M3gan (2022)

 "What did you think was going to happen...?"

Now, in 2026, AI seems a more fitting subject for thoughtful science fiction and, indeed, horror, than it dd four years ago, in how it's slowly inserting itself into our personal and working lives, creating dependence, with models going rogue and CEOs of AI tech behemoths cheerfully admitting that the extinction of humanity may be on the line.

That may well be hyperbole, I'm certainly in no position to say. But the potential dangers lying well short of that are terrifying enough. And the central conceit of this impressive little film, withe no stars but loads of idea, is truly terrifying: what if a realistic, thinking robot doll, paired to a child, ultimately ends up creating a dependence, alienating the parent figure and potentially even guiding humanity through its children?

It's interesting seeing this a few years after Channel 4's Humans, and I'm reminded of Isaac Asimov's Foundation and Earth, with the Solarian child Fallom being depended on Jemby, its robot nanny, suggesting similar ideas in passing without really developing them.

Still, the film is as much about parenting as it is about AI, about the fine line where dependence on technology becomes inadvertent parental neglect. It's not a film that's lacking in themes. It's also bloody terrifying, effectively plotted and shot, with M3gan itself being truly, existentially creepy. 

Cry of the Banshee (1970)

 "See that they weep till dawn."

Vincent Price made a number of delightfully quirky films in the UK back in the early '70s, many of which I've seen, enjoyed and indeed blogged- The Abominable Dr. Phibes, Theatre of Blood and so on. Those films are fondly remembered. This one isn't. And... yeah, now I get why.

I mean, Price himself is a delight as Lord Edward. That's a given. He gets to play an evil, sadistic, witch-hunting torturer of those whom he deems heretics. But this is no Witchfinder General. The performance may be fun to watch, but the character is ill-defined- sadistic, yes, but no puritan, a lover of pleasure, with disturbing scenes of him and others using their position of brutal enforcers of religious orthodoxy to take sexual advantage.

I realise that criticising the historical accuracy of this kind of film is a mug's game but... well, this is supposed to be the sixteenth century but the costumes evoke the Civil War. Edward, apparently some sort of English lord in the sixteenth century, has a son called Sean and a daughter called Maureen. And the priest is referred to as "father". It all feels very Irish, plus there's the banshee stuff, however vague- why not just set it the other side of the Irish Sea?

As for the plot... the conceit is that Edward and his family are cursed by a witch whom he unaccountably allows to live, slowly and methodically, by s means which is revealed late on, and with a further twist at the end. The plot twists are genuinely effective. But the whole thing feels muddled, a succession of sadistic set pieces while the plot bumbles along for the most part. Worth watching for Price's performance, plus it's only ninety minutes, but basically forgettable.

Batman: The Animated Series- Read My Lips

 "Don't put words in my mouth!"

At last we get the Ventriloquist and Scarface, the early '90s' best contribution to Batman lore, and they're terrifically done. The animation really brings out the over-the-top look of Scarface and the contrast with the meek, nondescript Ventriloquist. the character is such fun, and it's hilarious to see the penny drop for Batman.

Yes, I know I'm always banging on about this, but this episode really leans into the '40s noir aesthetic of '40s suits, cars and tommy guns. The plot owes a little to the noir template too, with the nice little betrayal twist at the end, a prime example of how to perfectly plot a perfectly paced episode for twenty minutes.

The character of the Ventriloquist is fascinating, with his two genuinely independent personalities, with no one in the gang doubting that it's specifically Scarface who is the brains behind the outfit. And he really is.

One of the best recent episodes, really evoking those good old issues by Alan Grant and Norm Breyfogle which, for a while, this usual reader of Marvel titles would avidly collect. 

Amazing Spider-Man #4

 "Boy, if the world ever found out that Spider-Man had to carry an umbrella and promise not to exert himself!"

Yep, this issue is the first appearance of... Betty Brant. But yes, also Sandman, yet another impressive and iconic villain from early in this run. Spider-Men already, at this point, has a far more impressive rogues' gallery than Marvel's other solo heroes. Then again, the blurb on the splash page strongly implies that this title is selling very well, so it's natural that Stan and Steve would lavish extra attention on this title... and it shows.

The scene where the hoodlums mock Spider-Man and accuse him of assault is funny, but it also shows the effects of J. Jonah Jameson's fear campaign at this early point, nailing down an important trope for the title- as well as Spidey's little prank for Jonah. There are nice character touches too- Peter misses out on a date because of his crime-fighting duties, only to be rejected after all once the villain is defeated... and has to restrain himself from fighting a mocking Flash Thompson. His good deeds, as ever, do unrewarded.

And a big part of how this is so effective is the art of Steve Ditko, everyone's favourite objectivist, who depicts angst so very well, particularly in the scene where sandman rips Spidey's masks and he panics about the consequences of his identity being uncovered. Similarly, Ditko's art adds so much to Peter's quietly angsty little soliloquy on the last panel, full of self-doubt yet with a sense of mission. Peter Parker has a deep likeability, far more than any other Marvel hero.

Sandman is an impressive foe- basically just a thug, yes, but able to make himself alternately insubstantial and hard as diamond, as well as being a de facto shape changer. Mind you, he has, because of course he does, an atomic origin. Perhaps he'll develop special cancer powers in due course. But it's a fun issue, and I love how Spidey ultimately wins by... using a vacuum cleaner. And I chuckled at the faked pics.

Defiinitely Marvel's strongest title, by miles and miles. 

Stargate SG-1: Bloodlines

 "I will not allow my son to become a slave."

Hmm. Not too keen on this one, I'm afraid. It's a shame after what's been, for the most part, a good run of episodes. 

The conceit is Teal'c suddenly revealing, after a bit of coaxing from Colonel O'Neill, that. despite claiming to have no remaining ties to Chulak, he does in fact have a wife and son whom he's omitted to mention, and that said son is to come of age within the day, and thus be implanted with a Go'auld larva and thus begin a life of slavery. Ouch.

This, so far, may already be a stretch. The General, quite rightly, refuses to approve a mission to Chulak as it would, sadly, be an act of utter madness, risking all their lives. Yet, after Teal'c goes rogue and insists of going into the Stargate alone, he has an utterly absurd change of heart.

And so the gang return to Chulak, conveniently meeting Teal'c's (interesting name to add a possessive apostrophe on to, is it not?) old mentor after a bit of emoting at the sight of his now trashed former home. And so we move on towards an awkwardly unconvincing meeting with his wife, with whom he has no chemistry at all, and his young son, both of whom are absolute ciphers whose only character traits are entirely linked to serving the plot. His wife has remained loyal to the Go-auld, knowing little else, and worked hard to show her loyalty. She accuses Teal'c of abandonment, a theme which could and should have been pursued further as an agonising choice between family commitment and social conscience.

The ceremony is sabotaged by Teal'c in literally the nick of time, most conveniently, and we find that his son is dying of scarlet fever(!) and can only survive via teal'c implanting the son with the father's Go'auld larva. It seems that Teal'c must now die... yet, in another suspiciously convenient plot contrivance, Captain Carter and Daniel happen to have nicked a Go'auld larva a few scenes earlier. The entire episode is a string of overly convenient occurrences.

We end with Teal'c leaving for Earth with the gang, his now suddenly reconciled wife and son staying behind for some reason, with Teal'c not expecting to be back for years. Is that the sound of a great big reset button being pressed, not exactly my favourite trope of '90s television sci-fi? 

And it isn't about anything, not child abandonment, not the ethics of Daniel shooting the other Go'auld larvae, each of which gets no more than a brief mention. The worst episode thus far, and a wasted opportunity.

 

The A-Team- Mexican Slayride, Part 1

 "He loves the risk, the danger. He loves the jazz."

Strictly speaking, I'm jumping the gun here. I was going to have The A-Team replace Legends in its slot, but the final episode of that is extra-long, I'll do it another day, so here we are- the next series to be blogged! This is, needless to say, a programme with a huge nostalgic effect on me.

This is. of course, the first part of a two episode pilot, introducing the characters, the format, and everything. Some things aren't quite there yet- the narration before the opening titles, the character of Colonel Lynch who doesn't quite work, even the casting of everyone's favourite con man, one Templeton Peck. But this is a joyously efficient and entertaining introduction to a format that would succeed massively for many years.

We begin with Mexico, in a leisurely scene where our deliciously moustache-twirling and scenery-chewing baddie gets to do his pantomime villain stuff, there's an obligatory car chase and an American reporter is kidnapped. Cue one Amy Amanda Allen, his friend, whose desire to rescue her colleague is our way in to the A-Team. We begin with some exposition, with verbal pen portraits of Hannibal, B.A. and Face. We also learn that the team are fugitives, who absconded from custody after robbing a bank in Hanoi during 'Nam for reasons they claimed were above board yet, alas, the crucial witness inconveniently died, since when they've been shadowy underground figures.

We first meet Hannibal in a monster suit on a B-movie set as Face quickly warns him that Lynch is on their trail, after which we get another obligatory '80s car chase ending with Lynch's ritual humiliation and, of course, the careful confirmation that he gets out of his sinking car and nobody actually dies. But what this sequence shows, from the very start, is Hannibal's unflappable cheerfulness and chill charisma. George Peppard is utterly magnificent here.

We follow Amy as she slowly investigates the A-Team in order to hire them, initially via Murdock, the fourth member of the team, a magnificent pilot who happens to be quite, quite mad. He's a wonderful character and Dwight Schultz is utter perfection. But then we also see B.A. explaining to some kids about a certain other Hannibal's exploits with some elephants during the Second Punic War, which is delightfully bonkers. We also see Hannibal's first two disguises, the second of which is, er, arse-clenchingly racist. Ah, 1982. You were a very different world.

We get our first instance of B.A. being sedated and put on a plane, a trope which will get many, many outings. And the whole structure is quite clever as we see things from both Amy's and Lynch's point of view, both in pursuit of the A-Team for their own reasons.

The episode ends with our five protagonists flying to Acapulco, courtesy of an insane pilot. Imperfect though some things are in these early days, this episode is a joy to see. And in the second instalment we will, I hope, see the first example of what I'm going to call a "construction montage", as we used to call it back in the day...