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a-darla-ble · 5 years

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Music, Maestro!

You, Darla fans, remember that one publication I made about the non-orchestral songs for the film Shazam!, right? Well, here are now the full orchestral songs of that same film, conducted by Londoner Benjamin Wallfisch. But first, here is his bio:

Born August 7, 1979 as Benjamin Mark Lasker Wallfisch, the son of Elizabeth Wallfisch (née Hunt), an Australian Baroque violinist, and Raphael Wallfisch, a British cellist. He is the eldest of their three children. His paternal grandparents are pianist Peter Wallfisch and cellist Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, who was a member of the Women's Orchestra of Auschwitz. They were Jewish emigrants from Breslau, Poland.

He has composed and contributed to music for over 60 feature films since the mid-2000s. Asides Shazam!, his compositions include original scores for A Cure For Wellness, Hidden Figures, Lights Out, Desert Dancer, It (2017 version) and Blade Runner 2049. In 2017, he was jointly nominated with Pharrell Williams and Hans Zimmer for Best Original Score at the 74th Golden Globe Awards for his work on Hidden Figures, and a BAFTA Award and Grammy Award for Blade Runner 2049.

In 2014, Wallfisch was appointed an Associate of the Royal Academy of Music, London. He is also a member of Remote Control Productions, a company by Hans Zimmer.

Wallfisch resides in Los Angeles, California with his wife Missy and daughter Lola.

Here is the YouTube link to the soundtrack available to hear: https://www.youtube.com/playlist…

Music 1 - The Shazam! theme is played during the end credits, right after the mid-credits scene.

Music 2 - In a flashback scene from 1974, young Thaddeus Sivana (Ethan Pugiotto), while riding with his father and older brother in Upstate New York on Christmas Eve to his grand-parents' mansion, got suddenly transported, alone, to a place called the Rock of Eternity where he would meet this mysterious wizard as this latter was looking for a pure-hearted champion to replace him. However, after being tempted by the Seven Deadly Sins, trapped in statues, to take the Eye of Sin for power, the wizard reconsidered and sends him back to 1974. This piece was heard during that scene.

Music 3 - This score was played while the Shazam! Wizard, growing weaker, uses his seeking spell to continue looking for a champion, no matter how long it takes. It would finally pay-off in the year 2019 in Philadelphia - to a street boy named Billy Batson.

Music 4 - Billy Batson, age 14, kept on searching for his long lost mother since a decade ago from place to place, until he found one hoping this would be it, This piece was heard while he reminisced about how he lost his mother at a carnival. We see little Billy, age 4 (David Kohlsmith), with his mother (Caroline Palmer) as she was trying to pop the balloons with darts to win a prize for her son.

Music 5 - The once young Thaddeus Sivana has eventually grown up and becomes Dr. Sivana, who had never forgotten his encountering in 1974 and vowed to return to the Rock of Eternity and gain power from the Eye of Sin. While we hear this score, Sivana figured out, through interviewed witnesses from around the world, that there were seven symbols needed being written seven times. A skeptical Dr. Lynn Crosby (Lotta Losten) didn't believe it until the door in Sivana's office activated the passage to the cave - and in the process reducing Dr. Crosby to dust, but her glasses.

Music 6 - Returning at last to the Rock of Eternity after all these years, Dr. Sivana confronts the Shazam! Wizard (Djimon Hounsou) to take the Eye and gain power, which he finally did and got the best over the wizard while this score is playing along.

Music 7 - Billy Batson (Asher Angel) is being chased by the Breyer twins (Carson MacCormac & Evan Marsh), in the background, from Fawcett Central School to the nearest subway station after rescuing his foster brother Freddy from their bullying. This incident was perhaps fate as the following event will occur, changing his life forever. This music was played throughout.

Music 8 - While this music is played, Billy meets the wizard choosing him as the new champion. By saying the magic word and touching his staff, the wizard can at last transfer his powers to the new champion, Shazam!, giving him: - The Wisdom of Solomon - The Strength of Hercules - The Stamina of Atlas - The Power of Zeus - The Courage of Achilles - And the Speed of Mercury The wizard then vanishes into dust, leaving Billy with his new adult body and super-strength.

Music 9 - Knowing that his new brother, superhero fanboy Freddy (Jack Dylan Grazer), might help him with his new identity, Shazam! (Zachary Levi) lets him in on his secret. Together, they found that he was indeed "stacked" with super-powers.

Music 10 - Revenge can be sweet, whether for good or bad, as we see Dr. Sivana, after killing his brother Sid along with the other members of a board meeting at Sivana Industries, confronting his father (John Glover) to make him see that he gained power, with the help of his allies, the Seven Deadly Sins - and killing him as well afterwards.

Music 11 - While showing off his new lightning powers to the people outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Shazam! accidentally struck a bus's front tire, driving it to the edge. After his awkward attempt to use an old mattress in hoping it would soften the fall, our new hero had to catch the enormous vehicle - with a satisfying result, saving everyone inside it.

Music 12 - Dr. Sivana finally meets this new champion and demands him to hand his powers over to him immediately. This battle with a super-villain was Billy's ultimate test. Sivana however got the best of him, as our new hero couldn't fly yet, by grabbing him and bringing him up high in the atmosphere and lets him go to a dooming fall.

Music 13 - After his dooming fall, Billy halted to a close shave as he could finally fly and had to deal with this new foe in black in a new definition of street-brawling, all under the watchful eye of Freddy.

Music 14 - The brawl between Shazam! and Dr. Sivana went on as they ended up in the mall and in a toy store. After being slammed by Sivana through the store window, Shazam! had to get away from him by flying inside the mall before being struck by Sivana. Having no choice, Shazam! transformed back to Billy in order to blend in with the panicking crowd.

Music 15 - Seeing that Freddy was looking for Billy, and realizing the latter would supposedly be the new hero according to the bus rescue news report on the TVs at the mall, Sivana forced the crippled fanboy to tell him where he lives, which would put the other kids in danger as well.

Music 16 - At long last! Billy, thanks to Eugene's search online, has finally found his long-lost mother, Marilyn, who has moved on and remarried while his real father, C.C., was in prison in Florida for ten years. Billy found out that she has abandoned him on purpose because she couldn't afford to keep him since she was too young. Billy then tells her that he too had to move on to his new family.

Music 17 - After his reunion with his real mother, Billy received a call from Freddy's phone by Dr. Sivana, letting him know that he holds his foster siblings hostage and demands that he comes home immediately.

Music 18 - Forcing to return home to save the others, Billy was ordered by Dr. Sivana to relinquish his powers to him after their arrival to the Rock of Eternity and will let them go, or else they will die. In tears, Darla (Faithe Herman) pleaded Billy not to go and stay with them, but Billy tells our bespectacled beauty that that's what good big brothers would do.

Music 19 - Following Billy and Dr. Sivana to the Rock of Eternity, Darla, Eugene (Ian Chen), Freddy, Pedro (Jovan Armand) and Mary (Grace Fulton) found whatever they salvaged from home and decided to take head on against Sivana and his "big fat ugly-eyed head, " as Darla would put it bravely, until he lets Billy go.

Music 20 - Here, we see Mary being such a great big sister watching over Darla as they watched Dr. Sivana blasting out through the roof of The Booty Trap strip club. The kids have no time to waste and ran to the nearby carnival in hoping to lose themselves inside the crowd. Protect our little Darla, Mary. We love her so much.

Music 21 - In a divide and conquer method, Mary would hope that Sivana would not be able to follow all of them. However, the dangerous doctor sends his Seven Deadly Sins after them, and succeeded.

Music 22 - Billy managed to escape from the clutches of Dr. Sivana, but the latter has the others hostage, yet again, inside the big tent. When he threatened of having Darla killed by Greed (YOU MONSTER!!!), Billy had no choice but to give in.

Music 23 - While Billy had to relinquish his super-powers to Dr. Sivana, he remembered what the wizard told him about sharing his power with the others by simply touching the staff. Not giving up yet, he managed to defeat Sivana and taking the staff away from him, with enough time to share his powers with his new family, becoming superheroes themselves.

Music 24 - It is done - the kids, thanks to Billy, have now become superheroes with their own unique abilities, including Freddy who can now fly as Super Hero Freddy (Adam Brody, in blue) with full joy.

Music 25 - While our new family of superheroes fight against the Seven Deadly Sins, Shazam! and Dr. Sivana face-off for what may be a final showdown in the Philadelphia skyline.

Music 26 - Shazam and the rest of the Shazamily finally won against Sivana and saved the city from destruction. And at the same time, they gained fandom from the cheers and applause of Philadelphians, resembling very much of a big stage play.

Music 27 - Returning back to the Rock of Eternity and placing the Eye of Sin back to its rightful place, thus imprisoning the Seven Deadly Sins back in statues, they realize along the way that they have something else - a lair. They have their own lair - something Billy and Freddy were looking for during the film, even by asking a real estate agent about one.

Music 28 - The following Christmas morning, the whole family gathered for breakfast and Billy told them that he finally found a new family - them - and how much he is very grateful for that.

Music 29 - In a mid-credits scene, when we hear this musical score, an imprisoned Thaddeus Sivana, still looking for a magic formula by writing on the walls, is approached by this talking caterpillar, going by the name Mr. Mind, who proposes an alliance between the two and there are alternate ways in discovering magic.

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sepublic · 5 years

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Protectors

A tradition that dates back long before even the Creation Age, the Protectors are a generational task-force of Okoto’s greatest heroes, designated with keeping peace, defending against threats, appeasing Okotan deities, and generally leading everyone towards a greater future.

The exact story of how the Protectors came to be is garbled, and there are many interpretations. The most popular claims that the first Protectors were descended from the favored hosts, or Kaita, of the Elemental Spirits. Others claim the first Protectors WERE these Kaita, just no longer hosting their patron deities.

Regardless of the exact origin, the meaning behind them and their purpose has stayed the same. There are six Protectors at a time, at maximum, with one corresponding with each of the primordial elements that make up Life. The role is typically for a lifetime, or at least until one is too elderly or weakened to continue their duties; That being said, there have been cases of Protectors who chose to forsake their duties even when still able-bodied. These stories are looked upon warily, and seen as bit of a scandal and disgrace in Okoto’s history.

The line of succession for a Protector is as follows; Every Protector has a designated heir to take their mantle in the case of a sudden death or forced retirement. The reasoning is that if the original Protectors were worthy heroes of good judgment, then their choices for the next generation would have worthy judgment… and so on, and so forth. Obviously this system isn’t perfect, but the tradition is generally there.

Once a successor is chosen, temporary or otherwise, it is then expected of this successor to consider THEIR own successor; This practice only came about during the Skull Spider wars, when the constant danger of the swarms meant that a Protector and their chosen successor were liable to die, one after the other. Choices for successors are by no means permanent, but the current choice MUST be recorded physically, sometimes privately. A candidate can refuse the mantle of Protector, but this is usually seen as disgraceful, an event that has sadly led to many Okotans being forced to half-heartedly adopt a role not meant for them- This, too, places pressure on a Protector to be careful in their decision.

Originally a ragtag band of warriors who would travel across Okoto, offering aid, the Protectors were eventually granted a more solidified, political status following the development of an Okotan Emperor. Protectors were thus to have political and military authority, and were personally knighted by the current Emperor upon attaining their status. Protectors had their own group of personal guards and even a small palace of their own, courtesy of the throne, and all were given the same type of specialized mask design exclusive to their group.

From there, the Protectors began to operate as a more legitimate, government force, often sent by the Emperor to assist in threats, or else consulted for advice on political matters. This led to a normalization of Protectors as an authority in Okotan life, which would later become important years later.

In the Creation Age, the Mask Makers Ekimu and Makuta chose to personally honor the current Protectors with elemental gifts meant to signify and affirm their status as Elemental saviors. Each Protector was given a new, crystalline Elemental Mask shaped in the appearance of the typical Protector mask. These Elemental masks granted a control over their corresponding elements typically greater than that of a regular Mask of Power.

Likewise, Ekimu and Makuta granted each Protector a pair of crystalline, Elemental Blades from which they could focus their newly-granted Mask Powers with, and a powerful gatling blaster. Now more attuned to their sacred elements than ever before, the Protectors swore fealty to the Mask Makers, an action that would be additionally affirmed with the Emperor’s recognition of the twins.

The Protectors would continue to operate, with the additional assistance of Ekimu and Makuta, as well as a new arsenal of Masks of Power to utilize. Contact with the Elemental Deities became more frequent, and the Protectors began to act as liasons for their respective patrons.

During the Skull Raider wars, the Protectors led the defense against the foreign tribe of pirates, though not without losses. With the help of Ekimu and Makuta, the Protectors succeeded in defeating the Skull Raiders, imprisoning their chief Kulta and his top commanders in the Capital City of Destral.

Following the Great Cataclysm, the surviving Okotans immediately looked to the Protectors as their remaining authority, thanks to the deaths of the Emperor and the Mask Makers. With the Elemental Deities having gone silent, the Protectors had no choice but to take total lead and help direct the survivors. Many rebuilding efforts and rescue attempts were done, and slowly, Okoto began to recover over the generations.

As they did, subsequent generations of Protectors acted to undo their total political authority, generally leaning society towards at least a separate ruler, or chief, for individual tribes and cities. This was due to a disillusionment towards monarchy and absolute governments, which some saw as the cause of the Great Cataclysm. Not all Protectors necessarily agreed to lessening their roles, however, and some advocated for even solidifying the group into the new rulers of Okoto.

These ideas came into being, and for the most part the Protectors returned to the original roles they had, albeit still with plenty of sponsorship from local rulers and chiefs. Efforts were made to recover technology from the Creation Age and to relearn the art of Mask-Making, made further complicated by the apparent deactivation of the Great Forge.

The Protectors’ arguably greatest trial would soon come with the emergence of the Skull Spiders. Most were killed in the sudden onslaught of the swarms, and Protectors and successors were quickly cycled through, leading to imperfect decisions and hasty choices. Leading the main line of defense, the Protectors helped the Okotans develop new cities and defenses geared towards the Skull Spiders, until the Mega Villages were eventually developed and populated.

As six Mega Villages emerged from the fallen rest, one for each Elemental Region almost coincidentally, the once-scattered Protectors agreed to assign themselves to their respective elements. The Protector of Water would remain in the Region of Water, living in Kiniga, while the Protector of Jungle would fight from the Vuata Maca in the Region of Jungle, etc. The reasoning was that a Protector was strongest when surrounded by their corresponding element, and thus most capable of fighting the Skull Spiders.

Despite being perfectly-equipped for their new territories, some of the Protectors lost their sacred tools even with these new advantages. The Protectors of Water and Earth lost their Elemental Blades. The Protector of Ice, thankfully, held onto at least one after losing the other. Meanwhile, one of the Protectors of Fire would lose their gatling blaster in combat.

Within their new Mega Villages, some of the Protectors’ roles changed, with a few having to assume a more proactive, direct control as once suggested by previous generations. Others had the luxury of allowing the villagers to direct themselves.

When the stars aligned according to the layout detailed in the Prophecy of Heroes, the current Protectors gathered their finest warriors and led an expedition to an ancient construct known as the Inika, located in the Region of Fire. Many warriors were slain by the Skull Spiders, but the Protectors succeeded in using the Mask of Time and the Inika to summon the Toa from the heavens above.

Upon the arrival of the Toa, the local Protectors immediately worked to guide their new heroes in directing and controlling the elements. A major counter-attack was led against the Skull Spiders, and with the Toa and Protectors working in tandem, the Okotans succeeded in taking back their island from Makuta. From there, the Protectors would continue to operate, helping defend against Makuta’s repeated assaults.

The current Protectors are;

Water- Kivoda

Earth- Korgot

Fire- Narmoto

Ice- Izotor

Jungle- Vizuna

Stone- Nilkuu

Korgot and Narmoto act as the leaders of their villages’ military-industrial complexes, respectively, with Korgot in particular having plenty of pressure to act strict and harsh, but also fair, due to her sudden promotion to Protector following her predecessor’s demise and loss of the Elemental Blades. Izotor is a member of Kokoro’s Council of Elders, while Vizuna, Nilkuu, and Kivoda generally keep their roles separate from village authority, to varying degrees.

The Protectors at the time of the Great Cataclysm were, as follows;

Water- Owaki

Earth- Etoku

Fire- Mamuk

Ice- Uganu

Jungle- Agarak

Stone- Kerato

Other notable Protectors include, in roughly chronological order for each category;

Water- Bumonda

Water- Nokama, predecessor to Owa. Most of her duties are now towards directing Kiniga and keeping the village safe and functioning.

Water- Owa, named after a previous Protector of Water named Owaki. She died in the trip returning home after using the Mask of Time to summon the Toa. As a result, Kivoda was forced to inherit the position very close to the arrival of the Toa.

Earth- Jovan, who once fought alongside the lone warrior Lesovikk. Stories vary on his demise, with some claiming he was killed by a sudden earthquake.

Earth- Epolim

Earth- Droton, Korgot’s predecessor. Rather intense, many remarked that he looked almost like a villain of sorts; Despite this, Droton was a true hero who fought to the bitter end, dying against the Skull Spiders. His Elemental Blades were lost, and his legacy places plenty of pressure upon Korgot.

Fire- Flammik, a noble Knight active during the Fallout of the Great Cataclysm. According to legend, she fought the great beast Kardas in the Dragons’ Den and emerged victoriously with one of his teeth, which was later enshrined in Tawahi.

Ice- Buzkayo

Jungle- Jagiri, who helped Lein establish the Gukko Airforce shortly after the emergence of the Skull Spiders.

Stone- Rokreng

Stone- Bitil, a Protector during the Skull Spider wars who was known for a fascination with the Creation Age. His harshness when it came to directing Levato and defending against the Skull Spiders made him unpopular, even if he was truly well-meaning. Bitil was eventually captured by Skull Spiders and inducted into the Brotherhood of Makuta, where he willingly swore allegiance and was transformed into the Skull Defender.

Stone- Onewa, predecessor to Nilkuu, and now current Chief of Levato. Once a hot-headed youth, he has since matured, although is still somewhat difficult to deal with. A combination of old age and injuries forced Onewa to begrudgingly relinquish his duties.

The current chosen successors are, as follows;

Fire- Jaller, Captain of the Tawahan Military.

Ice- Toudo, Sanctum Guard and expert hunter and survivalist.

Stone- Hewkii, Leader of the Levatan Patrol

The remaining successors are currently undisclosed. Vizuna had previously chosen a successor, but then they died shortly before the Arrival of the Toa.

Once a new Protector is enstated, it is their decision to combine their Elemental Blades and gatling blaster however they choose. Some wield them separately, while others can combine them all into one tool, and so forth. Some tools are incorporated into new weapons, while others are kept alone and separate.

Flammik combined both of her blades into a single broadsword, and incorporated her blaster into her shield. Bitil wielded a gatling blaster tied to his left wrist, while dual-wielding his blades upside-down, fused with his longswords. Droton wielded two blades on one arm as a pair of claws, while Onewa had two flails with a blade incorporated at the end of each.

#bionicle #bionicle g2 #Bionicle RaE #protectors #okoto #narmoto #nilkuu #kivoda #korgot #izotor #vizuna #jaller #hewkii #bitil

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agentnico · 6 years

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Overlord (2018) Review

This is NOT a Cloverfield movie.........?

Plot: On the eve of D-Day, American paratroopers drop behind enemy lines to penetrate the walls of a fortified church and destroy a radio transmitter. As the soldiers approach their target, they soon begin to realize that there's more going on in the Nazi-occupied village than a simple military operation. Making their way to an underground lab, the outnumbered men stumble upon a sinister experiment that forces them into a vicious battle against an army of the undead.

So basically it’s Call of Duty: Zombies and Wolfenstein but in movie form. Which as a concept is a safe bet from the get go. Nazis are probably the only group of people that are hated by everyone unanimously. Heck, even modern day Germans hate them. So who better to be villains in your movie than Nazis. And of course our heroes in this film are Americans because.....well, America, that’s why! But moving that overdone stereotype aside, Overlord is a pleasant little surprise, I must say. It is a result of a B-movie getting a big budget. It’s not particularly artistic or unique, but it never sets out to be that in the first place. We want to see some Nazi zombie gore, and you get some Nazi zombie gore.

The film doesn’t take itself too seriously, nor should it, but seriously enough to actually have a cohesive story and characters that you care about. However there is one thing it does take with full seriousness, and this is actually something the movie excels at, which is the war setting. In the first half hour, before all the crazy zombie shenanigans kick in, the movie straight up goes full blown out Saving Private Ryan on us, with a particularly chaotic opening sequence that throws us right into the horrific action of war, as these paratroopers are shot down from air into Nazi-occupied France, and this opening really successfully re-imagines the intense and disorienting nature of what it must've been like for those who did the deed for real in WWII. And through-out the film, even during the more ridiculous parts the movie continues to hold on to the war thread, with one memorable scene involving a German captain (or more accurately an SS Hauptsturmführer) intimidating and threatening a French woman into sexual submission by putting her younger brother’s life at stake, and though the film never follows through on the possible dreadful outcome of that (this is at the end of the day a Nazi-zombie movie and not actually Saving Private Ryan!), it is still an interesting reminder of that time, and I appreciated the movie for sticking true to its time on that aspect. That being said, don’t expect this movie to be fully historically accurate. For example, our main lead in this movie is played by Jovan Adepo, who does a good job by the way, however if we are looking at historical accuracy, African heritage soldiers were not integrated with Caucasian units in WWII. Why am I saying this? Just to show off my knowledge really. Am I using this to complain about the film? Not really.

I need to mention the directing and cinematography of this movie, since both of these are surprisingly above average, which is not what I expected from this style of film. A new comer to the business, director Julies Avery does some interesting camera techniques throughout the film, with his use of one-shot takes being especially visually appealing. The script on the other hand at times is quite cheesy with some one-liner comebacks being quite cringe-worthy. But luckily we didn’t come into this movie craving some Aaron Sorkin level of writing. That would have been weird.

A flaw could be that this movie is fairly predictable, though that being said the film does also try to set certain stereotypes aside, like for example there is no forced romance between our lead and the female character. There is no random moment in the midst of a battle where the two in the moment of the adrenaline rush turn to each other and share a passionate kiss (yes, I’m looking at you Jurassic World!). I mean, I guess there are suggestions for a possible future romance between them, but it’s only in the small looks. In fact, I feel like there might have even been a kissing scene between them in an earlier draft of the script, but then they realised to take it out. It is interesting though, if....wait, I’m getting a bit too side-lined on this non-existing romantic angle of the movie. Because there is no romance. So why am I still talking about it?...I gotta get out more.

Overlord offers little surprises, but is a hell of a good time, if you are a fan of this genre. With this being a J.J. Abrams produced film, there were rumours that Overlord might be part of the Cloverfield universe, to which as far as I can tell it is not. But (of course there is a but!) at the same time it could be. The question comes courtesy of that last Cloverfield movie, what’s-it-called, the bad one that was released on Netflix, I can’t remember the title and I cannot be asked to look it up. But anyway, that one basically explained how the Cloverfield films are connected. It’s basically all parallel universes. I know, such a cop-out of a reason. From that stand-point, Overlord could be a Cloverfield film, because you know, parallel universes!! But its not official. But heck, with that reasoning anything could be a Cloverfield movie. Star Wars, Blade Runner, heck even Pulp Fiction, it all must be in the Cloverfield universe, right? More like bullsh**, that’s what it is! Any-hoot, Overlord, go watch it, it’s a good time.

Overall score: 7/10

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beingadicktosadpeople · 7 years

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Meeting

In the midday heat, everything slowed to a stop.

The shops closed, the streets cleared out, everyone went home. Even the stray cats slunk away into the shade for a reprieve from the heat. The sun was too bright and life seemed to melt under its burning gaze.

Jovan should turn in for an afternoon nap. There was nothing else for him to do at this time of day, no customers to attend to. The streets were quiet, save the constant screeching of bugs hidden in the trees and on the sides of buildings.

It was peaceful.

It was also boring. Jovan told himself again to get up from the counter of his open shop front and go to the back room. It was cool and dark back there, with a wide bed and soft sheets perfect for a nap. Everyone else with any sense was a sleep at this time of day, and he had no business being awake.

Even so, he lingered at the front of his shop with his head pillowed on his arms, watching the empty street before him. A light breeze picked up and rustled the lines of bells and bundles of herbs hanging over his head. It did little to cool him, instead leaving him in the stifling heat with his dark curled hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

He sighed and picked an olive out of the half empty bowl beside his elbow. It was salty and sharp, just the way he remembered them in the kitchen of his childhood home. His younger sister had run by a sealed bucket of olives that morning when she came by for her weekly fortune. As usual, she asked things about the family business, about her own future, and then questions about romance and the like that their older sister would not condone.

“Jono, stop putting these romantic notions into Caris’ head!” Usha would say at their family dinners while Jovan gorged himself on free food. Of course, Jovan wasn’t the one putting these ideas into her head. He was hardly a romantic himself, and could barely hold onto a bed partner for more than a few months. In fact, he had a habit of setting his own partners up with one another, after he’d had a taste of course. No, his sister was young and interested in love.

Their brother Devdas had been much the same at her age, and he had enjoyed a happy fate for it. As the youngest, she had no obligation to take over the business the way Usha did, and instead turned her attention to marriage and producing offspring. Jovan saw no harm in entertaining Caris’ romantic notions and told her the fortunes dutifully.

This morning, he told her to go to the flower stand a few blocks over, the one with the thieving parrot who tricked customers into paying double the prices for flowers when the shop owner was away. The shop owner’s twin nephews were around, and maybe one of them would be a good match. They were poor, true enough, but that hardly mattered. Money and names went through the hands of women, so all a husband had to do was provide the right ingredients for heirs and perhaps tend to the house. If the husband was found to be sterile, he could be kept of love and the woman could take on a second husband, or he could be discarded entirely. If Caris played her cards right, she might even reel in both of the twins. No one would begrudge her that, and the shop owner might be pleased to see his nephews with such a well off woman.

Jovan supposed he was lucky it was not his fate to be married off at the convenience of his eldest sister the way their brother had. At only a few years older than Jovan, Devdas had been married a decade ago at 18 and had fathered a fair flock of dark skinned children. His wife was wealthy and agreeable, and Usha was pleased with the match. It tied together merchants and increased the family wealth for both Jovan’s family, the Apravai family, and the Pura family now tied to them. Had he not shown a talent for magic, Jovan would likely be living a dull wealthy life like his brother. Being a witch, Jovan would not be wed. Witches did not tend to marry at all, save in the rare cases of those too lovestruck to see beyond their own hearts. Witches could not often hold onto a single person for long in a world they drifted in and out of like dazed spirits. Jono instead followed his grandfather’s footsteps and took over his shop once the old man moved back into the main house. It had its slow moments, but he never worried about money. His name alone gave him some measure of popularity, and he received payments often enough in the form of jewelry well beyond the cost of his services. His own talents did the rest of the work.

Like his grandfather, Jovan worked primarily in fortunes and charms and curses, though he had a small talent for healing and herbalism. Things were peaceful, and his talents went into asinine predictions. He told pretty faced girls that they would be doomed to die unmarried if they did not follow his advice. He told cold hearted boys secrets to winning the favor of local matriarchs so as to improve their own lots. Sometimes he'd place a curse on the horse of a lover’s rival, only to have his skill dismissed as trickery. Those who scorned him met with their own difficult fates, just as their rivals did.

It was exactly that sort of thing, his grandfather had told him, that would come back to bite him someday.

His grandfather called him lazy and prideful. Jovan couldn’t disagree. In his youth, not so long after he’d gotten the first set of charms tattooed into his skin at the tender age of eight, he’d directed all of his ill will at a mean spirited boy that lived near his grandfather’s shop. The boy had lost all of the fingers on his right hand, save his thumb, in a metal doorway. Years later, Jovan found he couldn’t say he regretted it. The boy never bothered him again, and from then on Jovan was the young witch to go to if someone wanted action above words.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think he grandfather was right about fate offering revenge for his actions, but he found that fate did as it pleased regardless of what he did. It was pointless to try to change its mind. Jovan sighed. His eyes blurred in the heat and he thought to close his eyes and nap at the counter with the company of his olives.

Or rather, the company of his olives and an odd raven brave enough to land on the countertop beside him. It picked intently at a stolen olive, tearing apart the fruit with its beak and a single long toe. When the bird felt his eyes on it, it flapped backward, taking the olive with it. The raven’s long dark claws scratched against the worn and stained wood, and it hopped from side to side under Jovan’s gaze.

He watched it for a moment. There were plenty of black birds in the city, ravenous things big enough to fight off the cats and hungry children. They were brave too, and clever. He’d seen them stealing strips of flatbread straight from the hands of unsuspecting shoppers. This one, though as large as the others, did not seem so aggressive. It watched him with its bead-like eyes, quiet and cautious, and did not fight him for the bowl of olives.

“Hm…” He hummed at the bird and extended a finger toward its beak. It blinked at him, then nipped carefully at his fingertip. Jovan shifted closer, head still resting on his arm, and ran the back of his finger down the bird’s front. It gave a curious squawk, but only ruffled its black feathers under his touch. It was a bold thing to let him touch it.

Impressed with the creature’s bravery, Jovan let it be with its stolen fruit. When the raven picked the last of the meat from the olive, Jovan plucked another from the bowl and placed it on the counter. The bird gave an appreciative squawk and started on that one as well.

They shared quiet company like this through the hottest hours of the day. The bird was polite, only stirring him from his daydreaming when it had run out of flesh to pick off of an olive pit, and Jovan would lazily offer another.

He found himself wondering at the stubborn women in white he spotted peeking into storefronts just down the street. They were priestesses, or something like it, from a neighboring country. Jovan didn’t concern himself much with their story, not when he couldn’t do anything about them. These women were an invading force all on their own, even without the use of weapons or magic. They thrived on shame and guilt, converting the locals to their ways by convincing them that regional customs were barbaric and outdated.

All invaders were the same, Jovan thought. They went for the legs and toppled nations. That these were priestesses and not soldiers made no difference. They were helping the people, they claimed, helping unenlightened become modernized and sophisticated. Jovan hadn’t seen them give anything but grief. Instead, they took the culture and stomped it under their booted feet. If they had their way, all of the witches in the city would be locked up in the cells under the chapel where they could do no harm to the public. Jovan wasn’t sure what harm they expected of him, not when carried no staff or halberd the way witches from across the sea did. The little knife hanging from his belt was no more suited for fighting than the Golden Sisters’ heavy robes were suited for this heat. The only blood the blade had ever spilled was his own, as was used in old sorts of magic.

The Sisters had convinced more than a few witches to move into their dungeon. They used threats of demons and damnation to do so, though Jovan wondered how much those words influenced the witches. Those he’d seen go into the chapel tended to have abilities that could never put food on the table. They were the sorts of witches who would strike fear in a man’s heart with their thoughts or set alight buildings with no more than a flick of their hands. Jovan could command a bit of fire himself, but he’d been lucky enough to have useful gifts as well. Those who were not so fortunate had little choice but to go up into the tower in hopes of finding a bed and a meal.

It wasn’t as though the priestesses had and legal authority in the city, but they certainly acted as though they did. From time to time they’d stop by Jovan’s shop and suggest he put on a proper shirt and come with them to one of their cult meetings. Jovan wondered why a shirt would be necessary, especially in this heat. He could see them sweating through their robes, revealing more and more flesh as the white fabric grew transparent. For all their claims of chastity, these women seemed to be clueless about the properties of their own clothing. A shortly cropped vest and loose pants that tucked tight around his calves kept him plenty cool in the summer. Like most of the locals, he didn’t even bother with shoes until winter came around. This seemed to drive the priestesses mad, and they made all sorts of claims about the barbarity of the locals.

“Ah,” he grunted, waking from his thoughts as the women drew closer. Jovan looked to the raven and offered his forearm. The bird tipped its head to the side and cawed at him. “They don’t like us much, my friend. Too dark. Too wild.” The raven seemed to understand this much and hopped up onto his arm. It shifted about, wings extended until it could find purchase against the layers of bangles and beads extending halfway up Jovan’s arm, then crowed again. Jovan hummed quietly and lifted himself from his stool. He ducked his head under the hanging herbs and lead his companion into the back room. The cool air welcomed them both as they retreated into darkness. Metal and glass lamps sprang to life as they entered, illuminating baskets of gems and jewelry among piles of books and herbs, lines of dark bottles and bones, on every surface. Wooden masks painted with red and black and white paint hung from the walls alongside old scrolls with paintings of flowers and animals.

At first glance, the room was a mess. At second, there seemed to be an order to the madness. Everything was in its place, though there was far too much occupying the shelves and tables. The raven was settled on the windowsill as Jovan opened the shutters to let light in. A tiding of magpies jostled about the ground just outside, and he threw them a bit of bread he had no plan on eating. They picked at each other as they fought over it, filling the air with angry cackles and the sound of wings beating against one another. The raven watched them squabble with a tipped head and cawed at Jovan. The man shrugged and placed a piece of the bread on the sill beside it. It picked at the offering and seemed to forget about him entirely.

He was a little reluctant to leave the window open when the magpies were so drawn to the shiny baubles inside, but the Sisters were likely to cause a ruckus if he didn’t return to the front of the shop. They were all the nosy type that wouldn’t be deterred by his absence and were far worse than curious birds.

“Behave,” Jovan commanded the magpies, who paid him no mind and continued their bickering over bread. The raven made a pleased noise and tore a heavy strip from its own meal. He closed the door to the back room and made his way to back the counter.

The priestesses clothed in near sheer white were waiting for him at the front of the shop. Each was adorned with a golden sun pendant hanging on a long chain so that it rested between their breasts or high on their bellies. They puffed themselves up and adjusted their robes when they saw him coming and turned their lips into stern frowns. There were more than Jovan had remembered. They seemed to multiply with each passing day. Where once there had been no more than a dozen pale faced women, now locals joined their ranks and mimicked their severe expressions. Those local women in this flock hung further back, perhaps for fear of Jovan’s reputation.

“Still tempting good citizens with your dark magic, I see,” sniffed the oldest of the bunch, a slender, angry looking woman with permanent lines along between her brows and along the corners of her lips. She was one of the foreign women, with now burnt skin and light hair drawn tight under her headscarf. Her eyes were blue and icy cold in their censure. Sweat dripped down her face, following along the lines on her face. She looked like she was drowning in the heat.

“Yes,” said Jovan, and took his seat. There were still a few olives left in the bowl and he popped one between his lips.

“A wealthy woman was struck by a carriage last night. Her young lover is set to take all of her inheritance,” she continued. Her fingers steeped together in front of her hips.

“Is that so?” Jovan dutifully responded, not so much a question as an acknowledgment. He was busily doing his best not to look at the outline of her breasts through her robe. It was terribly distracting, despite his general repulsion to her and her flock.

“She was one of our own, a good woman.” The priestess attempted to skewer him with her eyes while her fellows shuffled with irritation. Jovan expected they had already determined his guilt and wanted some sort of confession from him. That they hadn’t dragged him out in the street already was evidence enough that they were stabbing in the dark. No one had yet harmed any of the priestesses, but he had little doubt they’d be merciless if they knew who caused the death of one of their precious converts. “Her lover is said to have used witchcraft to seduce her.”

“Hm,” he rumbled and spit the olive pit into the street at their feet. That didn’t narrow it down much. All sorts of men and women called on magic to win the hearts of their desired mates, for loving and monetary reasons alike. These women had been around long enough that they should understand as much, but they seemed willfully ignorant of such things.

The Sister curled her lip, then caught herself and folded her expression back into one of bland judgment. “Those who use witchcraft to harm others will be crushed under the weight of their own ill judgment,” she recited, the same lecture Jovan heard every time her kind came by his shop.

“Hm,” he repeated and bit into another olive.

Either contented with her daily condemnation or unwilling to lose face at Jovan’s lack of appropriate reaction, the priestess drew up the bottom of her robes from the ground and gave him a curt nod.

“Keep that in mind,” she said by way of farewell and huffed away with her followers. They swept down the street as a flight of ivory doves, robes and scarves fluttering like feathers.

The local women let their eyes linger on Jovan as they left. He thought he recognized a couple of them. Those who lived in the market part of the city were close knit, exchanging goods and services rather than coin. He suspected they must be shopkeepers’ daughters, or perhaps sisters. The women who ran the shops were too hard headed and clever to go along with the white robed priestesses, but those young or powerless could fall victim to the cunning foreign cult.

He could see fear in their eyes. They knew him. They knew who he was and what he did. He expected as much; all the locals in the market district knew him, and some in wealthier homes recognized him well as Usha’s fortune teller. Jovan spit the pit at their back. Even the most well-meaning of the lot were kin to the rest of the invaders. They’d given up on their traditions and beliefs, had crumbled under harsh eyes and sharp words. He had seen this coming the second he saw the white priestesses hanging about outside his grandfather’s shop, but that did not take away the burn of betrayal he felt every time the women stopped by. The priestesses might consider themselves lucky. He had no plans to place any curses on them. They’d done nothing more than criticize him so far, and that hardly did him any harm. They didn’t yet warrant retaliation, but Jovan doubted that would last much longer. The women in white were getting more and more aggressive with each passing year.

He frowned and turned from the store front. They’d be back tomorrow, and he could reconsider doing something about them then.

His part-time bedroom and full-time workshop was a mess when he opened the door. The magpies had taken over the tiny room, flapping about and picking at jewels far too heavy for their slight frames. Jovan rubbed a disbelieving hand over his face and watched in silent horror with his teeth digging into his finger. One bird managed to find an earring light enough to steal away and took flight, crashing into another magpie and they tumbled to the ground in a mess of wings.

Jono sighed and searched the room for a sign of the raven, but it was gone. Only a cluster of shiny black feathers on the bed indicated it had ever been there. Some days later, the raven returned.

It settled on the counter beside a bowl of figs and picked at their leathery skin. Jono took mercy on the creature and split one open with his thumb. The raven crowed in delight and picked at the red flesh with the sharp curve of its beak. Jovan watched it absently, rocking a dark mottled piece of turquoise under his fingertip.

He’d spent the better part of the morning with his fingers curled around the ornate hilt of his knife, working on the wishes of a desperate business woman. Her son had run off and married a young woman who worked in the darker parts of the cities selling goods on the black market. Apparently, such goods were terribly dangerous and had led to the woman’s son falling into addiction and ultimately a series of seizures that left him all but useless. With that, his lover spurned him and he was left in his mother’s care. Like all good mothers, this woman wanted revenge for these crimes.

He was used to such requests. The people here could be vindictive in the face of constant heat and the pressures of foreign nations constantly banging at the doors. Every injustice was subject to a greater retaliation--and Jono did not distinguish between the just and unjust requests for revenge. If his clients paid, he would do as they asked regardless.

The sort of revenge this woman wanted took a toll on Jovan’s body, and he was left feeling drained in more ways than one. His magical energies were drained, and he’d lost a fair bit of blood. Not only had he cut a familiar line across his palm with the blade, but he’d also done his fingers as well.

The blade was usually used to slice open the tips of his fingers, each dyed with such a dark red ink that wounds never showed. Even slices across his palm, as were sometimes necessary with grander curses, were hidden behind ornate designs of flowers and suns and eyes spread from fingertip to wrist, and sometimes up to his elbow. Most local men and women wore such designs on their skin as marks of fortune or status, but the witches had found ways to adopt these into their own charmed tattoos. The patterns Jovan wore most often were meant to extend his sight into the years. Sometimes he wore patterns to extend his reach. They were redone every couple of weeks, and the ink would tell his customers what he was best suited to at the time.

Today he wore the patterns of suns and flowers with vines extending from them around his arm and curling just short of his elbows. The vengeful types would come to him today, along with those seeking blessings. To keep the two straight, he gave gifts with his left hand, and curses with his right. His right hand was battered and scarred beneath the stains of ink, while his left seemed almost clean by comparison. That was the way things were.

He’d healed up the wounds as soon as the curse was done, and the skin under the ink was smooth. The woman left, tears in her eyes and clutching the gem used in her palm. When it cracked, she would know that the deed had been done. In exchange, she pressed a piece of turquoise the size of a walnut into his palm and slid a ruby gemmed silver ring onto his last finger.

Now well paid, Jovan was left alone in his shop. It was as though nothing had happened, save the way he paled when he stood for too long.

This made the company of the raven all the more pleasant. He could sit in his daze without having to converse, but all the same was not lonely. The raven made contented noises from time to time, and was happy to perch beside him and pull seeds from the fig.

It was a curious thing, Jovan found, as it studied the layers of bangles extending up his arm. Hints of ink, both temporary and permanent, peeked out between beads and metal. Jovan turned his palm upwards toward the raven and it tilted its head, apparently studying the patterns on his hand. It ruffled its feathers and shifted its gaze back up to Jovan’s face. It seemed to be asking about the markings, so Jovan explained.

“This is the sun,” he said, letting the turquoise drop from his other hand and tracing the circle in the center of his palm. “And this is the moon.” His finger followed the patterning around smaller circle. “The petals of the world are here, and its arms are vines extending out, holding it all together. Between the petals are runes. They enhance my magic.” As he spoke, Jovan drew his fingertip along each aspect of the design and let it linger on a small, square shape cut in half, and then one half was cut through again diagonally. This particular rune was meant to protect his mind from the strain of his magic. It was one of the many precautions he took to keep himself sane, just as all other witches did. It would not save him completely, and in time he’d end up the confused old man his grandfather had become. This too was the way things were.

At the sound of an inquisitive coo, Jovan frowned and looked the bird in its dark eyes. There was something about it, something he couldn't recognize. It didn't have the aura of a simple beast, nothing like the magpies he fed on the window out of the back room, and nothing like the wild cats that picked their way through the garbage on the streets. It seemed too aware of what he was saying, of what was going on around it. He’d seen the raven indicate gratitude and intellectual interest, beyond that of a mindless beast.

He couldn't claim what this meant, not when he could hardly understand the aura when he saw it in humans as well. A spirit bird, perhaps, or one possessed. Such things were not unheard of around here, where the dead were called to regularly by some of the city’s witches. From time to time, a spirit would linger and attach itself to something without a full consciousness of its own. So long as the spirit was not vengeful, it would fade away on its own. It didn't matter much to him so long as it did no harm. The raven became a quick and comfortable companion. It returned most days and sampled whatever snacks Jovan was enjoying that day. It always flew in just after his early morning appointments and would stay with him until he either turned in to nap in the day’s heat or another customer took his attention.

Jovan made a point of filling his bowl with something different every day. So far, the bird seemed to find almost everything agreeable. The olives preserved with slices of spicy peppers inside seemed to be the only the raven refused to eat, and after that Jovan kept his snacks mild.

Not knowing what the raven knew about the area, Jovan told it all sorts of stories. He told it about the witches around the city, the ones that told fortunes and the ones that brought back spirits. He told it about the Golden Sisters, how they’d arrived one day when he was young and had been growing in number and power since. He told it about his concern that the priestesses might become more dangerous if they continue on like this.

But he also told it that as a witch, it was his job to watch and wait and to advise when the time came. Witches didn’t kill, he told it. Not people, and not animals. Witches had to buy all their meat pre-slaughtered, or abstain from it entirely. If a witch were to take a life, he or she would feel the entirety of the life taken, and depending on how long or vivid that life was, would go mad from the strain. Even the sort of magic he preformed, running on his own blood and sometimes indirectly causing the deaths of his victims through accidents, took its toll on him. He didn’t tell the raven all of this, of course. Witches had their secrets, and on the off chance that the raven was an evil spirit, he did not wish to find himself at the mercy of it.

The raven seemed particularly interested in talk of the priestesses. It cocked its head and watched him intently as he told the raven about the maze of dungeons beneath the city that the cult now occupied. Once upon a time, those dungeons had been used for heretics of a forgotten regime, and it was only fitting that the cultists called it home. He told the raven about the witches desperate enough to turn to the priestesses for help. In exchange for shelter, the witches joined the cult.

Or rather, so everyone assumed. He’d yet to see any of the witches return from the dungeons. He wondered if they really were allowed to join, seeing as so far he’d only seen female priestesses, and many of the desperate witches were male. Jovan had been lucky to have a wealthy family and fortune-telling abilities. Anything else and he might end up in those dungeons himself.

The witches of the city had not yet agreed on what to do about the Sisters, and most were in favor of waiting until something happened. Jovan was one of those sorts, but a fair few insisted that by the time something happened, it would be too late. Jovan told the raven that he understood that, but this was an aging empire and if they upset the priestesses and their nation, the natives would not be able to fight off a true invasion. And anyway, it wasn’t as though the cultists had done much harm to him personally. Those who converted did so willingly enough. Jovan might not do so himself, but he saw no reason to fight over it.

Talking about the state of his city wore on him, and in time he’d trail off and sigh, looking out with unclear eyes at the streets and houses and shops before him. The raven would grow restless then. It would stretch its wings and hop about the counter, seemingly looking for some sort of solution to nation’s dilemma on its own.

After one such one sided conversation, Jovan spotted familiar white robes down the way. He sighed and lifted himself from his seat. For a moment, the world spun around him and he braced himself against the counter with his forearm. He’d overdone it that morning, he knew it. It was too late to do anything about now though. A little rest and some spiced meat and he’d be well enough to do it again tomorrow. He always was.

“Come, my friend,” he rumbled at the raven and held out his arm. For all their companionship, he’d yet to determine what the bird was. He’d not thought about it particularly hard, and found that it really didn’t matter. If it was a demon all this time, then it would kill him whether or not he knew. If it was not, then his fate might be different.

The raven hopped up onto his arm and found purchase between the layers of bracelets. Its wings unfolded to keep it perched safely there as Jovan led them into the back room once more and this time did not crack the window for it. He would release the bird as soon as the cultists were gone, but he would not allow the magpies back into his bedroom. It had taken him far too long to clean up the mess the birds left last time, and even now he sometimes found a loose gemstone under his feet.

He settled the bird on the broad window sill once more and left it with a cracker. With any luck, the priestesses would be gone before the raven grew bored and sought out entertainment elsewhere.

This time when he returned to the front of the shop, he was greeted by a dark skinned woman in the white robes, and several others behind her. She was a native who, as a girl, had run around the streets with Jovan and the other children. This had been long before the incident with the bully, but he still recognized her. He thought he recalled hearing she’d taken on a husband, and then another when she was given no children. Local gossip said that the problem lay with her, though such talk was too scandalous to be heard anywhere but behind closed doors.

Jovan supposed it made sense that the cult had caught her. A woman like her would be desperate to find some sort of meaning in her life, especially in the face of having no heirs to her name. A smart woman might adopt, find a lost child and raise it as her own, but this woman was likely too proud or heartbroken to do such a thing. It was a shame, Jovan thought, but not so very surprising.

“Jono,” the woman said, using Jovan’s childhood nickname. Most of the locals used that name for him as well, remembering when he’d been young and quiet and curious. Back then his face had been sweet and open, and his neighbors expected him to turn out like his brother. They’d all been surprised when Jovan grew until an aloof and grumpy man with a stern set to his face that could wilt flowers. There hadn’t been a reason for the change. It was just how he was.

“Jono,” she said again, and this time offered her hand across the counter. Jovan stared at it. “I hear you have been practicing dark magic. You’ll end up as mad as your grandfather if you keep that up.”

Unlike the pale foreign Sisters, this woman--Ayati was her name, Jovan remembered it now--knew enough about the local culture to get to him. He would go mad, there was no doubt about it. He could stop his magic now and he might be saved, but he would not. Ayati should know better. All of the witches in the area were the same. To them, the cost was worth the power it gave.

“I know,” he mumbled and scooped the discarded turquoise off of the counter. He frowned at the stone in his palm. “Probably sooner.”

Ayati let her fingers meet his and she traced them over the designs painted on his skin. She sighed and let her thumb press against a run hidden in the vines wrapping around his wrist. “You can stop this. All of you can. Listen to us and we will save you.” Her free hand swept back toward the women lingering behind her. “We have so much to offer this nation.”

For a moment, he thought he might hear her out. He was supposed to be neutral, after all. None of this affected him. No one had dragged him away to the dungeons. There had been no war on witches, no violence in the streets, no murders or forced abductions. This wasn’t his problem, not yet.

He frowned and curled his fingers around the turquoise. He wanted to believe that this wasn’t his problem, and yet here was Ayati at his shop. He’d been harassed by the priestesses plenty in recent months; they seemed to grow more and more aggressive as their numbers swelled. They wanted to convert him, take him away like the other witches. It was the same for all of them. Now though, now they were sending converts after him. In his eyes, this woman, this girl he’d called a friend as a child, was dead. Was that the goal? To tell him that their culture and history was losing this battle? Jovan swallowed the hot coal in his throat.

“What do the foreigners have to offer that we do not already have?” he hissed. “Our medicine is better. We have machines they cannot understand. We have magic they cannot comprehend.” His vision swam with increased pressure against the rune.

His lip curled and his voice dropped into the rough street dialect only the locals spoke, “Your friends will drag us with them into the ages of despair and fear.” She caught his arm and dug her fingers into his pulse. Her lips set in a firm line and her eyes narrowed. The wind lifted and Jovan caught a scent of her perfume. She smelled of cypress wood.

“You were supposed to be the voice of reason among these blood soaked demons,” she said, low and dark in the common tongue. She dragged his arm close, and let her nails grind against the fragile bones of his wrist. “I see you are madder than I thought.”

Jovan’s temper got the better of him then and he slammed his free fist into the counter. The jars resting on the far edge of the shop shook with the force. A chorus of startled gasps and murmurs sounded from the street, where the rest of the priestesses huddled together and watched him with wide eyes.

“Was that a threat?” he demanded, “You’ve betrayed your people. Why? Why are you doing this?” His words were unintelligible to the pale faced women behind Ayati. They seemed to cringe back at the angry baritone of his voice. Jovan couldn’t blame them. He wanted them scared. “There is no place for someone like me among your friends. You’ll have me put behind bars like the rest!”

Instead of responding, Ayati snatched her hand away and clutched the golden sun hanging between her breasts. She turned curtly on her heel, back straight and steps long and confident. The women rushed to meet her and stared back and Jovan with accusing eyes. They couldn’t do anything to him so long as he’d not laid a hand on Ayati, but Jovan could see the cold calculation in their eyes. How far could they push him until he snapped and raised a fist to one of them? Jovan knew he’d be digging his own grave if he ever did.

It took considerable effort, but Jovan stamped down his temper and turned from the front of the shop. The cultists were done for the day and wouldn’t risk drawing him back in his rage now.

With his back to the open shop front, Jovan rubbed an ink stained hand over his face. He did not know Ayati particularly well, but it still cut him deeply to see her with the Golden Sisters. Before, they had largely been a problem for the city’s most impoverished citizens. Jovan almost thought they did some good in the Tarai, offering comfort and blessing to those who could not attend Israan’s temples in the Talavair district.

Now they were not satisfied with the poor. Witches were a deeply ingrained part of Nysanai culture, and the priestesses seemed to take offense to this. He did not know enough of them to understand fully, but Usha had told him once that the traders from the south did not bring witches onto their ships. At the time, Jovan thought this to be extremely foolish. Certain witches could predict weather and control the elements. They were essential to Nysanai traders, yet southerners seemed to think them bad luck. If he thought about it, Jovan couldn’t recall ever having met a witch from south of Nysanais. He did not think that meant anything good for the fate of witches in Israan if the Golden Sisters got their way.

With a deep breath, Jovan pushed his hand against the door to the back room. It creaked open, and inside there was the sound of a chair toppling over and books falling from a shelf. Certain the raven had gotten into trouble while he was away, Jovan sighed and flung the door fully open.

Instead of a raven, he was given an eyeful of pale bare skin and a mess of mousy hair.

He blinked, taking in the sight of a fair skinned man bent over and attempting to pull a pair of Jovan’s loose sirwal over his thighs. The man had tripped over the tight ankle of the pants and fell against a nearby table, sending its contents falling to the ground. Bowls of stones and flowers spilled across the ground, along with piles of books and scrolls.

Unlike the dark skinned and dark haired people native to these parts, this man had skin reddened by the coastal sun, and hair lighter than that of any local, even in his private areas. Darker spots ran across the man’s shoulders and cheeks, a constellation of freckles decorating his skin. The man had no tattoos or piercings so far as Jovan could see. Jovan’s own people tended to use tattoos as stories, rites of passage, accessories. Earrings were a fashion must, and anyone with anything to spare had at least one at all times. Only children had unmarred skin, and this made Jovan wondered just how old the man could be.

Under Jovan’s inquiring eyes, the man had the sense to look a little sheepish as he finally managed to drag the pants up over his ass. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his voice came out in a rough cough that gave no words. With the front of the pants bunched in his first to hold them up (as apparently, he did not know how to lace them so that they’d stay up), the man held up a placating hand and tipped his head forward submissively.

Jovan’s lips took a downward turn and he let his eyes trail down the man’s body. He looked more like the foreign priestesses than any of the locals but held none of the cold judgment those women did. From what Jovan could see in the man’s character, drawn from the aura about him so intangible that he could never put it to words, this was not an invader the way those women were. Foreign, certainly, but not a conqueror.

“Ah,” Jovan said, his eyes catching on a black feather near his feet. His rage melted away instantly at the absurdity of the situation. He bent to pluck it from the ground and spun it absently between his thumb and forefinger. He pressed it against his nose and lips and let his gaze return to the foreign man. If he wondered what had been so odd about the raven before, Jovan supposed the mystery was solved now.

When he straightened again, he pointed toward a low dresser at the far side of the room. Its top was cluttered with a corked wine bottle and a pile of yellow-paged books. “If you want a shirt.”

Then he backed away from the door and closed it firmly behind him, the pale man on the other side.

#jovan stack #writing #oc #short story #jovan #magic #fantasy #original writing #i wrote this for part of nanowrimo months ago wups

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dimasrama · 5 years

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Pekan ini temanya menjelajah galaksi...😜 . This Saturday 13/07 @cubicbar presents #soundofmavericks with Jovan Blade | Billy | Dino and yours truly!🕵🏻‍♂️ . Strap on your dancing boots & Lets get lost in space.... 👩‍🚀👩‍🚀 . #cubicbar #jogja #jogjanightlife #infojogja #deephouse #techhouse #housemusic #techno #disco #weekenders #electronicmusic #undergroundmusic (at Yogyakarta) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bzu6sp2h-uf/?igshid=ch20l45vf1li

#soundofmavericks #cubicbar #jogja #jogjanightlife #infojogja #deephouse #techhouse #housemusic #techno #disco #weekenders #electronicmusic #undergroundmusic

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grigori77 · 6 years

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2018 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 2)

20. OVERLORD – 2018’s chief runner-up for horror movie of the year is brash, noisy and spectacularly glossy, but also fiendishly inventive and surprisingly original given that it borrows its central concept from several older, schlockier offerings. Originally touted as the fourth film in the Cloverfield “franchise”, time (and producer J.J. Abrams) has told, and this is in fact entirely its own thing – an action-packed horror thriller set in the explosive midst of World War II’s D-Day landings. Nearly the entire narrative thrust of the film revolves around US Army Private Ed Boyce (Fences’ Jovan Adepo), a gentle, shy draftee who’s part of an Airborne squad sent to jump in ahead of the Normandy invasion and knock out a German radio tower built on an old church, but when their plane gets shot down over the drop-zone he winds up one of a ragtag team of only five survivors, led by young but battle-hardened veteran Corporal Ford (Everybody Wants Some! star Wyatt Russell, son of Kurt), who insists they complete their mission. When they reach the tower, however, they find the town under the control of an SS company led by Captain Wafner (Game of Thrones’ Pilou Asbæk), who spearheads an unholy experimental research project attempting to bring dead German soldiers back as unstoppable zombie killing machines. It’s a deceptively simple premise, but from this little acorn has grown a mighty oak of a film, a thunderous, non-stop thrill-ride that cranks up the tension within minutes of the start and never lets up thereafter, keeping us drawn out on a knife’s edge for long stretches of unbearable suspense when it’s not hurling a series of intense and brutal set-pieces at us, some of the most bravura sequences playing out in audaciously long single-take tracking shots. Relative newcomer director Julius Avery may have been an unknown quantity (he only had one feature to his name before this, so-so Aussie heist thriller Son of a Gun), but he’s taken to this challenging project like an old hand, showing the kind of amazing talent and seasoned skill that really make you want to see what he’s going to do next, while screenwriters Billy Ray (The Hunger Games, Captain Phillips) and Mark L. Smith (Vacancy, The Revenant) have taken the seemingly clichéd material and crafted something rewardingly fresh and inventively nasty, the kind of body horror gorehounds go proper nuts for. The cast are also uniformly excellent – Adepo is a likeably vulnerable hero who finds his courage over the course of the film, so his transition from timid boy to avenging badass is pleasingly believable, while Russell proves just how much like his dad he is by investing Ford with a fierce single-minded drive and an earthy physicality destined to make him a powerful action star; there’s also strong support from John Magaro (Not Fade Away, Jack Ryan) and Agents of SHIELD star Iain De Caestecker as fellow Airborne troops Tibbet and Chase and newcomer Mathilde Ollivier as Chloe, the tough, take-no-shit local girl who helps the squad, while Asbæk pretty much steals the film as Wafner, a major-league creepy, gleefully sadistic psychopath who’s just as memorably monstrous as his ruined creations. Altogether this is a magnificent breakthrough for a promising new talent and one of the best action horrors I’ve seen in years, such a spectacular and memorable film it didn’t need the implied Cloverfield connection to get any attention.

19. SICARIO 2: SOLDADO – screenwriter Taylor Sheridan has been a particularly strong blip on my one-to-watch radar for a few years now, impressing with modest sleeper hit Hell Or High Water and making an astonishing directorial debut with the (literal) ice-cold Wind River, but his greatest achievement remains 2015’s tour-de-force suspense thriller Sicario, the film that made his name and also turned up-and-comer director Denis Villeneuve into a genuine superstar (leading to him helming his masterpiece, Blade Runner 2049). Straight away I wanna make it painfully clear – this is NOT as good as the first film, the lack of Emily Blunt’s spectacular character’s grounding presence and Villeneuve’s truly AWESOME flair meaning it just can’t reach its predecessor’s intoxicating heights. But as sequels go this is an absolute belter, and there’s no denying Sicario’s dark and edgy world was one I was really itching to return to, so this is still an undeniable treat. New director Stefano Sollima may not be the seminal master the man who kicked off the franchise is, but he’s certainly got some well-suited, heavyweight talent of his own, having cut his teeth on cult Italian crime shows like Gomorrah and Romanzo Criminale, and his own breakout thriller All Cops Are Bastards, and he definitely revives the first film’s oppressive moral darkness and relentless atmosphere of implied, inherent threat. Blunt may be out, but her co-stars are back in the same fine form they displayed in their first outing – Josh Brolin is at his reliable best as slovenly CIA special ops master Matt Graver, his shit-eating grin present and correct even if he is still rocking his intimidating Deadpool 2 build, while Benicio Del Toro finally gets to take centre stage as his chief asset, Colombian lawyer-turned-assassin Alejandro Gillick, still itching for the chance to put the hurt on the brutal Mexican drug cartel that killed his family and destroyed his old life. There’s still a strong female presence in the cast too – Transformers: the Last Knight’s Isabela Moner is a little spitfire of adolescent entitlement as Isabela Reyes, the kingpin’s daughter who becomes a pawn in Graver’s government-backed plan to trigger a cartel civil war and tear them apart from the inside, while the always excellent Catherine Keener is a dangerously classy ice queen as Cynthia Forbes, the high-ranking CIA controller overseeing the operation – while there’s quality support from the likes of Matthew Modine, Burn Notice’s Jeffrey Donovan (reprising his role from the first film as Graver’s lieutenant Steve Forsing) and a particularly memorable turn from Bruno Bichir as Angel, a deaf-mute Mexican farmer who’s suffered his own hardships at the hands of the cartels. This is very much Del Toro’s film, though, the method master thoroughly inhabiting his role and once again bringing that dead-eyed lethality to bear while he paradoxically makes us care about and root for a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. As with the first film, this is a simply MESMERISING thriller, gritty and edgy as it revels in its raw, forensic attention to detail, ruthless intelligence and densely-woven, serpent twisty plotting, and once again delivers magnificently in the action camp with a series of brutal, pulse-pounding bullet-riddled action sequences. Enthralling, unflinching and beautiful in a desolate, windswept kind of way, this is every inch the sequel Sicario deserved, and thriller cinema at its best. Taylor Sheridan’s written another winner.

18. YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE – this unstoppable underdog sleeper hit is a twisted beast, a film that makes you so uncomfortable it’s almost unwatchable, but you can’t look away, nor would you really want to. It’s a troubling film, but it’s INCREDIBLE. Then again, it is pretty much what we’ve come to expect from acclaimed filmmaker Lynn Ramsay, writer/director of controversial but highly-regarded films like Ratcatcher, Morvern Callar and, of course, We Need To Talk About Kevin, and this adaptation of Jonathan Ames’ novel fits in with that lofty company like the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle. It’s a short, (razor) sharp shock of a film, its slender 90 minute running time perfectly trimmed of excess fat, its breathless pace drawing us in while its pervading sense of impending doom keeps us uneasy. Joaquin Phoenix delivers one of the best performances of his career as Joe, a combat veteran and former FBI agent who hires out his services rescuing kidnapped and trafficked girls, usually delivering brutal retribution on those responsible in the process; he’s also a very troubled human being, his crippling battle-trauma merely compounding much more deep-seeded damage resulting from a horribly abusive childhood, only able to find real peace caring for his housebound elderly mother (Orange Is the New Black’s Judith Anna Roberts). So when his latest assignment from trusted handler John McCleary (The Wire and Gotham’s John Doman) – finding Nina (Wonderstruck’s Ekaterina Samsonov), the missing daughter of New York Senator Albert Votto (Alex Manette) – goes horribly wrong, Joe finds his world imploding and lashes out with all the bloodthirsty violence he can muster. Phoenix is mesmerising, his deceptively subtle performance hinting at a human being mentally unravelling before our eyes, but he’s also like a cornered beast when roused, attacking enemies (both real and perceived) with wince-inducing viciousness; Samsonov and Roberts are both similarly impressive, while a late entrance from 90s indie darling Alessandro Nivola is a welcome, game-changing breath of fresh air. Typically for Ramsay, this is a work of mood and atmosphere first and foremost, an air of breathy anticipation and moody introspection colouring many scenes, but she still weaves a compelling story and quickens the pulse with some blistering, blood-soaked set-pieces, rushing us along on a heady mix of righteous fury and troublingly twisted catharsis before dumping us, breathless and shell-shocked, at the unsettling yet strangely uplifting climactic denouement. This was one of the year’s most haunting films, and further proof of the undeniable talents of one of cinema’s most important filmmakers.

17. FANTASTIC BEASTS: THE CRIMES OF GRINDELWALD – 2016 saw stratospherically successful author J.K. Rowling return to the Wizarding World she created in her Harry Potter books with a completely original film set decades before that series, introducing us to a new, albeit much earlier group of magical adventurers, chief among them Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne), a kind, oddball and brilliantly intelligent expert on mystical, supernatural creatures. The film was, inevitably, a massive hit, guaranteeing a follow-up (or four, as we’re now being guaranteed no less than FIVE films in total in this new series), and two years later we return to the Wizarding World of the late 1920s to find things are getting a little darker and A LOT more dangerous. Notorious dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald (Johnny Depp), captured at the end of the first film, has escaped his prison (in the film’s most spectacular, jaw-dropping set-piece) and is now hiding out in Paris, gathering his supporters and searching for the ultimate weapon which will help him in his dastardly plot to enslave the muggles – Credence Barebone (Justice League’s Ezra Miller), the powerful Obscurus who survived his apparent death in New York and is now searching for the truth about who he really is. Grindelwald isn’t the only one hunting him – aurors from the British and American Ministries of Magic are hot on his trail, among others, while Hogwarts teacher Professor Albus Dumbledore (Jude Law) has convinced his favourite former student, Newt, to try and find him before he can be killed or corrupted. David Yates, the director of ALL Rowling adaptations since Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire, has consistently brought this rich, exotic and endlessly inventive world to potent, vital life on the big screen, and his SEVENTH tour of duty proves to be no exception – this is EXACTLY the kind of rip-roaring fantastical romp we’ve come to expect from his collaborations with Rowling, albeit taking a turn into darker, more grown-up territory for this second chapter in the new saga as the stakes are raised and the first battle-lines are drawn. There are revelations and twists and surprises aplenty throughout, some genuine jaw-dropping, gut-punch moments among them, and it moves the story into particularly fertile ground for what’s still to come. The returning cast are just as impressive this time around, each character arc moving forward in interesting and compelling ways – Redmayne is as likeable as ever as Newt, but invests fresh purpose and a new, steely resolve now he’s chosen a side in the conflict to come, while it’s fascinating (and more than a little heartbreaking) watching Jacob and Queenie (Dan Fogle and Alison Sudol), the star-crossed muggle/witch lovers, tackle the harsh realities of their problematic romance, and Miller is deeply affecting as a lost soul desperate for long-hidden truths and a sense of belonging – and there are some equally notable (relatively) new faces added to the roster too – Claudia Kim’s Nagini, the soulful Maledictus tragically cursed to someday become trapped in the form of Voldemort’s giant snake, is frustratingly underused but extremely memorable nonetheless, and I can only hope we’ll get a more substantial introduction to Newt’s more confident and successful war hero brother Theseus (Callum Turner) in future instalments, but Zoe Kravitz gets a killer role as the third point in the Scamander love triangle, Leta Lestrange, Newt’s oldest and closest friend but Theseus’ fiancée, and she’s FANTASTIC throughout, while Depp finally gets to really sink his teeth into the role of the most feared man in the Wizarding World until You-Know-Who showed up, investing Grindelwald with just the kind of subtle, seductive brilliance needed to make him such a compelling villain. The best new addition, however, is Jude Law, the THIRD actor to date to play Dumbledore, and I’m sorely tempted to say he might be the best of the bunch, PERFECTLY capturing the cool ease and irreverent charm of Rowling’s character as well as (obviously) lending him a much more vital, youthful swagger that’s sure to serve him well in the subsequent films. This has proven to be something of a marmite film, dividing opinions and being called “needlessly complicated” or “overburdened”, but I never saw that – there’s much to enjoy here, and it feels as fresh, rewarding and downright entertaining as any of its predecessors. As far as I’m concerned this leaves the series in SPECTACULAR shape, and I can’t wait to see where we go from here.

16. FIRST MAN – when it comes to true life tales of great courage and epic achievement, you can’t get much bigger than the first man to walk on the Moon, and it’s a subject that’s been revisited again and again over the years. And yet, until now there’s never really been a film that’s truly brought it to true vivid life like other space-exploration stories have in the lofty likes of Apollo 13 and The Right Stuff. It seems like Hollywood had to think outside the box to get this one to work, and it turns out that Damien Chazelle, Oscar-winning director of La La Land and Whiplash, was the offbeat talent for the job. Taking a much more gritty, documentary-style approach to the story, he presents the story of NASA’s immensely ambitious Apollo programme as a low-key procedural, seeming far more interested in the nuts-and-bolts details than the grand, sweeping adventures of legend. That’s not to say that there aren’t big moments – there are PLENTY, from a terrifyingly claustrophobic sequence revolving around a life-threatening malfunction during one of the earlier, feet-finding capsule flights to the stirring, spectacular Moon-landing itself – but many of the film’s biggest fireworks are emotional, which is just where Chazelle seems to be moist comfortable. The film is thoroughly DOMINATED by his regular acting collaborator Ryan Gosling, whose characteristic laconic internalisation is a perfect fit for Neil Armstrong, a man trapped at the heart of immense historical events and haunted by deep personal tragedy who nonetheless maintains a steely cool and perfectly professional demeanour, but Claire Foy is just as important as Armstrong’s much put-upon wife Janet, whose emotional turmoil in the face of his potential impending death is a harrowing thing, and she delivers a mesmerizingly powerful performance that proves the perfect ferocious fire to Gosling’s understated ice; there’s also a truly stunning ensemble supporting cast on offer here, an embarrassment of riches that includes Jason Clarke, Kyle Chandler, Patrick Fugit, Shea Whigham and the mighty Ciaran Hinds. Chazelle has directed another cracker here, emotionally rich and endlessly fascinating, visually unique and consistently surprising, with the kind of power and pathos that all but GUARANTEES great things to come during Awards season, and he’s helped enormously by a cracking script from Oscar-winning Spotlight writer Josh Singer and an offbeat but thoroughly arresting score from his regular musical collaborator Justin Hurwitz. Challenging, uplifting and impossible to forget, this truly deserves to be ranked among the other great Space Race movies.

15. BUMBLEBEE – I find it telling, and maybe a little damning, that it wasn’t until Michael Bay stepped back from the director’s chair and settled for the role of producer that we FINALLY got a truly GREAT Transformers movie. There’s no denying his films have been visually striking and certainly diverting, but even at their best they were loud, dumb throwaway fun, while at their worst they pretty much SHAT on our collective nostalgic memory of their source material. When this new “standalone” film was first announced, I was deeply sceptical, expecting more of the same, a shameless cash-in on the popularity of one the robotic cast’s most iconic members. How glad I am to have been proven wrong for once – Bumblebee is much more than just a shot in the arm for a flagging franchise, it’s a perfect chance for them to start again, a perfectly pitched, stripped back little wonder that finally captures the true wonder and pure, primary-coloured FUN of the original toy line and Saturday morning cartoon show. It also marks the live-action debut of director Travis Knight, who cut his teeth creating stunning stop-motion animation for Laika (makers of Coraline) before bringing the studio monumental acclaim with his first helming gig on the AWESOME Kubo & the Two Strings, and he proves JUST as adept at wringing powerful, palpable emotions from flesh-and-blood (and digital) actors as he is with miniature wire-frame puppets. Essentially a prequel/origin story, this tells the story of how lone Autobot scout Bumblebee first came to Earth, and it’s a much simpler and more archetypal film than we’re used to, a cool simplification that works wonders – he’s back in his classic VW Beetle chassis and a good deal more vulnerable now, while this might be the best we’ve seen Hailee Steinfeld, who stars as Charlie Watson, the 19-year old girl he befriends. She’s an awkward, geeky kid, cast adrift by recent loss and trying to make things right in her life again, and her VERY unique new car certainly fills a major gap for her; Love, Simon’s Jorge Lendeborg is a lovably dorky puppy-dog as her new next-door neighbour and would-be boyfriend Memo, while Californication’s Pamela Adlon is sweet but steely as Charlie’s good-natured but somewhat exasperated mother Sally; the film is frequently stolen, however, by the mighty John Cena, who’s always had a powerful gift for comedy and is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up as he gamely pastiches his action hero persona. There’s also a refreshing drop in the number of robots on display here – with Transformers, less is clearly more, and there’s far greater pleasure to be had in watching Bumblebee on his own trying to hold his own against the film’s two main savage villains, Decepticon headhunters Shatter (voiced with creepy confidence by Angela Bassett) and Dropkick (a brilliantly sociopathic turn from Justin Theroux), both of whom are MUCH more well-drawn than the series’ average bad guys. This is a FANTASTIC film, the Transformers movie we’ve always deserved – the 80s period setting is EXQUISITELY captured (from the killer soundtrack to Charlie’s whole punk rock vibe, clearly styled after Joan Jett), the general tone is played very much for laughs but the humour no longer feels forced or childish, much more sophisticated here than in the average Bay-fest, and there are some spectacular action sequences that are this time VERY MUCH in service to the story. The film was written by relative newcomer Christina Hodgson, mostly just known for Unforgettable while three of her screenplays languish on the Black List of Hollywood’s best unproduced scripts, and on the strength of this I CAN’T WAIT to see more from her – she’s already penned the coming Birds of Prey movie for DC, which I’m absolutely champing at the bit to see, and has now been signed up to write the Batgirl movie too, so we shouldn’t have long to wait. This has already been favourably compared to The Iron Giant, one of my favourite animated features EVER, and I can wholeheartedly agree with that opinion – this is EXACTLY what we’ve been waiting for in a Transformers movie, and if it’s a sign of things to come then I wholeheartedly approve. More of this, please!

14. READY PLAYER ONE – Steven Spielberg is one of my very favourite directors, a peerless master of cinema whose iconic blockbusters have fuelled my imagination and captured my heart since early childhood. Of course, he’s also a hugely talented auteur whose more serious work is rightly regarded as some of the most important moving picture art of all time (Schindler’s List is, of course, a given, but I for one am also MASSIVELY enamoured of the undeniable power and uncompromising maturity of Munich), but I’ve always found him at his best when he makes films to entertain the popcorn-munching masses. His most welcome return to true escapist cinema comes in the form of a magnificent adaptation of the one of the most singularly geeky novels of the 21st Century, Ernest Cline’s meticulous love letter to 80s pop culture and nerd nostalgia, a book which was itself HEAVILY influenced by Spielberg’s own most enduring works. There’s something deeply meta in him tackling the material, then, but the Beard keeps his own potentially self-serving references to the bare minimum, instead letting the book’s other major influences come to the fore as well as allowing Cline himself (adapting his own book alongside Marvel heavyweight Zak Penn (X2 and The Avengers to name but a few) to introduce some new elements of his own. There’s some definite streamlining, but it’s always in service to the story and helps things to work as well as they can cinematically, and besides, NO ONE does this kind of thing better than the Beard … anyway, to the uninitiated, RPO takes place in and around the OASIS, the gargantuan VR universe that the overpopulated, rundown world of the future has become ubiquitously addicted to, now considered the Earth’s greatest resource, and the setting for an epic hunt for an “Easter Egg” left by its deceased wunderkind creator, James Halliday (another brilliant, immersive turn from Spielberg’s current favourite acting collaborator, Mark Rylance), which will bestow its discoverer with unimaginable riches and ownership of the OASIS itself. The main thrust of the story is the battle of wills between geeky slum kid “Gunter” (essentially a pop culture-obsessed treasure hunting expert on all things Halliday) Wade Watts, aka Parzival (X-Men’s Tye Sheridan) and Nolan Sorrento (Ben Mendelsohn), the reptilian CEO of IOI (Innovative Online Industries), the evil multinational that wants to seize control of the OASIS, no matter the cost – it’s a high stakes game indeed, as Wade finds his actions in the wild, imagination-is-the-only-limit online world can have very serious consequences on his own life in reality. It’s suitably exciting and action packed then, but there’s a real sense of fun and irreverent joy to proceedings that’s been somewhat lacking from many of Spielberg’s films of late, especially in the insane inventiveness of the OASIS itself, a universe where you can be and do absolutely ANYTHING, and where Halliday’s nostalgic pop culture loves have been embraced by society at large in MAJOR WAY … hence the GIGANTIC potential for spot-the-reference in virtually every scene – seriously, this is one of those movies that REALLY rewards repeat viewing. Sheridan is a very likeable hero, a plucky and resourceful young dreamer you can’t help rooting for, while Mendelsohn gave us one of the year’s best screen villains, the kind of oily scumbag you just love to hate; Bates Motel’s Olivia Cooke is just the spunky little badass you imagined fellow Gunter Art3mis to be, but with bonus realism and vulnerability, Master of None actress/writer Lena Waithe is pleasingly awkward in spite of her intimidating avatar as Wade’s best friend Aech, T.J. Miller frequently steals the film as intimidating but seriously nerdy bounty hunter I-ROK, and Philip Zhao and Win Morisaki make for a lovably goofy double act as samurai/ninja obsessives Shoto and Daisho, while Simon Pegg is his usual warm and fuzzy self as OASIS co-creator Ogden Morrow. This is a gloriously OTT visual extravaganza brimming with fandom appeal and MASSIVE nostalgia value, a thrilling escapist adventure packed with precision-crafted and endlessly inventive action, and a consistently laugh-out-loud comic classic stuffed with knowing one-liners and genius sight gags … and of course, this being Spielberg, TONS of emotional heft and genuine, saccharine-free pathos. I could gripe about the fact that without John Williams on the score it doesn’t feel QUITE right, but that would be a lie – the choice to instead go with Alan Silvestri is actually a genius fit for the film, the composer unleashing his very best work since the Back to the Future trilogy. This is EXACTLY what we’ve come to expect from the original MASTER of the popcorn-crowd blockbuster, and it’s a genuine pleasure to have him back doing what he does best.

13. INCREDIBLES 2 – writer-director Brad Bird (The Iron Giant, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, Tomorrowland) is the man responsible for what I consider to be Disney-affiliated animation studio Pixar’s finest hour – forget Toy Story, Finding Nemo or Inside Out (although I admit they’re also f£$%ing awesome), 2004’s The Incredibles is where I place my allegiances. Of course, it helps that Bird and co essentially created an unofficial Fantastic Four movie four years before the MCU even got started, back when the X-Men movies were in their prime the first time round – I’m an unashamed comic book geek and I LOVE superhero movies, so this was cinematic catnip for me. Needless to say, like many other instant fans I CRIED OUT for more, and got increasingly restless as Pixar cranked out sequel after sequel for their other big hitters but remained frustratingly silent on the matter of their own super-family. Finally (and, interestingly, just as the MCU celebrated its own tenth anniversary) they delivered, and MY GOD what a gem it is. Brad Bird has achieved the impossible, matching the first film for wow-factor and geek-gasm, picking up RIGHT where the first film left off (seriously, we finally get to see the chaos that ensued after John Ratzenberger’s Underminer emerged in The Incredibles’ closing moments) with an instantly familiar yet refreshingly different tale of newly-united super-family the Parrs as they make their faltering first steps as a bona fide superhero TEAM. I don’t want to give much more away – this is a film best watched good and cold – suffice to say that father Bob/Mr Incredible (Poltergeist’s perfect screen dad, Craig T. Nelson) and mother Helen/Elastigirl (the always wonderful Holly Hunter) face new challenges as they attempt to balance their revitalised crime-fighting careers with keeping their family from imploding under the weight of much more down-to-earth problems, from daughter Violet (Sarah Vowell) suffering teenage heartbreak to son Dash (Huckleberry Milner, taking over for previous vocal talent Spencer Fox) struggling with “New Math” … as well as, in one of the film’s strongest storylines, infant Jack-Jack’s newly-emerged superpowers, which lead to some BRILLIANT moments of truly inspired humour and occasional full-on WEIRDNESS. Needless to say the external fireworks are just as impressive as the domestics – there’s a cool new villain in the form of tech-savvy puppet-master the Screenslaver (Bill Wise), who puts Helen through her paces as she stumbles onto a truly diabolical criminal conspiracy – the set-pieces are as strong as the first film’s, a spectacularly ballistic chase after a runaway train particularly impressing, while Bird and co have come up with rewardingly fresh moments to up the power ante from the series opener and show off the established characters’ talents in new ways, as well as introducing some great new supers to the mix (pick of the crop is Sophia Bush’s lovably awkward wormhole-juggler Void). The returnees are all as strong as they were first time round (including Samuel L. Jackson’s super-cool iceman Frozone), while there are memorable new faces to enjoy too, particularly the Incredibles’ born-fanboy tycoon sponsor Winston Deavor (Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul’s Bob Odenkirk) and his cynical scientist sister Evelyn (Catherine Keener), but once again the film is thoroughly stolen by Bird himself, even more hilarious in his short but ever-so-sweet role as thoroughly unique fashion mogul Edna Mode. Fun, thrilling and packed with DEEP belly-laughs, this is JUST as strong as the first film, a pitch-perfect continuation that pays off its predecessor beautifully while boldly carving new ground for what looks set to be a bright future indeed … let’s just hope we don’t have to wait another FOURTEEN YEARS this time round, okay?

12. ANT-MAN & THE WASP – 2018 was indeed the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s TENTH ANNIVERSARY, and their summer season offering OFFICIALLY made it three for three in the year’s hit parade, following runaway smash Black Panther and Avengers: Infinity War, the culmination of the ten year big screen phenomenon that began with Iron Man way back in 2008. In the heady aftermath of the series’ all-conquering behemoth, the second screen outing of the Avenger’s “smallest” member may seem like something of an afterthought, but trust me, this is anything but. The last time we saw Scott Lang (Paul Rudd), he was languishing in a hi-tech prison after coming to Captain America’s aid in 2016’s Civil War, and his absence from the Infinity War roster was not only noticeable but truly frustrating, but now, at last, we find out WHY he was a no-show. Scott took a deal to protect his family, and is now finishing up a two year stint under house arrest, clearly going a little stir-crazy as a result, but he’s been able to stay in touch with his beloved daughter Cassie (Abbie Ryder Fortson, still adorable but growing up REALLY FAST) and form a new security firm with his best friend Luis (Michael Peña), cleverly named “X-Con Security”. He’s also been long out of contact with his mentor and original Ant-Man Hank Pym (Michael Douglas) and his maybe girlfriend Hope Van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly), Hank’s daughter, after essentially stealing the Ant-Man suit to go break the law in Germany, thus turning his one-time allies into wanted fugitives, but they re-enter his life at the worst possible time when it becomes clear that Scott holds the key to returning Hank’s wife Janet (a small but potent role for Michelle Pfeiffer) from the seemingly impenetrable reaches of the Quantum Realm. With us so far? Yeah, the plot’s a bit of a head-spinner – and it gets even MORE complicated once a brand new threat emerges in the form of the Ghost (Killjoys’ Hannah John-Kamen), a lethal assassin who can phase through various physical states (frequently turning her into a LITERAL phantom), who’s determined to get her hands on Hank’s new quantum tunnelling tech – but as with the first film (and its closest MCU kin, the Guardians of the Galaxy), this is really just the backdrop for another laugh-out-loud comedy caper. Returning director Peyton Reed now officially makes Ant-Man his own (finally getting out from under the big shadow cast by the first film’s almost-helmer Edgar Wright), cranking the laugh-meter up even higher while also increasing the emotional weight and underlying dramatic heft of the central plot, as the dysfunctional surrogate family of Team Pym struggle to get back together after circumstances tore them apart – there are moments of genuine, heartstring-tugging power strung throughout, although they really just serve to temper the steady string of snappy one-liners, inspired sight-gags and, of course, Peña’s constant, riotous scene-stealing. He really does come dangerously close to running away with the entire film, but the rest of the cast are too strong to really let that happen – Rudd is really getting into the whole action-man thing now, but he remains consistently, pitch-perfectly HILARIOUS, while Lilly finally gets to properly jump into the action herself now that Hope has officially succeeded her mother as the second generation of the Wasp, Ant-Man’s hard-hitting, high-flying and seriously badass partner, and Michael Douglas gets a much bigger, far more active role this time round. This film’s weak-link may be its villain, with the Ghost ultimately proving a little one-note and ineffectual as a threat, but there’s no denying John-Kamen is a spectacular actress with a bright future, and her character certainly is distinctive, with a tragic back-story and personal drive that makes her rewardingly sympathetic; besides, there’s additional antagonism from slimy black market dealer Sonny Burch (the ever-reliable Walton Goggins), who’s also out to steal Hank’s tech, and The Interview’s Randall Park as Jimmy Woo, the brilliantly nerdy FBI agent keeping a close eye on Scott, while Laurence Fishburne is complex and ambiguous as Hank’s bitter one-time project partner Bill Foster. Reed once again delivers big-time on the action front too, wrangling some cracking fights and chases to get pulses racing amidst all the laughs, as well as finding plenty of inspired new ways to shake things up with Scott and Hope’s abilities to shrink (and now grow to truly MASSIVE scale) at will, and everything builds to a pleasingly powerful but also very fun ending that makes this a perfect family-night-out movie. And, of course, there’s also two cut-scenes interspersing the end credits – the second is amusing but ultimately throwaway, but the first is CRUCIALLY important to the post-Infinity War playing field of the series as a whole. Ultimately this was the LEAST impressive of the year’s MCU offerings, but that’s not a detraction – it’s just that, while this is really awesome, its predecessors are just EVEN MORE so. Another absolute winner from Marvel, then.

11. HOLD THE DARK – Neflix Originals’ best feature film of 2018 was this revenge thriller from Jeremy Saulnier, acclaimed director of Blue Ruin and Green Room, which marks his fourth collaboration with lifelong friend and regular acting collaborator Macon Blair (here also serving as screenwriter), adapted from the novel by William Giraldi. It’s a dark, bleak and introspective affair, an approach which goes well with its absolutely stunning but bitterly inhospitable Alaskan wilderness setting, an environment which, through Saulnier’s eye and the stylish lens of cinematographer Magnus Nordenhof Jønck, is as brutal and bloodthirsty as it is beautiful. Jeffrey Wright is typically understated but majestic as Russell Core, a writer who studies the behaviour of wolves, who is drawn to the remote Alaskan town of Keelut by grieving mother Medora Sloane (Mad max: Fury Road’s Riley Keough), who wants him to hunt the wolf she claims is responsible for killing her six year old son so she has something to show to her husband, Vernon (Alexander Skarsgård), when he returns from the war in Iraq. Soon enough, however, it becomes clear to Core that something else is going on in Keelut, and the deeper he digs for the truth the more horrific the revelations become, leading to deadly confrontations and a whole lot of blood. Saulnier is a master at creating a relentless atmosphere of skin-crawling dread and unbearable tension, taking his time building the suspense to breaking point before finally unleashing all that pent up pressure in one hell of a centrepiece set-piece, a blistering, drawn-out shootout in the snow that’ll leave fingernails bitten down to the quick, but he also frequently exercises a flair for subtle, contemplative introspection, just as happy to let quieter moments breathe to create scenes of breathless, aching beauty or eerie, haunting discomfort. Wright is a strong, grounding influence throughout the film, further anchored by the simple, honest decency of James Badge Dale’s put-upon small-town sheriff Donald Marium, but most everyone else is damaged or downright twisted in one form or another – Keough is truly batshit crazy, floating through the film like a silent wraith with big empty eyes, while Skarsgård is a stone-cold killing machine as he embarks on a relentless, blood-soaked quest for vengeance, and relative unknown Julian Black Antelope sears himself into your memory as vengeful grief drives him to explosive self destruction. This is a desolate and devastating film, but there are immense rewards to be found in its depths, and there’s a sense of subtle, fragile hope in to be found in the closing moments – this film is guaranteed to stay with you long after the credits have rolled, another gold-standard thriller from two truly masterful talents.

#overlord #sicario 2 #you were never really here #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #first man #bumblebee #ready player one #incredibles 2 #ant man and the wasp #hold the dark #2018 in movies

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