Let's roll some dice, watch some movies, or generally just geek out. New posts at 6:30 pm ET but only if I have something to say. Menu at the top. gsllc@chirp.enworld.org on Mastodon and @gsllc on Twitter.
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Waco is another quarantine-inspired watch for me. For the young-uns, it’s the true and tragic story of the 1993 siege on the Branch Dravidians complex near Waco, Texas, a joint operation of the ATF and FBI. The end result was a fire that burnt the complex to the ground and killed most within. Who started the fire remains the subject of debate, with this dramatization placing the blame on the government. Whether or not that’s true, it’s clear that their documented actions during the siege certainly exaggerated the tragedy. There were huge mistakes made.
That said, the one thing I didn’t like about this series was that it made their leader, David Koresh, look very sympathetic. That’s an easy mistake to make. He was highly charismatic, and portraying that charisma accurately will inevitably have that effect on the audience. Make no mistake about it, though: David Koresh was a bad guy. He was a child molester, and many of the other adults were complicit in Koresh’s acts. I think the show could have played up these facts to keep the audience grounded in reality, but it was obviously more important to the creators to highlight the government’s mistakes than Koresh’s.
Still, this is an important and cautionary tale that I felt was well worth watching, with a cast that included some well-liked actors. With only 6, 1-hour (or so) episodes, it’s also a relatively easy watch.
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Last night was the Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2 quarantine watch party. The best story arc in the MCU was Nebula’s, and it really came together in this movie thanks to both the writing and acting. No one can topple Thor as my favorite character, but she comes in as a close second. Sure, I’ve beaten this point into the ground but done so across several blog and social media posts that even I, the author, can’t track. Now I’m going to put it all together in one place so I can just point people to this post. Note well that the creators themselves may disagree with my analysis here and there, but art is in the eyes of the beholder. Great art speaks to people regardless of their own biases and perspectives, and I’ve learned recently that many people agree with my analysis of both the actor and the character. I truly hope I do everyone justice in expressing that analysis. To that end, while I’ve been trying to improve my writing by shortening my posts, this one can’t be done quickly. There’s a lot to unpack, so grab a drink and some snacks; you’ll be here for a while.
Nebula’s Start
In GotG Volume 1, Nebula is a one-dimensional character. She’s an assassin crafted by a family with a far different dysfunction than any real human has experienced. Maybe you’ve experienced something as bad or worse, but unless your parent turned you into a cyborg because you didn’t murder well enough, you can’t truly relate. Every relationship Nebula has had is either severe familial dysfunction or predator-to-prey. She’s been trained to be nothing more than a killer; that’s all she is. She’s never laughed, never had a friend, and lacks the social context even to address her issues, let alone resolve them. The only emotions we’ve seen from her are anger and frustration (e.g., “Thanks, dad.”).
Nebula’s Journey
In GotG Volume 2, things slowly start to change. Gamora’s time as a Guardian has brought her along her own path of redemption, but she has no confidence in Nebula in that regard. Thus, the movie starts with Nebula feeling no love from her sister. However, when Peter, Drax, and Gamora are leaving with Ego and Mantis, there’s a moment where Nebula senses something inside herself. She gives a quick downward glance, accompanied by a brilliant musical choice making it clear that this scene was as much about Nebula as it was about any of the Guardians.
[C]obbled together by Buckingham at a time when certain people in the band weren’t even speaking to each other . . . “[t]he Chain” is a stark reminder that you’re forever tied to the people you love most, even while they’re betraying you. –Jillian Mapes
My interpretation is that Nebula doesn’t understand these feelings because she’s never had them before now, but they’re clearly triggered by Gamora leaving her and the subconscious recognition that if Gamora can have an adoptive family, so can she. Peter and Gamora were further along this path than Nebula, but they were all on the same journey (as was Rocket, but in a different way). Later, Nebula saves Rocket from execution for what she claims to be selfish reasons, but there’s clearly a change going on inside her. The 2014 Nebula wouldn’t have stopped the execution.
Skipping ahead to the planet of Ego, Nebula attacks Gamora. She’s genuinely angry, but not having to look Gamora in the eye is key to her ability to kill her sister. When the battle brings them face to face, she can’t do it. She yells out in frustration because all she knows is killing, and she suddenly can’t. She feels like she’s lost control of herself. Even at this point, my interpretation is that she doesn’t understand why.
And then there’s that moment when at last she gets it. She yells, “You were the one that wanted to win, and I just wanted a sister!” At 3:44, you see for a brief instant a relaxing of her eyes. I wish they had held the shot on her face for another second. She’s as surprised as Gamora. It’s at that point Nebula finally has a basic understanding of what she’s been feeling. She’s still Nebula, and there’s still plenty of road to travel, but you can’t address an issue until you first acknowledge it. She’s finally done that, and that’s why it’s one of my favorite lines in all of cinema.
There are a few more moments that help her along. She can’t understand how the Guardians can be friends because they always fight. Drax explains it to her.
Nebula: “…. You’re not friends.” Drax: “You’re right. We’re family.”
This helps her understand that right and wrong, love and hate, etc. aren’t always defined strictly by actions, but also by intent. Sometimes right and wrong look the same but nevertheless are not. Soon after, she becomes a Guardian by joining their fight to save the universe. She’s not just doing so to help herself; she’s also helping her sister. She’s not just working alongside someone in a morbid contest to kill more victims; she’s learning the notion of truly bonding with others for a common goal. Cooperation rather than competition.
Nebula’s part in the movie ends with an awkward hug, and then Gamora pensively watching Nebula ride away in search of Thanos. On the one hand, it’s a sad moment, but on the other, it’s a moment of hope that’s going to be desperately needed in the MCU within the next couple of movies.
Infinity War
Nebula’s journey to date is longer than the other MCU characters, but it takes on a familiar form. Like most of the MCU characters, as Nebula evolves into a better version of herself, her methods don’t change. For example, Tony Stark is a self-absorbed, playboy and arms dealer, and then becomes a family-oriented peace-lover out to save the world. Either way, his methods are the same: Develop weaponry. It’s all he really knows, so we judge him more by his intent than by his methods (though he often makes mistakes worthy of judgment). Thor is similarly self-absorbed and deemed unworthy, but eventually joins the fight to save half the universe. How? By recklessly plunging into battle, preferring brute force over tactics. He’s still Thor. And do I really have to mention Ant-Man? As discussed in the prior section, Nebula’s still figuring out that the same actions can be considered good or evil based in large part on intent. Sure, some acts are inherently good or evil, but in the movie universe, even that idea can be relaxed for the sake of drama. We can also allow ourselves to forgive a movie character despite an unforgivable past (see, e.g., Darth Vader saying, “My bad,” and then becoming a Force ghost), which would never fly in the real world (where I’m sure you agree that she deserves that maximum penalty you feel the law may morally impose no matter how much she loves her sister). This is because filmmakers have to use these extremes in order to properly convey the message to the audience. Still, there are rules of engagement, which Tony will later explain to her.
Nebula’s first scene in Infinity War has Thanos torturing her. After freeing herself, we next see her on Titan joining the fight to stop Thanos. While wanting to do the right thing but still not appreciating the importance of intent, she must be very confused by her current mission, which is to assassinate her adoptive father. She experiencing the same two defining characteristics of the life she’s trying to leave behind: Family dysfunction and predator killing prey. But this battle helps break those bonds of confusion just a little bit more. She’s doing the right thing despite the nature of her actions.
When it becomes apparent that Thanos has executed the Snap, she appears to show a bit of remorse for the loss of life Thanos just caused. With Gamora already dead, one might not expect her to have anything more to lose, yet she still exhibits renewed sadness — not frustration or anger — about what had occurred. Is this genuine?
Endgame
This is where we see it all come together, with Guardians music playing. Ms. Gillan acts out the entirety of this journey in the following scene with two lines consisting of nine words in total, as well as three grunts. She uses body language and facial expressions buried in makeup. It’s not Klingon-like make up, but it still represents a barrier to conveying the message. However, even more difficult are the constraints placed upon her by the script. If Ms. Gillan — who I’ve read is a talented piano player — had suggested adding a moment to this scene in which she and Tony were singing and laughing while she was playing the piano, she would have been laughed off the set. Nebula doesn’t play the piano. She doesn’t laugh, and she doesn’t sing. She’s a stoic, distant, guarded cyborg who’s just learning emotions that we all take for granted. Ms. Gillan isn’t permitted to express those emotions fully but must somehow still convey them as they slowly rise to the surface.
And she does a masterful job of it. Here’s the scene:
The first thing we see is a paper football game. Nebula’s instinct is to cheat by blocking Tony’s attempt. To her, this is a competition, and that’s always meant win at all costs. Win for the sake of winning. Tony explains that, while they’re adversaries, she has to follow the rules of engagement. Again, this must be confusing for her, but she’s trying. In fact, she says, “I would like to try again,” which is 2/3 of the words she’s given in the scene. Consciously, she wants to continue to play, but subconsciously she wants to continue to learn.
When Nebula wins, Tony extends his hand as a showing of sportsmanship. He congratulated Nebula for beating him. Nebula understandably pauses. I imagine her thinking, “What’s going on here? Why is he congratulating me? No one’s ever done that before.” Well, of course not; everyone she’s ever beaten is dead. He still wants to be her friend despite just competing against her. “Wait. What’s a friend?” She’s clearly never had one. Then Tony asks whether she had fun. Again, she has to pause to process the question. “What’s ‘fun’? I’ve never had fun.” But she realizes she has had fun and answers in the affirmative. Remember, all of this is being done with little dialogue, obscuring makeup, and severe constraints on the character’s presentation.
But what happens next leaves little doubt that her transformation is genuine. Putting morality aside, the smart thing to do would be to kill Tony as quickly as possible (or at least as soon as he’s finished with his modifications to the ship). He’s in a weakened state due to his injuries, and as a fully biological person, he probably can’t last as long as Nebula without food, water, and perhaps oxygen. The sooner he dies, the less resources he burns in a futile effort to survive before seeing a rescue currently nowhere in sight. Not only does Nebula never consider killing him, but she actually takes steps to maximize his chances of survival, placing herself at greater risk. She provides medical treatment to his wounds and gives him the last bit of food. Even more profound, after Tony drifts off to sleep, Nebula picks him up off the floor and places him in a chair. If he’s destined to die, she wants him to die with dignity. Even if he’s going to die in his sleep, she wants him to be “comfortable.” And she shows genuine sorrow for what seems to be inevitable. All of this is for a guy she just met. Does this seem like something 2014 Nebula would do?
Note: The videos I’ve posted keep getting taken down. This is what’s left.
I’d like to write a lot more, but I’m sure you get the point. So, in the interests of finishing up this post, I’ll summarize the next 2 hours and 45 minutes of Endgame by saying it becomes even more obvious that Nebula’s transformation is genuine. During the rest of the film, she continues to display emotional development, seeming more and more “human” as she goes, and she’s legitimately trying to save everyone, not just herself. Her interactions with her 2014 version enforce that position. “You don’t have to do this . . . . You’ve seen what we become. . . . You can change.” Unfortunately, 2014 Nebula isn’t there yet. “He won’t let me.”
Again, a substitute video.
But you do see a tear running down 2014 Nebula’s cheek as she dies (blacked out of this clip). Seeing her future self could have been her start if there were only more time.
Gillan’s Acting
Sure, the writers had to do their part in setting this course for the character, and I applaud their work, but someone had to actually act it out despite a number of handicaps placed upon her. Ms. Gillan acted circles around Robert Downey Jr. in their shared scene, and I don’t think anyone noticed. The movies were more Mr. Downey’s than anyone else’s, so everyone was focused on him. Nebula’s importance in Endgame proves that the Russo brothers had faith in Ms. Gillan’s talent.
I agree. I feel that Ms. Gillan has the talent to win an Oscar one day. I have a modest track record for predicting such things (e.g., predicting Reese Witherspoon’s eventual Oscar based on her performances in two forgettable movies from the mid- to late-nineties). This comes not from personal talent, but rather from attending the theater since I was in elementary school. I can’t tell you how many now-famous actors I’ve seen perform at Arena Stage at a time when they were first cutting their teeth in the arts. I learned to look for that talent even when a bad script hides it. Whether Ms. Gillan ultimately wins an Oscar will rely on two factors beyond her acting: Being given the right part and script and being willing to go through the expensive campaign to essentially buy the award from the Academy. I cannot predict either of those, but she’s got one out of three already. That’s more than most of us (and dare I say, much of Hollywood) have.
No MCU character had a more significant, personal story arc than Nebula, and at times she was exceptionally well-acted.
Blog posts cannot substitute for legal advice. If the topics discussed in this post are relevant to a real case you have, please consult an attorney.
This post is about understanding the risk associated with relying on fair use. A copyright boils down to a “bundle of rights,” and when those rights are violated, it’s said that the copyright is “infringed.” A common defense to infringement is fair use, and I can’t possibly count the number of times someone contemplating making a copy has said, “But this is fair use,” often coupled with the dreaded, “No infringement intended” (as if that’s a proper defense). Everyone seems to think any copying they do is fair use. Well, it’s not me you have to convince.
Fair use is an “affirmative defense,” which creates two problems for you. First, to raise that defense, you’re often admitting that you’re liable (or guilty in a criminal case) of the underlying infringement. Boom! You just admitted you’re the bad guy. As a result, you run into your second problem: The burden of proof now shifts to you to prove that your offense was justified, and even in a criminal case, that shift doesn’t violate the Constitutionally-protected presumption of innocence. Remember, you already admitted you did a bad thing; you’re just trying to say, “Hey, let this slide, okay?”
If we were to apply this to any other crime or tort (civil wrong), it would sound crazy. For example, assuming you’re not someone who enjoys murder, which position feels safer?
“I didn’t kill the guy.”
“I killed the guy — shot him right between the eyes — but I felt threatened.”
Even assuming the truth of #2, #1 seems infinitely preferable (if also true). It’s a better position in which to find yourself. Nevertheless, people tend to infringe first and justify it second, seeing fair use as a quick and easy bailout. Despite a wealth of case law helping to define fair use, it’s still a vague concept, relying not on “bright line” rule that clearly defines it, but instead relying on a series of factors (discussed on my other blog) that have to be applied to your specific facts. You can’t predict the outcome of your case based on the outcome of another case with an entirely different, complex set of facts. If you miss one critical fact in your analysis, your defense crumbles. Moreover, successfully predicting the outcome of your trial doesn’t guarantee that you’ve successfully predicted the outcome of an appeal of that decision. The copyright holder knows that and is certain to appeal. That will cost you even more money.
Going back to the analogy, you shouldn’t go around bad neighborhoods simply because you suspect that, if you have to shoot someone, you’re likely to be shooting a menacing person, so you won’t go to jail. Similarly, you shouldn’t dive head first into infringement unless you’re willing to accept the consequences, whether they’re a finding of guilt/liability or simply a ton of legal fees.
Fair use is a well-settled defense to infringement, but relying on it is quite risky. If you don’t follow my advice to seek counsel when filing a trademark application, fine, but you better follow that advice if you’re planning to infringe a copyright that’s sure to be brought to the copyright holder’s attention.
Rob Bodine is a Virginia attorney focusing his practice on real estate and intellectual property law. He’s currently Virginia counsel with Cardinal Title Group, a Virginia title insurance and settlement company. Rob is also a licensed title insurance agent in Maryland and Virginia.
I was clearing out my Facebook saved list yesterday and came across this trailer.
Holy shit! Here we go!
Some of you were disappointed by this movie, but for any of you that are (or at least were) MCU fans, this trailer must have had you as stoked as I. This was the 20th film in the MCU, and it represented the beginning of the end of a long journey. After 23 films (treating Spiderman: Far from Home as an epilogue to the Infinity Stones saga), it’s clear that nothing’s ever been done like this before. Star Trek came close, and Star Wars perhaps a little closer, but no franchise created 23 films, each of which could stand on its own, yet still told a common story. The scale of it is, as far as I can tell, unique in cinema.
Seeing this trailer again reminded me of that anticipation.
Binging Halt and Catch Fire inspired me to re-watch Captain Marvel because Lee Pace played one of the key figures in both works. Mr. Pace won’t be the subject of this story, but it triggered the viewing.
Prior to seeing Brie Larson in Captain Marvel, I wasn’t impressed with her acting. Apparently, that created a bias, because I didn’t think much of the job she did in Captain Marvel either. I enjoyed the movie anyway because the character’s personality, fueled by her amnesia and her role as a soldier, didn’t require much range. In fact, it dictated that she remained as flat and one-dimensional as I’ve experienced. However, it left me concerned that in future performances she’d be equally flat and one-dimensional when the role required her do better. Her performance in Endgame didn’t give me any more confidence, because her role was limited.
Then the Room came to Netflix, so I watched it. I was curious as to how she could win an Oscar considering everything I had seen. In the Room, she was a completely different Brie Larson. I saw much better acting, so it was clear that she had the chops for the role. On the second, and now third, viewing of Captain Marvel, I see her performance in a different light. The extra dimensions are there; it’s just more subtle. As with Nebula, the script limited Carol Danvers be acted in a certain way — brooding, cold, distant, guarded — but Ms. Larson somehow hinted at the range of normal emotions inside. At times, she’s happy, playful, sorrowful, nostalgic, inquisitive, remorseful, optimistic, and goofy; I simply missed it because of that bias. My short term memory didn’t retain things I didn’t think I’d see.
The more I watch this movie, the more I appreciate the subtleties typical of an MCU film and Ms. Larson’s performance. My guess is that both Captain Marvel 2 and she will be just as good.
Blog posts cannot substitute for legal advice. If the topics discussed in this post are relevant to a real case you have, please consult an attorney.
One of the most common mistakes non-lawyers make when considering intellectual property law is confusing the rules that apply to one form of IP with another. A good example of that is the misconception that, like a trademark, a copyright owner must zealously defend the copyright or lose it. That’s not true, but there is a statute of limitations. There’s a subtle difference between how these two ideas play out.
A trademark is any “word, name, symbol, or device, or any combination thereof” used as a way to identify a company’s products or services. If someone infringes a trademark, the owner must take action to protect it. Otherwise, the owner will probably lose the trademark. There’s no such rule for copyright. That is, the statute doesn’t state that the copyright is lost because it isn’t enforced, and the United States Supreme Court expressly held that the “laches cannot be invoked to bar legal relief” in copyright cases. Petrella v. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc., 572 U.S. ___, 134 S. Ct. 1962 (2014). (The Doctrine of Laches is a defense to a lawsuit claiming that the plaintiff’s legal right or claim should not be enforced or allowed if there’s too long a long delay in asserting that right or claim, and the delay has prejudiced the defendant.)
Nevertheless, the law does provide a limitation on copyright suits at 17 U.S. Code § 507, which the Supreme Court upheld.
(a)Criminal Proceedings. Except as expressly provided otherwise in this title, no criminal proceeding shall be maintained under the provisions of this title unless it is commenced within 5 years after the cause of action arose.
(b)Civil Actions. No civil action shall be maintained under the provisions of this title unless it is commenced within three years after the claim accrued.
There is a statute of limitations of three years for civil cases and five years for criminal cases. This applies to a single instance of copyright infringement. If there’s an infringement on 1/1/2016, and another on 1/1/2017, then as of 1/1/2019, the infringer can’t be sued for the 2016 infringement (from three years ago), but the owner can still recover damages for the 2017 infringement (only two years ago). Therefore, the copyright still has value.
The nature of copyright is such that it’s likely that one infringement will lead to subsequent infringements, so this is no small point. For example, an infringer makes a photocopy of a book and distributes it to friends. Seeing how much this is appreciated, the infringer may decide to continue doing so over the few months (or even years). As long as the copyright is still valid, the owner will be able to get compensation for any relatively recent infringement. That is, even if the first infringement is too old, all the subsequent infringements could still be enforced because the copyright is still valid. With damages potentially being very high, that’s still quite valuable to the copyright owner.
Rob Bodine is a Virginia attorney focusing his practice on real estate and intellectual property law. He’s currently Virginia counsel with Cardinal Title Group, a Virginia title insurance and settlement company. Rob is also a licensed title insurance agent in Maryland and Virginia.
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My latest binge target is Penny Dreadful. It’s a three-season Showtime/Sky Atlantic series that’s currently on Netflix. The seasons are 8, 10, and 9 episodes, each just under 60 minutes long. The series accomplishes what Universal Studios has been unsuccessfully trying to do on the big screen for some time: A shared monster universe. It’s brought together the legends of vampires, werewolves, Frankenstein’s monster, Dorian Gray, and others.
Some of the actors are new to me, but the show is anchored by veteran actors Timothy Dalton, Josh Hartnett (playing an ultimately sympathetic Ethan), David Warner, and Eva Green. Joining them is an actor that’s new to me, Harry Treadway. I was happy with him as the redeemed villain, Narek, in Star Trek: Picard. Another actor with which I’m familiar that will join the cast in season 3 is Wes Studi, who’s strangely the only actor I’ve mentioned that’s on Twitter. I was happy with most of the other actors, who are all new to me (as far as I can remember).
I find the show weird, but considering the subject matter, how could it not be? It’s also not for children, and not just because of the horror content. One interesting thing about this show is that it brings all the different supernatural creatures into the story very quickly. That is, you don’t need to wait very long to see your first vampire if that’s why you’re tuning in. Paradoxically, however, there are times in the middle of season one where everything slows to a crawl. Season 1, episode 7 (“Possession”) felt like it was two hours long. I had to look at the time stamp to verify it was a regular-length episode. It doesn’t speed up from there. With almost two seasons (of three) complete, I still don’t know who “the master” is. Satan or something? I don’t know. I’m having trouble focusing at this point. In any case, get on with it!
While this is not what I’d consider top tier television, it’s reasonably enjoyable. However, the only reason I’ll finish it is because I’m a compulsive completionist. There are better things to watch. As always, YMMV.
If you’re into the horror genre, unrealistic redemption among estranged family members, and over-the-top British courtesy, you may enjoy it more than I.
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“I can’t take so much sunshine up my ass. It makes me itch.”
— John Bosworth
During the 80s, I was a physics student fascinated with the progress of the home computer. In the 90s, I was a software engineer working with computers professionally. Halt and Catch Fire is a dramatization of that culture and era starting in 1983. Perhaps this makes me prone towards liking this show more than others, but my guess is that most people likely to read my blog fall in that same category.
In season one, the story introduces Joe MacMillan (Lee Pace), a salesman who left IBM on less-than-ideal terms. He latches onto the fictional company, Cardiff Electric, based in Silicon Prairie, which in this case refers to Texas. He convinces (forces?) Cardiff Electric to include within their business plan the development of portable computers. Familiar (to me) terms such as “XT,” “286,” “386,” and “GUI” are thrown around as several companies vie to get their idea to the market first. By the end of the series, they progressed to the early 90s and the birth of the internet, and during more than a decade, the characters develop, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. Their mistakes have them pushing each other apart, yet they always find themselves coming back together, which in turn leaves you hopeful at the end of the series even though there’s distance between some of them.
While I was never involved on the sales end of the industry, I was certainly the salesmen’s target, and I feel like the writing and acting capture the feel for that era quite well. Is it an exaggeration of the truth? At times, of course, but in this case that’s not done merely for the sake of drama. Many of us that are or were in the industry hold a romanticized memory of those times, and we’re just as guilty of exaggerating the events of them as the show’s writers did.
If, like me, you need an excuse to choose one show over another, here it is: If anything I said above sounds appealing to you, consider watching this one. It’s only four seasons, with only ten 50-minute episodes each. At the very least, if you’re as old as I, you’ll love the 80s and 90s music. It’s not as important to the show as it is to, for example, Guardians of the Galaxy, but it’ll remind you to give some songs another listen.
P.S. I hate Cameron and Gordon. I knew too many of them.
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I’ve been itching to watch the movie, Venom, for quite some time and finally watched it. It didn’t disappoint. Make no mistake about it: This isn’t something like the MCU that hides superb acting and writing within a fantasy-action film. It is what it is, but what it is is a lot of fun. Why else do you go to the movies except to have fun? Sometimes action is all you need.
Professional movie reviewers (the pre-internet world’s “influencers”) disagree. According to Rotten Tomatoes, Venom’s approval ratings are 80% for real people and only 29% for movie reviewers. Even politicians aren’t that out-of-touch with the people they serve. Seriously, how do these people have jobs? Who’s paying them?
From a purely artistic (not financial) standpoint, you can’t say a movie shouldn’t have been made unless absolutely no one likes it. Otherwise, it has artistic value. Movie reviewers shouldn’t be writing their reviews from the perspective of their own subjective point of view. They should put their egos and snark aside and focus on to whom the movie might appeal based on its themes and genre. Then the reader can predict whether or not it will appeal to them. That would be useful. That’s what I try to do with my writing, but I’m not a talented creative writer, so the professionals should do that.
I saw a play at Arena Stage decades ago, and one of the lines that always stuck with me was, “I don’t want to see one of those foreign films you like. If I wanted to read, I’d have stayed home with a book.” The speaker was talking to someone who should have become a movie reviewer. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a book, and there’s nothing wrong with seeing a film with subtitles, but sometimes you don’t want either.
If a critic wants to assign a rating to a movie (i.e., one star, two star, etc.), that’s fine; we can all ignore it. But to do their job correctly, their review must disclose the genre and themes of the movie so that each of us can make an informed decision as to whether the movie will likely interest us (or our children, if applicable). Those are the only opinions that matter to each of us.
Sometimes you just want to see someone get his head bitten off. Venom delivered. It was fun.
There’s only one thing about the movie that stood out that I didn’t like: The typical comic book trope of a villain having the same powers as the hero. But hell; it’s an origin story. I’m looking forward to the next one.
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Last night was another quarantine watch party hosted by Brandon Davis of ComicBook.com. This time it was Spiderman: Far from Home, and the small part I want to highlight is William Ginter Riva. There were several characters that helped Beck in his master plan. William was one of those characters. He had a small part . . . twice. He first appeared in Iron Man.
Jump to 0:10. Or just wait for it. It’s only 10 seconds.
Then he appeared again in Far from Home.
Jump to 2:10.
Unlike the other No Small Parts entries, he probably got a bit over 2 minutes of screen time, but the added value of this part is the connection it draws between the first modern MCU film, Iron Man, and the first one after which Tony Stark had died (representing a coda to the Tony Stark legacy). The thing that amazes me the most about the MCU is that I can’t think of any cinematic universe that tied together so many independent stories that collectively told a bigger one. Star Trek came close, and Star Wars came closer, but the MCU is the new standard for such a thing. Every movie stands 100% on its own yet tells a common story across 23 films. The fact that William appeared only at the very beginning and then at the very end makes the MCU feel a little bit more real, and thus relatable.
William was a small but significant way to remind us of that larger story, so I can’t help but appreciate this role.
Side note: What some may not know is that William was played by Peter Billingsley, who played Ralphie in 1983’s A Christmas Story. The best part, of course, is that they made a (not so?) subtle reference to “You’ll shoot your eye out.”
Jump to 2:33 for the reference.
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Play What You Want 