New Reviews and Podcasts

Another one of my book reviews has been posted on the Descant Magazine Blog. Check it out.

I review the first novel by Toronto writer Claudio Gaudio, Texas, which is a prose-poetic look at the conflict between the U.S. and the Middle East. A diplomat is captured by insurgents as he awaits his death and occasionally has in depth conversations with a dead bird and mouse. It's a fun one.

My other reviews are on the blog as well, including a look at Kafka's Hat by Patrice Martin, and a joint review with Jack Hostrawser of Rove by Laurie D. Graham.

Also, a couple new Shot 4 Shot podcasts have been released, including a look at The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (drink: Spider-Mans) with special guest Daniel Espina, an editor and filmmaker working out of Mississauga; and another B.S. Session (drink: Beers) about the new Star Wars casting, The Raid 2, and The Justice League movie announcement.

As always, Brandon and Ryan are sharing drinks and laughs, all the while discussing the much-loved art: film. Be sure to leave them comments if you like what you're hearing, and even suggest themed drinks for their next podcast. Cheers!

Shot 4 Shot Podcast

The long awaited Shot 4 Shot podcast is up and running...finally.

The hosts, Ryan and Brandon, will be talking all things film and television (if it's on a screen, they will analyze and critique it) while eventually rotating through a number of guests as the third person. Each podcast may have a different topic, varying in how the hosts engage in the material, but the real treat is the one almighty twist: alcohol.

Every episode is marked by a different alcoholic drink that somehow relates to the film/show they're discussing. For example, in the Scarface episode, Ryan and Brandon drink Liquid Cocaine (and you can just imagine the effect). Don't get me wrong, though, these guys know what they're talking about. You'll learn more than just what drinks they like.

It's a casual show that is nothing more than a few friends getting together and hammering out the reasons why we all love movies so much - while getting hammered (of course).

I highly recommend it.

Slurred speech awaits you - check out the link: http://www.shot4shot.ca/

Does An Artist’s Death Make You Interested In Their Work?

We’ve all heard the stories of artists gaining recognition for their work after they’ve died: Vincent Van Gogh’s work was known to only a small group of people up to his suicide; Emily Dickenson published only 7 of her 1800 poems in her lifetime; and more recently, Vivian Maier took 100,000 photographs while the children she nursed hardly knew she owned a camera. Sometimes, geniuses are unknown or unappreciated in their own time whether they desire fame or not.

Alistair MacLeod

There has been a recent onslaught of artists’ deaths: John Pinette, Alistair MacLeod, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Bob Hoskins, Mickey Rooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman – forgive me if I’ve forgotten another important name – which have caused slight ripples in appreciation for their work. A friend is finally reading 100 Years of Solitude, Pinette quotes were pinballing through a number of my circles, and I even recently attended a “literary wake” in Toronto to honour Alistair MacLeod.

I feel particularly bad about the latter death for two reasons: I had started reading MacLeod in university, loving every word I encountered, and wanted to read his entire works (which aren’t high in number); I also had the peculiar desire to meet the man. I don’t often have this desire, but reading his work, not knowing what he was like or how I might be able to contact him, I immediately wanted to know him (it attests to the power of his writing). Flash forward through the unproductive years of not chasing that goal to when I received the alert that Alistair MacLeod had died. I failed. I missed my opportunity. And I feel even worse for not having read his complete works before he died.

I mention this event in my life because it also brought into question why the death of an artist suddenly pushes people to give them the attention they deserve. Why is there this sudden desire to engage in an art, knowing the creator has perished? Why have I just now started to read through every MacLeod story?

Art has the stereotype of being entwined with tragedy and perhaps death elicits that long standing connection. But that alone doesn’t push me to be interested in something. I hesitate to say it, but strangely, I feel MORE connected to reading the remaining words or looking at the only photographs of a dead artist, knowing that there is never going to be any more. The growth has finished. The work is complete. There is only a limited number. It places a greater importance on what has been created already. It may even elevate the quality (yes, we live in a subjective world) since there is now a definable limit of the art. “Be careful with this,” my mind is saying, “there’ll never more added to it.”

I find it beautiful (as a way to honour) as well as saddening since it took the death of a creator in order to become reinvigorated. But I’m interested to know what others think, so I’ll restate the question this article started with: does an artist’s death make you interested in their work?  And furthermore, is that a good reason to appreciate them, or get someone else to appreciate their work?

Colbert Is In: The Late Show Changes Hands

Yes, Stephen Colbert is assuming the throne of The Late Show.

David Letterman announced his retirement last week and since then, there has been much speculation as to who will succeed the legend. Today, CBS confirmed that Colbert too will be leaving his show, The Colbert Report, in order to assume the vacant position on The Late Show.

The major question is this: are we losing one of the great late night presences in this transaction, or two? Letterman has been toting jokes for over 30 years at the desk and we all knew his retirement was coming soon. But will Colbert (silent t), the late night pundit of deadpan mockery, make way for Colbert (hard t), the intelligent and personable goofball? Are both Letterman and Colbert retiring? I hope not (at least not entirely).

Watching any interviews with Stephen when he’s out of character is always a real treat. It allows us to see his other side and become aware of how ridiculous his conservative alter-ego really is. But it almost seems as if the real Stephen is how he spends less of his time, and pundit-Colbert is what he needs to be (I have no issue saying Colbert is Batman).

If he is to take on a traditional talk show, there is the looming question of how Stephen Colbert will show up. Is he really leaving pundit-Colbert to exist only in the memory of The Report? Regardless of what he does, the man is endlessly funny. I hope he keeps the zany character that made him famous, perhaps in the background or during skits, but I think we all want that. It would be too much to bear to see the loss of Letterman and Colbert (silent t) in one week.

That said, while Letterman will be sorely missed, Stephen is probably the best possible choice on television today to replace him. I can't wait to see what he does, and how he'll grow as a comedian in the new position. Good luck to him and let the Nation enjoy. 

Why The Count of Monte Cristo Should Be a Mini-Series

Last year it was announced that David S. Goyer would be directing the next remake of the Alexandre Dumas classic, The Count of Monte Cristo. Goyer, known more for his writing credits – Man of Steel, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Jumper, Dark City – has not penned the screenplay, that credit going to Michael Robert Johnson, the writer of Sherlock Holmes and Pompeii. 

Jim Caviezel as Edmond Dantés

While there have been a number of adaptations of Monte Cristo, the most notable North American version is the 2002 film starring Jim Caviezel and Guy Pierce.

                I’ve just finished reading Monte Cristo and am very excited about seeing a new version of the old classic. Most of us already know parts of the immense story of revenge – the accusations, the false imprisonment, the unimaginable wealth, the vengeance – but there are a number of story elements that are left out when adapting this novel into less than three hours of screen time. Films have been attempted for the adaptation of Monte Cristo with wonderful results (I’m not trying to bash the 2002 version here, nor the upcoming possibility of Goyer’s), but I think it’s time to try a different approach.

Here are a few reasons why I think producers should invest money into making The Count of Monte Cristo into mini-series rather than another film.

1.    Most obviously, length
An unabridged version of the novel runs anywhere from 1200 – 1500 pages; there are 117 chapters; it contains close to 500,000 words. It’s quite clear that The Count of Monte Cristo is a big novel and takes a while to read. A lot happens from cover to cover, and while adaptations often remain very true to the source for the first 400 pages or so, as the 2002 version did, the limited time of a film forces writers to create a new path for the story for the remaining thousand. While I don’t necessarily disagree with this artistic liberty (the 2002 alterations to the story were very entertaining, interesting, and valid on their own merit), a lot is lost by not allowing for a faithful adaptation.

Why would a mini-series help?
Given enough time in a mini-series, a sufficient number of oft-missed plotlines would be capable of inclusion. The story doesn’t only follow the Count the entire novel; it has a wide scope that deals with different characters and dramatic tension. Trying to fit over 1200 pages into less than three hours is an impossibility that requires a lot of plot reshaping. If that same page count was given, let’s say, ten hours (10 one-hour episodes) a lot more could be accomplished stylistically. Is this not what they allowed for Game of Thrones, each book shorter than Monte Cristo as a whole?

I would love to see not just 20 minutes of Dantés and L’Abbé Faria in the prison together, but a full hour: one episode dedicated to his imprisonment and escape would be astounding. And that’s the majesty of this story that would be gained in a mini-series. Writers could focus far more on the different dynamics that play out during the novel – from the one-on-one in the prison, to the later extravagant parties, to the viscous morally ambiguous vengeance, all of it a complete tonal shift from episode to episode.

2.    Timespan
Somewhat related to the last point, there’s also a lot of time covered in the novel. From start to finish, the reader is presented over 25 years of drama, showing a great change in many of the characters. In the 2002 version, the timespan is changed to about 16 years, and while that doesn’t seem like a huge change, its ripple effect has us experiencing a whole new take on the story. It’s not necessary for Goyer to stray away from the 25 year timespan, and hopefully he will stick to it, trying for a more faithful adaptation; however, there’s more than just writing down a 25 instead of 16 that’s important.

Why would a mini-series help?
Spending a long period of time with characters has the uncanny ability to have us build emotional connections akin to friendship. When the end of a series finally occurs, or even if a character dies within a series, the heartbreak can be as affecting as if they were real. We unconsciously pair our time with the characters’ time. For Monte Cristo, the audience shouldn’t rush through the years presented in only a few hours. Instead, feeling length of Dantés’ imprisonment, or his time with smugglers, or the unfolding of his meticulous plan is essential to getting a sense of his suffering.

Never read an abridged version of Monte Cristo because you would be denying yourself that feeling of elongated time. It took me two months of casual reading to finish the novel, and what impacted me most was when I neared the end, I looked back at the beginning chapters. The characters had changed, as did my life. I had spent so much time away from the first chapters that the length of time from young-Dantés to old-Dantés had a singular, separate effect. A mini-series, shown over the course of a few months, would allow for that stretched out feeling, rather than the quick one-shot brought to the table by a film.

3.    Cast of Characters
For a novel as long as this one, there is a surprisingly low number of characters: about 50 (probably less). By comparison, War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, also one of the longest novels ever written and set during a similar time period, contains over 500 characters, boasting only 100,000 more words. Despite the modest character count, film adaptations often have to cut out many of the characters, even major ones like Maximilian, Valentine, Caderousse, for the sake of brevity. Reading the novel, it’s clear that the lost characters really push the plot in a certain direction, adding a much needed emotional gravity outside of Edmond’s relentless quest for revenge.

Why would a mini-series help?
Even if they’re included in the next film, most of the characters will probably be passing fancies unless Goyer opts for a three hour runtime. A mini-series would really allow the audience to get to know these characters, become attached to them, hate them – whatever it may be. Otherwise, the emotional impact is lost and including them is near useless. Imagine that instead of Game of Thrones being adapted into a series on television, it was a film series. Each book is given a season of airtime for a reason. So much would be lost every movie – characters would be cut left and right. The same goes for Monte Cristo. Give it room to breathe. Allow audiences to know the characters that really make a difference to the plot.

It’s known as one of the greatest adventure novels ever written for a reason. Because I’ve already mentioned it, I’ve read the Song of Ice and Fire series (Game of Thrones for television), and enjoyed every bit of it. But just as that series is exciting, so is Monte Cristo, and is more than deserving of a faithful, long adaptation. I would love to see it made into a mini-series, but for now, I’ll keep close at hand two important words – wait and hope.

Trailer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The first trailer for the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie was released yesterday. There are mixed reviews as to how it looks: many posted comments about being disappointed, or having their childhood ruined, or noting how the turtles look like a more realistic Shrek, or that Shredder isn’t Japanese, and so on. Others are saying that it doesn’t seem that bad, and regardless of Michael Bay’s involvement in the project, it still could be a good action film.

You can judge for yourself, I’ve posted the trailer below.

I have only one thing to comment on as to altered expectations: the size of the turtles. While this was probably changed during the adaptation writing process, the turtles aren’t really supposed to be that tall. In fact, even the costumes used for the first TMNT (1990), were taller than envisioned by the creators – and they reached maybe six feet. In the comic, all four kung-fu practising turtle-ninjas were thought to be closer to four feet.

I must make it clear, though, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Yes, few have come to expect a literal adaptation from a movie in the hands of Michael Bay (even if he is the producer), but so what if the turtles are big? If it works for the film, then it works. It was simply disconcerting the first time you see them.

However, talking about the quality of the film based on a trailer is worse than judging a book by its cover (which I do all the time with great results). We all know that making a trailer is not the same thing as making a film. Man of Steel’s teasers had me thinking I was going into a poetic, psychological investigation of what it meant to be Superman. I was wrong. But I still hold firm to the opinion that those teasers are some of the best in recent years (alongside the two teasers for The Master (2012)).

Therefore, despite what the final product will be for TMNT (2014), I too would rather focus on the quality of this trailer right now, and not make judgments on how these elements work in the film itself. So without further delay I must say this: the trailer is lacking and misses out on a huge opportunity. Yes, yes, I often say this. Oh well. Let me briefly explain why.

Two things are missing here: Splinter, and any sort of Japanese philosophy. First of all, don’t get Shredder to narrate the trailer, come on. Now in that way. They used Shredder for the 1990 trailer, but it was clear it was him, and his voice fits the part. I’m not a big fan of casting William Fichtner, but really, if the producers want to get people excited about this movie, keep him out of the spotlight, and allow for Splinter’s presence. Have Splinter talk about the growth of heroes, what is needed in a failing city, as well as my second point – philosophy.

I don’t mean start talking about what old stuffy professors talk about, but about Japanese mysticism. Inject at least some of it into the trailer. The amazing thing about TMNT has always been the clash of the goofy, crude, even lame teenagers, and the old-world wisdom of Japanese philosophy via Splinter. I would have loved to see a trailer showing at least a little how Japan merges with the filthy underbelly of a large American city.

Let’s be honest: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is one of the strangest and silliest concepts for storyline ever. Four teenage super-turtles, trained by a super intelligent rat in the art of Japanese styled fighting, protect New York as ninjas, all the while eating pizza and fried food. Are we really ever supposed to take this seriously? Its ridiculousness doesn’t make it a bad story though, because the way it’s treated on screen or on the page, saves it. Let’s hope the new movie is able to do it justice.

I loved the first TMNT (1990) so I’ve included the trailer for that as well. The joke said by the cab driver is priceless. And I love how the title is introduced with the music. Classic 90s. Enjoy. 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, directed by Jonathan Liebesman, is set for release August 8th starring Megan Fox, William Fichtner, Noel Fisher, Alan Ritchson, Jeremy Howard, Danny Woodburn, Pete Ploszek, and Will Arnett. 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990) was released a while ago and stars a lot of great people, too. If you had a childhood, you've watched it already. 

Trailer: X-Men: Days of Future Past

Keeping with the theme of the last post, I'm posting the the new X-Men: Days of Future Past trailer. Yes, I am still a geek.

The X-Men cast reunite in order to change the past, altering events that may doom mutants and humanity together. The past and future must cooperate to reach this end, and knowing how much people change, the results will be hard achieved no doubt.

While the series seems to be getting a little long in the tooth, if DOFP is anything like its trailers, it will be worth the extension.

I thought the first trailer was amazing, but this one is very impressive to say the least. Creating a preview is certainly a specific art form nowadays, but between the music and the narration, the editors of this one have it down. They've done a wonderful casting job pairing Fassbender to Mckellen and McAvoy to Stewart and I think as they sink into their shared roles with the sequel, the performances will be spectacular. That's what I'm really looking forward to.

Directed by Bryan Singer and set for release on May 23, 2014, the movie stars the regular cast of the previous films: Ian Mckellen, Patrick Stewart, Hugh Jackman, Michael Fassbender, James McAvoy, Halle Berry and Ellen Page.

This is definitely one to see in theatres.

A Trip to Broadway: Mckellen and Stewart in Waiting for Godot

It was my first time in New York. My friends and I flew out the morning of the 19^th, prepared to fly again that evening, only willing to make such a lengthy journey for the sole purpose of seeing a play, Waiting For Godot. The city itself was as monumental as I expected – gathering all my impressions from various depictions in novels and films – but while I was dazzled by the rush and burble of the streets, the real wonderment lay within the quieter walls of the Cort Theatre.

We picked up our tickets a few blocks away, close to Time Square, walking through a few more sights of the city, until reaching the Cort. Already there was a line to get in, all for ticket holders, and shortly after we arrived the line doubled and tripled until I couldn’t see the end of it. The marquee showed the four actors we were about to see and instantly I could not help from smiling. The singular faces that looked upon me were Ian Mckellen, Patrick Stewart, Billy Crudup (who I did not know I would be seeing at that point), and Shuler Hensley. My inner-geek was promptly screaming out for Lord of the Rings, X-men, Star Trek, and Watchmen.

We sat on the highest balcony, four rows up from the ledge, perched on the edge of our red seats. The stage was cast in low light and had simple furnishings: wooden deck panels on the floor, raised slightly upstage; a single barren tree; a small stone bench; all lined with a border of rock and brick tracing background.

The audience wasn’t full, being a matinee, and was scattered with groups of high school students and teachers, older couples and vacationers, young folks and even single viewers. Beside me sat a man of the latter type, telling me he had picked up a discount ticket just that day.

After the final audience members had filed into their seats, the house lights were brought down, and as if the air had instantly been removed from the theatre, everyone immediately silenced. Not a breath or shifting stir could be heard. I have yet to watch a movie and have this happen, but I am still waiting for that day. Then, from behind the rock trimming, a hand and an arm shot out, then a hat, followed by an old man sluggishly climbing over. Mckellen rose from beyond sight.

To skip the summary of the entire play, as the two giants entered the stage the audience applauded as was due, and that same elation lasted until the end of the performance. Mckellen and Stewart were funnier than I ever thought they could be. The two old friends traded lines so smoothly I could have sworn their lines were lubricated. It was really a privilege to watch them in the moment.

The ensuing antics of all four actors, the two old men paired with the wild exaggerated characters of Lucky (Crudup) and Pozzo (Hensley), served as some of the most engrossing acting I’ve seen in a long time. It wasn’t that I believed these actors really were who they were playing (I don’t think that’s what theatre does), it’s that I could feel the energy and mastery of the actors, as if it were a thick paste spread over the entire room.

At the end of the play, after the bows and standing ovations, Mckellen and Stewart exited the stage last, on opposite sides each other, then threw their hats centre stage, which hit each other and remained. This simple act was what blew the performance out of the water for me. There was something so perfect about the moment, about the meaning behind the hats, about leaving them there while the audience left – it was a purely romantic gesture. I wish I had taken a picture, but now the image will just have to remain in description, and in my memory.

Here is what I’ve wanted to say: I was brought to the theatre, and thus New York, on the pretence of witnessing live the wondrous aura of Gandalf, Captain Picard, Magneto, and Professor Charles Xavier all at once – a geek’s wet dream. I was not only going to see them, such as I would at a convention, but view them acting, moving, breathing in their element. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see this.

But as much as I love film and television, I learned that putting a screen in between the experience of the creators and the experience of the audience filters out an important immediacy in the art form of acting. Yes, I was bored at times watching the play. No, I didn’t get to see the actors as well as I wanted to. But those things, among others, are worth the sacrifice in order to see experts do what they do best. Within five minutes of the performance, I wasn’t watching as a geek anymore – Magneto and Professor X weren’t on stage. These were the real men, their roles as superheroes superfluous fractions of what these actors really were capable of.

And something very important happened at the culmination of that play. I was more enthralled with playwriting than I ever have been. To paraphrase Adam Elliot, I did not just want to grab a hold of life, I wanted to strangle it – specifically the life of writing. Now, I’m an amateur writer who writes mainly in prose, but seeing a person’s work elevated to that level made me hungry for the chance to create something similar.

My advice here is not to go see live theatre so you can get excited about life again. Instead, if you are excited about creating something – be it art, writing, music, a business, even a blog – see it happen in the moment, when there is life injected into its creation. See music live, get on set, support a local playwright. It may not work, but what I do know is that I’ve rarely felt more elated than I did the moment two old men through their hats centre stage. 

Two For One Trailers: Enormous and Godzilla

Two trailers have come out somewhat recently about the attack of giant monsters, both of which deserve some attention: Enormous and Godzilla.  

There is obviously a difference in the quality of the trailers, but since one is a web series and the other a multi-million dollar blockbuster, it's best not to compare directly. Either way, they both look like great fun for different reasons.  

Enormous is a new web series from Youtube's Machinima adapted from a comic first published in 2012. Interestingly, the series and comic deals with the fallout after everything has collapsed, rather than during it, so we'll get to see a different picture of survival in this scenario. It brings to mind The Walking Dead expect with large, large monsters - ones probably moving a little faster than zombies. It's a powerful trailer and I think the series will be a good one.

Godzilla is understood without explanation, taking on the same plotline as most monster movies, however, this is a damn good trailer and I'm really looking forward to seeing the full film. Cranston's voice echoes through the images, and as always, brings some real gravitas into it all. Yet the best feature is the haunting music throughout the two and half minute trailer, which seems to originate straight from a nightmare. 

Both are worth checking out.

Enormous, adapted from the Tim Daniel and Mehdi Cheggour comic, will premiere March 20 online, starring Steve Brand, Ceren Lee, Garret Coffey, Erica Gimpel, Charles Melton, and Billy Miller.

Godzilla is in theatres May 16 starring Bryan Cranston, Elizabeth Olsen, Sally Hawkins, Aaron Taylor Johnson and Ken Watanabe. 

On Through the Looking Glass, or Why a Sequel to Alice Could Be a Good Thing

Well, hey there! Mr. Fuzzles wasn't too angry with me so I’m writing again. The stitches will come out soon and I’m told scars make you look distinguished, especially on the face. So I want to thank you Mr. Fuzzles for being such a great, big pussy. All hail. Anyway, as usual I heard some news and wanted to comment on it (sit down you damn cat).

YayI'ts the Red Queen! Or wait, maybe it's the Queen of Hearts...I dunno. Nevermind.

Helena Bonham Carter is reprising her role as the Red Queen, alongside Johnny Depp and Mia Wasikowska, in the sequel to Alice in Wonderland aptly entitled Through the Looking Glass. The first movie, despite not being well received critically, made noodles of money with wide international succ-sauce. So, they’re making another dish. Contrary to my distaste for the whole thing, I’m going to try to explain why this could actually be good.

Here are some things we know: Alice (2010) was not meant as a direct adaptation of the book, but rather a loose reimagining of the world of Wonderland in order to follow a much, much older main character. This caused a number of ripple effects including but not totalling slight differences in characters, an extended history, and various changes to the world at whole.

Also, we know there are many many interesting references of Wonderland that have spanned generations and nations (the Hatter, the Cat, the Queen, the Caterpillar) to the point of Alice becoming a cultural icon for the absurd and wacky.

Here are some things we don’t like: The biggest problem with the first movie is that the writers, even though they said they were loosely adapting the novel, didn’t really stray away from the source material that much. The plotline is different (since there really isn’t much of one in the book) but many of the lines and references are taken straight from both books, just in the worst way possible – let me explain.

I’m sure the creative team feared that if they just directly adapted the source material, the audience wouldn’t be getting anything they haven’t already been seeing on film since 1951. “Let’s create something new,” they said, “Let’s make her older,” another chipped in, “Yeah, then we can change what’s been happening in Wonderland because so much time has passed,” another concluded. Think of it in the way Chronicles of Narnia worked. Every time the characters go back to the fantasy world, so much time has passed that the writers can create a whole new history. Ah, what a perfect opportunity to create something fancy and wonderful. But in Alice (2010) instead of really creating a new world, like they should have, the audience was presented with a terrible rehash of old material.

If the writers are saying, “we are loosely adapting,” then actually do it. Instead of relying on their own imaginative abilities, they just recycled and repackaged old lines from the source. They brought references out of context placing them wherever it sort-of kind-of fit, butchering the real meaning of it all. The same thing happened in Sherlock Holmes (2009) and I was mad then, too.  Taking bits and pieces of the source material, cutting it up, mixing it with placebos, and asking us to snort it believing we’re still getting just as high, is wrong.  

You either adapt what’s in the novel properly, or hardly use it at all (Think Star Trek (2009). Yes they referenced the old series, but not that much, and in the sequel even less). I know Alice (2010) took a mixture of references from the first AND second books, just as the animated movie did, so they have to find a way to fit them together in new ways, but come on, they weren’t even trying.

For example, The Queen of Hearts and the Red Queen are two separate characters, not the same one. Proof the writers are just mashing the two books together, losing major parts of the world’s mythos, and trying to pass it as if creating something new, is right there: Carter plays the Queen of Hearts while being called the Red Queen, toting the tyrannical influence of the former and the chess-styled attributes of the latter. Each one is a main character in the first and second novels respectively, not at all the same thing. Granted, I have tried to use my chess queen when playing gin rummy, thinking that if it could move in any direction on a chess board then it obviously could at least make a three-of-a-kind, but Mr. Fuzzles has sharp eyes.

While I hate this, and without trying to be nit-picky about the creative licenses allowed in an adaptation, the point I want to make is that an entire character is being lost here, just as many subtle meanings, poetry, humour, and psychedelic spawnings are lost too because Alice (2010) is butchered by rearranging something that already worked.

"Alice Strangles Bambi": A key moment in Through the Looking Glass

Now to the point: why this can be a good thing for Through the Looking Glass.

What the first movie SHOULD have been, the second movie could be. I’ve read the books. I’ve seen the Disney take on it. I’ve watched the old short film. I’ve noticed the references in movies again and again. What I haven’t seen is something new added to a world nearly a century and a half old.

Luckily, they’ve used a lot of the most famous sections from the two original novels already, so maybe they will buck up and create something themselves, because that’s what Wonderland needs.

I don’t want to see the Down’s syndrome Tweedle-twins, or the mismatched March Hare, or even the Cumberbatch Jabberwocky (wait, I might be mixing up my well-spoken dragons). This is WONDERLAND, create anything you damn well please, just make it interesting. Create a movie in the spirit of Lewis Carroll, don’t just butcher what he’s already done properly 150 years ago.

There are still wonderful, amazing writers out there – scores of them, in fact. Just because Lewis Carroll came up with something that shook the world a long time ago, doesn’t mean we can’t create something equally amazing now.

So I’m calling out whoever is writing Through the Looking Glass daring them to be different, to actually loosely adapt a wonderful creation and make it mean something in 2016. You screwed up the first one, fine – as long as you’ve gotten that out of your system, let’s try again next time. Show me something I haven’t seen before. It’s friggen Wonderland.

We’re Back: A Take on Big Bang

Yes, we are finally posting after almost two years in the dark, and if we had any readers at all, this would be a big deal. Fortunately, only my grandma and her cat will be reading this, so the absence has not been greatly felt (Hi Mr. Fuzzles!). You may be asking, Why were you gone for so long, to which I will say, Don’t worry, Mr. Fuzzles, I only left the room – stupid cat. Anyway, I felt a great desire to comment on an episode of Big Bang Theory I just watched, and so here I am. 

             I will get it out of the way first – yes, BBT is not nearly as great as it used to be and has been steadily declining already for a few seasons. The relationships are rather flat, character development slow, jokes lack much of the poignant originality they once had, and most of the story-lines are missing even a clear meaning. Despite this, there are two things I want to talk about: one about desperate characters, the second one about missed opportunities.

                I’ll just give a quick summary of the most recent episode, “The Mommy Observation.” Howard and Sheldon are in Texas when Sheldon sees his mom having sex, and he deals with the issue – not that important. Meanwhile, Raj sets up a murder mystery dinner with the rest of the gang, including Stuart – more important. Throughout the entire night the gang bitch and moan about the game Raj has so excitedly and elaborately put together, which includes an element of time travel, while only Stuart plays along with the story-line (albeit, he only lays on the ground as the murdered member the entire time).

Near the end of the episode, however, Leonard suggests to the group that no matter where they are in twenty years, no matter how scattered around the globe, they should all meet again in front of the building they have spent so many hours in and have dinner together. The final scene shows a lonesome gray-haired Stuart, twenty years later, being stood up by everyone saying, “I knew it.” Although it has been shown before in different ways, at the end of this episode I could not help feeling one thing: there are now real losers in BBT.

Where we once had a show that celebrated being a geek, a nerd, an outcast – therefore cancelling out the labels – in the recent string of episodes in season 7, there really are cool kids and losers. To put it plainly, anyone in a relationship seems to have finally realized what being ‘normal’ really is, but anyone without a partner, are sad hopeless dreamers.

Raj tries so hard for his friends but is given no relief. The writers refuse to allow him any lasting happiness, only burying him in deeper pit of desperation, whether it’s making him fall deeply in love with his dog, or constantly referencing his awkward metrosexuality. It’s hard to watch. This is similar to Stuart, who, despite being the most lovable character on the show, is allowed no connection and only jokes of self-loathing.

And although Raj gets this more than Stuart does, it seems like the group actually looks down on Raj now, treating him as if he actually were a loser. That’s not what this show is about. At the beginning, it was the entire opposite. Geeks had a community. They were cool even if they were weird. Now most of them seem to put down that sort of behaviour. My god, they play D&D all the time – what the hell is the big difference between that and the role-playing in a murder mystery?

The second, and more important point, is about missed opportunities. The writing in BBT focuses on one thing: silly, inane laughter. Dramatic sections are next to nil, totalling probably an only episode’s worth of screen time for the entire series, and even the sweet moments come few and far between now. They need(ed) to use dramatic development as a way to anchor the audience’s involvement with the characters. When everything is all jokes, who the fuck cares?

Having an entirely dramatic episode of The Big Bang Theory could provide the opportunity for one the series’ best moments, but I doubt the writers will take that chance. What I mean by this, is that everything done in the show seems to work toward making fun of people, or breaking down relationships, instead of building them up. They provide themselves an opportunity to change the feeling of the show, only to smack it down and make the audience feel shitty (think of how they brought up and crushed the dreams of Howard going back into space).

Stuart standing alone twenty years in the future marks one of the biggest mistake made by the writers – proving that it’s even in the small details. Instead of making Stuart into a greater loser, as I described above, I suggest another route to take.

Leonard suggests they all meet twenty years in the future outside the building. Stuart, a sweet man of little money, doesn't have a calendar on his phone, so he needs to write it down. Flash forward twenty years: Stuart stands outside the building, painfully aware no one is going to show up. He mutters “I knew it,” and begins walking home (cue sad audience). As he does, hanging his head low, a beautifully dressed Penny, slightly wrinkled, her hair resembling that of a woman in her mid-forties, walks into Stuart. She embraces him, surprised and thrilled that he’s actually there, only to look past him in wonderment. She asks him, “Where is everyone else?” He shakes his head as Stuart is known to do, and we see the confused disappointment in Penny’s face. She is clearly longing for someone, however, being a woman of greater maturity, she tells Stuart that they should go to dinner anyway. They both smile and he takes her arm, making some quirky joke, as they walk off down the street.

Why I think this works better than what they had: A twenty year gap is a PERFECT opportunity to raise questions without giving answers. The episode focused explicitly on whether or not Penny and Leonard will end up together, so why not show them twenty years later NOT together? The gap is big enough that the audience gets to wonder why, expecting something in the show, without getting it rammed into our eyes. Also, we don’t have to suffer another showcase of a great character being tortured as a loser. Everyone gets stood up, but come on, not this way, and not to Stuart. By the end of the episode, I just felt bad and unhappy. This is Big Bang Theory, not Buried.    

                Anyway, grandma, I’ve finished my rant. There need to be some changes, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Maybe it’s time to just put the damn thing to sleep. No, not you Mr. Fuzzles – stupid cat.