Pseudo-Review: The Ted Bundy Tapes

I watched Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes over this weekend. As if anyone needed a reminder, it established how evil a man Ted Bundy was. There weren’t any jaw-dropping revelations, and if there were any new insights into the man, I didn’t register them.

I don’t really want to write a full review for this. I’d rather just leave today with the pretty pictures from my other post. But I just wanted to share that I saw the documentary, and while it was morbidly fascinating, it was not really must-watch television.

I don’t think this documentary will really challenge your views or present you with much new information. I don’t think that we as an audience, as a society, benefit from the rehashing of murders committed by a very disturbing, yet very small, fraction of our society. But I recognize that the grotesque nature of the crimes and the alien psychology of the killers is…mesmerizing? Haunting?

Bundy’s kind of confusing because he doesn’t seem to have the same sort of triggers or childhood behaviors that are typically associated with serial killers. He’s frightening because he seems almost like he was just born evil, though I imagine it’s not as simple as that. But my opposition to the death penalty remained untested. I imagine that if you support the death penalty, your views will similarly be untested. I hope that if you disagree with me about capital punishment, you will at least agree that the people who celebrated his impending death with partying, drinking, and cheering are reprehensible and represent a deplorable facet of human psychology.

I actually have more thoughts–as usual, a lot more thoughts. But I don’t have the same desire to write them out. It can be depressing to dwell on these real-world monsters.

Review: Titans

I really liked Titans. It’s got a great cast, coherent arcs for most of the characters, a brutally violent and dark world with a surprisingly emotional heart, and a good deal of the relationship dynamics that I’ve always enjoyed in young superhero team-ups without the degree of camp found in the Arrowverse collection of shows (the omnipresent Greg Berlanti is an executive producer for the various shows falling under the Arrowverse, as well as for Titans).

The core composition of the Titans in this incarnation ultimately consists of Dick Grayson’s Robin (played by Brenton Thwaites), Raven (Teagan Croft), Starfire (Anna Diop), and Beast Boy (Ryan Potter)–though all but Dick, who is haunted by his history as the Dark Knight’s sidekick, are basically only known by their civilian names, with but brief allusions to their eventual aliases. These four are occasionally joined by Hawk and Dove (Alan Ritchson and Minka Kelly), Wonder Girl (Conor Leslie), and Robin 2.0, Jason Todd (Curran Walters). I loved basically every character and thought that each actor did an impressive job with what they were given.

Each version of Dick Grayson is my favorite until the next version I encounter, so Thwaites’s turn as the character is currently at the top of my list of incarnations, but he might actually stay there. Dick’s so haunted by his past, by what he did as Robin, by how his gradual turn to greater violence tarnished what his alias was supposed to stand for. So much of his time is spent hating what Batman did to him, but in the end, I was left with the impression that, for all Batman’s faults, no one was more to blame for what Robin became than Dick himself. Midway through the show, Dick finally makes the decision to fully reject his former identity, setting the stage for an eventual Nightwing getup in a future season, I imagine.

Raven, here just preteen Rachel Roth, actually kicks the narrative off. Rachel runs away from home after someone kills her apparent mother and attempts to abduct her; in so doing, she flexes her buried dark powers. Rachel finds herself hunted by two factions: those who wish to destroy her, and those who wish to use her to release her demonic, inter-dimensional father. To the show’s credit, the loyalties of those pursuing her were often mysterious, leading to some fun surprises without ever leaving me with the feeling that the narrative unfairly withheld information. Rachel is the gravitational force in the narrative that pulls the other heroes together. She is understandably angsty, fearing the darkness inside her and obviously traumatized by the events that start off the season. She first goes to Dick because of a recurrent vision, and she quickly depends on him, seeing in him a sort of mentor similarly dealing with a dark internal impulse, even though Dick wants nothing more than to walk away. (The relationship reminded me in many ways of that between Wolverine and Rogue in 2000’s X-Men film adaptation.)

Anna Diop plays an amnesiac Starfire, operating under the human name of Korey Anders. She comes to after an apparently violent car chase, under fire from gunmen, with a few obscure clues to her background. For most of the season, she does not know her mission or her true identity as an extraterrestrial, but she is able to quickly discover that her purpose had something to do with tracking Raven down. Korey is a fun counterpart to Dick; both are incredibly driven, clever detectives, and absolutely brutal fighters, but Dick is typically dour while Korey seems to mostly be having a blast. She has fun when she fights, coming across as cheerily psychotic. She also kills–a lot. That’s a little unsettling at first, until it sort of becomes a joke. Dick has Batman’s code and practically begs Korey to restrain herself, most of the time. She’s not the naive, fish-out-of-water character I’m used to, but there’s some shared DNA with past versions, scrambled to fit the darker, more “mature” tone of Titans.

Beast Boy–Garfield Logan–is the most tangentially connected to the characters, but he provides a lot of the soul. He’s sweet and funny and caring, and while he has a traumatic past as well, he’s had years of quiet existence with a family of sorts (the introduction of the Doom Patrol was as clear a backdoor pilot as I’ve ever seen, so it’s no surprise that they’re getting their own spin-off series). He also has an unsettling arc in which he channels the more lethal elements of his shape-shifting powers, though his natural lightness and cheer mostly allow him to cope. Mostly.

Hawk and Dove have an interesting interconnected past with Robin, and a later episode more fully fleshes out their backgrounds. I’ve never really cared for Hawk and Dove, nor have I given the characters much of a chance, but I liked them here. They’re rough-and-tumble street-level vigilantes who are, somewhat ironically, perhaps the most connected to the larger universe of superheroes outside of Robin and Wonder Girl. Wonder Girl is retired, now a photojournalist who improves the world through activism and investigative reporting; as Donna Troy, she’s an important mentor figure to Dick, and she proves to be a valuable ally toward the end (she also makes clear that the Justice League exists–or existed–in this universe).

Finally, Jason Todd is…incredible. He’s a shitty little punk always itching for a fight. He’s not nearly as clever or educated as Dick, he doesn’t have the natural athleticism and acrobatic ability of the former aerialist, and he looks like he’s a week overdue for a bath. But he’s scrappy and can pack a punch. Recruited by Batman after attempting to steal the tires off the Batmobile, he’s having the time of his life. He loves what Batman’s given him, and he’s initially awed to meet the original Robin, but his hero-worship ends quickly enough. He’s quite willing to break the rules, drinking underage and getting in bar fights and beating up cops for fun and petty revenge. He’s a total asshole, and I love him. I now fully understand Tumblr-culture’s “trash son” meme. He’s my trash son. Jason Todd is just having the fucking time of his life, and he’s loving every minute of it.

On Jason Todd, executive producer Greg Walker said in an IGN interview:

What I really love about [Jason] as a character is the unbridled sense of self that he has–there’s a lack of . . . maybe self-awareness, but for sure self-consciousness in terms of how he comports himself and how he moves through the world . . . . He’s completely seemingly unaffected by darkness – he kind of embraces it or walks right through it. He’s a breath of fresh air and that’s what I love about him, he’s got a punk rock, no-holds-barred attitude that’s massively unburdened. There’s a lot of energy that comes with that.

To that I say: yes. Exactly. All that. 100%. I love Jason Todd. This is a remarkable turnaround for me; prior to this, I mostly knew him as the Robin who was killed, or peripherally, as the Red Hood. He was uninteresting or a non-presence to me. And now, he’s just the coolest. “I kick ass with Batman and I fucking love it.” Yes you do, Jason Todd, and good for you.

jason todd.png

Ahem. My point is, the characters are well-acted and well-written, and you’ll probably fall in love with at least one of them–especially if you can give the show room to do its own thing, rather than merely adapting comics arcs or characterizations previously established in the Teen Titans or Young Justice cartoons.

There are villains, too, but the show so far is really more about the heroes. The villains are obstacles, not so much compelling on their own. Even the updated Nuclear Family (in this version, brainwashed assassins) still takes a backseat to the heroes. I hope future seasons introduce more interesting antagonists to the heroes, but I’m glad that this origin story gives the audience plenty of time to get to know the new versions of these heroic characters.

The show is rather violent and bloody. I wouldn’t mind that toned down a little bit. There’s a scene in the first episode, after a woman is shot, where the camera lingers on her bullet-hollowed forehead as it bleeds on the floor, and I was annoyed by the fixation, the silent declaration that this is the MATURE version of the Titans. But a lot of the violence just drives home how brutal the vigilante lifestyle really is, the lengths a hero must go to. I think this is clearest in Hawk’s backstory: there’s something a little broken about these characters, some hurt that they channel into violence against others. If they didn’t act from a cause, from some belief in upholding justice, they’d probably all turn to petty crime or militarism. That said, I cannot emphasize enough that there’s some humor and a lot of heart to the show. It’s a story about found family and emotional healing. It still feels like a Berlanti production about young-adult superheroes.

Executive producer Akiva Goldman told Deadline Hollywood, “We wanted to arrive at a tone that wasn’t as welcoming as some of the DC shows have been, nor as nihilistic as some of the films have been.” I think that they more or less hit that balance. It’s not as grim-dark as the worst excesses of the DCEU, but it’s not a campy teen soap opera like the Arrowverse shows. Without getting into spoilers, I will say that the show wavers toward grim-dark in the season finale. While I’m sure we’ll see a quick reversal of fortune in the next season, it nonetheless felt like a tonal shift with an unnecessary cliffhanger, leaving the central narrative of the entire season unresolved. Cliffhangers are fine, but it would have been nice to see this first act actually reach a conclusion. If nothing else, the finale highlights what a careful balancing act the intended tone of this show can be.

Overall, though, this was consistently enjoyable to watch. If you skipped over this first season, give DC Universe a trial run. Titans is easy–and fun–to binge.

DC Universe: Week One

My very DC weekend led me to trial the DC Universe app for some very DC week nights. Over the week, I’ve read some comics and watched plenty of Titans episodes. I’m just wrapping up Titans, and I’ve greatly enjoyed it. I’ll get to a full review of the season after I’ve, well, watched it in full. But with only an episode left, I can strongly recommend the show. And if you’re in the US, then I’d definitely recommend the one-week free trial of DC Universe to binge the eleven episodes of the first season.

But while I think I’ll continue with a paid subscription, at least for the first full month, I’m not sure that I can recommend the app–yet.

For starters, there are a lot of digitized comics available, but it doesn’t have nearly the back catalog of Marvel Unlimited, which obviously represents the preexisting competition from DC’s biggest comics rival. DC Universe is supposed to offer a “curated” selection, but it seems haphazard. Sure, it was “curated” in that the film and TV properties being marketed right now had plenty of associated comics to read through. But it still seems poorly thought out. Just in example, much, though not all, of the Rebirth arc is available through the app. The omissions are annoying when the digital comics even include a checklist of series in the arc (just a scan of the checklist, not something you can actually interact with in the app). Heck, the flagship DC Universe: Rebirth references comics issues from separate lines that you should read before starting it, but the app doesn’t have them. It begins to feel like DC is charging you a subscription to pay for the privilege of ads and teasers.

The app’s comics reader seems to ape what other digital comics readers do. You can read page to page or in a more dynamic panel-based mode. You can skip around in the comic via a page browser option. I haven’t played with the options very much. I found that reading issues would occasionally be interrupted by some sort of refresh that would kick me out of full-screen and panel-based modes and that would push me back a few panels or pages. It’s not an optimized tool yet, but it works.

The television shows and films are where I found the most appeal. There’s a rich collection of television shows, animated movies, and older live-action films. The original content already promises a lot of excitement, even if still small in scope: Titans is excellent, and I’m eager to resume Young Justice following its continuation exclusively on DC Universe. The app is especially inviting for any animation fans; old Max Fleischer Superman cartoons, most of the DCAU series, the old Teen Titans cartoon, and even Super Friends mingle with other series.

Still, it seems a missed opportunity that most of the Arrowverse shows (except Constantine, if that counts) and none of the DCEU films are on the app. But there’s still enough, for now, to make a subscriber’s time worthwhile.

The app itself is not especially user-friendly. I can give content a thumbs-up, but not a thumbs-down. There doesn’t seem to be much built in to make recommendations based on what you’re reading. I can’t even tell if it’s tracking what I’m reading and watching–and if it is, it would seem to be exclusively to the benefit of DC and Warner Bros. You can create public or private lists of things to watch and read. To view your lists, you have to click first on your profile, then on “My DC,” and then choose the “Lists” tab–but that feels like what you should see on a home screen. There are also tabs for Videos and Comics, but it only seems to show me whatever I might currently be watching. Once I’ve completed a comic or show, it disappears into the ether. Curiously, that means that “my” videos and comics might only show things I abandoned for lack of interest; my Comics tab annoyingly announces, “You haven’t read any comics yet.” Search functionality could be improved–and it would be nice if it didn’t always dump me into the middle of the results (especially since they appear to be sorted by relevance). The app isn’t available for any consoles, which are what I’ve historically relied on for home entertainment.

There’s an online encyclopedia of characters, which seems cool, but not worth paying for, especially in the age of ever-more-granular wiki sites. (Actually, I think the encyclopedia might be a free feature.) And there’s a store with tchotchkes for discounted prices, or something–I don’t have much interest in collectible baubles, so that element has no appeal for me.

Most of these things are open to improvement. More comics, shows, and movies can be added–will be added. I’m sure we’ll continue to see more original content (like Titans season two and Doom Patrol). I read a support page that suggested that DC Universe might soon be made available on more devices. I imagine that there will be user interface improvements over time that should address my gripes. Still, for now, DC Universe feels incomplete, a work-in-progress. It’s as though continuing my subscription at the start of next week is really a way of paying to beta test a service. That’s disappointing for a service that launched in Q3 2018, but in the big scheme of things, that’s still very early going. For what I get in return, for now, I still think it’s worth it for me. But I don’t think I’d pitch it to anyone else. Not yet! But hopefully soon.

DC Weekend

I’ve been dealing with a cold since the end of the week, and I definitely hit bottom after running a variety of errands during the snow storm in Indy on Saturday. Since Saturday afternoon, I’ve largely alternated between sleeping, imitating sleep, and watching dumb movies and TV while prone or semi-prone on the couch.

It’s at this point bedrock tradition for me to watch dumb television and movies while sick. I don’t normally like to sit for hours binging a show or movie after movie (though I’ll do the same for a book or game without complaint), especially if of only mediocre quality or worse, but sick days are my big exception to the norm. Brain idling, entertained by pretty moving pictures, waiting out the discomfort: it’s downright pleasurable to me at such a time.

Though not always the case, this sick weekend had a theme: DC movies and TV. I re-watched Suicide SquadBatman v Superman, and a good portion of the first season of Arrow; I also watched the 2017 Justice League film for the first time.

None of these things are great, but that’s the point. They’re dumb, and they’re enjoyable (enough) to watch. My Arrow re-watch might even continue, as I was surprised by how charmed I was yet again by the campy soap-opera take on superheroes. And, confession here, I actually like the DC franchise films. They’re not good, but most of them fall solidly in the B- to B+ range. They’re all overly long, overly dark (in terms of color saturation and narrative tone), and burdened by poorly considered plot contrivances. But they’re largely just a counter-cultural product to the smooth Marvel formula (counter-cultural to the extent that a big corporation can be counter-cultural, a Pepsi to Coca-Cola). DC movies are oddly ragged, ungainly films that all feel desperate to say something, if only there weren’t a dozen different creative and corporate hands meddling with the final product each time. And, well, I just like DC characters more.

I’m not a “comics guy.” I’ve read comics, and I will continue to do so. I’ve always preferred graphic novels to serialized comics, though, and not for particularly pretentious reasons, but simply because I prefer a more contained, tightly honed story. I prefer graphic novels to comics like I prefer films to television and like I prefer standalone novels to book series (not sure I’d go so far as to say I prefer short stories to novels, even though I do think I prefer the crafty efficiency of a good short story–I just tend to read novels more consistently). And I’ve typically preferred non-superhero comics to the superhero kind. I’m also largely bipartisan (or simply agnostic) when it comes to Marvel versus DC. That all said, my childhood rooted me in part to DC: the Tim Burton Batman films, the Teen Titans show, and the DC Animated Universe strongly influenced my tastes regarding caped crusaders and the like (the only Marvel counterpart I particularly recall in my formative years was X-Men Evolution). And in more recent years, Young Justice and the CW collection of shows carried my interest forward (even if the latter eventually became simply too much for me to keep up with).

What I’m trying to say is that, while I do have a familiarity with superhero franchises, I don’t feel like my identity is bound up in these characters. While the cinematic versions of DC characters have typically been darker than what I might prefer, I don’t feel like I have to treat anything in this territory as “canon” or a “defining” vision. It’s all just fun times, and these new films are at least offering something that does feel different.

In that context, I’d avoided Justice League for a while because it looked like a fairly generic superhero team-up film in a genre flooded with that type of apocalypse-punching, alien-invasion scenario. But I found that I greatly enjoyed the film, generic plot and all. Maybe I was just loopy enough to get peak enjoyment out of it. But Ben Affleck was absolutely delightful as Batman; this version of the Dark Knight not only provided a nice redemption arc from the previous title but was also one of the funniest versions of the character I’ve seen in a while. He was lighthearted; he smiled; he said authentic things. Plus, the film provided plenty of fodder for anyone partial to shipping Batman and Wonder Woman. For that matter, Wonder Woman continued to be a badass warrior, and she also had her own opportunity for inner growth that felt like a natural progression from her solo film–she was returning to the world, processing her grief and trauma from the Great War, and taking up the mantle of a leader. The Flash was hilarious and awkward and lovable, Aquaman was about as interesting and cool as Aquaman could ever hope to be, and Cyborg had enough screen time to feel defined if alien (though to the extent that Cyborg works, I’d credit Ray Fisher’s acting rather than the rather mundane dialogue that he delivers). Superman remained a weak point for me, though after some initial Super Dickery on his inevitable resurrection, he actually got to act like the superheroic ideal for the closing minutes of the final act.

Look, it’s not the greatest film out there. But no superhero film is. And sure, Justice League isn’t even the best superhero film, or the best of the new DC films. But it was a fun ride, and I’d watch it again. Especially on another sick day.

TCW Re-watch: Failings of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Clone Wars offered such a rich variety of stories that there are an endless array of lenses to approach the themes within the series, both those unique to it and those that elaborate on the subject matter of George Lucas’s six-film saga. I’ve gone into this re-watch with a few particular themes and contradictions on my mind, and the most current reviewed episode, “Mystery of a Thousand Moons” (1.18), touches on most of them.

Most interesting to me is the tension between the apparent necessity of the war in the moment in contrast to the audience’s foreknowledge that the Jedi’s mere entry into the war was the trap that doomed them. This narrative emerges clearly enough in the films with the end of Attack of the Clones, with Yoda’s admonition that “the shroud of the Dark Side has fallen.” Perhaps more subtly, that theme is present in the decision on the part of the Jedi and the Republic to assault a Separatist planet in the midst of heightened political tensions to rescue two Jedi and a Senator who had infiltrated that independent system to perform acts of political espionage, sabotage, and murder, and who were being punished under the laws of that system. While leaving the trio to execution would have been an unacceptable ending to audiences and would have seemed too merciless, and while viewers know that the Separatists were preparing their own attack on the Republic, interfering with the laws of another government via open invasion is a shockingly imperialistic act for a group of alleged peacekeepers. And, of course, that theme of loss merely through engagement sees fruition in the collapse of the Jedi and the Republic in Revenge of the Sith.

The Clone Wars readily acknowledges this burden. Yoda does a lot of wrangling with this moral crisis and imminent loss throughout the series. While that’s perhaps most emphasized in the final season’s episodes, the theme is present in moments with Yoda–and in merely observing what the war does to Jedi and clones alike–throughout the show. As Yoda says in “Lair of Grievous” (1.10), “To answer power with power, the Jedi way this is not. In this war, a danger there is of losing who we are.”

And this theme manifests in at least small ways in almost every episode. Returning to “Mystery of a Thousand Moons,” we see the Jedi once again putting innocents in harm’s way in an attempt to win a battle. In this case, Ahsoka, Padme, and several clone troopers are infected with a super-virus and almost die before Anakin and Obi-Wan can provide a cure. Padme’s a senator. Ahsoka is literally a child who is nonetheless invested with the powers of a military commander. And the clones have been manufactured to fight and–as Rex notes in the episode–to die, yet the Jedi were perfectly willing to enlist them and use them as though they lacked in personhood or choice (a damning decision no matter how many Jedi befriended them between battles).

Yet that super-virus is another example of the seeming necessity of the war. The recreation of the Blue Shadow Virus for biological war in “Mystery of a Thousand Moons” and in the virus’s eponymous episode (1.17) is a shocking atrocity, intended to quickly wipe out whole ecosystems on hundreds of planets. In the same arc, the Separatists have blockaded a planet with a force field that kills anyone who tries to leave orbit, seemingly with the intent of preventing the export of the one raw material that can be used to produce a cure to the virus. Similarly, in “Defenders of Peace” (1.14), the Separatists intend to test a weapon that wipes out all organic life in its blast radius but leaves droids behind–and their intended target is a village of pacifists. Messaging consistently reinforces a pro-war mentality, at least in the moment. “Defenders of Peace” and its companion “Jedi Crash” (1.13) have no room for pacifists; the ideology is portrayed as too naive to actually survive without outside intervention by occupying defenders. Certainly there are historical precedents where passive resistance or acquiescence have not halted or appeased a bloodthirsty oppressor. Yet, to complicate things further, the “Jedi Crash” arc is immediately followed by “Trespass” (1.15), which actually provides for a scenario in which peaceful diplomacy is the ideal solution in contrast to aggressive interventionism.

If nothing else, the show highlights how messy war and conflict are. Moral solutions are not always apparent. The Jedi, even early on in the show, frequently cross the line of acceptable behavior, but that line-crossing often achieves results. For specific examples, contrast “Cloak of Darkness” (1.9), in which Ahsoka brushes off Master Luminara Unduli’s warning that “terror is not a weapon the Jedi use” because her threat, which does (momentarily) convince an imprisoned Nute Gunray to cooperate, “wasn’t serious,” with Anakin’s threat in “Mystery of a Thousand Moons” to kill mad scientist Nuvo Vindi completely failing to produce results (and actually giving Vindi another opportunity to gloat).

Lastly, one little item of head canon that I’ve been toying with for a while is that some version of the Mandalorian Wars and the subsequent Jedi Civil War of Knights of the Old Republic actually happened, and that this resulted in a radical shift in Jedi dogma. We at least have confirmation of a Mandalorian-Jedi War, but it’s the latter war that’s more significant to me. Revan and Malak rushed off to join the Republic in defeating the Mandalorians, in opposition to the Jedi Order’s mandate to stay out of the war, but their experiences turned them to the Dark Side. Revan’s later redemption was the only thing that could stop Malak, and he went on to pursue a larger threat outside of the galaxy. Other Jedi who went to war did not necessarily fall to the Dark Side. The Jedi Exile, for instance, chose a life of nomadic wandering following her actions at the Battle of Malachor (a battle that has been partially introduced to the canon, as well). Her eventual return to the major events of the galaxy stopped another festering Sith threat, and it is implied that she and her disciples helped rebuild a decimated Jedi Order. (Light Side decisions and their resultant outcomes in video games were typically perceived to be closer to canon during the run of the EU, and even in this canon-reboot era, that assumption seems to me a valid starting point for discussing the state of the old EU lore.)

The implications of the first two games are cast to the wind to enable the direction of The Old Republic and its companion novels, like Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan, which conveniently wiped Revan and the Jedi Exile off the board. I’m not so impressed by the idea of Jedi and Sith joining together to combat a larger threat; it happened surprisingly often in the old EU, it seems counter to the core messaging of Lucas’s films, and it seems like something that exists in Star Wars: The Old Republic largely as a justification for players to join the Sith faction without necessarily being pure evil. So let’s set aside the implications of everything post-KOTOR II.

With that division of the franchise in place, I rather like the idea that Revan, the Jedi Exile, and their followers would have forced a radical rethink in Jedi philosophy. Perhaps the Jedi, over time, would have felt that earlier official involvement by the Jedi Order in curbing the Mandalorian expansion would have stopped a lot of cruelty and death–and would have prevented the rise of the Sith Lords that followed. The Jedi Exile, in particular, would have been a model for a more interventionist Jedi Knight. This change in doctrinal thinking could have resulted in an over-correction that could have made the Jedi all too willing to hop into aggressive pursuit of peacekeeping operations. The reform spirit of the Jedi Exile would have faded into institutional tradition over the centuries, such that the shift in Jedi mindset would have only served as another pillar of dogmatic thought for later generations of Jedi leaders. Such a mindset would have primed them to hop straight into the Clone Wars, before cooler heads (mostly a more reflective Yoda) could prevail, and with the assumption that they were fully in the right. I think The Clone Wars and its depiction of the last years of the Jedi Order provide some ammo for that theory.

(By the way, in my full version of this head canon, which veers hard into amorphously formed fan fiction, Bultar Swan offers a lot of storytelling possibilities as a potential Jedi who quickly sees the entry of the Jedi into the business of war as detrimental. I tend to imagine her getting the hell out of the Order and the war shortly after Geonosis, after seeing just what it takes to kill and seeing the Jedi leadership all too willing to keep going down that path. But that’s getting way off topic for this post.)

I don’t plan on regularly discussing The Clone Wars over the course of this re-watch, but I do suspect that I’ll have an occasional update as this gradual viewing continues. I’ve only watched the show in full once before, and this new trip through has been quite enjoyable and thought-provoking.

Review: The Haunting of Hill House

I’m not really a fan of the horror genre (though several exceptions come to mind). Nonetheless, I was quite entranced by Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House, created by Mike Flanagan. That’s largely because it’s just as much a family drama and psychological thriller as it is outright horror, and the hauntings are often just as metaphorical as they are literal, as the central family is haunted by grief, trauma, and mental illness.

Ghosts are everywhere in this show. Sometimes they lurk ominously in the background; sometimes, they’re clearly visible on the screen, looking lively and human, and these ghosts are often only registered as ghosts by audience and protagonists after the fact. (On that note, the final few episodes offer some mind-bending twists that skew perception of earlier episodes.)

In this version of the story, a family consisting of a house-building husband, an architect wife, and their five kids moves into a dilapidated old mansion so that the couple can renovate and flip the house. They hope that this rebuild and sale will be the project that finally allows them to finance their dream forever home. Things fall apart quickly, and the youngest children in particular begin to be harassed by ghosts; in the end, their mother kills herself in disturbing and confusing circumstances. The kids grow up traumatized by the event without ever really knowing what happened, as their father refused to talk about it. In the present, they are brought back together after the youngest daughter returns to the house. The show cuts between past and present throughout.

I never read Shirley Jackson’s novel, but I know enough to recognize that show and book are rather different. I liked the show a lot. If there was a misstep, I’d say it was including The Haunting of Hill House in the show as a memoir by the eldest son. It’s unsettling to me that the show’s creators removed the female author and replaced her with a male–and that they took a work of imaginative fiction and reframed it as a work inspired by reality (that latter element makes the book a little more mundane, at least to me). Bizarrely, they even name one of the children Shirley, although she is vehemently opposed to the writing of the book.

Besides that, the show felt pretty close to perfect. The acting–in both scenes from present and past–was phenomenal. The writing was excellent, and the show explored the nature of ghosts and hauntings in a variety of ways. Ghosts and what they mean in relation to fear, hope, observing and being observed, and even how we think about time were examined in depth. Mental illness and its relationship to the hauntings was a prominent theme, but it never seemed to be for spectacle, or treated in a casual or disdainful manner.

Dread was prominent throughout. But the show had very few jump scares. It was brooding and ominous and sometimes terrifying. But my typical feeling was that of anxiety and foreboding, rather than of fear. Even if you scare easily, you should be able to get through the show reasonably well.

If I can get myself to focus on this more, there’s a lot that this show touches on that I’d like to discuss in more detail. We’ll see if that happens. But The Haunting of Hill House is an excellent show, and I strongly recommend it. Even if horror’s not really your thing.

Paranormal Soaps

Every October, my wife and I end up watching at least some of Ghost Adventures. It’s such a dumb show. I don’t believe in ghosts, and the ridiculous, gadget-oriented, overnight haunted house tours conducted don’t remotely resemble scientific research. But it’s immensely satisfying to watch a small group of bros alternate between fear and anger as they record random bursts of static and creaking old home sounds.

There’s nothing of value to watching Ghost Adventures, but it’s a familiar entertainment. The appeal, for us, is that it’s a ghost show that’s really more about the narcissistic, barely coherent or articulate, goofball dudes at the center of it, who have seemingly trademarked the art of yelling angrily at spirits, ghosts, demons, and all other manner of alleged apparitions.

Anyone else enjoy something marketed as “nonfiction” by engaging with it as a work of fiction? Ghost Adventures is more like a sometimes-spooky soap. Another example would be Erich von Daniken’s Chariots of the Gods; it’s a rubbish book with bad logic and bad facts, but taken as a proto-Stargate, it’s great space opera with the frame narrative of von Daniken the archaeological detective, unearthing hidden lore like a Lovecraftian protagonist (I’m currently listening to the audiobook). And of course Ancient Aliens, another favorite of mine to watch with amusement, is practically a sequel to Chariots. Trashy paranormal shows in general surely qualify, depending on your tastes; there’s more than enough out there about ghosts, or alien abductions, or sasquatch, or whatever else may float your boat.