t know if we’ll ever see another Neil Gaiman episode, but this is pretty damn close, and just as good.

And yet... it’s a one off episode, full of one off brilliant and a Doctor Who does Doctorish things but isn’t written with any inferiority. Sometimes it’s the exceptional episodes what make you worry about where things are headed.

Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (1996)

 "Are you threatening me? My bumhole will not wait!"

 I last saw this in, well, the '90s. On a VHS videotape that was my prized possession. It’s brilliant, of course, and a style of humour (“Heh. You said ‘anus’!” that has lasted.

I suspect Mike Judge is no metalhead, and this fan of heavy guitar riffs is a bit suspicious that people like my young ‘90s self should be portrayed as such thickos. Thing is, though, it’s funny.

It’s weird seeing Beavis and Butt-Head in a whole movie, doing no less than a road trip with Bruce Willis and Demi Moore, instead of just watching the telly as is their wont. But it works, thanks to good old puerile humour done with an evil wit, and Robert Stack is superb.

It’s also very, very ‘90s, though, from the perspective of 2018- teenage Chelsea Clinton’s braces, teenagers actually watching the telly, a very ‘90s kind of youth culture-focused nostalgia for the ‘60s and ‘70s leading to that glorious Robert Crumb psychedelic bit in the New Mexico desert. One could almost say that bit was genuinely cinematic.

Well done, Mike Judge and co; cavity searches all round. The campaign for a sequel with middle-aged Beavis and Butt-Head starts here!