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Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Game Of Thrones in TV
Aug 6, 2020
Look on the bright side, we all said, without really believing it, when lockdown hit in March – time to watch those box sets we’ve been putting off. Well that was, of course, a great idea! For me that box set was possibly the biggest of all: the behemoth that is GOT.
Much like when a new band gets big quickly and you refuse to listen to the hype, I avoided watching the biggest show in the world, even when it was on in the same room as I tried to read a book in the other corner. It wasn’t that I thought I wouldn’t like it, but more that I didn’t believe it could be anywhere near as good as folk were making it out to be, especially as season one looked like only a slight step up on the swords and sandles exploitation-fests that had been going around. I labelled it “Tits and Dragons” and got on with my life for the next 8 years.
March 2020 will go down in history as the biggest spike in streaming TV services the globe will ever see. Literally millions of previously casual watchers, who had been busy having lives and jobs, turned to Netflix, Amazon Prime, Now TV and iPlayer etc, in search of endless hours of easy entertainment they could immerse their bored and twitchy minds inside of. Without internet at home, I had to go a bit more old school and rely on my daughter posting me the DVDs of GOT season by season.
I found season one enjoyable, with caveats, as it seemed to be one massive exposition (and sexposition) workshop. Obviously the main characters were being set up for big storylines down the road. In which sense it reminded me of a soap opera; in how it flitted between characters and relationships, never dwelling on one plot point for more than two minutes. I liked the way the production had set itself up though – the sets and costumes were of a much higher level than was usual for this kind of thing. Then there was those great opening credits, which become impossible not to hum along to as you get more into it.
Sadly, the first big shock moment didn’t shock me, as I’d heard so much about it on social media 9 years ago. But it was still very well done. Bold and brave; to take out a big name that early was a master stroke. By the end of S1E9 I was properly hooked. Although it helped I didn’t have anything else to do!
The next two weeks I had to wait for season two to be posted out, so I embarked on watching all the DVD commentaries too to kill some time in the evenings whilst I waited. This is almost certainly something I wouldn’t have done under normal circumstances and I believe it is what cemented my enjoyment of it as a whole. Listening to the cast and crew reminisce about what a great time they had, and how close they all were, really helped put it into context for me. I was already loving Peter Dinklage and Lena Headey, but their humour and irreverence in the commentaries made it feel like there were pals in the room watching it with me.
By season two and beyond, I was looking at maps, memorizing every minor character’s name, house and motto, and just immersing in it to the point of obsession. As, I guess, millions of people had already done over the years, but now I got what the fuss was all about. It is an addictive show; you have to know what happens next, you simply can’t leave it alone! Whether it is hissing and booing at Joffrey, or loving to hate Cersei, or siding with the bastards and broken things, there is always something engaging going on – and when a character you disliked dies horribly it is so satisfying!
It is a weird mix, however, of moments so horribly signposted, with some dubious acting, and moments of real surprise and emotion delivered with great acting. Many of the characters really grow into their skins as the actors get more familiar and comfortable being them. The writers too get better at putting the right words in their mouths, and learn to minimise the exposition moments. The young ones in particular really grow impressively as it goes on into seasons 3 and 4. Maisie Williams as the slightly sadistic loner Arya Stark especially. I loved how none stereotypical that character was, and have to say her relationship with The Hound was my favourite thing in the whole show.
At the climax of season four, which I believe was the peak of it artistically, the story arc of Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister, aka The Imp, becomes so compellingly good you can’t take your eyes off him. I had already come to the conclusion that his scenes were the best ones, but this went to 11 on the dial. And it gets better thinking back on it too. Which can’t truly be said of where they go with John Snow and Daenarys, who are ostensibly the main draw by this point, as all storylines seem to mirror their journeys on opposite sides of the world; a song of ice and fire, indeed.
Seasons 5 and 6 continued to be great, even though the dramatic peaks were hard to top. What did improve was the big set pieces, as episodes such as Hardhome and Battle of the Bastards upper the bar on huge battles, staged masterfully. There were things happening that I had never seen in a TV show before, both creatively and budget spent. Watching some of the making of documentaries was fascinating in this regard. The props department alone was astonishingly detailed, to Lord of the Rings degrees, properly impressive!
To go into story and scene details here is pointless, and I don’t want to include any more spoilers than I already have, just in case there is anyone else like me, that hasn’t done the whole journey yet. Obviously, there was some controversy in where seasons 7 and especially 8 went with some storylines and characters. I thought it was mostly fine, to be honest, I just went with it. But it did become a little stretched and hurried, as it raced towards its conclusion. It’s hard for me to get a proper impression of how tense and then annoying it would be to wait a long time for a new season and then have it not go where you imagined it would. Not a problem for me, as I blitzed the final 4 seasons in about a week.
As the episode ratings of season 8 on IMDb indicate, folk were not happy. There was an element of anti-climax, to be fair, but what else could it have been, now so many people claim it as their own? The end isn’t perfect, and that may have a lot to do with the fact they stopped following the books, because they hadn’t been written. In all honestly, I didn’t care. It was spectacular and diverting enough to keep my attention, and my investment in the characters not brutally killed off was not teenage enough to take it personally. I do have sympathy for fans that felt their loyalty betrayed, but come on… it’s just a TV show.
Watching the same fictional world for more than 70 actual hours can do things to you brain. In conclusion I would say I loved going there! The good things always outweighed the annoying things, and it is an experience I would recommend to anyone who hasn’t done it. Whatever age you are, it is a must see phenomenon, like The Sopranos – oh wait, I haven’t seen that yet either…
Much like when a new band gets big quickly and you refuse to listen to the hype, I avoided watching the biggest show in the world, even when it was on in the same room as I tried to read a book in the other corner. It wasn’t that I thought I wouldn’t like it, but more that I didn’t believe it could be anywhere near as good as folk were making it out to be, especially as season one looked like only a slight step up on the swords and sandles exploitation-fests that had been going around. I labelled it “Tits and Dragons” and got on with my life for the next 8 years.
March 2020 will go down in history as the biggest spike in streaming TV services the globe will ever see. Literally millions of previously casual watchers, who had been busy having lives and jobs, turned to Netflix, Amazon Prime, Now TV and iPlayer etc, in search of endless hours of easy entertainment they could immerse their bored and twitchy minds inside of. Without internet at home, I had to go a bit more old school and rely on my daughter posting me the DVDs of GOT season by season.
I found season one enjoyable, with caveats, as it seemed to be one massive exposition (and sexposition) workshop. Obviously the main characters were being set up for big storylines down the road. In which sense it reminded me of a soap opera; in how it flitted between characters and relationships, never dwelling on one plot point for more than two minutes. I liked the way the production had set itself up though – the sets and costumes were of a much higher level than was usual for this kind of thing. Then there was those great opening credits, which become impossible not to hum along to as you get more into it.
Sadly, the first big shock moment didn’t shock me, as I’d heard so much about it on social media 9 years ago. But it was still very well done. Bold and brave; to take out a big name that early was a master stroke. By the end of S1E9 I was properly hooked. Although it helped I didn’t have anything else to do!
The next two weeks I had to wait for season two to be posted out, so I embarked on watching all the DVD commentaries too to kill some time in the evenings whilst I waited. This is almost certainly something I wouldn’t have done under normal circumstances and I believe it is what cemented my enjoyment of it as a whole. Listening to the cast and crew reminisce about what a great time they had, and how close they all were, really helped put it into context for me. I was already loving Peter Dinklage and Lena Headey, but their humour and irreverence in the commentaries made it feel like there were pals in the room watching it with me.
By season two and beyond, I was looking at maps, memorizing every minor character’s name, house and motto, and just immersing in it to the point of obsession. As, I guess, millions of people had already done over the years, but now I got what the fuss was all about. It is an addictive show; you have to know what happens next, you simply can’t leave it alone! Whether it is hissing and booing at Joffrey, or loving to hate Cersei, or siding with the bastards and broken things, there is always something engaging going on – and when a character you disliked dies horribly it is so satisfying!
It is a weird mix, however, of moments so horribly signposted, with some dubious acting, and moments of real surprise and emotion delivered with great acting. Many of the characters really grow into their skins as the actors get more familiar and comfortable being them. The writers too get better at putting the right words in their mouths, and learn to minimise the exposition moments. The young ones in particular really grow impressively as it goes on into seasons 3 and 4. Maisie Williams as the slightly sadistic loner Arya Stark especially. I loved how none stereotypical that character was, and have to say her relationship with The Hound was my favourite thing in the whole show.
At the climax of season four, which I believe was the peak of it artistically, the story arc of Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister, aka The Imp, becomes so compellingly good you can’t take your eyes off him. I had already come to the conclusion that his scenes were the best ones, but this went to 11 on the dial. And it gets better thinking back on it too. Which can’t truly be said of where they go with John Snow and Daenarys, who are ostensibly the main draw by this point, as all storylines seem to mirror their journeys on opposite sides of the world; a song of ice and fire, indeed.
Seasons 5 and 6 continued to be great, even though the dramatic peaks were hard to top. What did improve was the big set pieces, as episodes such as Hardhome and Battle of the Bastards upper the bar on huge battles, staged masterfully. There were things happening that I had never seen in a TV show before, both creatively and budget spent. Watching some of the making of documentaries was fascinating in this regard. The props department alone was astonishingly detailed, to Lord of the Rings degrees, properly impressive!
To go into story and scene details here is pointless, and I don’t want to include any more spoilers than I already have, just in case there is anyone else like me, that hasn’t done the whole journey yet. Obviously, there was some controversy in where seasons 7 and especially 8 went with some storylines and characters. I thought it was mostly fine, to be honest, I just went with it. But it did become a little stretched and hurried, as it raced towards its conclusion. It’s hard for me to get a proper impression of how tense and then annoying it would be to wait a long time for a new season and then have it not go where you imagined it would. Not a problem for me, as I blitzed the final 4 seasons in about a week.
As the episode ratings of season 8 on IMDb indicate, folk were not happy. There was an element of anti-climax, to be fair, but what else could it have been, now so many people claim it as their own? The end isn’t perfect, and that may have a lot to do with the fact they stopped following the books, because they hadn’t been written. In all honestly, I didn’t care. It was spectacular and diverting enough to keep my attention, and my investment in the characters not brutally killed off was not teenage enough to take it personally. I do have sympathy for fans that felt their loyalty betrayed, but come on… it’s just a TV show.
Watching the same fictional world for more than 70 actual hours can do things to you brain. In conclusion I would say I loved going there! The good things always outweighed the annoying things, and it is an experience I would recommend to anyone who hasn’t done it. Whatever age you are, it is a must see phenomenon, like The Sopranos – oh wait, I haven’t seen that yet either…
Chris Sawin (602 KP) rated Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) in Movies
Jul 26, 2019
Leonardo DiCaprio (1 more)
Brad Pitt
It's 2 hours and 41 minutes and feels long. (2 more)
Story elements don't seem to go together.
Charles Manson stuff feels forced.
With Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood being his ninth feature film as writer and director and a career just shy of the three decade mark, you should probably know what to expect from a Quentin Tarantino film. Amongst all of the usual Tarantino trademarks of memorable performances, long strings of dialogue, a questionable amount of dancing, the inclusion of several shots of barefoot women, interior car sequences, and a relentless tidal wave of vulgarity that drowns the audience in a sea of sharp expletives, Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood lacks the one element that truly makes a Tarantino film worthwhile; coherent storytelling.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood should be great based on its cast alone. Leonardo DiCaprio delivers one of his more complex performances as television star turned infrequent movie star Rick Dalton. Dalton made a name for himself in a western TV series called Bounty Law. Rick burned that bridge when he tried to make the jump to movies and failed. Now he only seems to get work as the TV villain. Rick gets an opportunity in Rome to star in Italian spaghetti westerns and reluctantly accepts. Rick is an alcoholic that struggles with a stutter when he speaks. He has low self-esteem and questions every decision he makes. The scene where he flubs his lines followed by his angry outburst in his trailer is extraordinary. He’s also the one person on the planet who seems to hate hippies more than Eric Cartman.
Brad Pitt portrays Rick’s stunt double Cliff Booth. Cliff is a Vietnam War veteran who may or may not have (but probably did) kill his wife without any repercussions. Cliff hardly works as a stunt double anymore and mostly makes his living driving Rick around and doing various odd jobs for him. Cliff is the exact opposite of Rick. Rick lives in the Hollywood Hills in a roomy luxurious house with a pool and an extravagant view. Cliff lives in a trailer by a drive-in theater, eats macaroni and cheese for dinner, and has amazing chemistry with his pitbull Brandy. Cliff seems like a handy and capable guy, but he’s also extremely blunt. His to-the-point demeanor keeps Rick’s wilder antics in check the majority of the time. Cliff doesn’t exactly babysit Rick and allows him to live his own life, but he’s the one to give Rick the “you’re better than that,” kind of pep talk after it’s over.
One of the things mentioned in the film by Kurt Russell (he plays Randy and does the voiceover as the narrator) is that Rick and Cliff share this bond that is practically as deep as a brotherhood yet lacks the commitment of a marriage. Their bond is the backbone of the film and it’s interesting because they both seem like half decent people. Cliff may have killed someone and Rick beats himself up harder than anyone else could, but they’re both hard working individuals who put everything into their work and they have each other’s backs through thick and thin. Their bond is almost wholesome to the minuscule extent Tarantino will allow.
Brad Pitt’s chemistry with Brandy is also quite entertaining. There’s something comical about seeing Cliff rummage through his pantry filled with nothing but cans of dog food only to pull out two specific cans; one rat flavored and one raccoon flavored. He opens the cans with a manual can opener, tips them over in mid-air after removing their lids, and lets gravity guide that slop into whatever is designated as a food bowl that particular evening in a sickening PLOP! And a meaty splash that overflows onto the kitchen floor tiles. Cliff and Brandy seem almost as close as Cliff and Rick. They have this partnership that is easy to detect as soon as they’re on-screen together.
Mike Moh’s Bruce Lee impression isn’t totally flawless, but it is fairly excellent regardless. Moh is Korean and Bruce Lee was Chinese-American, so it’s an intriguing fit that works way better than you expect. The scene Moh has with Pitt as Bruce Lee and Cliff Booth have a physical encounter is an entertaining highlight of the film. The outrageous violence you’ve come to expect in a Tarantino film isn’t present in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood until the final scene and it is a glorious display of dog biting, face pummeling, and flame throwing mayhem. If Cliff Booth hasn’t already established himself as a certified badass through the first two and a half hours, those last ten minutes certainly allow him to obtain that title with ease.
The unfortunate aspect of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is that everything doesn’t really come together in a satisfying way. You’ve got a washed up actor trying to regain the spotlight, a stunt double struggling to find work and make a living despite his troublesome reputation, and the Charles Manson stuff with Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha) and Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) living next door to Rick and Cliff’s time at the Spahn Movie Ranch with the Manson Family. In 1968, Tate and four others were murdered in the home she shared with Polanski by members of the Manson Family while being eight-and-a-half months pregnant. It’s a horrendous statistic that puts a different perspective on the ending if you didn’t know beforehand. The Manson inclusion mostly feels like an afterthought that isn’t ever taken seriously.
So many recognizable names are a part of the cast and everyone outside of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio are basically a waste. Margot Robbie has a few moments that mostly reside in her reacting to films starring Sharon Tate in a movie theater. Tate seems to represent this pure and positive light in the film while Rick and Cliff experience the uglier aspects of the Tarantino-skewed late 1960s. Robbie downright glows during that movie theater sequence with a bubbly and contagious attitude, but doesn’t do much else over the course of the film.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood feels longer than its 141-minute duration. It drags so often in between its enjoyable moments and seems to purposely lag during every dialogue heavy sequence that is just talking without any sort of payoff. Tarantino’s attention to the music of whatever era he’s depicting has always been a staple in his films, but it is on the verge of annoyance here. The dancing in the film feels like an excuse to stretch out the story that much longer for no other reason other than to blatantly rub the audience’s nose in the time period.
There are some masterful elements to Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood that shouldn’t be overlooked. Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick F’ing Dalton sequence is explosively brilliant and Brad Pitt has this abrasive charm as Cliff Booth. It’s difficult to make the argument that Quentin Tarantino has original stories still worth telling at this point in his career though since this suffers from incoherent progression and a reasonable purpose for why we should care about these characters. At one point in the film, Rick tells Cliff with tears streaming down his face and this unhealthy cough full of cancerous phlegm, “It’s official old buddy. I’m a has-been.” Maybe this is how Tarantino feels about himself now that he’s nearing the end of his filmmaking career. That struggle to find meaning and a welcome audience for something he used to care deeply about but may have lost the passion for in recent years. He had a good run, but as it stands Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is overstuffed yet bland despite its two zesty leads.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood should be great based on its cast alone. Leonardo DiCaprio delivers one of his more complex performances as television star turned infrequent movie star Rick Dalton. Dalton made a name for himself in a western TV series called Bounty Law. Rick burned that bridge when he tried to make the jump to movies and failed. Now he only seems to get work as the TV villain. Rick gets an opportunity in Rome to star in Italian spaghetti westerns and reluctantly accepts. Rick is an alcoholic that struggles with a stutter when he speaks. He has low self-esteem and questions every decision he makes. The scene where he flubs his lines followed by his angry outburst in his trailer is extraordinary. He’s also the one person on the planet who seems to hate hippies more than Eric Cartman.
Brad Pitt portrays Rick’s stunt double Cliff Booth. Cliff is a Vietnam War veteran who may or may not have (but probably did) kill his wife without any repercussions. Cliff hardly works as a stunt double anymore and mostly makes his living driving Rick around and doing various odd jobs for him. Cliff is the exact opposite of Rick. Rick lives in the Hollywood Hills in a roomy luxurious house with a pool and an extravagant view. Cliff lives in a trailer by a drive-in theater, eats macaroni and cheese for dinner, and has amazing chemistry with his pitbull Brandy. Cliff seems like a handy and capable guy, but he’s also extremely blunt. His to-the-point demeanor keeps Rick’s wilder antics in check the majority of the time. Cliff doesn’t exactly babysit Rick and allows him to live his own life, but he’s the one to give Rick the “you’re better than that,” kind of pep talk after it’s over.
One of the things mentioned in the film by Kurt Russell (he plays Randy and does the voiceover as the narrator) is that Rick and Cliff share this bond that is practically as deep as a brotherhood yet lacks the commitment of a marriage. Their bond is the backbone of the film and it’s interesting because they both seem like half decent people. Cliff may have killed someone and Rick beats himself up harder than anyone else could, but they’re both hard working individuals who put everything into their work and they have each other’s backs through thick and thin. Their bond is almost wholesome to the minuscule extent Tarantino will allow.
Brad Pitt’s chemistry with Brandy is also quite entertaining. There’s something comical about seeing Cliff rummage through his pantry filled with nothing but cans of dog food only to pull out two specific cans; one rat flavored and one raccoon flavored. He opens the cans with a manual can opener, tips them over in mid-air after removing their lids, and lets gravity guide that slop into whatever is designated as a food bowl that particular evening in a sickening PLOP! And a meaty splash that overflows onto the kitchen floor tiles. Cliff and Brandy seem almost as close as Cliff and Rick. They have this partnership that is easy to detect as soon as they’re on-screen together.
Mike Moh’s Bruce Lee impression isn’t totally flawless, but it is fairly excellent regardless. Moh is Korean and Bruce Lee was Chinese-American, so it’s an intriguing fit that works way better than you expect. The scene Moh has with Pitt as Bruce Lee and Cliff Booth have a physical encounter is an entertaining highlight of the film. The outrageous violence you’ve come to expect in a Tarantino film isn’t present in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood until the final scene and it is a glorious display of dog biting, face pummeling, and flame throwing mayhem. If Cliff Booth hasn’t already established himself as a certified badass through the first two and a half hours, those last ten minutes certainly allow him to obtain that title with ease.
The unfortunate aspect of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is that everything doesn’t really come together in a satisfying way. You’ve got a washed up actor trying to regain the spotlight, a stunt double struggling to find work and make a living despite his troublesome reputation, and the Charles Manson stuff with Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha) and Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) living next door to Rick and Cliff’s time at the Spahn Movie Ranch with the Manson Family. In 1968, Tate and four others were murdered in the home she shared with Polanski by members of the Manson Family while being eight-and-a-half months pregnant. It’s a horrendous statistic that puts a different perspective on the ending if you didn’t know beforehand. The Manson inclusion mostly feels like an afterthought that isn’t ever taken seriously.
So many recognizable names are a part of the cast and everyone outside of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio are basically a waste. Margot Robbie has a few moments that mostly reside in her reacting to films starring Sharon Tate in a movie theater. Tate seems to represent this pure and positive light in the film while Rick and Cliff experience the uglier aspects of the Tarantino-skewed late 1960s. Robbie downright glows during that movie theater sequence with a bubbly and contagious attitude, but doesn’t do much else over the course of the film.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood feels longer than its 141-minute duration. It drags so often in between its enjoyable moments and seems to purposely lag during every dialogue heavy sequence that is just talking without any sort of payoff. Tarantino’s attention to the music of whatever era he’s depicting has always been a staple in his films, but it is on the verge of annoyance here. The dancing in the film feels like an excuse to stretch out the story that much longer for no other reason other than to blatantly rub the audience’s nose in the time period.
There are some masterful elements to Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood that shouldn’t be overlooked. Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick F’ing Dalton sequence is explosively brilliant and Brad Pitt has this abrasive charm as Cliff Booth. It’s difficult to make the argument that Quentin Tarantino has original stories still worth telling at this point in his career though since this suffers from incoherent progression and a reasonable purpose for why we should care about these characters. At one point in the film, Rick tells Cliff with tears streaming down his face and this unhealthy cough full of cancerous phlegm, “It’s official old buddy. I’m a has-been.” Maybe this is how Tarantino feels about himself now that he’s nearing the end of his filmmaking career. That struggle to find meaning and a welcome audience for something he used to care deeply about but may have lost the passion for in recent years. He had a good run, but as it stands Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is overstuffed yet bland despite its two zesty leads.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated Tales from the Loop in TV
Jan 22, 2021
Such is the competition for our attention on the major streaming services, and such is the daunting depth of choice, that sometimes something of real quality can slip through the net for a while. I like to think that eventually, everything gets the audience it deserves, because eventually enough people that appreciated it will find it and pass it on. But it is apparent that good things can go under the radar very easily for one reason or another.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.
Everything about the production and presentation of Amazon’s Tales From the Loop suggests they thought it might be a bigger hit, or at least they had enough faith in it to let it be different from the mass appeal conventions that apply to sci-fi shows. They have proved this many times in recent years, with shows like The Man In the High Castle and The Expanse favouring patient and mature story-telling over interminable flashbangs and whizzpops usually found in the more action based sci-fi on Netflix and others (The Handmaid’s Tale being another notable exception).
Having raised myself auto-didactically on the oldest traditions of science fiction writing in novel and short story form since my teenage years, I can say with some amateur authority that the point of using sci-fi ideas was always about the people and the parallels to social reality and politics that could be highlighted by putting them in a “what-if” situation. The lazer guns and spaceships and evil aliens were much more a product of Hollywood, and still are. Great science fiction writing can and usually does revolve around a very simple change to the world we know, an inversion or a convention or a technology that turns how we live on its head. At its best it is philosophical and moral poetry.
Tales From the Loop, inspired by the beguiling paintings of Swedish Artist Simon Stålenhag aspires to return to these principles, eschewing breakneck pace and unnecessary exposition at every turn – it is entirely content to confuse and sometimes even bore you with its patient, melancholy approach, testing almost if you are worthy to reach the prize of deeper meaning buried away in the final few episodes.
The idea of Stålenhag’s work is to juxtapose a familiar and mundane landscape with a detail of technology that does not exist in our reality. Often it is something broken, run-down or neglected, leaving a strange sadness and beauty behind that has you wondering who once made this and what was it for, and why is it no longer loved? The untold stories objects and hidden lives, secrets and desires that have been lost, is what this sensitive and delicate show is about. It is about the interconnection of lives caught in time, and the sci-fi / tech conceit is only the hanger that coat is put on. Which… I love.
The surface idea is that we are looking at the inhabitants of a small American town that once relied on farming and community, but now has been changed by the presence of an underground facility that deals with experimental physics and finding ways to make impossible things possible. They call it The Loop. It is never fully explained where it came from, or why, or what it is truly capable of – the mystery is always allowed to remain mostly a mystery – which, again, I love!
Many people in the town work at The Loop and rely on it for their livelihoods and collective economy, including Jonathon Pryce and Rebecca Hall, who are ostensibly the show’s main characters. But most folk have no idea what is really going on. Each episode focuses on one or two members of the community that interweave with one another; several important people begin as background dressing and become more prevalent as the full story of their lives and connections unfolds. But no one character is in every episode… which, you know, I love.
Their lives, that seem simple at first glance, are revealed to be complex tapestries of emotion and personal history, revolving around how The Loop has affected them and the things they love. The progression and unfolding of the detail is so deliberate and usually under-explained that very often you don’t realise the effect the full image will have. And when it does catch up with you it becomes a very moving and meaningful experience. Characters that you don’t understand or even like at first come into sharper focus as we reach the climax of the season and grow to learn why they are the way they are. The story arcs of Pryce and Hall in particular are very satisfying, tragic yet utterly beautiful to comprehend.
A lot of the criticism you will see about the show will concentrate on how slow it all is. I am totally convinced this is a deliberate artistic choice to weed out the thrill junkies. They are very welcome to go elsewhere, and it sounds as if many of them did, basing their reviews on one or two half watched episodes they couldn’t be bothered to engage with or wonder at. Which is why I think in time the respect for this as a work of art will come back around.
There is nothing to fault in the production at all. From the opening credits to the end of each episode, what you get is a very highly polished and considered look and feel, designed to evoke certain feelings over others – a wistfulness, an ennui, a bittersweet smile of knowing, perhaps. It invites you to watch patiently and relate, not to watch eagerly and expect… which, you know, I love.
The photography is crisp and well framed always; the music is subtle but effective; the dialogue is often sparing and well chosen (no detail is merely thrown away); and the direction is of a remarkably uniform vision, considering each episode is a different guest professional, including such prestigious names as Jodie Foster, Mark Romanek and Andrew Stanton.
I absolutely urge anyone that isn’t put off by a little sentiment to give this one a try. Sadness and regret in life is not something to shun and be afraid of, they are parts of human experience, and I love art that explores them as concepts. Put that art in a science fiction context and I am bound to love it even more. Like the final moments of Blade Runner, we know that one day all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. We have to take time to see the beauty while we can, even if that beauty is painful.
It may not be for you – I don’t think it is better or worse than other things, just more… me. There is every chance that if it isn’t you… you will hate it. If you do begin, however, please see it to the finish before casting judgement – the final episode directed by Jodie Foster is truly wonderful: a pay-off of such emotion after your investment of seven previous stories, tying it all together perfectly. Rarely have I felt so stupid for not understanding the point of something sooner, or been more pleased that I hadn’t. The final moment of the season is literally unforgettable, and gets richer in my imagination by the day.
Will there be a second season? There certainly could be. Was it enough of a success to justify the investment? Hmm, not sure. Either way, it either sits as a perfect self contained collection of fine, old-fashioned sci-fi stories, or I’d be happy to see it expand, as long as the temptation isn’t to listen to the negative reviews and pander to the fast-food mentality that has already rejected it without fully understanding it. Because nothing needs to change here. A thing of beauty, recommended to those who like beautiful and delicate things.