juushika

Supernatural, season 9, 2014-15
Rowena is a delight, and I enjoy Crowley's progression—bravo to the show for exploring how soft he's gone. Otherwise: a disappointment. The Mark is too reminescent of S8's post-Purgatory effects, but significantly less compelling. The big bad is a mess—is it Styne? Rowena? the Mark has no face and so makes for an indistinct and unsatisfying enemy, and the show fails to capitalize on the quandary of how to win a fight when the only face of the enemy is yourself. Charlie's death is as predictably problematic as this show can conceivably be; the sudden twist ending is transparent sequel bait, and the entire last episode has predictable pacing. This is midgrade, messy, unremarkable Supernatural.

Circle, film, 2015, dir. Aaron Hann & Mario Miscione
I'm a sucker for this sort of survival setup, yet this did little for me. What makes survival games work is the way that individuals react to life and death competition, but there's no room for characters here. Instead, Circle has soundbite distillations of "American values," cursory and unproductive caricatures of sexism/racism/homophobia. Tension sustains the film, but the staccato pacing doesn't allow for tension to build or the narrative to flow. It's constrained and frantic and small, distinctly not awful; the end is strong. But I'm unimpressed.

The Duke of Burgundy, film, 2014, dir. Peter Strickland
Beautiful, rich, but too self-aware. This is a gorgeous dreamworld of texture and sound and scripted erotic play, balanced by heavy emotional emphasis which is at times almost unpleasant to watch because the character's needs are so transparent. But it can get lost under artsy montage, the worst of which is a dream-sequence entered via a crotch close-up (I mean, really); it's too smug and too arty. I think of this better in retrospect than I enjoyed it at the time—great potential, a bit too much beauty, and it doesn't work with my sense of humor.

Cloverfield, film, 2008, dir. Mat Reeves
I went into this thinking it was a monster delay film—I suppose I was mistaken, because the monster is all over the place, and inconsistent, and too convenient—most especially the presence of the smaller parasites. As a found footage film, this is decent, although I never grew invested in the interpersonal elements which are necessary to ground the apocalypse. The scale of the disaster is nice, although the monster itself is bland. In sum: merely competent.

Broadchurch, series 2, 2015
The writing here is better than the first series: less episodic, more cohesive as a whole. The casting and character arcs remain strong, especially Ellie, both in her family life and in her interactions with Hardy. But the emotional register and atmosphere are banal. It's uncreative: compare to Tana French's In the Woods: similar dual cases, small towns, PoV even, but the atmosphere is much more intense and the emotional focus has more intent, simply has more to say. The circumstances here are strange, even contrived, but most of the dynamics are disappointing in their normalcy.

Black Mirror, series 1-2 & Christmas Special, 2011-14
The natural result of mainstream media picking up spec-fic with the self-satisfied smugness of one who thinks they've come up with something new while failing to realize they have no genre experience to support them. Slick, well-acted, and pointedly cruel—but riddled with plotholes and unable to do anything with the potentially interesting near-future scenarios other than to see their effects on the entirely uninteresting lives of mostly-white straight people. It's watchable but the satire grows tiresome, obsessed with the petty evils of social media, and it buries its potential in over-trod emotional ground. Everywhere, every day, I can see upper-middle class white marriages fall apart due to possessive husband and frigid wives; there's better vehicles to explore "everyone records every moment of their lives" and "I spoke with the avatar of my dead partner."

Following, film, 1999, dir. Christopher Nolan
I love the initial setup, the dehumanization/violation that comes from an desire to be intimate with strangers; likewise, the character growth that follows the path of this obsession. But as a thriller, the twists are too neat—it's competent, with engaging non-linearity and good pacing (although the final twist is predictable), but it's too traditional and the thriller aspects overshadow the far more interesting relationships that fill early parts of the film. In short, exactly what I'd expect of Nolan's first effort.

WataMote (Watashi ga Motenai no wa Dō Kangaetemo Omaera ga Warui!/No Matter How I Look at It, It’s You Guys' Fault I’m Not Popular!), anime, 2013, Silver Link
This is one of the better depictions of social anxiety that I've seen. It also has some circumspect trappings, but—to give the show the benefit of the doubt—that may be because Tomoko lacks awareness, failing to question her own internalized misogyny in particular: unfortunate without narrative context, but realistic. WataMote frequently feels like it's on the edge of failure: too painful, too exaggerated, too crass, at moments even too optimistic. But the humor serves both to lighten the mood and to explore the pessimism that piggybacks onto anxiety, and when the show looks towards a hopeful ending it does it without dismissing the Tomoko's ongoing problems. I'm frankly thankful that this imperfect little story exists.

K, anime, 2012, GoHands
The larger than life ensemble cast color-coded for your convenience reminds me strongly of Durarara!!, but K's not as half clever. Still, I enjoyed it. I have a few quibbles: the fanservice is real and it's miserable; the first few episodes are funnier than they need to be and slow the plot. But the large cast creates a number of fantastic characters and compelling dynamics, and even the aspects that aren't particularly complex have satisfying emotional appeal. This is more engaging than it is intelligent, but there's nothing wrong with that.

Wakfu, animated, season 2, Ankama Animation
The only real downfall of Wakfu's fantastic first season was that it took too long to develop momentum. I'm disappointed that the second season has the same flaw: there's too many episodic episodes—with (heavy-handed) foreshadowing, to be sure, and each is fun individually, but they slow the pacing. Otherwise: amazing. This has one of my favorite ensemble casts, and I remain in awe of the strong characters and their dynamic, meaningful interactions. And when it gets going, the plot is great—the last ~4 episodes are worth the wait. There's some disappointing off-color humor in this season, but despite that and other quibbles I honestly cannot recommend Wakfu too highly. Give it a try, it may surprise you.

The House of the Devil, film, 2009, dir. Ti West
Insufficient. The slow-burn suspense almost works, but the end doesn't pay off—the frantic pacing of the climax should be effective, but there's no substance: little cultural or personal framing for the evil, no relationship between villain and victim, it just doesn't say much. I suppose narrative purpose isn't essential to horror, but I prefer it—especially in something that requires investment rather than simple entertainment, as Ti West's films usually do. At least I liked this more than The Innkeepers!

Once Upon a Time, season 4, 2014-2015
The messiest season by far, this one just rolled off of me. There's good bits in the Elsa storyline—although the Frozen girls feel particularly out of place even in this hodgepodge (although not as much as Cruella!)—it's sensitive and surprisingly good-willed, a nice change from OUaT's "dark" retellings. The Heroes and Villains arc is less successful: Belle's moment of definitive bravery is fantastic, but it's undercut by the plot that follows; inverting heroes and villains makes for messy storytelling rather than anything meaningfully subtle. At its heart, this is just more OUaT, with all witless storytelling and bad makeup and interesting character dynamics you'd expect—but this is my least favorite season so far.

A Simple Plan, film, 1998, dir. Sam Raimi
A straightforward but effective take on the premise of a small, uneasy group forced into a conspiracy. It's discomforting to watch for exactly the right reason: everything feels justified yet is obviously unacceptable, and that tension provides significant immersion and momentum. The ending is overwrought and hinges on coincidence, but to be honest I didn't much mind. If you can overlook the limited scope and obvious flaws of the film (the all-white, nearly all-male cast among them, although there's some interesting class dynamics at play), this entirely satisfying.

( A Simple Plan as unusually intimate relationship, crossposted from Tumblr. )

Jupiter Ascending, film, 2015, dirs. Andy Wachowski and Lana Wachowski
This reminds me of YA literature: consumable trash filmed through a female lens—which doesn't make it magically non-problematic, but does make it a refreshing take on wish fulfillment. I don't care for the amount of spectacle; the action scenes in particular grow wearisome. But to my surprise, I love the my-love-interest-the-bodyguard dynamic, male as powerful and useful but subservient to female choice—full disclosure, this is a trope I adore (see: my love for Enslaved), but I'm still surprised that Jupiter Ascending pulled it off so well; I shipped the hetero leads and, let me tell you, that never happens. Anyway: not great, but a different and much improved variety of trash, and worth two hours of my time.

Big Hero 6, film, 2014, dirs. Chris Williams and Don Hall,
This should feel like merch bait, and it's so emotionally heavy-handed, and the antagonist(s) are shallow and I could do without the manpain motivation, and the end is predictable. And yet: I cared; I cared immensely. It's manipulative but effective, the character design is simplistic but charming, and Baymax is phenomenal. This is how to do mascot characters! Make them adorable and a little silly but also make them central to the story, make them the emotional lynchpin as well as the comic relief. (Great soundtrack, too.)

Kill la Kill, anime, 2013, Trigger
I loved Gurren Lagann, which was successful because it looks a simple concept and spiraled (ahahaha) it larger and larger—it was a deceptive, brilliant, effective device. Kill la Kill isn't simple and it certainly isn't brilliant. It's so energetic and ridiculous that it takes some time to adjust, but I did—and I enjoyed the show. To my particular surprise, I like the emotional and interpersonal arcs; they're hamfisted and obvious but have just enough underlying nuance, and the result is endearing. (Most especially, Mako.) But the plot's a mess. Spiral Power is an entire show worth of fridge brilliance; clothing-is-evil-except-not-also-fanservice lacks cogency and purpose. Is it unfair to compare this to TTGL? Probably, but oh well. Kill la Kill had bits I liked but as a whole was an unsuccessful successor.

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (When the Cicadas Cry), anime, 2006, Studio Deen
Let's all take a moment to appreciate just how well the When They Cry series handles bad ends. They become tools to explore how a limited cast reacts to wildly different stressors, to explore multiple permeations and sides of the same story, and, best of all, the cumulative effect of the bad ends is the whole point. There's no frustrating dissonance between persistent viewer memory and reset character timelines—instead, the gap between them is the core the plot. Of course, the series originated as a visual novel—but games screw this up all the time! When They Cry is an aware, engaged, utterly satisfying take on the trope. (I've talked about this in length on Tumblr, crossposted below.)

The art is simplistic. The empty-eyed psychopathic tendencies of apparently all schoolchildren can be repetitive, although Keiichi's paranoia is a compelling change of pace. Higurashi isn't hugely refined, to be sure. But the scenery-chewing is its own delight, and what this series gets right I simply adore.


( Let's talk about Bad Ends )


**( Bad Ends and player PoV in Ib (and 999) )


And written 2016: ( I just finished Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Kai, aka season two/the answers arc )

Breaking the Girls, film, 2013, dir. Jamie Babbit
The plot twists are written for their own sake rather than to develop any sort of interior logic, which means that as this gets twistier—especially in the last ten minutes—it tanks. But the premise is intriguing, and the atmosphere of idyllic sunny California populated by the rich and obsessive and cruel caries much of the film; it's watchable.

The One I Love, film, 2014, dir. Charlie McDowell
The premise is whimsical and unique and spins a normative couple's story into something much more lively—but as the plot unwisely grows meatier, it derails what's working well and replaces it with half-cocked, unsatisfying sci-fi. Good casting, the improv dialog is a mixed success (frequently charming, but as often mundane), more interesting than I expected, a thoughtful effort—but it fails.

Elena Undone, film, 2010, dir. Nicole Conn
I like this more than I expected. There's a freshness in the characters and their relationships, a joy and life and convincing connection; it's more of a coming of age than a seduction, empowering and suffused with agency. All the surrounding trappings are a disappointment: I could distinctly do without the smarmy soulmates theme and the ham-fisted religious bigotry, but they don't quite override what makes this film refreshing.

You Will Be Mine (Je te mangerais), film, 2009, Sophie Laloy
In theory, this is perfect; in practice, it's lacking. The relationship is extreme without being wholehearted, and the views of the women involved too piecemeal—Marie, in particular. There's a sense that she's more powerful than the narrative lets on, which has such potential and intrigue, but it goes unexplored. The atmosphere, casting, and concept are all lovely, but the execution lacks conviction; I came away disappointed.

The Babadook, film, 2014, dir. Jennifer Kent
It's not flawless: the message can get lost when it feels more like gaslighting (the police station scene, in particular); while the Babadook imagery is phenomenal, the supernatural elements have an overblown and comic vibe; the ending is almost but not quite unforgivably neat. But this is suffused with intent, from set design to metaphor; a beautiful, claustrophobic, effective film about grief—and, as much, about single parenting a difficult child. Yet I didn't love it. It's just too unpleasant to watch, the frustration and isolation too real and sympathetic, and clashing with the grandiosity of the horror.

In Your Eyes, film, 2014, dir. Brin Hill
The premise is engaging and its execution is often successful, thanks in large part to the casting—there's a convincing, lively bond between the protagonists. But their romantic hurdles grow tedious, existing purely for the sake of plot and doing little to progress either characters or relationship. This has the feel of Whedon: missed potential, accessible but unsubstantial high concept, and watchable.

Deadman Wonderland, anime, 2011, studio Manglobe
A lot of high worldbuilding, a lot of cliché characterization, and some loving, creative violence. If you go in for psychopaths and gratuitous violence, there's enough here to keep you entertained—it did me. But Deadman Wonderland cleaves to the standards of its genre to its detriment; the dearth of modulation and creativity render it pointless. Don't waste your time.

Four-Faced Liar, film, 2010, dir. Jacob Chase
The thing is, this isn't awfully unconventional. I love the messiness of the relationships and the refusal of a neat conclusion, but its monogamy and under-explored gender conventions, especially atop the stereotypical roles of the main couple, leave something to be desired. Still, a likable film—a little glib, but engaging and well-intended. It's just not as good as it could be.

In Her Skin, film, 2011, Dir. Simone North
If this didn't seem to have the family's blessing, I'd say this film rides the edge of exploitation: a little too slick, not awfully subtle. The only part which feels underwritten is Caroline Reid Robertson, but Ruth Bradley is phenomenal, knitting together Caroline's fragmented story into a compelling, unsettlingly sympathetic whole. In Her Skin holds interest but never sits easy, and not for the right reasons. The content is discomforting, sure, but the execution is moreso.

Stranger by the Lake/L'inconnu du lac, film, 2014, dir. Alain Guiraudie
Out of curiosity, Franck , what did you expect would happen? I loved this in concept, but less in execution. The dynamic felt splintered: Franck in fear vs. Franck in lust, with not enough to illustrate the fragile and strange bridge between the two. All the rest, I like: the concept is unique, the execution unflinching, and the cast is great. But, despite the premise and loads of sex, this isn't as compelling as it could be.

Rise of the Guardians, film, 2012, dir. Peter Ramsey
Entirely forgettable. Too self-aware to sell to a younger audience; too slight for an older one. The character design is fun, but the worldbuilding is surprisingly shallow and the plot more than predictable. The film's intent is transparent but left no impact on me.

Brave, film, 2012, dir. Mark Andres, Brenda Chapman
As a story of a girl's relationship with her mother, a princess with no prince in the picture, entirely concerned with personal identity and familial relationships, what Brave does right is invaluable. But it's not without flaws: I would have loved to actually see Merida repair the tapestry, so that the film felt less like a condemnation of women's work as well as women's social status. That, and the plot is simplistic, functional but plain. I'm glad Brave exists but except that it does exist it left no lasting impression.

Enchanted, film, 2007, dir. Kevin Lima
Thoroughly predictable but somehow endearing, largely because of the protagonist, whose enthusiasm and optimism isn't played as shallow. The romances are heteronormative, monogamous, competitive—and no one is villainized, and the women aren't pitted against each other. That shouldn't be remarkable, but it is. Enchanted doesn't honestly have much to say about the tropes it purports to invert, but it's just irreverent and authentic enough to be satisfying.

The Maze Runner, film, 2014, dir. Wes Ball
This film fits nice into a niche that I find particularly intriguing: dystopia meets deadly game with a big helping of a trope I can't find a name for, where the setting itself is the mystery and danger. (See also: Hunger Games, Snyder's Insiders series.) A compelling concept, phenomenally executed on film: the maze is massive, terrifying, enigmatic. But the plot is less successful, and the explanation behind the maze is particularly lackluster. I expected as much—it's far easier to create a compelling mystery than provide a satisfying solution—but was still disappointed. To be honest, I adored The Maze Runner, not because it's particularly good but because I find its strengths so appealing.

The Princess and the Frog, film, 2009, dir. Ron Clements, John Musker
Refreshing setting, lovely animation, enjoyable but forgettable music, utterly unremarkable plot. I love the intent here, and it's enough to make for a perfectly watchable film. But it's not profound, not awfully endearing; not in any way memorable, except for finally introducing some diverse representation. But that last, at least, makes it worthwhile.

I Saw the Devil, film, 2010, dir. Kim Jee-woon
Unrelenting and pointed enough to be compelling with violence that packs a punch, but the gratuity and grittiness feel, for lack of a better word, grimdark; from the fridged girlfriend to the gazing-into-the-abyss theme, it's also overly familiar. There was a lot I liked here as I was watching it, but my sum opinion is lacking. It does what it does well, but to be honest I Saw the Devil just doesn't do much.

Below, film, 2002, dir. David Twohy
A claustrophobic, paranoid mystery without succumbing to predictability or cheap tricks, and while not particularly frightening as a ghost story it has a strong atmosphere and a few hard-hitting moments. In no ways great, but a solid 3/5 and perfectly watchable.

Ginger Snaps, film. 2000, dir. John Fawcett
Rewatch, exactly as I remember it: a messy conflation of women/sexuality/coming of age/monstrosity, but one which is authentic and bloody and bold, lovingly-crafted—from the gallows humor to the surprisingly good effects and indulgent aesthetic to the perfectly rendered loving claustrophobia of the sibling relationship. Still one of my favorite movies.

Dark Shadows, film, 2012, dir. Tim Burton
More silly than effective, far more campy than called for, but the effects are often fantastic and there's some good character moments. I was content to see this once, it's funny and creative and highly indulgent, but it's too slight to hold up to rewatch.

V/H/S, film, 2012, dir. Adam Wingard, David Bruckner, Ti West, Glenn McQuaid, Joe Swanberg, Radio Silence
Better in concept than execution. The few good touches throughout these shorts—each has one or two, but the monster in "Amateur Night" and the haunted house scenes in "10/31/98" are particularly nice—get worn out by repetition and drowned out by frankly distasteful padding; the parade of sexualized and victimized women is unnecessary. I liked what this tried to do just enough that I'll watch the sequel someday, but I don't recommend it.

The Human Race, film, 2013, dir. Paul Hough
I can't possible give this a fair review, because this is one of my favorite (overly-specific) premises. I like Deadly Games in general, but find a race for survival particularly compelling; see also King writing as Bachman, The Long Walk. The Human Race lives up to the potential of its premise. It has good momentum and a willingness to murder its darlings, but necessary black humor keep it from growing joyless. The acting is solid. The end is a little madcap but not unacceptable. This was like a little gift, flawed and at times problematic but, for me, utterly delightful.

Hemlock Grove, season 2, 2014
The first few episodes suffer as the show tries desperately to return to status quo, undoing much of the end of the first season; the plot also has a shaky, piecemeal start. The middle gains momentum, but the end wavers—some plot threads end too predictably, too many dangle, and the effect feels rushed. Season two has a sense of sequelitis—the violence in particular is cranked up to ridiculous levels—but provides welcome more of the same: the show's strengths are its indulgent supernatural elements, which appear in droves, and its characters, who have even more complex interpersonal relationships this time around (hey, a poly relationship!). An uneven effort, but I liked season one and was happy to have season two—Hemlock Grove is about aesthetic and indulgence, and need not be particularly refined to be enjoyable.

Hard Candy, film, 2005, dir. David Slade
A teenage girl preys on an older man and suspected pedophile. Hard Candy is overlong and has far too many denouements, putting a strain on the small cast and wearing its tension thin. But in all other ways, it's strong if imperfect. Its commentary is more than blatant but Page delivers it with aplomb, and the story is just on the right side of a rape revenge plot, aggressively vengeful but refusing to sensationalize the rape itself—in fact there's almost no presence of a male gaze, and so rather than exploitative it feels just—but also aggressive and circumspect. This would be significantly better if it were shorter and/or more diverse, but I still adored it.

Snow White and the Huntsman, film, 2012, dir. Rupert Sanders
A retelling of the fairy tale that sends Snow White to battle. The first third of this film is phenomenal, recasting Snow White's beauty in moral and emotional terms and contrasting it with the Queen's reliance on physical beauty, directly addressing how the fairy tale and the women within it value beauty, and why it creates conflict between them. Later hallmark aspects of the fairy tale—the dwarves, the apple—lack both creativity and commentary; the Huntsman fairs somewhat better. But on the whole, as the plot progresses it grows Hollywood-predictable and the rest of the film is just adequate, although the aesthetic is indulgent and the casting is strong. As a film, somewhat underwhelming; as a retelling, spotty—but what it does well is, however heavy-handed, fantastic to see.

Byzantium, film, 2012, dir. Neil Jordan
For the first time in their long lives, the relationship between a mother/daughter pair of vampires begins to unravel. Despite some questionable aspects—the "sixteen forever" protagonist, a willingness to conflate women/power/vampirism/sensuality/prostitution—and an unevenness of tone, sometimes too quiet but also prone to excessive action scenes, Byzantium is on the whole a compelling and intensely engaged addition to its genre, exploring the isolation and power of a vampire, their search for companionship and desire to be known, their potential for danger, and how that danger intersects gender. These themes can grow heavy-handed but that they are so proactive and robust is honestly amazing. An inconsistent but lovely film.

The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh, film, 2012, dir. Rodrigo Gudiño
After her death, a man inherits his estranged mother's estate. This film has a phenomenal haunted-house atmosphere, aided—with little restraint or dignity—by a cornucopia of creepy statues and religious iconography. The former is easily the film's selling point and is beautifully shot, the latter I found effectively frightening, but the skeletal plot leaves an underwhelming final impression. Not recommended.

Silent Hill, film, 2006, Christophe Gans
A mother is drawn to the ghost town of Silent Hill in order to discover the truth of her adopted daughter's past. Too faithful a reproduction—it harvests such a number of images and figures from the games, and while they're given some in-story justification their main purpose is fanservice. That said, there are some fantastic images and effects on display; they're rarely frightening but frequently have a grotesque beauty which does more credit to the franchise than the lackluster plot or the multiple appearances of Pyramid Head.

Europa Report, film, 2013, dir. Sebastián Cordero
A crewed mission embarks on a distant space journey to Europa, one of Jupiter's moons, in hope that water beneath the ice crust may contain alien life. I discovered this film through Caitlín R. Kiernan/greygirlbeast (post here), and it reminds me of her work; as such, the premise was more familiar than profound, and it's only the non-linear narrative that gives it complexity. But the film does two things I love: it's willing to tell a fairly delicate story about the risk, allure, and danger of the unknown (I find the premise familiar because it's a type of story I enjoy), and it does so with an unexpected beauty, even bittersweet optimism. Of what I've wanted recently, this was easily my favorite.

Event Horizon, film, 1997, Paul W. S. Anderson
A rescue ship follows the distress signal of the Event Horizon, mankind's first interstellar spacecraft which has been lost for seven years. Hellraiser: In Space, and of about equal quality. Both set and makeup design are creative and delightfully indulgent, but the plot and script grow increasingly lackluster as the film progresses. It's an appropriate cult film, but the overall quality left me wanting.

Dredd, film, 2012, Pete Travis
In a crime-ridden megacity where Judges are the soul law enforcement, the head of a crime family pits herself against one experienced Judge and one rookie in training. This is pretty much exactly what I expected based on what I'd read about it: a remarkably less campy imagining of the source material, grotesquely violent and decently written, with strong and respectfully portrayed female characters. It's gratifying to see a film do what this one does without misstepping; the comic book origins are preserved, but it doesn't feel gratuitous—it feels effective, and surprisingly watchable. Not to my personal taste, but I was impressed.

Let's talk about the visual media I've consumed lately, thanks to the influx of new content to Netflix Instant (some of which I'm watching, some of which has inspired me to continue what I'm already watching so that I can watch it next):

Adventure Time, season 1
The turning point was when I went from disliking the opening theme song to singing it to myself. The show has a rocky start, in part because it's simplistic/quirky/gross style takes some adjustment, in part because I went in with expectations that the first few episodes can't fulfill. Tumblr filled me with expectations of strong, well-rounded, diverse/female characters, but half of the first season is reiterations of Finn rescuing a woman in distress; the trope is used intentionally as, say, the paper-thin plot of Super Meat Boy: just ironic/humorous enough to feel justified when really it relies on and reinforced one of the most problematic and overused of narrative devices. Things don't really improve until Marceline shows up—she serves a different narrative function than Princess Bubblegum, the plot structure begins to diversify, and there's an increasing sense of a united, if not progressive, narrative. By then the humor and aesthetic had begun to grow on me, and the 10-minute runtime of each episode gives it all a fun consumability. This isn't a new favorite, but I don't imagine the first season is indicative of what it becomes; I'll watch more when it comes to Netflix.

Thor and Captain America: The First Avenger
Nope, I haven't seen The Avengers! I just didn't care at the time, and would watch it now if it were on Instant, but I won't go out of my way to see it. These films don't make me any more eager. There's something in the Marvel films which I find intriguing: the shared universe, the sleekness, the often-fantastic casting, the larger-than-life feel of comics brought to film, the nods to other parts of the universe; they're more vivid and enjoyable than most comic adaptations, and I want to like them. And I did like Iron Man, but I ragequit Iron Man 2 and Thor and Captain America just ... bored me. The plots are the problem, here. The beats are overly familiar, especially for these two: human introduction, superhuman creation, antagonist interaction, love interest interaction, antagonist/superhero showdown which contrasts creative CG action scenes against bittersweet unfulfilled romance. It's often sleek and smart and pretty, but it's also trite and, in retrospect, absolutely forgettable; mostly-just-a-love-interest is also a waste of both Natalie Portman and her character.

The Hunger Games
I didn't have too much love for the novel (hi, I hate my old reviews), but to my surprise I was awed by the film. Much of what bothered me in the novel edits better for film: the mediatized aspects are more relevant and less obtrusive, and while the obligate love triangle will forever bore me it's a little more insidious, subtle, and painful here: two people whose genuine respect for one another must be buried under contrived affection. But what makes the film is Jennifer Lawrence and Katniss. When visual media melds first and third person (e.g. character is drunk, image of character goes blurry) it can throw me out of my immersion by drawing attention to the camera as narrator, but The Hunger Games often uses similar technique to great effect, particularly by manipulating sound: when it deafens while Katniss is overwhelmed by trauma or fear, when it becomes a tinny ringing after an explosion, the audience is thrust into a physically exhausting first person narrative even more effectively than in the book. And Lawrence can act—she can act like ain't no one's business. I felt like survival-via-"love" overwhelmed Katniss's strength of character in the book, but that doesn't happen in the film: in her attitude and insecurity and will to survive, she is the utterly believable core that sells a larger-than-life world and narrative. I went into The Hunger Games looking for another competent but unremarkable action flick to pass the time, but was utterly taken back and truly impressed.

The X-Files, seasons 7 and 8
(Read more of my X-Files thoughts here.) The series certainly peaks in seasons 4 and 5; season 6 does some mytharc things I enjoy but its pacing is all over the place; 7 does some mytharc things I enjoy less and the pacing is even shakier; 8 is ... different. I've been reading some of the Reopening The X-Files series on Tor, and it's fascinating stuff. What sells but also limits the show is the Mulder/Scully relationship: two people held in opposition by the constraints of the show, but whose intimacy is the driving force of both plot and emotional motivation. It's the need to preserve this premise that makes so many of the episodes frustrating: Scully must remain the skeptic, and no matter what she sees it can't truly change her. When the show attempts to move away from that Mulder/Scully core, it threatens to alienate its entire audience and ultimately never succeeds at making a more diverse/longer running show—but it also, finally, forces the Mulder/Scully dynamic to change. Nothing else about it quite works—Doggett is, frankly, boring—but Scully the believer is fascinating, both as commentary on her and on Mulder's role (as perceived by the show and by Scully). The Tor series has some true gems, comparing the show's narrative format to its narrative content, looking at how characters do and don't mature—and when this growth successfully impacts the viewer. It's revived a lot of my interest in the show, which is a good thing because I'm rushing through it so that I can watch Fringe next.