Loki: The Variant

 "Luckily, he believes in himself enough for both of us..."

This second episode has me fascinated. The whole concept of this limited series is suoerb. We take a variant Loki from an already-established divergent timeline and plonk him into the TVA, a concept of Walt Simonson's where everyone (just Owen Wilson here) looks just like the late Mark Gruenwald, which is so well-established here, as a 1960s office environment rather less glamorous than Mad Men.

Thus we have philosophical, timey-wimey issues of coolness. We get fascinating, abstracxt conversations between Loki and Mobius about predestination and free will. We, like Loki, are left wondering what is the bacstory behind the Time Keepersa. Even more, we non-Amewricans are left wondering about, like, what the hell is this Rennaissance Fayre insanity?

But it's all about the variant, a veraion of Loki who seems badass. And Loki's own mor=tives. What are they? Everybody's playing thirty-seven dimensional chess, and I love it.

Also, Loki is pretty damn good at paperwork!

Dad's Army (1971)

 "And I must ask you to keep your hands off my privates...".

Obviously, this film isn't ever going to be as funny as the TV programme, which I'll prpbably never blog, fuzzy thoiugh my principle of never blogging sitcoms may be. Films, being directed differently and, in this era, on film instead of video, are not directed for comic effect in the same way as a contemporary sitcom episode.

Despite this, the film is bloody funny.

A lot of this is, of course, down to all the familiar characters, well-established by 1971. The opening scenes establish this so well, as Mainwaring walks to the bank in the morning and greets the townsfolk.

It's amazing to ponder that 1971 was fifty-one years ago, and that old people at that time- such as John Laurie and Arnold Ridley- would have been born in the century of Victoria. The cast is superb, as much as the script, as ever with Dad's Army, is the best kind of farce, entirely based on well-developed character.

Yet this is, too, a fascinating historical document, chronicling the events of 1940 through ordinary people. And the ending- where Mainwaring is a genuine, bona fide hero- is both superb and something we'd never see on telly. Mainwaring may be a pompous ass, but he's no coward and, indeed, as brave as any western hero. Such is the complexity of life.

I love the constant comical friction with Bernard Archard's general. I love that this is a rather well done origin story. I love the whole bloody thing. Cinematic versions of sitcoms didn't often succeed in this era. But this certainly does.

The Green Hornet, Episode 9: The Hornet Trapped

 "You're a rotten shot, Michael!"

And so we continue, seemingly no closer to the end, but this time with the focus not so much on the racketeers- although Lynch is killed, after leaving evidence in a waste paper basket after drawing a picture of a waste paper basket for Britt Reid to fing, which, er, makes no sense- but on the continuing hunt for the Hornet.

And so we end up with an exciting but fast conclusion, following a strangely slow episode,in which everyone- including Reid!- sets out to find the Hornet. It's all very exciting, and in no well feels like the pllot doggy-paddling it assuredly is at this point because the set pieces, this being a movie serial, remain splendid.

This is also a rare glimpse into how Britt Reid must get very few hours sleep per night, with his double life. He ought towatch it. Thatcher famously needed only four hours per night, and I understand this is considered the reason for her dementia. Lack of sleep in healthy neither for superheroes nor milk snatchers.

The Green Hornet, Episode 8: Dead or Alive

 "They made me blame it on you!"

This is more of the same, naturally, and another racket: tuis time a dry cleaning protection racket. There are more set pieces and, naturally, the plot won't progress until we get much closer to the end.

There's a twist, though, with the Green Hornet, always considered a criminal, this time being crudely framed for murder and with no one doubting his guilt. Both the police- really, this time- and the racketeers are after him. I hope this gets carried forward.

Gordon Jones really is excellent, his stentorian tones doing the trick very well indeed both as Britt Reid and the Hornet. It has to be said, too, that the acting, like everything, is very much above average for a movie serial.

We end, of course, with a random explosion. What else?

The Boys: The Instant White-Hot Wild

 "My cake hole will remain open!"

This is such a The Boys season finale. There's lots of fighting. There's lots of characters, and lots of character development. So much happens. Deep breath.

Homelander wins, the bastard. He has his son, and ends up as pretty much openly fascist. Billy Burcher loses, with a yrest to live after using Temp V, and having turned against Soldier Boy to save the son who isn't even his son by blood but by love- the opposite of Soldier Boy and Homelander, both products of a cycle of abuse, that seems to be spreading to Ryan. The look on his face at the Trump-Nazi rally is chilling.

Incidentally, any Americans reading this who support Trump, or the Republican party, you're not conservatives, you're Nazis, ok? Kindly *** yourselves. Thank you.

Maevew, the only supe (Annie aside, and yes; they're both women) not to be corrupted by her powers, gets a heroic death and gets to live, sans powers if sadly also sans eye, but her ex is back with her. I think, overall, she has her well-deserved happiness.

The Deep is... ever more tragic and pathetic. MM is a decent man worthy of respect, who loves his daughter and shows the dad he can be, a shining ecxample to all of us who love our little girls so much it hurts. Kimiko and Frenchie are the cutest couple ever. And Annie gets a supremely satisfying ending, loved and worshipped by Hughie and discarding her costume to join the Boys.

And yeah, Black Noir. His death. As Oscar Wilde said of Little Nell, you'd need a heart of stone not to laugh.

Pistol- Track 5: Nancy and Sid

 "This isn't love. This is appetite. They'll eat him."

And suddenly it all steps upma gear, intothe oenultimate act of what is ultimately a tragedy. Both Sid and Nancy- who we meet for the first time, played truly superbly by Emma Appleton- are, in a way, naive, innocent and so, so young. We get hints of how Nancy has never known love or kindness, of her schizophrenia. We learn that Sid was given some heroin as a birthday present by his mother at fourteen. Wow. Neither of them stand any chance whatsoever. They're co-dependent, self-destructive and doomed to die stupidly young. None of this is ***ing romantic, and rightly isn't played as such. 

Meanwhile, the drama of the Sex Pistols continues, with all Danny Boyle's usual touches of '70s context. The '77 Jubilee seems much scarier than the one last gone, far more conformist. Richard Branson looks so bloody young. And at the centre of it all is everyman Steve, whose stepdad is still a child molesting ***, and who has come from nothing to writing a Number One single.

Then there's Chrissie- a nice person, a grown-up, who bonds with Nancy despite herself. Who realises she needs to develop her talent. Yet Steve has faith in her. The understated love between the two of them is, perhaps, more real than that of Nancy and Sid, the poor kids. And the media are total ***s throughout, as they were in real life.

This is more than good. It's tastefully provocative, and threads the needle very well. It tells the truth; that these were two young victims who fell through the cracks of a society without an adequate safety net. God help their equivalents today.

Breaking Bad: Rabid Dog

 "For three hours straight, all he talked about was something called Babylon 5..."

So this is it. The die is cast. From now on, all is in flux and there is no status quo. This is a supremely well-acted, written and directed piece of television, from Bryan Cranston's extraordinary "bad lying" acting to the shots of Jesse approaching Walt at the end.

Obviously, this episode is all about two things: Jesse turning against Walt and agreeing to cooperate fully with Hank (I'm glad he finally confides in Gomie), and Walt coming to terms with the necessity of killing Jesse. The dynamic between Jesse and Hank is fascinating.And it's ironic that the plan to have Jesse with a wire would have worked if not for his paranoia; it's only his angry phone call to Walt that makes Walt decide to kill him.

It's fascinating seeing Walt being advised to kill Jesse, not only by Seventies Porn Saul but by Skyler, who really crosses a line at this point. This resectable suburban wife encourages her husband to commit murder; her fall is complete.

Then there's the continuing naive faith of Flynn... surely his illusions will soon be brutally shattered? And the angst of Betsy, who may have said too much to her shrink. 

Nothing is safe. Anything can happen. Telly doesn't get much better than this.

Loki: Glorious Purpose

 "What's a fish?"

"How do you not know what a fish is?"

This  is an extremely promising start: indeed the finest opening episode to any Marvel TV series yet. It's far from an obvious idea to pair Loki with the semi-obscure Time Variance Authority, a nice little semi-satirical creation of Walt Simonson, but it really, really works.

The interrogation scene by Mobius, while its point is as yet unclear, is an excellent opportinuty to stop, explore and indeed psychoanalyse the character of Loki, adding depth to him as a person. The moment when he gives up on escaping because he realises he's temprally homeless is deeply affecting.

Yet it's the concept of the TVA that fascinates. It raises all sorts of philosophical questions of predestination and free will. It also introduces us to the concept of the multiverse, and that an authority exists- its origins rather murky- to ensure there is only one "sacred" timeline. The '60s-'70s office style is delightful, as is the fun little exposition video. The concepts, the humour and the characterisation are all superb. And I'm full of questions about the background to the Multiverse and the TVA.

More please.

Marvel and Housekeeping

 I’m slowly catching up with the MCU films. However, this calls for a bit of a rethink on my blogging my way through the various Marvel telly series. Up until now my plan had been to plough through all of the former Netflix shows (currently just finished the first season of Luke Cage) before catching up with the rapidly proliferating series on Disney Plus, where I’ve seen nothing since The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Now that I’m nearly caught up with the movies, though, I’ll change my approach, as the Disney Plus series will surely tie in. So I’ll marathon the Disney Plus Marvel stuff and then return to the former Netflix series. 

Eternals (2021)

 "I thought we were heroes. Turns out we're the bad guys."

This is, I can't deny, the worst MCU film up until this point, and quite a disappointment. One may be tempted to blame it on the great Jack Kirby. Genius though he was, his genius had left the building, and the concept of the Eternals and Deviants was developed by him in a limited series at a point when his mojo was a thing of the past.

Other creators integrated this cuckoo into the Marvel Universe in creative ways, but a cuckoo it remains. So there we have the original sin of the concept, cool thouth the Celestials are- and the realisation of Erishem.

The effects and visuals are cool. So is the direction, in a scene to scene sense. The film looks good. It's also an intriguing and respectful treatment of the mythos, with deviants, the Uni-Mind, and characters like Sersi, Ikaris, Sprite, Makkari and Gilgamesh all well treated.The Mahd Wiri (from Bob Harras' run on Avengers?) is well handled with Thena. And the bid reveal about the Celestials' plot- to destroy all life on Earth but to do so in the aid of seeding life elsewhere- is presumsbly nicked off of a comic after my time, butb is cool.

But... it doesn't flow. Perhaps it's because the main stars are character actors who don't suit such big roles. Perhaps the script underwhelms. Perhaps it's because the second post-credits sequence has some pop star playing Starfox, although Pip the Troll is cool.

But it's probably Kirby. And this is the least good MCU film.

Breaking Bad: Confessions

 "Goodbye, Mr Jesse Pinkman. Hello, Mr Credit to Society."

You have to hand it to this episode. I mean, I might as well just stop describing individual episodes of Breaking Bad as superlative, as you can pretty much take that for granted. But this particular episode manages to be basically functional, putting pieces in place for the next act, and therefore traditionally requiring a slight dip in quality.

Hah! No such thing happens.

The episode centres around Walt's incredible confession, a devilishy clever work of cleverness that weaves together the facts that we've all seen over the last few seasons in a way that implicates Hank. It's a tour de force of both writing and acting. Walt- no, Heisenberg, is as vgood an actor as Bryan Cranston here. There is no higher praise.

Yet Aaron Paul is no less superlative in his performance. The scene in the desert where, yet again, Jesse shows that he may be undereducated but he's bloody clevee, something the snobbish Walt will never realise. It's unsurprising that he refuses to cooperate with a secretive Hank, himself at the start of another descent into obsessive self-destructiveness, but less surprising that, as soon as he puts two and five together with the ricin (he's wrong, but sort of right,,,), he turms against Walt, in a very fiery way. Will he now cooperate with Hank.

This very much fees like the beginning of the end.

And there are stiull subtleties to mention. Walt manipulating his own son, the poor boy. Marie's alienation from obsessive Hank. Skyler's dead eyes. Todd muscling in on the meth trade.

This is soooo good. That is all.

Pistol- Track 4: Pretty Vaaay****

 "What a ***ing rotter!"

This is, I suppose, the pivotal episode. It has all the seminal early TV appearances, starting with Tont Wilson and incorporating a full recording of the Bill Grundy car crash- and, in the shockingly violent reactions of violent thugs towards John and others just for swearing, we see hoew in many ways- if not in terms of the Welfare State- society has, thankfully, improved since the '70s.

It's wonderful to see things through the eyes of two excited Huddersfield teenage girls, who make their way to London to see the Pistols but end up exploited- much, it becomes increasingly clear, as are the band, by Malcolm, who creams away the profits and gets cold feet after the Grundy interview. The scene where he and Vivienne row- she, at this point, long before the damehood, is a true revolutionary artist who has not sold out, whereas the closest Malcolm comes to actual revolution is poking at an asbestos-ridden roof, despite being warned not to, that would kill him thirty-four years later. Yes, really.

On the other hand, it's Vivienne (ably abetted by a rather awesome Jordan) who exploits "the Huddersfields", so...

We also see the close friendship between John and Sid, the increasingly comfortable relationship (of casual sex and serious guitar tuition) betweewn Steve and Chrissie, and the increasing alienation of Glen, pushed out of the band, essentially because of Steve's class-related inferiority complex.

Things are speeding up. This is bloody brilliant. I'm loving it.

The Green Hornet, Episode 7: Bridge of Disaster

 "Where will we go now?"

Yet again we have a similar variation of the racketerring plot we've had throughout, including truckers. There's more sabotaged brakes. There's more corporate intrigue.There's another murder, the kind of locked room mystery where there isn't much mystery. There's a cliffhanger that's par for the course as our heroes, in a truck, traverse a bridge that proceeds to fall into an abyss.

It's a sausage machine. This episode is yet another sausage. 

Thing is, though, yet again, that descibes pretty much all movie serials. And it's so much not the point. But, inyterestingly, it's usually the set pieces that make each episode stand out. But you can tellthis is a superior episode of va superior serial as this is not the case. This is all about intrigue and, unusually, there's relatively litte action- but it works.

That's a tribute not only to the script but the charismatic performance of Gordon Jones. 

Movie serials are... well, what they are. But the best ones, like this, fascinate.

Deathstalker II (1987)

 "Ordinarily, I don't mind seeing a woman get a good beating, if she deserves it..."

Well, then. This line is said by the hero five minutes in. And there's plenty more of this little light outtrageous sexism throughout. 1987, much though it may seem like yesterday to some of us, was a longer time ago than we think.

It's rare, although not so rare as often thought, for a sequel to be better than the original. Some, wrongly, put the admittedly superlative The Godfather: Part II in this category, but The Godfather is superior by some considerable margin. So Deathstalker II, I suppose, manages to be better than The Godfather: Part II in one sense, on a technicality. Yes, I did indeed actually say that.

This really is superior to the original, though, despite the entirely new cast and the fact it could very easily just have been an original film. Much more than the original, it knows it's rubbish, and characters constantly break the fourth wall to say so. Conan gets a mention, cheerfully accepting this is a total rip-off. There's a pointless tribute to Poe's The Pit and the Pendulum and Goldfinger simultaneously. There's a very silly boxing match. There are massive historical inaccuracies (apparently, Genghis Khan and Ivan the Terrible are alive at the same time...) which are cheerfully lampshaded. 

The whole thing is so very, very silly, and played with just the right tone by a cast who know exactly what sort of movie they're in. This is high camp, not low camp. And I love it.

Blade: Trinity (2004)

 "Sooner or later, the thirst always wins."

So Blade is back. And now it's 2004, well into the era of Marvel superhero films that Blade pioneered. So what do we get for my most recent unwatched Marvel film?

But well, this is a very flawed film, if not an awful one. It tells us two things. Firstly, Wesley Snipes, while an effective '90s action film actor, is... well, washed up by this point. There's something very off about his performance.

Yet this is, perhaps, partly due to the lacklustre performances of everyone in this film. Kris Kristofferson is oddly wooden, too. Even Ryan Reynolds isn't firing on all cylinders. And, if the stars are beneath their usual standard, we must blame the director.

Interestingly, though, the script- by David S. Goyer- is perfectly good. It's just that it's badly directed- also by David S. Goyer. The man can write, as we've seen countless times. He just can't direct. He really can't. This is all very music video, something very popular at the time. Proper cinema it is not, despite the many well-conceived fight scenes.

And that's interesting, isn't it? The script is perfectly good. The concept is epic, Blade versus Dracula (whose Sumerian origin here is weird, like Vlad Dracul never existed), with a rather fun Hannibal King, Jessica Biel as a somewhat cool kind of female Hawkeye, and lots of well-written fight scenes thsat sort of fail in the execution and- especially- the cinematography. A good script, sadly, doth not equal a good film.

The Boys: Here Comes a Candle to Light You to Bed

 "Frenchie, are you high?"

"Well, that goes without saying!"

Well- SPOILER alert- that's quite the ending; Homelander, fast on the way to being discredited by Annie's media-savvy exp.loitation of the right-wing extremist killer's incredible thickness, learns that Soldier Boy- who never, in fact, fought in the Second World War; it was all propaganda- is the Darth to his Luke. Dumf dumf dumf. Well then.

Then we have the beautiful, beautiful romance between Kimiko, newly empowered out of love for him, and Frenchie. Yeah, he's going to die next episode, isn't he? It is the finale, after all.

There's so much more, though. Billy's past, and his demons surrounding Lennie, and a character whose powers are to make you have horrible nightmares until you die of dehydration. Urrrgh. This shows us his guilt about Lennie (his suicide...damn!), about Becca, about surrogate son Hughie... who he is prepare4d to allow to die of Compound V lesions for the sake of killing Homelander (will he die?). Wow.

Then there's the delicious, er, threesome scene between the Deep, his wife and an octopus. A-Train waking up with the transplanted heart of a racist wanker. There's the revelation of what has happened to poor, vengeful Maeve. There's poor MM, cuckolded by an absolute wanker.  

Most of all, threre's Black Noir, the cartoon animals, and the revelations of what happened to psycho stoner poser Soldier Boy.

This programme is one of the best things on telly. Sod it; Stranger Things isn't on any more. It's THE best thing on telly.

Breaking Bad: Buried

 "We are here to do a job, not channel Scrooge McDuck!"

This is it, then. The final stretch of the final act begins. Jesse's very depressed, dropping millions of dollars around while spinning around, on his back, on a roundabout. Symbolic much? Also, we see how bloody cold Lydia is as he has a load of meth underlings slaughtered purely because their substandard cooking is harming the bottom line... and then not wanting to see the bodies of the men she's just killed as the ever-gentlemanly sociopath Tom guides her gently through.

But this episode is mainly about the reverberations caused by the now-open war between Walt and Hank- although Walt doesn't wank to send Hank to "Belize". Yet. But it's 3-D chess, as Hank tries to turn Skyler without- yet- realising how exposed she s. Marie is not so naive, and the scene between the two sisters is extraordinary.

Everyone is exposed, though, and Walt's money isn't the only thing that gets buried in ths episode. Walt, his cancer returning, says in a moment of weakness that he'll take the fall if Skyler can use the money to support their kids... but that's not how it works. Meanwhile, for Hank, he needs evidence. He can'tjust tell the DEA- and he's right: the moment it's known that Heisenberg is his brother-in-law, he's an ex-cop. Yet saying nothing potentially exposes him to prosecution too...

The rest of the season looks to be absolutely gipping. This is first class, tension-filled, perfectly shot character drama.

Pistol- Track 3: Bodies

 "We're not into music. We're into chaos."

We should perhaps remember, three episodes in, that this is based on Steve Jones' autobiography, that it is, inevitably, focused on Steve, with him as the star. John Lydon doesn't like it, quite famously. And, while we may not like him these days because of his apparent support for Trumpian fascism, we should remember that he's always been fond of saying shocking stuff for the sake of it, what he says isn't necessarily what he means, and he may not be mentally all that well at the moment. His wife is very ill and he cares for her. So let's not make assumptions.

Anson Boon, incidentally, is superb as John. He brings out the mannerisms and the menace, yes. But threre's also the kind and, well, gentlemanly approach to Pauline. Just as revealing, too, is the saga of Chrissie Hynde's desperate attempts to get married purely for a visa. She's more upset than she thinks, for a "fake marriage"; when Steve spurns her, she likes him more than she admits. Yet John cheerily agrees to marry her for a laugh, only to back out when an upset Nick Kent arrives, because feelings are not a joke. Beneath everything, he has a heart. He's vulnerable.

And so is Steve himself. He's very sensitive about his illiteracy, and nice deep down, despite yielding to temptation with Pauline. But Pauline- the inspiration behind Bodies, not the anti-abortion song that right-wing morons think it is- is the character we feel most sorry for. Raped, institutionalied, carrying an aborted foetus in a bag to gigs, loving it when Johnny writes a song about her... that's real life.

The politics of punk is, of course, an interesting subject. Malcolm has his trite situationism.Vivienne has her aimless anti-authority, taboo-busting passion, hating bigotry but not in favour of anything. Everyone hates hippies. It's not explicitly right-wing but, well, I think it has its place in the history of Thatcherism. Then again, so do hippies. Their individualism is not necessarily a left-wing thing.

Nevertheless, this a wonderfully textured bit of telly. Reginald Bosanquet in Sex, Maisie Williams as Jordan, the Bromley Contingent in full force.. I absolutely love this.

Luke Cage: You Know My Steez

 "Most of these guys wear spandex. Who would have thought a black man in a hoodie would be a hero."

And so- later than expected, due to so much current television absolutely having to be blogged in such a short space of time (Stranger Things; Obi-Wan Kenobi; The Boys; and now Pistol)- we conclude the first season of Luke Cage in my everlasting quest to complete the formerly Netflix Marvel stuff before turning to the more recent series on Disney Plus.

This series has been superb. Much as there is some truth to the criticism of a mid-season lull after Stokes is killed, this is superb telly. The fight between Luke and Diamondback (using his suit from the comics!) is epic superhero set piece, chreographed like- and echoing flashbacks of- a boxing match. 

The goodies don't win; Mariah and Shades get off, while Luke is taken to prison in Georgia despite being cleared of his "crimes" in Harlem. And yet this is far from depressing viewing, and not only because Bob finds the folder which will presumably establish Luke's innocence; indeed, narratively, it has to. So we can bask in Luke's nobility- and nobility he has; this gent would fit in as a Knight of the Round Table- as he's taken back to Seaview, yet with a note of hope.

Because this episode makes clear that Luke has the adoration of all of Harlem including its admiring police deparment. And he gets a very meaningful snog from Claire, who finally lets slip her real feelings.

There's more; Misty struggles with the failure of the system todeliver justice as Candace is murdered and Mariah walks free. The world is not perfect, and that is, perhaps, while superheroes are necessary- a theme of all these Netfix Marvel shows. Yet there is hope. There are good people like Luke, Claire and Misty. The world is not beyond redemption.

I shall now catch up a bit with my current telly rotation, and Breakng Bad too, before Iron Fist joins The Green Hornet in my regular rotation.

Pistol- Track 2: Rotten

 "Come see us play. We're awful."

This is the episode where it all comes together. Steve learns guitar- in four days, with loads of speed- and we meet Johnny Rotten, played superbly by Anson Boon in a performance which perfectly encapsulates both Rotten's unique mannerisms and the deep, vulnerable unhappiness beneath. We also get more superlative performances from Thomas Brodie-Sangster as a deliciously amoral and pretentious Malcolm McLaren, the pseud who somehow ends up as the alpha male. 

Yet there is also Chrissie Hynde, struggling with the incredible levels of sexism in the music industry. And there's a welcome focus on Jordan, who has sadly died recently, and her awesome train journey to work shocking busybodies with her looks and showing us how stultifyingly conformist the British '70s were, even if the Welfare State also made it in many ways better than today. There are always swings and roundabouts.

We are efficiently introduced to Sid Vicious- seemingly a nice young man at this point- and the tensions with Glen Matlock are already apparent. The whole thing, once more, is gloriously shot with lots of creative references to '70s pop culture, and the Pistols' legendary first gig in November 1975 is truly awesome.

This shows us in no uncertain terms how extraordinary these events were- how four such lads could end up so famous, and how a povery- and abuse-stricken yet decent everyman like Steve Jones could experience such a trajectory. This is excellent stuff.

Stranger Things: Season 4, Chapter 9- The Piggyback

 "I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer..."

Ooh. This was quite the finale. And I've got to write about it now.

Essentially, the writing was first class, despite the perhaps understandable plot armour for the kids and main characters; many of us guessed many episodes ago which character was going to die. Yet, this aside, the writing is flawless, magisterial, not only tying all the ends up but giving us so many very real character moments. Yes, the length is insane for a television episode. Yet every second is earned. There is zero padding. And the direction, cinematography, acting, sets, design are all superlative. All this and we get a splendid rendition of"Master of Puppets" too. Not only that, but we close with Siouxie and the Banshees and "Spellbound". This is the '80s' best self.

Let's talk about Eddie. I love the man: he's a teenager at school, a metalhead, he runs a D&D campaign, he may have smoked slightly naughty substances on occasion. He's basically me, a decade earlier and several tgousand miles to the west. Yet he comes from a place of grinding poverty; we certainly don't have trailer parks in the UK, we have a (rapidly disintegrating and evilly Kafkaesque) Welfare State instead. It's noble. Kids like Eddie should be in art school and in a band. Alas, he lives in Indiana.

Yet, cool and awesome though he is, he has a tragic flaw: he deals in drugs, not just weed but the hard stuff. This is what gives the Duffer Brothers permission to kill him. Yet, as he's awesome, he dies a hero. He's like the soldier who worries he might let the side down and fail to be brave, because he's scatred. Yet it's almost a cliche that such characters always end up heroes. Fear isn't cowardice. One has to feel fear for bravery to have meaning. Eddie dies a hero. All his sins are expunged. Those who hate him can **** off. And yes.Dustin's speech to his dad is beautiful.

Let's talk about Max, who is so very brave, and who is hopefully not dead, and will wake up. She faces her fears, her very deep fears, and acknowledges her very human and very understandable character flaws. Sadie Sink's acting is incredible... as is that of Caleb McLaughlin as a heroic and heartbroken Lucas, who concludes his own character arc by rejecting popularily in favour of geeky realness. Good for him. Top bloke.

And let us talk about the beautiful love between Joyce and Hopper. Between Eleven and Mike. Between Dustin and Eddie. Between brothers Jonathan and Will. These characters are all real and human, despite the CGS and the otherworldly awesomeness. All of them, including Yuri, who finds some decency at the end.

This season was comprised of insanely long episodes. Yet it deserved that. This is fine, fine telly.

Jackie Brown (1997)

 "I think it's a gun pressed against your dick..."

It's somewhat embarrasing that there are any Quentin Tarantino films I haven't seen, quite frankly, This is the earliest, and I'm so glad I crossed it offmy list. I mean, it's not even one of the more famous Tarantino films, but that matters not. It's a straightforward, yet also complex, heist movie with few bells and whistles of Tarantino's usual structural stuff. But it's interesting to see him restraining himself. This film is superb.

The cast is, of course, magnificent. Pam Grier stars, wonderfully, in a film that is not a B movie, and shoes us her sheer class in a highlight of her career. Given a first class film, she shines. If only she'd been given more. She's a forty-something black woman starring in a big Hollywood movie, too. That's embarrassingly rare, and I bet Miramax (friends of a rapist) had representations. I'm sure any one- or two-fingered gesture would fit nicely here.

Yet Samuel L. Jackson is also oiutstanding as Ordell, a clever, gun-running chap whose best line (about guns and killing, of course) cannot be used at the top of this blog post because swear words are a thing to right wing wankers, who nevertheless won't censor said obscenity because it's a Brit thing.

Roberty De Biro is in this, giving a restrained yet awesome performance. The plot is superb, as is the dialogue. It's a noice '90s time capsule in that Jackie is poor and must subsist on recorfds, not CDs- that's really dated.

Sid Haig is there, too, as the judge. This is a superb henist movie, yet I'm sure thrre are all sorts of directorial bits...?

Pistol- Track 1: Cloak of Invisibility

 "The phantom of the Odeon strikes again!"

Yes, I know. I'm juggling so many shows so why start a new one? Well, at least I've nearly finished Stranger Things, right?

Wow. This is much more textured, interesting telly than I expected from a biopic of merry Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones.

We begin, as is traditional in all Pistols-related telly, with a '70s montage framed arounda live Bowie performance of "Moonage Daydream" and Steve nicking stuff, but including such things as unmentionable pop, Barbara Windsor royalist wankery of a rather less ironic and metatextual natutre than the recent frolics, bad clothes, bad decor.

And we get to know Steve, a Sex Pistol who isn't John or Sid- must get round to blogging Sid and Nancy at some point- but is more interesting than either of them. A likeable rogue, who nicks stuff and shags around but is charming and decent underneat it all. Poor, vulnerable, not from a loving home like Paul Cook, whose parents let him play drums in their bedroom  but chucked out of his home by a sexually abusive stepfather.

Yet he finds a surrogate dad in Malcolm McLaren (played, disturbinhly.by Thomas Brodie-Sangster, who I remember well as a child actor in Doctor Who), and already we understand their bond. We also get to know and like Chrissie Hynde, to laugh at Nick Kent, to wallow in a very real-seeming '70s, an era when culture was real and contemporary, and previous decades were not available at a click of the mouse, and borstals were bloody scary..

This is unexpectedly good telly. And Johnny Rotten is still to come...

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Unaired Pilot

 "Hey, you forgot your... stake..."

Yep. Many years after blogging the entire Buffyverse I've finally managed to get access to the unaired original pilot. Where did I find it, you ask?

Oh, look, a squirrel.

Anyway, this is short, sweet and rather cheap-looking, but nevertheless full of the Joss Whedon wit and brilliance (regardless of his very serious flaws as a human being that have leaked in recent months) that we've come to know. It is, essentially, a very truncated version of Welcome to the Hellmouth, complete with the nice bit of misdirection in the opening scene.

The main differences involve the music (the opening titles are "Salvation" by Rancid, which is well cool) and the casting of Willow. It's encouraging that Riff Regan is no stick insect and is a rare example of a woman with a real body shape on television, but acting-wise, although solid, she's no Alyson Hannigan. It's understandable that they recast the part.

Otherwise, though, it's surprising how fully-formed this all feels, from the concept to the characters to the little details like "Dingoes Ate My Baby". A wondefrful little artifact.

The Boys: Herogasm

 "Oh Jesus, your stretching powers!"

Yeah, this line reminds me of a hilarious book called How to Be a Superhero,with illustrations by Steve Dillon. If you remember it- the writers clearly did- you MUST say so in the comments.

Anyway, this is a near perfect episode of television. Not because of all the splendidly filthy Herogasm sexy nastiness... but it helps. It's good to see depressingy exploitative and tool-deflatingly stupid porn, and the whole culture surrounding it, being mocked like this. Top marks for that. Porn is stupid, Erotic stories, generally written by women, are where it's at. Er, anyway...

This is wonderful. Soldier Boy is flawed, damaged, reactionary but honestly so, not like these tiresome modern "warriors" on "woke" who try to disguise the tininess of their penises with their love of Donald Trump (Homelander is, of course, said pathetic orange failure as a human being). One can sympathise with him- as well as damaged, human Butcher and his unfortunate acolyte Hughie- while ultimately acknowledging that Annie is wise, right, and the leader we all need asc she stands up to Neuman and records her devastating resignation speech.

Homelander may survive his pummelling, but surely he's doomed. Yet he's super-powered, and uncontrollable.

Then we have the magnificent opening text, the generally brilliant characterisation, the moving love story between Frenche amd Kimiko. This is sumtuous telly, and this blog post does not, cannot, do justice to it.

Stranger Things: Season 4, Chapter 8- Papa

 "If we're trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn't go to a store named The War Zone?"

And so the run of uber-long episodes with ensemble casts continues. It should be over-bloated. It shouldn't work. It does.

Where to start? Eleven's story is amazing, from the betrayal of "Papa" to her perfect verbal denunciation to the dying doctor's face, right after she crashes the helicopter after trying to kill her. Her story in this episode uncannily (deliberately?) echoes that of Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back, using  her Jedi powers to lift a metal shack and being torn between further necessary training and saving her friends. This has to be a deliberate echo. And her constant gaslighting by "Papa" is every bit as creepy as intendeds.

Then there's the lovely chat between oh-so-brave Max and a lovelorn Lucas. There's Will's selfless act of loving froendship as he reassues Mike about Eleven's need for him- noticed by Jonathan. There's the beautiful love between Joyce and Hopper as they keep trying to escape from Siberia in the most entertainingly funny subplot.

Oh, and the Soviets are breeding tons of Demogorgons in jars. For next season?

Prediction: Eddie's going to die next episode. He's funny, he's cool, we like him. He's scary, but not a coward. He tells Dustin to "never change". He's doomed.

This, if it needed telling, is superlative telly.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

 "What is your name change logic...?"

Shang-Chi, particularly the Doug Moench incarnation, is a distint and fond memory I have from the '80s reprinting, here in the UK, in the pages of Action Force, the tales of the '70s... from which creator Steve Englehart had ejected himself in protest of the racism.

And here we have the problem. Because the '70s comics were based quite heavily and unironically on the works of Sax Rohmer (look him up), with its heavily racist tropes of the "yellow peril" and Fu Manchu, a characte whom... well, if you know the character, and don't cringe, you're being racist, however much you might try not to be.

I must admit, if anything has happened in the comics with Shang-Chi since 1983, this middle aged man knows nothing of it, except to hope it's not bloody racist shite.

Fortunately, this rather entertaining blockbuster film ignores all that. Shang-Chi's father is not Fu Machu(!) but, er, the Mandarin, complete with rings, and Shang-Chi himself has a rather awesome love interest in intelligent waster Katy, not to mention a rather awesome sister.

Disregarding cameos from Wong, the Abomination(!), Captain Marvel and Bruce Banner, and of course the ever- steady post-snap reality, this rather enjoyable film feels, at the momentt, as semi-detached from the wider Marvel universe as one could imagine right now. Yet it's excellent, essentially a Marvel-approved, strictly non-racist,  highly enjoyable Hollywood version of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and films of that ilk. Not massively deep, but superior blockbuster fodder.