Search
Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Dolittle (2020) in Movies
Feb 23, 2020
A complete mess, but kids will probably love it.
With the words of Mark Kermode's review ringing in my ears ("It's shockingly poor... and that's the same in any language") I was bracing myself when I went to see this latest incarnation of Hugh Lofting's famous animal-chatting character. And I have to agree that it is a shocking mess of a film, given $175 million was poured into this thing. But, and I say this cautiously without first-hand empirical evidence, I *think* this is a movie that kids in the 6 to 10 age range might fall in love with.
Doctor Doolittle (Robert Downey Jnr) - famed animal doctor, with the unique ability to communicate with any animal - is now holed up in his animal sanctuary, a recluse. His beloved wife - adventurer Lily - was lost at sea (in a cartoon sequence that could have just used the same clip from "Frozen"). He's lost the will to practice; and almost lost the will to live.
Impinging on his morose life come two humans: Tommy Stubbings (Harry Collett), a reluctant hunter with a wounded squirrel, and Lady Rose (Carmel Laniado), daughter of the Queen of England. (We'll quietly ignore the coincidence that, after what looks like several years of mourning, these two independently pitch up at Chez Doolittle within ten minutes of each other!).
For the Queen (the omnipresent Jessie Buckley) is dying, and noone (other than us viewers, let in on the deal) suspect foul play might be at work in the form of Lord Thomas Badgley (the ever-reliable Jim Broadbent) and the Queen's old leech-loving doctor Blair Müdfly (a moustache-twiddling Michael Sheen).
Doolittle must engage in a perilous journey to find the only cure that will save both the Queen and his animal sanctuary - the fruit of the tree on a missing island that his long lost love was searching for.
Let's start with the most obvious point first up. Robert Downey Jnr's Welsh accent is quite the most terrible, most preposterous, most unintelligible, most offensive (to the Welsh) attempt at an accent in a mainstream film in movie history. And that's really saying something when you have Laurence Olivier's Jewish father from "The Jazz Singer" and Russell Crowe's English cum Irish cum Scottish cum Yugoslavian "Robin Hood" in the list. Why? Just why? Was it to distance this version from Rex Harrison's? (Since most younger movie goers will be going "Rex who?" at this point, this seems unlikely). It's a wholly curious decision.
It turns RDj's presence in the movie from being an asset to a liability.
The movie has had a tortuous history. Filmed in 2018 at enormous expense, the film completely bombed at test screenings so they brought in more script writers to make it funnier and did extensive additional filming.
I actually disagree with the general view that the film is unfunny. For there are a few points in the movie where I laughed out loud. A fly's miraculous, if temporary, escape was one such moment. The duck laying an egg in fright, another.
However, these seem to stand out starkly in isolation as 'the funny bits they inserted'. Much of the rest of the movie's comedy falls painfully flat.
In terms of the acting, there are the obvious visual talents on show of Michael Sheen (doing a great English accent for a Welshman.... #irony), Jim Broadbent, Jessie Buckley, Joanna Page (blink and you'll miss her) and Antonio Banderas, as the swashbuckling pirate king cum father-in-law.
But the end titles are an amazing array of "Ah!" moments as the vocal performances are revealed: Emma Thompson as the parrot; Rami Malek as the gorilla; John Cena as the polar bear; Kumail Nanjiani at the ostrich; Octavia Spencer at the duck; Tom Holland as the dog; Selena Gomez as the giraffe; Marion Cotillade as the fox, Frances de la Tour as a flatulent dragon and Ralph Fiennes as an evil tiger with mummy issues. It's a gift for future contestants on "Pointless"!
There are a lot of poe-faced critics throwing brick-bats at this movie, and to a degree it's deserved. They lavished $175 million on it, and it looked like it was going to be a thumping loss. (However, against all the odds, at the time of writing it has grossed north of $184 million. And it only opened yesterday in China. So although not stellar in the world of blockbuster movies it's not going to be a studio-killer like "Heaven's Gate").
And I suspect there's a good reason for that latent salvation. I think kids are loving this movie, driving repeat viewings and unexpected word of mouth. It is certainly a family friendly experience. There are no truly terrifying scenes that will haunt young children. A dragon-induced death, not seen on screen, is - notwithstanding the intro Frozen-esque cartoon sequence - the only obvious one in the movie and is (as above) played for laughs. There are fantastical sets and landscapes. Performing whales. A happy-ending (albeit not the one I was cynically expecting). And an extended dragon-farting scene, and what kids are not going to love that!!
Directed by Stephen Gaghan ("Syriana", but better known as a writer than a director) it's a jumbled messy bear of a movie but is in no way an unpleasant watch. I would take a grandkid along to watch this again. It even has some nuggets of gold hidden within its matted coat.
As this is primarily one for the kids, I'm giving the movie two ratings: 4/10 for adults and 8/10 for kids... the Smashbomb rating is the mean of these.
(For the full graphical review, please check out the review on One Mann's Movies here - https://bob-the-movie-man.com/2020/02/22/doolittle-2019/ . Thanks).
Doctor Doolittle (Robert Downey Jnr) - famed animal doctor, with the unique ability to communicate with any animal - is now holed up in his animal sanctuary, a recluse. His beloved wife - adventurer Lily - was lost at sea (in a cartoon sequence that could have just used the same clip from "Frozen"). He's lost the will to practice; and almost lost the will to live.
Impinging on his morose life come two humans: Tommy Stubbings (Harry Collett), a reluctant hunter with a wounded squirrel, and Lady Rose (Carmel Laniado), daughter of the Queen of England. (We'll quietly ignore the coincidence that, after what looks like several years of mourning, these two independently pitch up at Chez Doolittle within ten minutes of each other!).
For the Queen (the omnipresent Jessie Buckley) is dying, and noone (other than us viewers, let in on the deal) suspect foul play might be at work in the form of Lord Thomas Badgley (the ever-reliable Jim Broadbent) and the Queen's old leech-loving doctor Blair Müdfly (a moustache-twiddling Michael Sheen).
Doolittle must engage in a perilous journey to find the only cure that will save both the Queen and his animal sanctuary - the fruit of the tree on a missing island that his long lost love was searching for.
Let's start with the most obvious point first up. Robert Downey Jnr's Welsh accent is quite the most terrible, most preposterous, most unintelligible, most offensive (to the Welsh) attempt at an accent in a mainstream film in movie history. And that's really saying something when you have Laurence Olivier's Jewish father from "The Jazz Singer" and Russell Crowe's English cum Irish cum Scottish cum Yugoslavian "Robin Hood" in the list. Why? Just why? Was it to distance this version from Rex Harrison's? (Since most younger movie goers will be going "Rex who?" at this point, this seems unlikely). It's a wholly curious decision.
It turns RDj's presence in the movie from being an asset to a liability.
The movie has had a tortuous history. Filmed in 2018 at enormous expense, the film completely bombed at test screenings so they brought in more script writers to make it funnier and did extensive additional filming.
I actually disagree with the general view that the film is unfunny. For there are a few points in the movie where I laughed out loud. A fly's miraculous, if temporary, escape was one such moment. The duck laying an egg in fright, another.
However, these seem to stand out starkly in isolation as 'the funny bits they inserted'. Much of the rest of the movie's comedy falls painfully flat.
In terms of the acting, there are the obvious visual talents on show of Michael Sheen (doing a great English accent for a Welshman.... #irony), Jim Broadbent, Jessie Buckley, Joanna Page (blink and you'll miss her) and Antonio Banderas, as the swashbuckling pirate king cum father-in-law.
But the end titles are an amazing array of "Ah!" moments as the vocal performances are revealed: Emma Thompson as the parrot; Rami Malek as the gorilla; John Cena as the polar bear; Kumail Nanjiani at the ostrich; Octavia Spencer at the duck; Tom Holland as the dog; Selena Gomez as the giraffe; Marion Cotillade as the fox, Frances de la Tour as a flatulent dragon and Ralph Fiennes as an evil tiger with mummy issues. It's a gift for future contestants on "Pointless"!
There are a lot of poe-faced critics throwing brick-bats at this movie, and to a degree it's deserved. They lavished $175 million on it, and it looked like it was going to be a thumping loss. (However, against all the odds, at the time of writing it has grossed north of $184 million. And it only opened yesterday in China. So although not stellar in the world of blockbuster movies it's not going to be a studio-killer like "Heaven's Gate").
And I suspect there's a good reason for that latent salvation. I think kids are loving this movie, driving repeat viewings and unexpected word of mouth. It is certainly a family friendly experience. There are no truly terrifying scenes that will haunt young children. A dragon-induced death, not seen on screen, is - notwithstanding the intro Frozen-esque cartoon sequence - the only obvious one in the movie and is (as above) played for laughs. There are fantastical sets and landscapes. Performing whales. A happy-ending (albeit not the one I was cynically expecting). And an extended dragon-farting scene, and what kids are not going to love that!!
Directed by Stephen Gaghan ("Syriana", but better known as a writer than a director) it's a jumbled messy bear of a movie but is in no way an unpleasant watch. I would take a grandkid along to watch this again. It even has some nuggets of gold hidden within its matted coat.
As this is primarily one for the kids, I'm giving the movie two ratings: 4/10 for adults and 8/10 for kids... the Smashbomb rating is the mean of these.
(For the full graphical review, please check out the review on One Mann's Movies here - https://bob-the-movie-man.com/2020/02/22/doolittle-2019/ . Thanks).
Lottie disney bookworm (1056 KP) rated A Whole New World in Books
Aug 16, 2019
Review by Disney Bookworm
“What if Aladdin had never found the lamp?”
OK so I am going to start off this review with a really pedantic comment and I know I am being petty and that this will almost definitely end in a rant but… he does find the lamp! Of course he does! Aladdin is the diamond in the rough! He is literally the only one who can find the lamp. If he didn’t find the lamp nothing would happen: Jasmine would probably grow old with her tiger; Jafar would carry on hypnotising the Sultan; Aladdin would probably wind up arrested and this would be the shortest twisted tale in history.
*Ahem*
So, Aladdin finds the lamp. Let’s move past it, because if you have read my other reviews, you will know I love Liz Braswell: her twisted tales always wind up being my favourites as she always brings something completely unexpected to the novels. In the circumstances, I can forgive the tagline.
This review of “A Whole New World” comes at a time where Aladdin is everywhere: the live action movie was released in the UK just over a month ago and, I for one, loved it! With this in mind, I just had to re-read this twisted tale and shout about the wholly different Agrabah that it presents to the reader.
Braswell’s Agrabah is a raw, dirty, troubled cousin of the Agrabah we all know and love. I struggle to comprehend exactly how the movies did it, because both showed starving children, but we found ourselves simultaneously accepting and glossing over the poverty of the street rats. We have no such option in “A Whole New World”.
From starving infants; old men shovelling camel dung for coins; to Aladdin’s own mother dying of a wasting disease: this novel takes no prisoners in the Quarter of the Street Rats. However, those in the Palace remain blind to the struggles of the poor, with the Sultan playing with his golden toys whilst some of his citizens have no food or clean water.
The plight of the Agrabah people creates an undercurrent of resentment that runs all the way through Aladdin and Jasmine’s story. It is also a clear indicator of the identity of this novel: Braswell has taken all the romanticism of the familiar story and buried it in her own cave of wonders, leaving behind a highly political but incredibly powerful story.
The twisted tale starts off on a similar vein to both movies, boy meets girl, boy rescues girl from hand severing businessman, boy winds up arrested and transported to a creepy cave where he finds an old lamp, boy’s monkey can’t keep his hands to himself and boy is left clinging on for his life at the entrance to said creepy cave. However, in this version, when Jafar steps on Aladdin’s fingers to prevent his escape, Abu doesn’t grab the lamp! How will Aladdin escape now?
As is to be expected from Braswell’s novels, the characters are phenomenal. Aladdin is the proud, eternal optimist that we recognise but with a strong ethical viewpoint that is introduced by the inclusion of his mother as a character.
Creating a new character, particularly Aladdin’s mother, could simply be a tactic to give some history to the charming thief. However, Braswell uses the matriarch to add depth to Aladdin: she tells him “don’t let how poor you are, decide who you are…you can choose to be something more”.
This is ultimately the lesson the genie would teach Aladdin if they were to meet and so I think it is very clever of Braswell to keep this element of Aladdin’s character. It allows us to witness Aladdin’s pride and strength through these instilled virtues: he has even lost friends over his views of when he considers it acceptable to be a thief.
Although I wouldn’t consider the genie a main character in this tale (he doesn’t get as much airtime as in the films): he remains a funny and flippant sidekick for the most part. However, in keeping with the tone of “A Whole New World”, he does use this humour to provoke our thoughts. The genie and Braswell divulge that there was once a whole race of djinn who have since died out. The genie has lost his home, his wife and his freedom and so, he rightly asks, who would stay sane under those conditions?
Jafar; Mr dark and twisty himself, is a whole other level of evil in this twisted tale. He does present some of the characteristics of the movie villain: power mad, desperate for everyone to love him and all that jazz; however, he also tortures the genie and plans to break the laws of magic in order to create an army of the dead. It’s all very game of thrones all of a sudden!
I know what you’re thinking: what about Jasmine? Surely, she isn’t all dark and twisty as well? The girl looks good in turquoise baggy trousers for goodness sakes!
Jasmine begins her journey as the typical naïve, sheltered princess she is always portrayed as: possessing no knowledge of the price of food or the struggles of her own people. However, Braswell manages to make even the live-action Jasmine appear over-dramatic and petty: she isn’t resisting marriage just because she doesn’t fancy random foreign prince number 3; she is resisting becoming a “baby making machine” and signing herself up to an early grave.
“A princess among men”, Jasmine and the reader soon realise that she has to step forward and become the hero of this tale. This is no small ask for someone who has never led an army or witnessed death before. Nonetheless, Jasmine is clearly up to the task: this is no weak princess trapped in an hourglass of sand, waiting to be rescued by a man. This is a Sultana!
The story of Aladdin typically conjures up images of love, magic carpets and romantic duets. Liz Braswell’s story of Agrabah does orbit around love, how could it not? However, “A Whole New World” explores the shades of grey in life: Street rats are not always bad, Princesses are not always good and magic is not always the solution. This is not a tale of love; it is a tale of finding strength in unlikely places; it is a tale that teaches us you don’t need magic to have a happy ending.
OK so I am going to start off this review with a really pedantic comment and I know I am being petty and that this will almost definitely end in a rant but… he does find the lamp! Of course he does! Aladdin is the diamond in the rough! He is literally the only one who can find the lamp. If he didn’t find the lamp nothing would happen: Jasmine would probably grow old with her tiger; Jafar would carry on hypnotising the Sultan; Aladdin would probably wind up arrested and this would be the shortest twisted tale in history.
*Ahem*
So, Aladdin finds the lamp. Let’s move past it, because if you have read my other reviews, you will know I love Liz Braswell: her twisted tales always wind up being my favourites as she always brings something completely unexpected to the novels. In the circumstances, I can forgive the tagline.
This review of “A Whole New World” comes at a time where Aladdin is everywhere: the live action movie was released in the UK just over a month ago and, I for one, loved it! With this in mind, I just had to re-read this twisted tale and shout about the wholly different Agrabah that it presents to the reader.
Braswell’s Agrabah is a raw, dirty, troubled cousin of the Agrabah we all know and love. I struggle to comprehend exactly how the movies did it, because both showed starving children, but we found ourselves simultaneously accepting and glossing over the poverty of the street rats. We have no such option in “A Whole New World”.
From starving infants; old men shovelling camel dung for coins; to Aladdin’s own mother dying of a wasting disease: this novel takes no prisoners in the Quarter of the Street Rats. However, those in the Palace remain blind to the struggles of the poor, with the Sultan playing with his golden toys whilst some of his citizens have no food or clean water.
The plight of the Agrabah people creates an undercurrent of resentment that runs all the way through Aladdin and Jasmine’s story. It is also a clear indicator of the identity of this novel: Braswell has taken all the romanticism of the familiar story and buried it in her own cave of wonders, leaving behind a highly political but incredibly powerful story.
The twisted tale starts off on a similar vein to both movies, boy meets girl, boy rescues girl from hand severing businessman, boy winds up arrested and transported to a creepy cave where he finds an old lamp, boy’s monkey can’t keep his hands to himself and boy is left clinging on for his life at the entrance to said creepy cave. However, in this version, when Jafar steps on Aladdin’s fingers to prevent his escape, Abu doesn’t grab the lamp! How will Aladdin escape now?
As is to be expected from Braswell’s novels, the characters are phenomenal. Aladdin is the proud, eternal optimist that we recognise but with a strong ethical viewpoint that is introduced by the inclusion of his mother as a character.
Creating a new character, particularly Aladdin’s mother, could simply be a tactic to give some history to the charming thief. However, Braswell uses the matriarch to add depth to Aladdin: she tells him “don’t let how poor you are, decide who you are…you can choose to be something more”.
This is ultimately the lesson the genie would teach Aladdin if they were to meet and so I think it is very clever of Braswell to keep this element of Aladdin’s character. It allows us to witness Aladdin’s pride and strength through these instilled virtues: he has even lost friends over his views of when he considers it acceptable to be a thief.
Although I wouldn’t consider the genie a main character in this tale (he doesn’t get as much airtime as in the films): he remains a funny and flippant sidekick for the most part. However, in keeping with the tone of “A Whole New World”, he does use this humour to provoke our thoughts. The genie and Braswell divulge that there was once a whole race of djinn who have since died out. The genie has lost his home, his wife and his freedom and so, he rightly asks, who would stay sane under those conditions?
Jafar; Mr dark and twisty himself, is a whole other level of evil in this twisted tale. He does present some of the characteristics of the movie villain: power mad, desperate for everyone to love him and all that jazz; however, he also tortures the genie and plans to break the laws of magic in order to create an army of the dead. It’s all very game of thrones all of a sudden!
I know what you’re thinking: what about Jasmine? Surely, she isn’t all dark and twisty as well? The girl looks good in turquoise baggy trousers for goodness sakes!
Jasmine begins her journey as the typical naïve, sheltered princess she is always portrayed as: possessing no knowledge of the price of food or the struggles of her own people. However, Braswell manages to make even the live-action Jasmine appear over-dramatic and petty: she isn’t resisting marriage just because she doesn’t fancy random foreign prince number 3; she is resisting becoming a “baby making machine” and signing herself up to an early grave.
“A princess among men”, Jasmine and the reader soon realise that she has to step forward and become the hero of this tale. This is no small ask for someone who has never led an army or witnessed death before. Nonetheless, Jasmine is clearly up to the task: this is no weak princess trapped in an hourglass of sand, waiting to be rescued by a man. This is a Sultana!
The story of Aladdin typically conjures up images of love, magic carpets and romantic duets. Liz Braswell’s story of Agrabah does orbit around love, how could it not? However, “A Whole New World” explores the shades of grey in life: Street rats are not always bad, Princesses are not always good and magic is not always the solution. This is not a tale of love; it is a tale of finding strength in unlikely places; it is a tale that teaches us you don’t need magic to have a happy ending.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Coco (2017) in Movies
Mar 3, 2020 (Updated Mar 3, 2020)
As part of my project to compile a coffee table book called 21st Century cinema: 200 Unmissable Films, I have found it interesting, but not surprising, that almost 10% of the list since the year 2000 are animated features. It is an art form that Pixar and Disney especially, but many smaller studios, are excelling in, because of technological advances, and the free range of realising an imaginative vision. The trouble often is that they aren’t my first port of call anymore now I don’t have a kid around to watch them with. So it takes me some time to catch up on the good ones these days.
Also, for every good one there are several really lame ones, designed to get families into cinemas and take their money without much concession to a good script. It only takes the bad experience of a couple of those to put you off the genre as an adult. It can be hard to remember that some are made only with 6 year olds in mind. Frozen, for example. They have their place, and the phenomenon of which ones kids are drawn to is a different study altogether. For the purposes of my list, I am looking for the ones that can entertain young and older audiences at the same time. And, to date, no one has done that better than Pixar.
The benchmark, for me, remains Monsters Inc, The Incredibles and the Toy Story series. The latter especially, have a great knack of pleasing all generations. The key is always the writing. Animation styles and techniques can impress the eye, but it is always the theme, the relationships and the words that make an animated film enduring. Music also plays a big part; as does the level of humour. Both incredibly intangible arts that you can’t just buy.
I watched Coco on a Sunday morning – the perfect time to watch an animated film, by law! Chances are you will be a little hungover (I was) and susceptible to the inevitable sentimentality you are about to experience. The first thing that struck me was the colours! Embracing a Latin American cultural canvas, I don’t think I have ever seen such a vivid rainbow attacking my senses. From the naked flames of the candles, to the warm tones of the sunlight and the almost neon glow on display around the dead and the world of the afterlife, it was a visual treat I can honestly say I have never experienced before.
Oh, yes, Coco is about dying, if you didn’t know! And to say more about the genius of their approach to it, would be classed as a spoiler! The action takes place on Diá de Muertos (the day of the dead), when family members can revisit their loved ones, as long as they have been remembered. Our hero, young Miguel, loves music. But his family have banned him from listening to, or playing, it because of the shame surrounding a long dead ancestor. The magic of the day leads him to the underworld of the dead, to find out the truth and save the day.
Of course, once there, he meets all sorts of strange characters, and is lead on a fateful journey with lots of unexpected twists. Again, we won’t go into who, or why for the sake of spoilers. Suffice to say, the ideas, emotion and sense of righteousness flow, stirred up in the mix of constant moments of humour, some that land, some that don’t quite, at a pace fitting, and demanded, by young audiences. The ultimate aim being to reveal the truth behind the family story and to allow the dead to be remembered for their real worth.
On the negatives first: it is all pitched at quite a young audience, in the same way one of Pixar’s less successful films, Cars, is. Which means a lot of the humour lacks the sophistication needed to make it a classic. Also, for a film about the love and joy of music, the songs are only OK, and not especially memorable, although the Oscar winning main theme “Remember Me” serves its purpose very well in the climax. There are also one or two dips in the pacing of scenes that break the spell; surely the cornerstone rule of animated films: don’t drop the ball! Something both Wall-E and Up do at points, spoiling the overall impression of something so glorious in their best moments.
The power of Grandmas
To be more positive, we have to acknowledge the very, very high bar that Pixar set themselves. From an animation point of view, if this film had been released in 2001, we’d be in raptures about it! It is beautiful to look at! And the attention to detail is extraordinary, allowing for many re-watches, just to see the things they have put in there to largely amuse themselves. As a vision of an idea brought to life it is a consummate success! It is, essentially, so likeable. And at its heart, once again, right on the money.
It isn’t called Miguel. It isn’t called The Day of the Dead. It is called Coco. And by the end, you realise why that is important. Death is sad. Dementia is also an awful, awful thing. The strength of Coco is taking these difficult subjects and shining a meaningful light on them, that not only comments intelligently on them, but breaks the heart with the truth of it all. It takes a while to get there with this one, but the pay-off is sublime, yet again! Remember me, a simple sentiment that goes a long, long way!
As a side note, there is a controversial, but massively effective medical technique being utilised in the real world, with alzheimers sufferers, that uses music to trigger memory. It’s application and results are astonishing, for their ability to bring people “back to life”. Which, naturally, moved me immensely. To think the best moment of Coco isn’t just wish fulfilment in a sentimental world, but a real thing that can be done!
Sentimentality aside, Coco is a good film, in every sense of the word. As a parent, I would revel in the opportunity to show this to a child, for the positive conversations it might invoke. The aspects of cinema magic needed to make it an experience worth having are all there. To fault it is only to be unnecessarily picky. Better to go on the journey and enjoy it for what it is. Which, increasingly, is my mantra for watching anything. Who would not hope that someone chooses to celebrate life, with the thought “Remember Me”?
Also, for every good one there are several really lame ones, designed to get families into cinemas and take their money without much concession to a good script. It only takes the bad experience of a couple of those to put you off the genre as an adult. It can be hard to remember that some are made only with 6 year olds in mind. Frozen, for example. They have their place, and the phenomenon of which ones kids are drawn to is a different study altogether. For the purposes of my list, I am looking for the ones that can entertain young and older audiences at the same time. And, to date, no one has done that better than Pixar.
The benchmark, for me, remains Monsters Inc, The Incredibles and the Toy Story series. The latter especially, have a great knack of pleasing all generations. The key is always the writing. Animation styles and techniques can impress the eye, but it is always the theme, the relationships and the words that make an animated film enduring. Music also plays a big part; as does the level of humour. Both incredibly intangible arts that you can’t just buy.
I watched Coco on a Sunday morning – the perfect time to watch an animated film, by law! Chances are you will be a little hungover (I was) and susceptible to the inevitable sentimentality you are about to experience. The first thing that struck me was the colours! Embracing a Latin American cultural canvas, I don’t think I have ever seen such a vivid rainbow attacking my senses. From the naked flames of the candles, to the warm tones of the sunlight and the almost neon glow on display around the dead and the world of the afterlife, it was a visual treat I can honestly say I have never experienced before.
Oh, yes, Coco is about dying, if you didn’t know! And to say more about the genius of their approach to it, would be classed as a spoiler! The action takes place on Diá de Muertos (the day of the dead), when family members can revisit their loved ones, as long as they have been remembered. Our hero, young Miguel, loves music. But his family have banned him from listening to, or playing, it because of the shame surrounding a long dead ancestor. The magic of the day leads him to the underworld of the dead, to find out the truth and save the day.
Of course, once there, he meets all sorts of strange characters, and is lead on a fateful journey with lots of unexpected twists. Again, we won’t go into who, or why for the sake of spoilers. Suffice to say, the ideas, emotion and sense of righteousness flow, stirred up in the mix of constant moments of humour, some that land, some that don’t quite, at a pace fitting, and demanded, by young audiences. The ultimate aim being to reveal the truth behind the family story and to allow the dead to be remembered for their real worth.
On the negatives first: it is all pitched at quite a young audience, in the same way one of Pixar’s less successful films, Cars, is. Which means a lot of the humour lacks the sophistication needed to make it a classic. Also, for a film about the love and joy of music, the songs are only OK, and not especially memorable, although the Oscar winning main theme “Remember Me” serves its purpose very well in the climax. There are also one or two dips in the pacing of scenes that break the spell; surely the cornerstone rule of animated films: don’t drop the ball! Something both Wall-E and Up do at points, spoiling the overall impression of something so glorious in their best moments.
The power of Grandmas
To be more positive, we have to acknowledge the very, very high bar that Pixar set themselves. From an animation point of view, if this film had been released in 2001, we’d be in raptures about it! It is beautiful to look at! And the attention to detail is extraordinary, allowing for many re-watches, just to see the things they have put in there to largely amuse themselves. As a vision of an idea brought to life it is a consummate success! It is, essentially, so likeable. And at its heart, once again, right on the money.
It isn’t called Miguel. It isn’t called The Day of the Dead. It is called Coco. And by the end, you realise why that is important. Death is sad. Dementia is also an awful, awful thing. The strength of Coco is taking these difficult subjects and shining a meaningful light on them, that not only comments intelligently on them, but breaks the heart with the truth of it all. It takes a while to get there with this one, but the pay-off is sublime, yet again! Remember me, a simple sentiment that goes a long, long way!
As a side note, there is a controversial, but massively effective medical technique being utilised in the real world, with alzheimers sufferers, that uses music to trigger memory. It’s application and results are astonishing, for their ability to bring people “back to life”. Which, naturally, moved me immensely. To think the best moment of Coco isn’t just wish fulfilment in a sentimental world, but a real thing that can be done!
Sentimentality aside, Coco is a good film, in every sense of the word. As a parent, I would revel in the opportunity to show this to a child, for the positive conversations it might invoke. The aspects of cinema magic needed to make it an experience worth having are all there. To fault it is only to be unnecessarily picky. Better to go on the journey and enjoy it for what it is. Which, increasingly, is my mantra for watching anything. Who would not hope that someone chooses to celebrate life, with the thought “Remember Me”?
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated The Book of Kings in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – The Book of Kings Has a Few Gems and a Few Warts
Contains spoilers, click to show
Unlike other short story anthologies I could mention, this one wasn’t mostly horrible. Instead, the stories inside run the gamut from stupid to brilliant and from annoying to nothing special to fun and memorable. A little something for everyone, then.
So since I can’t review it with one blanket sentiment, let’s instead take a quick look at a handful of the 20 all-original stories inside. The following are the tales that most stood out to me during my reading, for better or worse.
“The Kiss” by Alan Dean Foster – A woman walking through a snowy city finds a frog who says he’s a prince, so she kisses him. He turns into a guy and stabs her to death.
Oh boy, we’re not off to a great start here. This story could have been told in a page or so and been an interesting twist on the old tale, but instead the author drew it out over three pages by choosing the absolute most pretentious choice of words for every damn sentence. The guy doesn’t stab the woman, his “knife describes a Gothic arc.” She doesn’t shout or whisper or ask what’s going on, she “expels a querrelous trauma.” It’s not snowing on her face, “trifles of ice as beautiful as they were capricious tickled her exposed cheeks, only to be turned into simulacra of tears as they were instantly metamorphosed by the bundled furnace of her body.”
Yes, really.
The sheer purpleness of this prose might be excused for a deliberately lofty and overwrought tale, but it absolutely does not fit a story about a girl getting shanked by a frog on the street. If the contrast between what’s happening and how it’s presented is supposed to seem absolutely ridiculous, then it’s a success. This reads more like a writing exercise for seeing how unbearably melodramatic you can tell a simple story that the author went ahead and published anyway. I only read it last night as of the time of this particular bit of review, but I still have a headache.
“Divine Right” by Nancy Holder – A king grieving for his recently passed daughter and only heir tries to figure out how to keep his legacy from dying out and eventually decides on a way to choose a successor, sealing his decision by making a pact with God.
I really liked this one, partly for the great characterization of the king via his priorities. He’s not a bastion of righteousness or a tyrannical despot. He might be a pretty decent ruler, or he might not, depending on your priorities and the angle from which you view him. Mostly he’s written to be believable for his position and time period, pride and failings and all.
But what really sealed this story for me was the ironic bent of the plot that I can’t really discuss in any more depth without spoiling it except to say that it definitely fit with the tone and left an appropriate message. So let’s just give it a thumbs up and leave it at that.
“In the Name of the King” by Judith Tarr – If you know the story of Hatshepsut, an Egyptian queen who ruled as Pharaoh, then this is an extra interesting story. It follows both Hatshepsut and her lover in the afterlife and the legacy they’re leaving behind after their deaths, in which they take a surprisingly active interest for dead people.
If you know your history, though, you know where this is going, and it’s very touching as it gets there. It’s also character-centric in a way that makes its dead cast members seem very much alive. This one’s a good contender for my favorite story in the whole anthology.
“Please to See the King” by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald – A small glimpse of about one evening each into the lives of two seemingly unrelated, seemingly unimportant men against the backdrop of the battles being fought over a vague and distant rebellion against a vague and distant crown.
To say more would be to spoil the story, which is short, sweet, and interesting. It gives you just enough details, and no more, that you can piece together a much deeper story with room left for speculation about who certain characters really were and what exactly just happened. I’ve spent more time thinking about how the ending may be interpreted than it took me to read it, which is a good sign of nuance done right.
“The Name of a King” by Diana L. Paxson – This’n c’n rightf’ly b’ put in w’ th’ other st’ries I woul’n’t oth’rwise b’ther t’ mention ‘cept fer th’ o’erwrought dialectic style o’ nearly all o’ th’ dialogue, whut c’n git on yer nerves right quick-like whene’er any’ne op’ns their mouths. An’ while I’m ‘ere, th’ settin’ w’s rife wi’ plen’y o’ hints at deeper d’tails whut was ne’er sufficien’ly delved into or whut impact’d th’ actu’l plot much. Felt like part o’ a fant’sy series whut I was ‘spected t’ b’ f’miliar wit’ but wasn’t, an’ whut di’n’t give me ’nuff t’ git f’miliar wit’ just fr’m this st’ry.
Oth’rwise, t’w’sn’t t’ b’d, I s’pose. Bit borin’.
“Coda: Working Stiff” by Mike Resnick and Nicholas A. DiChario – This one was just fun. Again trying not to give away any twists or revelations, this one follows a journalist interviewing a bus driver who used to be a big, famous king back in his heyday but is now content (or so he says) with his obscure life of working a simple job in the day and drinking in his spartan home at night.
Who this ex-king really is probably isn’t who you think it’s gonna be at first, but the story does still technically, and cheekily, fit in with the premise of the book overall. It reminds me very much of something Neil Gaiman might have written, or maybe Terry Pratchett if he’d decided to tackle the kingly premise from a more modern and realistic approach.
There are still 14 stories left in here, many of which are also good reads, or at least decent. In fact, looking back through it again, the only real dud that stands out to me is “The Kiss.” The weakest of what’s left are either adaptations of stories that didn’t really do it for me (“The Tale of Lady Ashburn” by John Gregory Betancourt) or weird original works that weren’t really memorable in what they set out to do (“A Parker House Roll” by Dean Wesley Smith).
Overall, The Book of Kings is a fun and interesting romp through a number of royal worlds, themes, and tones. As such, anyone who gives it a look will probably have the same general sentiment I did at the end, with a few things to like and a few to point to as examples of what doesn’t work for them. Me, I got a bit of the inspiration I was looking for and a few memorable tales out of it, so I’ll forgive the warts.
So since I can’t review it with one blanket sentiment, let’s instead take a quick look at a handful of the 20 all-original stories inside. The following are the tales that most stood out to me during my reading, for better or worse.
“The Kiss” by Alan Dean Foster – A woman walking through a snowy city finds a frog who says he’s a prince, so she kisses him. He turns into a guy and stabs her to death.
Oh boy, we’re not off to a great start here. This story could have been told in a page or so and been an interesting twist on the old tale, but instead the author drew it out over three pages by choosing the absolute most pretentious choice of words for every damn sentence. The guy doesn’t stab the woman, his “knife describes a Gothic arc.” She doesn’t shout or whisper or ask what’s going on, she “expels a querrelous trauma.” It’s not snowing on her face, “trifles of ice as beautiful as they were capricious tickled her exposed cheeks, only to be turned into simulacra of tears as they were instantly metamorphosed by the bundled furnace of her body.”
Yes, really.
The sheer purpleness of this prose might be excused for a deliberately lofty and overwrought tale, but it absolutely does not fit a story about a girl getting shanked by a frog on the street. If the contrast between what’s happening and how it’s presented is supposed to seem absolutely ridiculous, then it’s a success. This reads more like a writing exercise for seeing how unbearably melodramatic you can tell a simple story that the author went ahead and published anyway. I only read it last night as of the time of this particular bit of review, but I still have a headache.
“Divine Right” by Nancy Holder – A king grieving for his recently passed daughter and only heir tries to figure out how to keep his legacy from dying out and eventually decides on a way to choose a successor, sealing his decision by making a pact with God.
I really liked this one, partly for the great characterization of the king via his priorities. He’s not a bastion of righteousness or a tyrannical despot. He might be a pretty decent ruler, or he might not, depending on your priorities and the angle from which you view him. Mostly he’s written to be believable for his position and time period, pride and failings and all.
But what really sealed this story for me was the ironic bent of the plot that I can’t really discuss in any more depth without spoiling it except to say that it definitely fit with the tone and left an appropriate message. So let’s just give it a thumbs up and leave it at that.
“In the Name of the King” by Judith Tarr – If you know the story of Hatshepsut, an Egyptian queen who ruled as Pharaoh, then this is an extra interesting story. It follows both Hatshepsut and her lover in the afterlife and the legacy they’re leaving behind after their deaths, in which they take a surprisingly active interest for dead people.
If you know your history, though, you know where this is going, and it’s very touching as it gets there. It’s also character-centric in a way that makes its dead cast members seem very much alive. This one’s a good contender for my favorite story in the whole anthology.
“Please to See the King” by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald – A small glimpse of about one evening each into the lives of two seemingly unrelated, seemingly unimportant men against the backdrop of the battles being fought over a vague and distant rebellion against a vague and distant crown.
To say more would be to spoil the story, which is short, sweet, and interesting. It gives you just enough details, and no more, that you can piece together a much deeper story with room left for speculation about who certain characters really were and what exactly just happened. I’ve spent more time thinking about how the ending may be interpreted than it took me to read it, which is a good sign of nuance done right.
“The Name of a King” by Diana L. Paxson – This’n c’n rightf’ly b’ put in w’ th’ other st’ries I woul’n’t oth’rwise b’ther t’ mention ‘cept fer th’ o’erwrought dialectic style o’ nearly all o’ th’ dialogue, whut c’n git on yer nerves right quick-like whene’er any’ne op’ns their mouths. An’ while I’m ‘ere, th’ settin’ w’s rife wi’ plen’y o’ hints at deeper d’tails whut was ne’er sufficien’ly delved into or whut impact’d th’ actu’l plot much. Felt like part o’ a fant’sy series whut I was ‘spected t’ b’ f’miliar wit’ but wasn’t, an’ whut di’n’t give me ’nuff t’ git f’miliar wit’ just fr’m this st’ry.
Oth’rwise, t’w’sn’t t’ b’d, I s’pose. Bit borin’.
“Coda: Working Stiff” by Mike Resnick and Nicholas A. DiChario – This one was just fun. Again trying not to give away any twists or revelations, this one follows a journalist interviewing a bus driver who used to be a big, famous king back in his heyday but is now content (or so he says) with his obscure life of working a simple job in the day and drinking in his spartan home at night.
Who this ex-king really is probably isn’t who you think it’s gonna be at first, but the story does still technically, and cheekily, fit in with the premise of the book overall. It reminds me very much of something Neil Gaiman might have written, or maybe Terry Pratchett if he’d decided to tackle the kingly premise from a more modern and realistic approach.
There are still 14 stories left in here, many of which are also good reads, or at least decent. In fact, looking back through it again, the only real dud that stands out to me is “The Kiss.” The weakest of what’s left are either adaptations of stories that didn’t really do it for me (“The Tale of Lady Ashburn” by John Gregory Betancourt) or weird original works that weren’t really memorable in what they set out to do (“A Parker House Roll” by Dean Wesley Smith).
Overall, The Book of Kings is a fun and interesting romp through a number of royal worlds, themes, and tones. As such, anyone who gives it a look will probably have the same general sentiment I did at the end, with a few things to like and a few to point to as examples of what doesn’t work for them. Me, I got a bit of the inspiration I was looking for and a few memorable tales out of it, so I’ll forgive the warts.
5 Minute Movie Guy (379 KP) rated A Million Ways to Die in the West (2014) in Movies
Jun 26, 2019
Neil Patrick Harris is delightfully devious. (1 more)
MacFarlane shows he has potential in his on-screen acting debut.
The humor is at times very vulgar and immature. (2 more)
The film is slow-paced and overly long.
"A Dozen Ways to Die in the West" would have been a more appropriate title.
A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs but it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. Still, if you're a fan of MacFarlane's other works, you'll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West.
Following the success of his directorial debut, Ted, Seth MacFarlane steps in front of the movie camera for the first time in his new film, A Million Ways to Die in the West. MacFarlane is best known as the creator of the popular animated television series, Family Guy, and he was also the host of the Oscars just two years ago. Now he’s taking the starring role in a film he wrote and directed himself. Here MacFarlane plays a cowardly sheep farmer named Albert who is miserably living in the dangerous Old West. Or rather, the not-so-dangerous Old West. Despite what the title suggests, there’s not a whole lot of dying going on in A Million Ways to Die in the West. You won’t find a whole lot of substance either, but there are a fair amount of laughs if you’re able to tolerate the crude toilet humor and dirty jokes. All in all, MacFarlane does a decent job in this comedy, but his jokes stick too close to his own conventions, and much like life on the frontier, the film can be kind of a drag.
If you’ve ever seen Family Guy, you should feel right at home with the humor in this film. It’s crass, edgy, violent, and full of pop culture references. Although, given that this is an R-rated movie, MacFarlane’s able to push the limits further than usual, and he makes sure to do that by including a lot of raunchy humor and toilet-gags. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, male genitals are still the hottest thing in comedy right now. As you’ve no doubt deduced, this is certainly not a film you’d want to take your kids to see. Nor is it for the easily-offended. Though in the film’s defense, it’s not entirely tasteless, and its use of vulgarity isn’t overly frequent. There’s plenty of great slapstick physical comedy and some pretty hilarious dialogue. I laughed more than I thought I would, and was never so disgusted that I wanted to walk out. It’s an entertaining film, it just happens to run a little long and lose momentum down the stretch. Plus the main premise of the film is never all that compelling to begin with.
In A Million Ways to Die in the West, MacFarlane’s character Albert is a man entirely self-aware of the time and place he’s living in, as well as the many dangers that come with it. He sheepishly lives his life, terrified by the threat of death that lurks around every corner. When his beloved girlfriend leaves him for a man with a mighty mustache, Albert has to cowboy up to prove his machismo and try to win her back. Luckily for him, he meets a gun-toting woman named Anna who’s happy to help him face his fears and show him the ropes of being a cowboy. Unfortunately however, this new friendship ends up putting Albert right into the crosshairs of Clinch Leatherwood, the deadliest outlaw around.
While MacFarlane does a respectable job in his first foray into acting, his character feels rather uninspired. I couldn’t help but see him as a hodgepodge of various Family Guy characters, having the clumsiness of Peter Griffin, the self-consciousness of Chris Griffin, and the intelligence and charm of Brian. Given that he created that show, perhaps that should be expected, but it just felt like Albert was lacking a unique and consistent identity. He’s a character who can be charming and funny, but he also comes off seeming like a jerk. All in all, the film has a good cast of actors, with Neil Patrick Harris being the stand-out of the bunch. He plays the pompous, mustached snob, Foy, who steals the heart of Albert’s girlfriend, Louise. Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman are likable as the flawed, clueless couple who serve as Albert’s close friends, Edward and Ruth. Although their characters stay pretty comfortably within the realm of what you would expect from their respective actors, with Edward being the naïve nice guy, while Silverman’s Ruth is the seemingly-sweet-and-innocent, foul-mouthed hussy. Charlize Theron does a fine job as Albert’s mentor, Anna. She has a strong presence in the film and is fun to watch, but despite her best efforts, the emotional element she brings to the story ends up feeling forced and unconvincing. Though that’s no fault of her own. It’s just hard to imagine her, or anyone, falling head over heels so easily and suddenly for a guy like Albert. Then, of course, there’s Liam Neeson, who is effective in his performance as the intimidating villain, Clinch, but would have benefitted from more screen-time.
A Million Ways to Die in the West proficiently parodies the western film genre, capturing the right atmosphere for the setting and time period. Visually it’s a pleasant film to look at, with good camera-work, well-created sets, and lots of beautiful scenery. This makes it all the more disappointing then that the filmmakers decided to place a visual filter over the entirety of the film to give it a more old-fashioned look. As a result, there is a constant flickering throughout the whole movie, and while not quite seizure-inducing, it certainly is distracting. At times you kind of get used to it and forget about it, but it really stands out in scenes with heavy lighting and most of the movie takes place in broad daylight. On the audio side of things, the music is appropriately fitting, but little of it is particularly noteworthy. There is a great song about mustaches, accompanied with a well-orchestrated dance number led by Neil Patrick Harris in what is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. Additionally the film’s theme song is appropriately fun. The visual effects in the movie, although limited, are done quite well and nicely add to the film’s comedic effect. Although I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say the movie could have done just fine without all of the animated urinating sheep.
I think the film’s greatest flaw is the fact that it’s doing too much as it tries to incorporate all of the main stereotypes of the western genre. It has duels, bar brawls, jailbreaks, horse chases, and even capture by Indians thrown in for good measure. In trying to cover all of the bases, the movie ends up running too long and becomes a little boring and tired. Rather than building up to a climax, the film diverges with some unnecessary scenes, and then concludes with a lackluster ending. It would have been cool to see Clinch and his group of bandits lay siege to the main town, which could have given the filmmakers an opportunity to create a wide variety of deaths, and allow Albert to exercise his newly developed skills before setting up to an ultimate final showdown. Maybe that would be adding to the long list of clichés, but at least it would have given this slow-paced film some much needed adrenaline and would have made it more true to its misleading title. There are also several cameo appearances in the film, and while a couple of them are great conceptually, I don’t think any of them are quite as satisfying as they should be. They end up feeling out of place, like last-second additions that have no purpose other than to acknowledge other films. I can appreciate the attempt but the cameos aren’t particularly funny and they just seems to emphasize how much better those other films are.
Seth MacFarlane’s A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs, but just like his character Albert’s long-winded ramblings, it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. It’s still an entertaining film regardless, and if you’re a fan of MacFarlane’s other work, you’ll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West. The movie has a talented cast, some truly great scenes such as a bar brawl and a memorable dance, as well as plenty of good old-fashioned slapstick, and witty dialogue. If you can handle the occasional gross-out gag, you’ll probably have a good time. Just don’t expect to actually see the many ways people can die In the Old West. The movie doesn’t show many deaths at all, and all the best ones you likely already saw in the trailer.
(This review was originally posted at 5mmg.com on 6.3.14.)
If you’ve ever seen Family Guy, you should feel right at home with the humor in this film. It’s crass, edgy, violent, and full of pop culture references. Although, given that this is an R-rated movie, MacFarlane’s able to push the limits further than usual, and he makes sure to do that by including a lot of raunchy humor and toilet-gags. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, male genitals are still the hottest thing in comedy right now. As you’ve no doubt deduced, this is certainly not a film you’d want to take your kids to see. Nor is it for the easily-offended. Though in the film’s defense, it’s not entirely tasteless, and its use of vulgarity isn’t overly frequent. There’s plenty of great slapstick physical comedy and some pretty hilarious dialogue. I laughed more than I thought I would, and was never so disgusted that I wanted to walk out. It’s an entertaining film, it just happens to run a little long and lose momentum down the stretch. Plus the main premise of the film is never all that compelling to begin with.
In A Million Ways to Die in the West, MacFarlane’s character Albert is a man entirely self-aware of the time and place he’s living in, as well as the many dangers that come with it. He sheepishly lives his life, terrified by the threat of death that lurks around every corner. When his beloved girlfriend leaves him for a man with a mighty mustache, Albert has to cowboy up to prove his machismo and try to win her back. Luckily for him, he meets a gun-toting woman named Anna who’s happy to help him face his fears and show him the ropes of being a cowboy. Unfortunately however, this new friendship ends up putting Albert right into the crosshairs of Clinch Leatherwood, the deadliest outlaw around.
While MacFarlane does a respectable job in his first foray into acting, his character feels rather uninspired. I couldn’t help but see him as a hodgepodge of various Family Guy characters, having the clumsiness of Peter Griffin, the self-consciousness of Chris Griffin, and the intelligence and charm of Brian. Given that he created that show, perhaps that should be expected, but it just felt like Albert was lacking a unique and consistent identity. He’s a character who can be charming and funny, but he also comes off seeming like a jerk. All in all, the film has a good cast of actors, with Neil Patrick Harris being the stand-out of the bunch. He plays the pompous, mustached snob, Foy, who steals the heart of Albert’s girlfriend, Louise. Giovanni Ribisi and Sarah Silverman are likable as the flawed, clueless couple who serve as Albert’s close friends, Edward and Ruth. Although their characters stay pretty comfortably within the realm of what you would expect from their respective actors, with Edward being the naïve nice guy, while Silverman’s Ruth is the seemingly-sweet-and-innocent, foul-mouthed hussy. Charlize Theron does a fine job as Albert’s mentor, Anna. She has a strong presence in the film and is fun to watch, but despite her best efforts, the emotional element she brings to the story ends up feeling forced and unconvincing. Though that’s no fault of her own. It’s just hard to imagine her, or anyone, falling head over heels so easily and suddenly for a guy like Albert. Then, of course, there’s Liam Neeson, who is effective in his performance as the intimidating villain, Clinch, but would have benefitted from more screen-time.
A Million Ways to Die in the West proficiently parodies the western film genre, capturing the right atmosphere for the setting and time period. Visually it’s a pleasant film to look at, with good camera-work, well-created sets, and lots of beautiful scenery. This makes it all the more disappointing then that the filmmakers decided to place a visual filter over the entirety of the film to give it a more old-fashioned look. As a result, there is a constant flickering throughout the whole movie, and while not quite seizure-inducing, it certainly is distracting. At times you kind of get used to it and forget about it, but it really stands out in scenes with heavy lighting and most of the movie takes place in broad daylight. On the audio side of things, the music is appropriately fitting, but little of it is particularly noteworthy. There is a great song about mustaches, accompanied with a well-orchestrated dance number led by Neil Patrick Harris in what is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. Additionally the film’s theme song is appropriately fun. The visual effects in the movie, although limited, are done quite well and nicely add to the film’s comedic effect. Although I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say the movie could have done just fine without all of the animated urinating sheep.
I think the film’s greatest flaw is the fact that it’s doing too much as it tries to incorporate all of the main stereotypes of the western genre. It has duels, bar brawls, jailbreaks, horse chases, and even capture by Indians thrown in for good measure. In trying to cover all of the bases, the movie ends up running too long and becomes a little boring and tired. Rather than building up to a climax, the film diverges with some unnecessary scenes, and then concludes with a lackluster ending. It would have been cool to see Clinch and his group of bandits lay siege to the main town, which could have given the filmmakers an opportunity to create a wide variety of deaths, and allow Albert to exercise his newly developed skills before setting up to an ultimate final showdown. Maybe that would be adding to the long list of clichés, but at least it would have given this slow-paced film some much needed adrenaline and would have made it more true to its misleading title. There are also several cameo appearances in the film, and while a couple of them are great conceptually, I don’t think any of them are quite as satisfying as they should be. They end up feeling out of place, like last-second additions that have no purpose other than to acknowledge other films. I can appreciate the attempt but the cameos aren’t particularly funny and they just seems to emphasize how much better those other films are.
Seth MacFarlane’s A Million Ways to Die in the West is good for a few laughs, but just like his character Albert’s long-winded ramblings, it feels like it goes on unreasonably long. It’s still an entertaining film regardless, and if you’re a fan of MacFarlane’s other work, you’ll most likely enjoy his parody of the Old West. The movie has a talented cast, some truly great scenes such as a bar brawl and a memorable dance, as well as plenty of good old-fashioned slapstick, and witty dialogue. If you can handle the occasional gross-out gag, you’ll probably have a good time. Just don’t expect to actually see the many ways people can die In the Old West. The movie doesn’t show many deaths at all, and all the best ones you likely already saw in the trailer.
(This review was originally posted at 5mmg.com on 6.3.14.)
Erika (17789 KP) rated Loki - Season 1 in TV
Jul 16, 2021 (Updated Jul 16, 2021)
I’ll stick with Loki’s original story-arc.
Contains spoilers, click to show
Loki, featuring the return of Tom Hiddleston to the MCU, has escaped with the tesseract, and is subsequently caught by the TVA. He agrees to help Owen Wilson’s Mobius track down a variant that is conveniently a version of himself. What ensues is a painful setup for Ironman with Magic… oh, sorry, Dr. Strange and the Multiverse of Madness.
On one hand, my ma always told me, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, but on the other hand, I haven’t been this pissed off at a major franchise since Star Wars: The Last Jedi. My visceral, negative reaction was caused by many things.
First, this series did not need to be made. Loki had a perfect ending to his overall arc, and it really didn’t need to be messed with. I am a huge Tom Hiddleston fan, I went to NYC to see him in a play, waited outside freezing my butt off to meet him, all of that. I was so glad when Loki was killed off, so he’d be free to do other things, and not just be known for Loki. Alas, that did not happen.
This series was made for two subsets of fans: the fans that can’t accept the death of their favorite character, and the fans that are absolutely, irrationally obsessed with having their favorite character paired up romantically. I fall into neither of these categories. ‘More Stories to Tell’ was the tagline… it should have been ‘More Money to be Made’.
After watching the same movie in a different flavor for over ten years, I realized that maybe the MCU wasn’t for me anymore. But, when Loki was announced, I was promised something new and weird! I thought, maybe this will be the show to get me back into the MCU. That was not the case. I cannot believe the rave reviews about this series; did we all watch the same thing?
The first warning sign for me was when it was announced that Michael Waldron, who was a writer for Rick & Morty was going to be helming this series. Rick & Morty is funny… if you’re a dude-bro, drunk, or high. When I read a few of his interviews prior to the release of Loki, another warning sign, this guy kind of sounded like a huge douchebag. I was then calmed and reassured that maybe it wouldn’t be a train-wreck because Hiddleston was heavily involved in the series.
As I’ve mentioned before, we were promised something new, different, and weird. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, creative team behind Loki.
Episode 1 was cheap; did I need to see clips from previous movies used in a very uncreative way? No, I did not. There was also something just off about the casting of Wilson. Now, this may be on me because my teen-years were spent quoting Owen Wilson films. There were a few things I liked about Episode 1, like the Blade Runner robot reference. There was a red flag in this episode though. Pro-tip: never, EVER have a character verbalize/confirm that they’re smart. Because it’s probably not the case.
Episode 2 was the bright spot, it was my favorite, by far. It was fast-paced, amusing, and the most interesting episode out of the whole series. The Mt Vesuvius/unleashing of the goats thing was the sort of thing I was looking for in this series. I actually chuckled a little, which rarely happens. It moved the story along, and we get the big reveal of the Loki variant that’s causing all the havoc.
Episode 3 was, for lack of a better word, boring. The pace slowed, and it was the infamous Disney+ show filler episode. We’re introduced to Mary Sue, sorry, I mean Lady Loki, but not really, Sylvie, the Enchantress, right? No, wait, she’s a completely different, new character. Probably shouldn’t have opted for the name Sylvie in that case. She’s a brand new, *strong* female, that shows her strength by punching people and has no personality (see: Carol Danvers - Captain Marvel, Hope van Dyne - Ant-Man). Y’all, you told me you were going to give me something different, new, weird. A Mary Sue isn’t new, different, or weird. This episode was a get-to-know-each-other, and build a pseudo-sibling relationship, right? Because anything else would be weird in a bad way, not an interesting way. There was a considerable shift in our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki character evolution, he opened-up, announced that he was a member of the LGBTQQIAAP nation, progress! First bi-sexual character in the MCU, way to go Disney, getting with the times! It was still a filler episode though, and while the stakes seemed high, you knew that there were three more episodes to go, of course they would live.
Again, I was reassured after this lackluster episode by Hiddleston, that 4 and 5 were his favorite. That fact is now disturbing.
Episode 4 was the death knell. I think the response from the creative team afterwards was also incredibly tone-deaf, and, quite frankly, insulting. The 4th episode was so bad, I legitimately had to go cleanse my eyes and brain with a GBBO marathon. The fact that the creative team had no idea that the insta-love (see: Jane and Thor - Thor) between two characters that had seemingly formed a pseudo-sibling relationship wouldn’t come off a little incest-y is really strange to me. If a pseudo-sibling relationship was not the intention, then it was poor writing, directing and acting by all parties involved. Sometimes, when a Mary Sue punches our main character, he falls in love with her (see: Hope and Scott - Ant-Man). The whole narcissism thing was hilarious, I’m glad our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki was cured of that by Sylvie and another *strong* personality-lacking woman (see: Sif -Thor/Thor: the Dark World) kicking him between the legs was what he’d needed all along. If a small portion of this episode was actually utilizing the myth of Narcissus, then I’m glad they followed it through to the dying part. This is when everything clicked for me. Our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki’s character evolution made him a big ol’ bowl of mushy, overcooked oatmeal. HOW and WHY would you take one of the best anti-heroes in the MCU, or any superhero franchise, and make him so mushy? More importantly, I didn’t care about what happened to any of the characters, except B-15. Normally, that’s my cue to stop watching a show, but I wanted to see if they tried to convince audiences that this Oatmeal Loki was actually smart and logical.
Episode 5 was when things slightly improved. Again, I couldn’t forgive the events of Episode 4, and I totally fast-forwarded during whatever talk Loki and Mary Sue, sorry, Sylvie, had with a blankie around their shoulders. All of the other Lokis were better in their tiny amount of screen time than Oatmeal Loki and Mary Sue Loki. Alligator Loki had more personality than Sylvie. Richard Grant is the superior Loki in my opinion. This episode also reintroduced hand holding with CGI colors swirling around characters (see: Guardians of the Galaxy).
Episode 6 was our finale. Thank God. We’re introduced to the real head of the TVA, which was who everyone was expecting. This episode was a little slow-paced, with a lot of interesting chit-chat. Oatmeal Loki actually seemed like he had a brain cell or two for a few brief, fleeting moments. He even showed off some of his powers, which, by the way, we were told we’d see more of… but didn’t. Then, our Oatmeal Loki was distracted by his Mary Sue, went for a kiss, and plopped right on his ass, looking like a fool. I almost snorted my coffee as I watched. Then, they confirmed a Season 2.
Honestly, I was hoping Oatmeal Loki and Mary Sue Loki would get killed off. Sadly, it didn’t happen, and they’re getting another series, and an appearance in Ironman with Magic. I’m so glad this series was something new, different, and weird, not just the bog-standard, MCU drivel we normally get. Oh, wait… I probably don’t even need to state that this wasn’t my cup of tea, and, again, solidified the fact that I’m over the MCU. I also know that I should avoid anything Michael Waldron and Kate Herron touch. Eventually, I’ll stop feeling betrayed by Hiddleston, but it may take a while. Is that ridiculous? Probably.
On one hand, my ma always told me, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, but on the other hand, I haven’t been this pissed off at a major franchise since Star Wars: The Last Jedi. My visceral, negative reaction was caused by many things.
First, this series did not need to be made. Loki had a perfect ending to his overall arc, and it really didn’t need to be messed with. I am a huge Tom Hiddleston fan, I went to NYC to see him in a play, waited outside freezing my butt off to meet him, all of that. I was so glad when Loki was killed off, so he’d be free to do other things, and not just be known for Loki. Alas, that did not happen.
This series was made for two subsets of fans: the fans that can’t accept the death of their favorite character, and the fans that are absolutely, irrationally obsessed with having their favorite character paired up romantically. I fall into neither of these categories. ‘More Stories to Tell’ was the tagline… it should have been ‘More Money to be Made’.
After watching the same movie in a different flavor for over ten years, I realized that maybe the MCU wasn’t for me anymore. But, when Loki was announced, I was promised something new and weird! I thought, maybe this will be the show to get me back into the MCU. That was not the case. I cannot believe the rave reviews about this series; did we all watch the same thing?
The first warning sign for me was when it was announced that Michael Waldron, who was a writer for Rick & Morty was going to be helming this series. Rick & Morty is funny… if you’re a dude-bro, drunk, or high. When I read a few of his interviews prior to the release of Loki, another warning sign, this guy kind of sounded like a huge douchebag. I was then calmed and reassured that maybe it wouldn’t be a train-wreck because Hiddleston was heavily involved in the series.
As I’ve mentioned before, we were promised something new, different, and weird. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, creative team behind Loki.
Episode 1 was cheap; did I need to see clips from previous movies used in a very uncreative way? No, I did not. There was also something just off about the casting of Wilson. Now, this may be on me because my teen-years were spent quoting Owen Wilson films. There were a few things I liked about Episode 1, like the Blade Runner robot reference. There was a red flag in this episode though. Pro-tip: never, EVER have a character verbalize/confirm that they’re smart. Because it’s probably not the case.
Episode 2 was the bright spot, it was my favorite, by far. It was fast-paced, amusing, and the most interesting episode out of the whole series. The Mt Vesuvius/unleashing of the goats thing was the sort of thing I was looking for in this series. I actually chuckled a little, which rarely happens. It moved the story along, and we get the big reveal of the Loki variant that’s causing all the havoc.
Episode 3 was, for lack of a better word, boring. The pace slowed, and it was the infamous Disney+ show filler episode. We’re introduced to Mary Sue, sorry, I mean Lady Loki, but not really, Sylvie, the Enchantress, right? No, wait, she’s a completely different, new character. Probably shouldn’t have opted for the name Sylvie in that case. She’s a brand new, *strong* female, that shows her strength by punching people and has no personality (see: Carol Danvers - Captain Marvel, Hope van Dyne - Ant-Man). Y’all, you told me you were going to give me something different, new, weird. A Mary Sue isn’t new, different, or weird. This episode was a get-to-know-each-other, and build a pseudo-sibling relationship, right? Because anything else would be weird in a bad way, not an interesting way. There was a considerable shift in our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki character evolution, he opened-up, announced that he was a member of the LGBTQQIAAP nation, progress! First bi-sexual character in the MCU, way to go Disney, getting with the times! It was still a filler episode though, and while the stakes seemed high, you knew that there were three more episodes to go, of course they would live.
Again, I was reassured after this lackluster episode by Hiddleston, that 4 and 5 were his favorite. That fact is now disturbing.
Episode 4 was the death knell. I think the response from the creative team afterwards was also incredibly tone-deaf, and, quite frankly, insulting. The 4th episode was so bad, I legitimately had to go cleanse my eyes and brain with a GBBO marathon. The fact that the creative team had no idea that the insta-love (see: Jane and Thor - Thor) between two characters that had seemingly formed a pseudo-sibling relationship wouldn’t come off a little incest-y is really strange to me. If a pseudo-sibling relationship was not the intention, then it was poor writing, directing and acting by all parties involved. Sometimes, when a Mary Sue punches our main character, he falls in love with her (see: Hope and Scott - Ant-Man). The whole narcissism thing was hilarious, I’m glad our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki was cured of that by Sylvie and another *strong* personality-lacking woman (see: Sif -Thor/Thor: the Dark World) kicking him between the legs was what he’d needed all along. If a small portion of this episode was actually utilizing the myth of Narcissus, then I’m glad they followed it through to the dying part. This is when everything clicked for me. Our TVA ‘Smart’ Loki’s character evolution made him a big ol’ bowl of mushy, overcooked oatmeal. HOW and WHY would you take one of the best anti-heroes in the MCU, or any superhero franchise, and make him so mushy? More importantly, I didn’t care about what happened to any of the characters, except B-15. Normally, that’s my cue to stop watching a show, but I wanted to see if they tried to convince audiences that this Oatmeal Loki was actually smart and logical.
Episode 5 was when things slightly improved. Again, I couldn’t forgive the events of Episode 4, and I totally fast-forwarded during whatever talk Loki and Mary Sue, sorry, Sylvie, had with a blankie around their shoulders. All of the other Lokis were better in their tiny amount of screen time than Oatmeal Loki and Mary Sue Loki. Alligator Loki had more personality than Sylvie. Richard Grant is the superior Loki in my opinion. This episode also reintroduced hand holding with CGI colors swirling around characters (see: Guardians of the Galaxy).
Episode 6 was our finale. Thank God. We’re introduced to the real head of the TVA, which was who everyone was expecting. This episode was a little slow-paced, with a lot of interesting chit-chat. Oatmeal Loki actually seemed like he had a brain cell or two for a few brief, fleeting moments. He even showed off some of his powers, which, by the way, we were told we’d see more of… but didn’t. Then, our Oatmeal Loki was distracted by his Mary Sue, went for a kiss, and plopped right on his ass, looking like a fool. I almost snorted my coffee as I watched. Then, they confirmed a Season 2.
Honestly, I was hoping Oatmeal Loki and Mary Sue Loki would get killed off. Sadly, it didn’t happen, and they’re getting another series, and an appearance in Ironman with Magic. I’m so glad this series was something new, different, and weird, not just the bog-standard, MCU drivel we normally get. Oh, wait… I probably don’t even need to state that this wasn’t my cup of tea, and, again, solidified the fact that I’m over the MCU. I also know that I should avoid anything Michael Waldron and Kate Herron touch. Eventually, I’ll stop feeling betrayed by Hiddleston, but it may take a while. Is that ridiculous? Probably.
Gareth von Kallenbach (980 KP) rated the PC version of Mortal Shell in Video Games
Oct 8, 2020
Beautiful Scenery (1 more)
Hardening Skill can save you when you screw up
Back in 2009 Demon’s Soul, a PlayStation 3 exclusive, made its way into the hands of players around the world. The game was punishingly difficult, and was revered for its no handholding, brutally steep learning curve. A game that harkened back to the days of old, when video games were more about a player spending hour upon hour of mastering its nuances then relying on a never-ending supply of save games. This game, and the even more popular successor Dark Souls, gave way to its own genre defining style, the “souls-like” game. Since those genre defining years, several companies have tried to take inspiration from the originals and craft them into their own unique experiences. Whether that be futuristic takes such as Surge 2, or sticking to a familiar fantasy setting, with mixed results. Enter the latest in this genre, a game developed by the fine folks at Cold Symetry, released on Windows, Xbox and PlayStation.
Mortal Shell is an “souls-like” action role playing game, where you are a creature whose unique ability is to inhabit the bodies of fallen warriors scattered across the realm of Fallgrim. Much like its inspiration, Fallgrim is a land that is bleak and unforgiving. Whether you are traipsing across murky swamps, filled with bear tramps and poisonous frogs, snowy fields or fiery plains, there are always an unending supply of enemies that you must contend with. Each “shell” you inhabit offers up a distinct playstyle and upgrade tree that should appeal to every unique player.
The first shell you inhabit, is what I refer to as the Jack-of-All trades shell, Harros. Harros is a traditional knight like character that has a balance of health, stamina, and resolve (the statistic that allows you to use your special upgrades applied to your weapon of choice). As you progress through the story, you will come across three other shells for you to inhabit, that you can switch between as you wish. This allows you to vary your play style between Eredrim, a tank-architype with lots of health but low stamina, Tiel, the acolyte with less health but is more agile and able to dodge and roll out of the way, or Solomon, who has the most resolve. Each character upgrade requires Tar (the gold of Fallgrim) and Glimpses. These are acquired by defeating enemies, and through gathering various plants throughout your journey.
In addition to the four shells, there are also four upgradable weapons that can be found along your journey. You begin with the Hollow Sword but will come across others to aid you on your quest. There is the Hammer and Chisel, a dual wield, fast attack, but lower damage weapon. The Martyr’s Blade, a heavy two-handed sword that does massive damage but is slow to attack. Lastly, The Smoldering Mace. All of these can be upgrades with special attacks that are initiated by your characters resolve, that can do an incredible amount of damage when initiated.
Combat occurs by locking onto your opponent and then utilizing fast and heavy attacks to defeat them. Experimenting with executing fast and heavy in specific sequences will result in numerous combos that do additional damage and stagger your foes. Mortal Shells unique blocking ability is what the game refers to as Hardening. Hardening, does exactly as the name suggests, turning yourself into stone and blocking most incoming attacks. It can be initiated at practically any time, even during the middle of your attack, allowing you to brush off an incoming attack and finish up with an epic strike. Learning the best time and place to use your hardening skill, is the key to overcoming your most difficult opponents, and ultimately slaying them in the process. There is also a parry aspect, which you obtain at the beginning of your quest, that allows you to parry incoming blows, and respond with devastating effect. Be aware that not all attacks can be parried, and your Tarnished Seal Emblem (which enables your skill) will glow red to warn you of this.
During combat, if your health reaches zero, you will be pushed out of your shell (which reminded me of playing a mech game where your mech is destroyed and you are automatically ejected). You are given the chance to climb back into your shell, but if you are hit while outside of your shell you will almost always die quickly. If your health reaches zero again, you die and you return back to Sester Genessa, a shadowy figure who acts like a bonfire from the souls’ games. As with the games before it, dying forces you to drop your tar and re-spawns all enemies that you have killed previously. Returning to your body allows you to retrieve your tar and restores all your health.
One of the more interesting aspects of the game is in the use of items you discover during your adventure. Most items effects will be unknown until you use the item, which forces you to experiment with everything you find. As you use the item more frequently you become more familiar with the item, and as that familiarity grows, the effects grow as well. Some will damage you in the beginning, only to benefit you as you grow more familiar with them, others you will utilize at the wrong time, and not benefit from the effect, but you will still learn from the experience. In this way Mortal Shell rewards you for experimentation, and forces those who like to hoard their findings for “when the right time arrives to use it” to utilize it and learn from it.
Much like the Souls-like games that inspired it, Mortal Shell could almost be mistaken for one of the games it garnered inspiration from. The setting, the characters, even the fonts used, could easily have been taken directly from a Dark Souls game. You’d be forgiven if someone came up to you and asked you which of the Dark Souls games you are playing. That’s not to say that Mortal Shell doesn’t distinguish itself in other ways, but on the surface, it would be easy to mistake it for another clone. The sound design, the graphic design, is all very well done, so at least the inspiration is put to good use in Mortal Shell
While Mortal Shell generally plays fast and well, there are a couple of instances where death seemed to come due to little I had control over. There are various cut scenes where you are crawling through tunnels, and you come out on the other side. Occasionally your character will be attacked immediately follow the cut scene, which gives you little time to react. There are ways to time your crawl, as to not emerge immediately into a group of baddies, but nothing frustrated me more, when I came across these areas. The difficulty and learning curve are about as difficult as one would expect from such a game.
If you are a fan of Dark Souls or Souls-like games, there is a lot to like in Mortal Shell. Most of the gameplay and style will feel immediately familiar, and there is just enough uniqueness in the game to satisfy veterans of the soul’s type games. If you have been put off by the difficulty of souls-like games in the past, Mortal Shell doesn’t differ enough from the formula to likely change your mind. While it’s not as long as the games that inspire it, it’s hard to beat the price ($29.99 on the Epic Store), and it’s refreshing enough to act as a place holder until the Demon’s Soul remake becomes available
What I liked: Beautiful Scenery, Hardening Skill can save you when you screw up
What I liked less: No real direction on where to start
Mortal Shell is an “souls-like” action role playing game, where you are a creature whose unique ability is to inhabit the bodies of fallen warriors scattered across the realm of Fallgrim. Much like its inspiration, Fallgrim is a land that is bleak and unforgiving. Whether you are traipsing across murky swamps, filled with bear tramps and poisonous frogs, snowy fields or fiery plains, there are always an unending supply of enemies that you must contend with. Each “shell” you inhabit offers up a distinct playstyle and upgrade tree that should appeal to every unique player.
The first shell you inhabit, is what I refer to as the Jack-of-All trades shell, Harros. Harros is a traditional knight like character that has a balance of health, stamina, and resolve (the statistic that allows you to use your special upgrades applied to your weapon of choice). As you progress through the story, you will come across three other shells for you to inhabit, that you can switch between as you wish. This allows you to vary your play style between Eredrim, a tank-architype with lots of health but low stamina, Tiel, the acolyte with less health but is more agile and able to dodge and roll out of the way, or Solomon, who has the most resolve. Each character upgrade requires Tar (the gold of Fallgrim) and Glimpses. These are acquired by defeating enemies, and through gathering various plants throughout your journey.
In addition to the four shells, there are also four upgradable weapons that can be found along your journey. You begin with the Hollow Sword but will come across others to aid you on your quest. There is the Hammer and Chisel, a dual wield, fast attack, but lower damage weapon. The Martyr’s Blade, a heavy two-handed sword that does massive damage but is slow to attack. Lastly, The Smoldering Mace. All of these can be upgrades with special attacks that are initiated by your characters resolve, that can do an incredible amount of damage when initiated.
Combat occurs by locking onto your opponent and then utilizing fast and heavy attacks to defeat them. Experimenting with executing fast and heavy in specific sequences will result in numerous combos that do additional damage and stagger your foes. Mortal Shells unique blocking ability is what the game refers to as Hardening. Hardening, does exactly as the name suggests, turning yourself into stone and blocking most incoming attacks. It can be initiated at practically any time, even during the middle of your attack, allowing you to brush off an incoming attack and finish up with an epic strike. Learning the best time and place to use your hardening skill, is the key to overcoming your most difficult opponents, and ultimately slaying them in the process. There is also a parry aspect, which you obtain at the beginning of your quest, that allows you to parry incoming blows, and respond with devastating effect. Be aware that not all attacks can be parried, and your Tarnished Seal Emblem (which enables your skill) will glow red to warn you of this.
During combat, if your health reaches zero, you will be pushed out of your shell (which reminded me of playing a mech game where your mech is destroyed and you are automatically ejected). You are given the chance to climb back into your shell, but if you are hit while outside of your shell you will almost always die quickly. If your health reaches zero again, you die and you return back to Sester Genessa, a shadowy figure who acts like a bonfire from the souls’ games. As with the games before it, dying forces you to drop your tar and re-spawns all enemies that you have killed previously. Returning to your body allows you to retrieve your tar and restores all your health.
One of the more interesting aspects of the game is in the use of items you discover during your adventure. Most items effects will be unknown until you use the item, which forces you to experiment with everything you find. As you use the item more frequently you become more familiar with the item, and as that familiarity grows, the effects grow as well. Some will damage you in the beginning, only to benefit you as you grow more familiar with them, others you will utilize at the wrong time, and not benefit from the effect, but you will still learn from the experience. In this way Mortal Shell rewards you for experimentation, and forces those who like to hoard their findings for “when the right time arrives to use it” to utilize it and learn from it.
Much like the Souls-like games that inspired it, Mortal Shell could almost be mistaken for one of the games it garnered inspiration from. The setting, the characters, even the fonts used, could easily have been taken directly from a Dark Souls game. You’d be forgiven if someone came up to you and asked you which of the Dark Souls games you are playing. That’s not to say that Mortal Shell doesn’t distinguish itself in other ways, but on the surface, it would be easy to mistake it for another clone. The sound design, the graphic design, is all very well done, so at least the inspiration is put to good use in Mortal Shell
While Mortal Shell generally plays fast and well, there are a couple of instances where death seemed to come due to little I had control over. There are various cut scenes where you are crawling through tunnels, and you come out on the other side. Occasionally your character will be attacked immediately follow the cut scene, which gives you little time to react. There are ways to time your crawl, as to not emerge immediately into a group of baddies, but nothing frustrated me more, when I came across these areas. The difficulty and learning curve are about as difficult as one would expect from such a game.
If you are a fan of Dark Souls or Souls-like games, there is a lot to like in Mortal Shell. Most of the gameplay and style will feel immediately familiar, and there is just enough uniqueness in the game to satisfy veterans of the soul’s type games. If you have been put off by the difficulty of souls-like games in the past, Mortal Shell doesn’t differ enough from the formula to likely change your mind. While it’s not as long as the games that inspire it, it’s hard to beat the price ($29.99 on the Epic Store), and it’s refreshing enough to act as a place holder until the Demon’s Soul remake becomes available
What I liked: Beautiful Scenery, Hardening Skill can save you when you screw up
What I liked less: No real direction on where to start
Jordan Binkerd (567 KP) rated Gideon's Angel in Books
Aug 15, 2019
Note: this review is transposted from my personal review blog, and so was originally written several years ago. I figured if I reposted it here, someone might actually read it….
I received my copy of Gideon’s Angel through the Goodreads FirstReads program. This in no way influences my review, except to ensure that I was able to get ahold of this book and thus review it. I have to say, I really enjoyed this one. I want to describe it as “steampunk,” but my understanding is that steampunk is usually set in the 1800s (or at least that level of tech and society) whereas this work is firmly set in 1653. If there’s already a term for pseudo-historical fiction with a fantasy touch set in that timeframe, I apologize for not knowing what it is and using it accordingly.
Things are not going well for Richard Treadwell. The English Civil War is over, the King’s Cavaliers lost to the forces of Parliament and Oliver Cromwell, and Charles I has been executed. Treadwell has managed to escape the destruction of his cause, and has spent the past eight years in exile in France, performing a delicate balancing act between loyalty to his exiled king* and his employer, Cardinal Mazarin. When Mazarin informs him that someone is using the forces of Hell to tip the balance in their favor and asks him to spy on the exile court to find out if it is one of the king’s supporters, Treadwell decides that it’s time to get out of Paris. He accepts a mission for one of the king’s more militant supporters that will take him back to his beloved England–to lead a Royalist uprising, one last try to oust Cromwell and his Puritan cronies. Treadwell has other business to tend to as well, including a wife who by now probably considers herself a widow. Unfortunately for Treadwell’s simple worldview, it soon becomes clear that Cromwell’s power is the only thing preventing the more radical Puritan elements from running roughshod over the whole country. Worse still, a demon from the pits of Hell has appeared to a radical Puritan sect masquerading as an angel of light and ordering the death of Cromwell so that the Kingdom of God may be fulfilled. Now instead of assassinating Cromwell Treadwell will be forced to save him–if he can find a way to fight the forces of Hell, gain some allies in his quest, and avoid d’Artagnan, a young Musketeer dispatched by the Cardinal to bear him back to Paris….
I really enjoyed this book. It’s not exactly “high literature,” but I think I’ve very well established that I care far more about a work’s entertainment value than whatever it is critics look for. The world Beal creates here feels very real, slipping in background historical information without making you feel like you’ve been lectured. Some readers will probably wish for more background on the English Civil War, and that’s fine. If they care that much, there are numerous good books on the subject. If they don’t, there’s a Wikipedia article that should give you a good rundown on what happened. Beal manages to evoke seventeenth-century London in all its grimy glory, much as it would have actually been aside from the fact that all the magic we dismiss as superstition is actually going on behind the scenes. Moreover, this magic very much resembles what you would find depicted in the folklore of the era without obvious modern embellishment. I’m not really all that well versed in the history of the Freemasons, so I can’t accurately speak to how they were portrayed here except to say that I very much doubt their claim to date back to the builders of the pyramids. Then again, I doubt they have the tools to summon demons too, so maybe I shouldn’t be too critical. Secondary characters generally proved to be interestingly complex, especially Billy Chard, but I am seeing criticism of how the female characters in the book act. They aren’t weak characters by any means, but they are constrained by their roles in society. Treadwell’s wife has pragmatically joined her fate to that of the officer who took over Treadwell’s land when he was banished and is pregnant with his child. Is she weak for this? Or is she a strong female doing what she has to in order to protect what is left of her family? Treadwell’s Parisian mistress follows him to England rather than stay in Paris and face the scandal of their liasion alone. Weak, for needing Treadwell by her side? Or strong, for following him into whatever dangers he may be facing? Finally, Isabelle decides to follow her father and the rest of Treadwell’s band into battle against the forces of Darkness, deciding that it would be better to fall by his side than live on without him. Possibly a sign of weakness, but look at her situation realistically. She and her father were driven from Spain for their Jewish heritage, her mother dying along the way. Jews do not fare well in the Christian world of the seventeenth century, not even in England. The lot of a young woman alone in the world is already hard enough in this time without adding the burden of religious and ethnic persecution. She would have no respectable means of supporting herself, and could conceivably find herself forced into prostitution–on her own if she was lucky, as no more than a slave if she was not. Is preferring death in battle to such a fate a sign of weakness or of strength? She certainly has no trouble speaking her mind, and in fact berates Treadwell severely for endangering her father when they first meet. I suppose I can understand where some people would find these characters and their portrayal to be weak and sexist, but I respectfully disagree. I submit that instead they are strong characters reacting realistically to a world where women are not treated equally–in fact, I would have more of a problem with them if they demonstrated anachronistic modern sensibilities.** The ending was a little deus ex machina, but on the whole I didn’t mind. I would say that I want to read a sequel, but I don’t think the author could come up with anything to top this in terms of personal impact on the characters–Treadwell’s internal conflict between hating Cromwell and having to save him is very well done, and I fear Beal would prove unable to find something equally interesting as a follow up. We never really got to find out what happened to Treadwell back during the Thirty Years War that introduced him to the world of angels and demons, so I could see maybe writing that up….I’d buy it, anyway.
CONTENT: R-rated language, occasionally harsh but I would argue not gratuitous. Moderately explicit sexual content, as you would expect from a work in this vein.*** A fair amount of violence, from both man and demon. Not usually too gory in its description. There is also a good deal of occult content, as the villains are summoning a demon they believe to be an angel. This demon’s lesser minions dog Treadwell and his friends, and there are multiple encounters with them. One is implied to be a golem, others appear as strange amalgamations of beast(s) and man. For me, this is adequately balanced by the recognition that, as powerful as the forces of Darkness are, God is far more powerful than they. Bottom line: if you’re mature enough to handle the other content, I don’t believe the occult elements should prove to be an issue.
*Charles I was executed, while his son Charles II went into exile. Just in case you were concerned with the historical accuracy of the book. So far as I can tell, this is pretty accurate. You know, aside from the demons and fictional characters roaming London…..
**Please understand, I’m neither defending nor endorsing the inequality of the seventeenth century. Neither is Clifford Beal, for that matter. I’m simply pointing out that it was how it was, and this was the world the characters would have come from. I’m all for equality, but to whitewash history and pretend it was different from it was….that way lies dangerous waters.
***This evokes more than anything a supernatural-tinged Alexandre Dumas novel for me….and you know how bawdry his musketeers could be when they wanted to be.
Original post: https://jordanbinkerd.wordpress.com/2013/10/24/review-gideons-angel-by-clifford-beal/
I received my copy of Gideon’s Angel through the Goodreads FirstReads program. This in no way influences my review, except to ensure that I was able to get ahold of this book and thus review it. I have to say, I really enjoyed this one. I want to describe it as “steampunk,” but my understanding is that steampunk is usually set in the 1800s (or at least that level of tech and society) whereas this work is firmly set in 1653. If there’s already a term for pseudo-historical fiction with a fantasy touch set in that timeframe, I apologize for not knowing what it is and using it accordingly.
Things are not going well for Richard Treadwell. The English Civil War is over, the King’s Cavaliers lost to the forces of Parliament and Oliver Cromwell, and Charles I has been executed. Treadwell has managed to escape the destruction of his cause, and has spent the past eight years in exile in France, performing a delicate balancing act between loyalty to his exiled king* and his employer, Cardinal Mazarin. When Mazarin informs him that someone is using the forces of Hell to tip the balance in their favor and asks him to spy on the exile court to find out if it is one of the king’s supporters, Treadwell decides that it’s time to get out of Paris. He accepts a mission for one of the king’s more militant supporters that will take him back to his beloved England–to lead a Royalist uprising, one last try to oust Cromwell and his Puritan cronies. Treadwell has other business to tend to as well, including a wife who by now probably considers herself a widow. Unfortunately for Treadwell’s simple worldview, it soon becomes clear that Cromwell’s power is the only thing preventing the more radical Puritan elements from running roughshod over the whole country. Worse still, a demon from the pits of Hell has appeared to a radical Puritan sect masquerading as an angel of light and ordering the death of Cromwell so that the Kingdom of God may be fulfilled. Now instead of assassinating Cromwell Treadwell will be forced to save him–if he can find a way to fight the forces of Hell, gain some allies in his quest, and avoid d’Artagnan, a young Musketeer dispatched by the Cardinal to bear him back to Paris….
I really enjoyed this book. It’s not exactly “high literature,” but I think I’ve very well established that I care far more about a work’s entertainment value than whatever it is critics look for. The world Beal creates here feels very real, slipping in background historical information without making you feel like you’ve been lectured. Some readers will probably wish for more background on the English Civil War, and that’s fine. If they care that much, there are numerous good books on the subject. If they don’t, there’s a Wikipedia article that should give you a good rundown on what happened. Beal manages to evoke seventeenth-century London in all its grimy glory, much as it would have actually been aside from the fact that all the magic we dismiss as superstition is actually going on behind the scenes. Moreover, this magic very much resembles what you would find depicted in the folklore of the era without obvious modern embellishment. I’m not really all that well versed in the history of the Freemasons, so I can’t accurately speak to how they were portrayed here except to say that I very much doubt their claim to date back to the builders of the pyramids. Then again, I doubt they have the tools to summon demons too, so maybe I shouldn’t be too critical. Secondary characters generally proved to be interestingly complex, especially Billy Chard, but I am seeing criticism of how the female characters in the book act. They aren’t weak characters by any means, but they are constrained by their roles in society. Treadwell’s wife has pragmatically joined her fate to that of the officer who took over Treadwell’s land when he was banished and is pregnant with his child. Is she weak for this? Or is she a strong female doing what she has to in order to protect what is left of her family? Treadwell’s Parisian mistress follows him to England rather than stay in Paris and face the scandal of their liasion alone. Weak, for needing Treadwell by her side? Or strong, for following him into whatever dangers he may be facing? Finally, Isabelle decides to follow her father and the rest of Treadwell’s band into battle against the forces of Darkness, deciding that it would be better to fall by his side than live on without him. Possibly a sign of weakness, but look at her situation realistically. She and her father were driven from Spain for their Jewish heritage, her mother dying along the way. Jews do not fare well in the Christian world of the seventeenth century, not even in England. The lot of a young woman alone in the world is already hard enough in this time without adding the burden of religious and ethnic persecution. She would have no respectable means of supporting herself, and could conceivably find herself forced into prostitution–on her own if she was lucky, as no more than a slave if she was not. Is preferring death in battle to such a fate a sign of weakness or of strength? She certainly has no trouble speaking her mind, and in fact berates Treadwell severely for endangering her father when they first meet. I suppose I can understand where some people would find these characters and their portrayal to be weak and sexist, but I respectfully disagree. I submit that instead they are strong characters reacting realistically to a world where women are not treated equally–in fact, I would have more of a problem with them if they demonstrated anachronistic modern sensibilities.** The ending was a little deus ex machina, but on the whole I didn’t mind. I would say that I want to read a sequel, but I don’t think the author could come up with anything to top this in terms of personal impact on the characters–Treadwell’s internal conflict between hating Cromwell and having to save him is very well done, and I fear Beal would prove unable to find something equally interesting as a follow up. We never really got to find out what happened to Treadwell back during the Thirty Years War that introduced him to the world of angels and demons, so I could see maybe writing that up….I’d buy it, anyway.
CONTENT: R-rated language, occasionally harsh but I would argue not gratuitous. Moderately explicit sexual content, as you would expect from a work in this vein.*** A fair amount of violence, from both man and demon. Not usually too gory in its description. There is also a good deal of occult content, as the villains are summoning a demon they believe to be an angel. This demon’s lesser minions dog Treadwell and his friends, and there are multiple encounters with them. One is implied to be a golem, others appear as strange amalgamations of beast(s) and man. For me, this is adequately balanced by the recognition that, as powerful as the forces of Darkness are, God is far more powerful than they. Bottom line: if you’re mature enough to handle the other content, I don’t believe the occult elements should prove to be an issue.
*Charles I was executed, while his son Charles II went into exile. Just in case you were concerned with the historical accuracy of the book. So far as I can tell, this is pretty accurate. You know, aside from the demons and fictional characters roaming London…..
**Please understand, I’m neither defending nor endorsing the inequality of the seventeenth century. Neither is Clifford Beal, for that matter. I’m simply pointing out that it was how it was, and this was the world the characters would have come from. I’m all for equality, but to whitewash history and pretend it was different from it was….that way lies dangerous waters.
***This evokes more than anything a supernatural-tinged Alexandre Dumas novel for me….and you know how bawdry his musketeers could be when they wanted to be.
Original post: https://jordanbinkerd.wordpress.com/2013/10/24/review-gideons-angel-by-clifford-beal/
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Banewreaker in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Banewreaker Will Make You Feel Bad for Sauron
Contains spoilers, click to show
Very few fantasy fans can get away with admitting that they aren’t all that big into sweeping, high epic fantasy à la Lord of the Rings or the Pern stories or everything that Terry Brooks writes. Many non-fantasy fans, however, can point to these tales as examples of why they aren’t into fantasy. Like it or not, it’s hard not to see the latter group’s point, as a lot of high fantasy is riddled with confusing terminology, rehashed stories, and genre clichés. This is not to say that these stories are bad, per sé, just that they can easily turn off readers who aren’t in the right kind of crowd.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated There Will Be Lies in Books
Dec 17, 2018
<i>This eBook was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review </i>
Award winning Nick Lake has returned to the limelight with a young adult thriller so full of emotion that you will be gripped from beginning to end. <i>There Will Be Lies </i>starts with a happy relationship between mother and daughter, then rips it apart revealing that everything you once believed true is a lie.
From the very beginning seventeen year old Shelby Jane Cooper warns the reader that bad things are going to happen. She speaks of death and of a car collision that is about to occur within the first few chapters of the story. But this is not the climax of the story. It is merely the small stone dropped on the top of a mountain, causing an avalanche of questions, danger and the slowly unraveling truth.
All her life Shelby has been homeschooled, isolated from society and shadowed by her over protective mother. After being hit by a car, resulting in a fractured foot, Shelby is ushered into a car by her mother and driven in the opposite direction from home. Supposedly an abusive father, a man Shelby cannot recall, is on their tail whom they must hide from to avoid a disastrous confrontation. Despite initially believing this story, peculiar things start happening to Shelby that suggest all is not as it seems.
The first quarter of <i>There Will Be Lies</i> follows a typical contemporary storyline, but as it becomes more thrilling, the author incorporates fantasy/American mythology into the mix. Finding herself slipping in and out of a dying, impossible world known as the <i>Dreaming</i>, Shelby begins to hesitate to believe the things her mother is telling her, especially after being warned that there will be two lies followed by a truth. Yet she cannot work out what they are; and what if the truth is something she cannot, does not want, to consider?
I loved this book from the very beginning. I loved Shelby’s character: the way she spoke, her sarcasm, her wit, her intelligence. I liked that despite being so sheltered from the world, she was not weird or awkward. What made it even better was discovering she was deaf. Readers will not even be able to guess at that for almost half the novel, when Shelby reveals the fact herself. She is not portrayed as stupid or any less human for having a disability. Nick Lake has done a superb job of avoiding any forms of stigma or prejudice.
With the story picking up the pace, my love was almost turned to hate. Almost. The fantastical elements, the American mythology, which gave it the appearance of a half fairytale, very nearly ruined the entire book for me. I admit I liked the concept and enjoyed reading the scenes set in the <i>Dreaming</i>, but it seemed so out of place with the rest of the novel. It felt as though Lake had written two different stories and decided to combine them together instead of publishing them separately. However, as I said, this only ALMOST ruined it.
As the story progressed, the relevance of the fairy-tale-like elements became clearer. You cannot say for sure whether the <i>Dreaming</i> was real or whether Shelby was merely doing that: dreaming. But what you can say is that the mythological storyline is a metaphorical way of showing what Shelby was dealing with in the real world. In a place where she was confused about what was true, she needed the <i>Dreaming</i> to explain things to her, to make her understand her predicament.
<i>There Will Be Lies </i>is full of little metaphors, some that you do not notice at first, but can easily be applied to life in general. It is an extremely quotable narrative with beautiful phrasing. With two thrilling storylines that eventually merge together, it is guaranteed that you will be gripped, wanting to know what happens; yet also not wanting it to end.
Award winning Nick Lake has returned to the limelight with a young adult thriller so full of emotion that you will be gripped from beginning to end. <i>There Will Be Lies </i>starts with a happy relationship between mother and daughter, then rips it apart revealing that everything you once believed true is a lie.
From the very beginning seventeen year old Shelby Jane Cooper warns the reader that bad things are going to happen. She speaks of death and of a car collision that is about to occur within the first few chapters of the story. But this is not the climax of the story. It is merely the small stone dropped on the top of a mountain, causing an avalanche of questions, danger and the slowly unraveling truth.
All her life Shelby has been homeschooled, isolated from society and shadowed by her over protective mother. After being hit by a car, resulting in a fractured foot, Shelby is ushered into a car by her mother and driven in the opposite direction from home. Supposedly an abusive father, a man Shelby cannot recall, is on their tail whom they must hide from to avoid a disastrous confrontation. Despite initially believing this story, peculiar things start happening to Shelby that suggest all is not as it seems.
The first quarter of <i>There Will Be Lies</i> follows a typical contemporary storyline, but as it becomes more thrilling, the author incorporates fantasy/American mythology into the mix. Finding herself slipping in and out of a dying, impossible world known as the <i>Dreaming</i>, Shelby begins to hesitate to believe the things her mother is telling her, especially after being warned that there will be two lies followed by a truth. Yet she cannot work out what they are; and what if the truth is something she cannot, does not want, to consider?
I loved this book from the very beginning. I loved Shelby’s character: the way she spoke, her sarcasm, her wit, her intelligence. I liked that despite being so sheltered from the world, she was not weird or awkward. What made it even better was discovering she was deaf. Readers will not even be able to guess at that for almost half the novel, when Shelby reveals the fact herself. She is not portrayed as stupid or any less human for having a disability. Nick Lake has done a superb job of avoiding any forms of stigma or prejudice.
With the story picking up the pace, my love was almost turned to hate. Almost. The fantastical elements, the American mythology, which gave it the appearance of a half fairytale, very nearly ruined the entire book for me. I admit I liked the concept and enjoyed reading the scenes set in the <i>Dreaming</i>, but it seemed so out of place with the rest of the novel. It felt as though Lake had written two different stories and decided to combine them together instead of publishing them separately. However, as I said, this only ALMOST ruined it.
As the story progressed, the relevance of the fairy-tale-like elements became clearer. You cannot say for sure whether the <i>Dreaming</i> was real or whether Shelby was merely doing that: dreaming. But what you can say is that the mythological storyline is a metaphorical way of showing what Shelby was dealing with in the real world. In a place where she was confused about what was true, she needed the <i>Dreaming</i> to explain things to her, to make her understand her predicament.
<i>There Will Be Lies </i>is full of little metaphors, some that you do not notice at first, but can easily be applied to life in general. It is an extremely quotable narrative with beautiful phrasing. With two thrilling storylines that eventually merge together, it is guaranteed that you will be gripped, wanting to know what happens; yet also not wanting it to end.
Sarah (7799 KP) Feb 23, 2020