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sf-in-hindsight-blog · 6 years

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Samurai Flamenco in Hindsight, Episode 1: “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!”

“The cold open doesn’t hide the fact that Masayoshi is naked, but it quickly pulls our attention away so that going into the opening, we’re focused on Masayoshi’s conviction: whoever this naked weirdo is, he is dead serious. The episode version turns that on its head: whoever this dead serious guy is, he is a naked weirdo.“ - from the write-up

Official English Episode Title: “Debut of the Samurai Flamenco” (Crunchyroll) Japanese Title: サムライフラメンコ、デビュー! (Samurai Furamenko, debyū!)

Original Air Date: 10/11/2013 (also shown at the “noitaminA October Cour Special Premium Preview ” event on 9/28/13)

Episode Director: Ōmori Takahiro Episode Script: Kurata Hideyuki Episode Storyboard: Ōmori Takahiro Animation Directors: Yamada Masaki, Yamamoto Wataru

Check out the intro post for the Samurai Flamenco in Hindsight project here.

Spoilers start after the cut!

Navigation

Episode Summary

"The Design’s Slightly Different for the Movie!”: Repetition in “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!” and Beyond

In Plain Sight: Gotō and His Girlfriend the Second Time Through

Broadcast vs. Blu-Ray - Are the Improvements to the Blu-Ray version of This Episode Enough to Justify Seeking it Out?

Scattered Observations

Episode Summary

Returning from a late-night trip to the convenience store near his apartment, off-duty policeman Gotō Hidenori (Sugita Tomokazu) stumbles on a handsome young man sitting in a dark alley. When Gotō demands he identify himself, the other man stands and declares himself an "ally of justice" — just as the light from a passing car reveals that he's completely naked. Confused and flustered, Gotō tries to arrest the "pervert," the "pervert" pleads his innocence, and wackiness ensues until Gotō's hastily-thrown cigarette lands on the clothes the young man had been sitting on, turning them to ash. Feeling responsible, Gotō accompanies him to a swanky high-rise apartment; there, he learns that the would-be "hero" is Hazama Masayoshi (Masuda Toshiki), an up-and-coming model still pursuing his childhood dream of becoming a Kamen Rider-style defender of justice, just like the ones he (and Gotō) grew up watching on tokusatsu (toku) TV shows.

Although Gotō finds a lot of holes in Masayoshi’s plans — and is more than a little frustrated by Masayoshi’s eccentric personality — he quickly warms to him over the course of the evening. The feeling seems mutual, as Masayoshi (urged by his manager to improve his conversational skills) promptly tracks Gotō down at work and invites him for another round of toku shows and curry rice.

Despite Gotō's firm warning to stop playing vigilante, Masayoshi again ventures out as "Samurai Flamenco” — and promptly ends up on the run from a group of mildly delinquent middle schoolers who decide to hunt and pummel the “freak” for kicks. Masayoshi makes a desperate call to Gotō for help — but just as he’s about to tell Gotō where he is, Masayoshi suddenly finds his heroic resolve and decides to confront the teens a second time. Samurai Flamenco endures a beating, then rises to deliver an impassioned speech, reiterating his belief that turning a blind eye to minor crimes and misdemeanors only causes greater suffering — and that it’s especially cruel to be indifferent to the futures of kids like them. After a moment of stunned silence, the teens strike Masayoshi again, knocking him to the ground, but quickly scatter when Gotō arrives on the scene. Gotō initially chides his friend, but when Masayoshi asks if he’s closer to achieving the hot-blooded heroism he aspires to, Gotō softens, smiles, and agrees.

A final montage shows Samurai Flamenco continuing to confront petty lawbreakers throughout the city, that multiple videos of his escapades are starting to pop up on video sharing sites, and that whether online or in person, all eyes are on Masayoshi…

"The Design’s Slightly Different for the Movie!”: Repetition in “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!” and Beyond

Returning to “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!” for this retrospective, with all of Samurai Flamenco in the rearview, the first thing that struck me was how much of the series finale revisits the series premiere. Some aspects of that are obvious, like Masayoshi’s opponent, Sawada Haiji, being one of the teens he confronted in the first episode’s climax, and our hero being naked at a wildly inappropriate time. (To be fair, at least this time it’s not in public.) And while the official title for English streaming hides the resemblance, the literal Japanese titles for these two episodes, “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!” and “Samurai Flamenco Naked!!” — are clearly meant to mirror each other.

But there are more subtle connections as well. For instance, both episodes are set chiefly at Masayoshi’s apartment — and in a neat trick, the blown-up version we see in episode 22, with its dark palette, heavy shadows, and rough condition, echoes the alley where Masayoshi and Gotō first met, as if to combine those two settings into one. Likewise, while Masayoshi and Gotō’s conflict in the finale is most memorably foreshadowed by Kaname’s line in episode three that “convincing a friend they’re wrong is the hardest thing you’ll ever do,” episode one hints at what’s to come with the face-off in the Harakiri Sunshine movie Masayoshi and Gotō watch. If you listen to the movie’s dialogue, the conflict between Sunshine and Sunset is broadly parallel to the situation Masayoshi and Gotō find themselves in in the finale — and onscreen, the two sets of characters are visually aligned, with Masayoshi on the same side as Sunshine as he calls out to Sunset, projected in front of Gotō.

Structurally, both one and episode 22 begin with a scene that either repeats an earlier one or is itself repeated later, albeit with important differences in each case. (More on that in a bit). And if you want to get cute about it, the outfits Masayoshi and Gotō wear during the epilogue use roughly the same color scheme as those they wear in episode one, with Masayoshi in a purple hooded jacket and Gotō in a long-sleeved zip-up that’s the same pale blue as his aloha shirt.

What also struck me, though, was how much episode one makes use of repetition within the episode itself. Masayoshi brings Gotō to his apartment twice; there, they eat curry rice twice and watch Harakiri Sunshine twice. Gotō twice warns Masayoshi to lay off the vigilante stuff, and Masayoshi twice agrees that he will. Masayoshi then proceeds — twice — to head out as Samurai Flamenco and get in enough trouble that he needs to call Gotō to come rescue him, repeating what seems like it’ll soon become his catchphrase: “Gotō-san, I messed up!” And then there’s the post-credits montage showing four separate instances of Masayoshi confronting petty lawbreakers, and Konno viewing a “NuTube” page documenting even more of Samurai Flamenco’s appearances.

On the visual level, certain shots and framings are repeated, too — and not just obvious, utilitarian ones. Most strikingly (since it’s a little bravura for Samurai Flamenco), the two short sequences of Masayoshi modeling use the same setup: a close-up that “pivots” into a full-body shot seen in landscape view, followed by a long shot establishing the setting. In a similar unusually flashy bit, Masayoshi and Gotō entering Masayoshi’s apartment is shown through a series of jump cuts seen from overhead, and when Masayoshi’s flashes back to his encounter with the drunken salaryman, that’s also how the man’s jaywalking is depicted. Later, we get a pair of matching shots in which Masayoshi peers into his closet, followed by a panning POV shot across his clothes to the spot where his belts are hanging — the first time in his backstory flashback,

the second when he describes the discovery of his second hero suit.

And when Samurai Flamenco confronts the drunken salaryman, we see the man framed between Masayoshi’s legs, just before the cut to the man punching our hero —

a setup which is repeated after the commercial break with Masayoshi pacing back and forth in the foreground as Gotō listens to him monologue about working his way to up fighting big-time villains.

It’s at this point, of course, that Gotō interrupts to point out the flaws in Masayoshi’s plans, and the shock stops Masayoshi in his tracks as surely as the salaryman’s punch did. The visual similarity underscores that both Gotō and the salaryman challenge Masayoshi’s heroism (one on theory, the other on practice) — and this isn’t the only way time the show connects these two characters. It’s easy to overlook, but when first Gotō stumbles on Masayoshi, he’s not just smoking in the same no-smoking area as the salaryman, but also jaywalking at the same crosswalk. (The BD version corrects the backgrounds in Masayoshi’s flashback to make this clearer.)

This happens multiple times in episode one: one character will do something, and then another character repeats that action, stepping into their role in a similar scenario. Gotō encounters the delinquent teens outside the convenience store; a little later, so does Masayoshi, as Samurai Flamenco. Masayoshi visits every police box in the area to track Gotō down; later, after Masayoshi’s frantic call for help, Gotō decides to check every phone booth in the area until he finds him. In the Sunshine movie clip, Sunshine faces off against Sunset and challenges his heroic ideals; the exact same lines are used when Masayoshi “meets” Sunshine in his imagine spot, putting Masayoshi literally and figuratively in Sunset’s place.

So Samurai Flamenco uses repetition a lot in its first episode, but to what effect? Well, several effects, actually. Straightforward repetition helps to establish what’s normal in the world of the show (casual lawbreaking), and what becomes normal (Masayoshi and Gotō hanging out); likewise for character traits (Masayoshi can’t stop/won’t stop fighting “evil”) and the daily rhythms of character’s lives. By the end of the episode, we have a pretty good feel for what Gotō’s shifts are like after all those scenes at the police box, for instance — and we don’t need to be told that the work can be boring because we’ve seen Gotō yawning and staring blearily into space multiple times.

And the show makes similarly versatile use of repetition with a difference. Sometimes, putting two characters in the same scenario highlights differences between them (Masayoshi moved by his Justice to confront the kids as nuisances while Gotō just scowls and goes on his way); in other instances, it exposes surprising similarities when two seemingly different characters unwittingly or unknowingly mirror one another (Gotō and the drunken salaryman). We’ll see both versions frequently of this over the course of the show’s run: think about all the “Flamencos,” each distinct from Masayoshi in some important way, and all the times Masayoshi is unsettled when he recognizes a version of himself in his antagonists. (And not just that one really obvious one.)

An instance of repetition with a difference that I think is particularly worth exploring is Masayoshi and Gotō’s first meeting, which we see first as a cold open before the title sequence, then in context, after we’ve followed Gotō through his day up to the point of the encounter. In an episode full of flashbacks (how Masayoshi ended up naked in the alley, the discovery of the second Samurai Flamenco suit, etc.), the two versions of the alley scene are the only time we actually revisit material that we’ve already seen. Curiously, though, the in-episode version is not just the cold open replayed, nor is the cold open just a slightly more streamlined version of what we see after the title card. They both use the exact same dialogue, and some of the same footage, but differ significantly in their framing and editing.

(Want to follow along? The cold open runs from approximately 00:00 to 00:42, while the in-episode version is roughly 04:00 to 4:33.)

Let’s start by comparing the two scenes, beginning with the first shot they have in common. Within the episode — that is, after the title card — this comes shortly after Gotō leaves the convenience store. The sequence begins with Gotō noticing the pack of cigarettes on the ground. (Although we don’t quite see it onscreen — and I’ve single-framed through the cut enough times to be sure — the implication is that the drunken salaryman drops them when he punches Masayoshi.)

In both versions of the Masayoshi/Gotō meeting, what first catches Gotō’s attention is the light from the monorail passing overhead reflecting off the cigarette pack. However, in the cold open, we see the close-up of the cigarettes on the ground first, then a slight low-angle close-up of Gotō, with the monorail zipping offscreen in the upper right. The episode version reverses this: after a unique ground-level shot showing the cigarettes just in front of Gotō’s approaching feet, we cut to the close-up of Gotō, then the cigarettes, then back to Gotō. Both versions then synch up for a moment, as Gotō hears a cat screeching and some commotion off to his right (screen left).

The cold open cuts to a shot of the alley where Gotō will eventually find Masayoshi, with the camera pushing in toward the entrance.

The alley is considerably darker than the street, but we can see crates and garbage bins at the far end, arranged in such a way that it’s clear this alley intersects with another one. The following shot is positioned from within that other alley, showing propane tanks in the far background and, closer to the camera, the corner of a building. A moment later, Gotō’s head and shoulders peek around it.

Now we cut to what seems like Gotō’s perspective: a long shot of the alley he’s looking into, the entrance to the adjoining street visible in the background. In the midground of the shot, Masayoshi is just visible behind some boxes and a trashcan. After a moment, his head and shoulders move forward slightly; we can guess he’s heaving a sigh.

We return to the earlier shot of Gotō, who makes a surprised noise and raises an eyebrow, confirming for the viewer that he saw Masayoshi’s movement, then it’s back to the shot of Masayoshi, now lit up by the headlights of a passing car spilling into the alley. Another cut brings us closer to Masayoshi, and we can clearly see his bare shoulders, chest, and legs — along with his downcast eyes.

The scene dims as the car pulls away; Masayoshi turns and looks toward the camera — toward Gotō — and his mouth drops open in surprise. Gotō, in close-up, makes a startled noise; he knows he’s been spotted, too.

Now we get our first good look at Masayoshi up close: we can see that he’s hugging himself tightly behind that trashcan, and that he’s wearing a miserable expression. We return then to the close-up of Gotō, who slowly removes the cigarette from his mouth and asks Masayoshi to identify himself.

We need to pause here for a moment and get caught up with the episode version, because it eliminates many of the shots I’ve just described, starting with the establishing shot of the alley entrance. Instead, the episode version goes directly from Gotō glancing at the alley to him peering around the corner within the alley. Then it dumps the first shot of Masayoshi in the alley and the corresponding cut of Gotō noticing his movement, jumping directly to the car illuminating Masayoshi. We do get the close-up of Gotō reacting to Masayoshi noticing him, but not the matching sad-faced Masayoshi. Instead, in a single unbroken shot, Gotō is surprised, then removes the cigarette from his mouth. But, instead of Gotō asking Masayoshi who he is in the same shot, we cut back to the earlier framing of Gotō in medium shot as he peers around the corner.

In other words, Gotō performs the same action — removing the cigarette from his mouth and posing his question — but at a significantly greater distance from the camera, and so he appears smaller in the frame.

(left, cold open; right, episode version.)

Got all that? Good, because here is where the two versions really start to diverge. The cold open goes to a bird’s-eye view overhead shot, with Gotō peering around the corner at the far left of the screen, and Masayoshi at the far right.

We remain on this shot through nearly their entire dialogue exchange, until Gotō calls Masayoshi “suspicious,” asks if he’s a thief, and steps around the corner and into the alley itself. As Masayoshi insists Gotō is mistaken, we switch to a shot from roughly Masayoshi’s perspective, showing Gotō pulling back in surprise at the opposite end of the alley.

Masayoshi begins to rise up into the shot, and in such a tight close-up that Gotō is quickly and completely hidden by the back of Masayoshi’s head coming up through the bottom of the frame.

Cut to a shot, roughly from Gotō’s perspective, of Masayoshi standing in the alleyway. It’s relatively short in duration, giving us just enough time to register Masayoshi’s nakedness and the truck in the background before we cut to the final shot of the sequence — a chest-up shot of Masayoshi staring into the camera with an earnest, determined expression.

Dramatically backlit in gold, his voice now full of conviction, Masayoshi declares himself an “ally of justice” (“superhero” in the official subs). The light dwindles and we fade back to the alley’s previous darkness. Cue opening credits.

Now let’s jump back to see how the episode version ends the sequence. First, it does NOT go for a bird’s-eye view for Masayoshi and Gotō’s dialogue exchange. Instead, after Gotō asks “Who are you?”, we cut back to the earlier shot of Masayoshi behind the trashcan and crates.

In terms of camera position and framing, he’s shot in the same way as Gotō behind the corner was — and once Masayoshi delivers his line that he’s not a suspicious person, that’s exactly the Gotō shot we go back to.

Just like in the cold open, Gotō insists Masayoshi is, in fact, suspicious, asks if he’s a thief, and steps around the corner — but this time, we see him do it from the front, as if from Masayoshi’s perspective.

(left, cold open; right, episode version.)

The framing this sets up is exactly like what we saw in the first version, so it would be reasonable to expect the next thing we see to be Masayoshi’s head rising up through the bottom of the frame, concealing Gotō. But that’s not what we see. Instead, the shot ends when Gotō pulls back in surprise. Masayoshi rising to his feet is instead handled as a medium close-up of Masayoshi, seen from the front. The camera follows him, tracking his head and shoulders upward, until Masayoshi is perfectly centered in the frame. We see him from the chest up, face earnest and determined, dramatically backlit in gold.

You get it, right? The same setup as the final shot of the cold open. But the timing is different — and so is the editing.

Since this is a comparison, relative measurements will probably be more useful for conveying how these scenes end than “X seconds” and “Y frames,” so I’m going to describe these last two sets of shots with regard to Masayoshi’s final line: “I am…an ally of justice” (Boku wa…seigi no mikata desu). In the cold open, we hear “I am” as the back of Masayoshi’s head rises into the frame. The brief pause (“…”) covers both the end of that cut and the entirety of Masayoshi’s full body nude shot, meaning we don’t spend very much time on these two images — long enough for both images to register, but not enough for either to feel emphasized. When we get to the medium close-up, though, that perisists through all of “an ally of justice,” and is held on for a solid beat afterward. Relatively speaking, we spend a long time focused on Masayoshi’s determined face, enough that the light from the truck’s headlights can fade and another passing car provdes another pulse of illumination before we return to the alley’s earlier darkness. And in a sense, we stay fixed on his serious face into the opening credits, since the very first image there is another, even tighter, close-up on Masayoshi, still centered in the frame, now against a field of stars.

The episode version keeps the same pacing, but reverses the order of the shots. This means that the dramatic close-up takes place over “I am” and the pause,and that the shot that takes place over “an ally of justice” — the one that’s lingered on — is — yes —

Masayoshi's full-body nude shot. What’s more, since the vehicles just beyond the alley are still passing by at roughly the same time, this means that the close-up on his determined face only gets one shot of dramatic but obscuring backlighting, while the full-body shot is illuminated twice, calling attention to Masayoshi’s nudity. The cold open doesn’t hide the fact that Masayoshi is naked, but it quickly pulls our attention away so that going into the opening, we’re focused on Masayoshi’s conviction: whoever this naked weirdo is, he is dead serious. The episode version turns that on its head: whoever this dead serious guy is, he is a naked weirdo. Appropriately enough, what the final shot gives way to the second time around is utter wackiness and misunderstandings, underscored by wildly tilted angles, lighting and framing that emphasize both Masayoshi’s nakedness and Gotō’s outsize reaction, and, for the first time in either version of this sequence, music — a comic action track, “Dash,” that adds to the madcap atmosphere.

At this point, it should be clear that the two versions of Masayoshi and Gotō’s first meeting are staged very differently; at the same time, it would be reasonable NOT to notice this during ordinary viewing, since events play out almost identically until the end, and the changes in framing aren’t so marked as to call attention to themselves. As a result, the two versions of this scene essentially overlap — not perfectly, but to the point that the episode version feels like a continuation of the cold open.

The question is less “Why repeat this scene at all?” than “Why not just reuse the same footage?” Why put time and limited resources into making two separate iterations with unique artwork when you could just double up on the episode version, trimming it a little for time so it can work as an effective pre-opening tease? I think you could justify that decision in a variety of ways, and I don’t think the answer I’m about to give is necessarily “the right one.” But what’s most interesting to me is the subtly different impressions that the cold open and episode version give as a result of their unique formal features — which includes but is much more than just how they end.

The cold open’s framing works to establish Samurai Flamenco’s setting as a familiar real-world space, one that’s authentic not just visually, but experientially. Instead of being introduced to Yukimachi via a long shot of tall buildings seen from a distance, we start out right at street level, with Gotō seeing the cigarette pack on the ground — and when we do see buildings, they tower overhead, as if we were standing in that space.

With Gotō as our surrogate, the space continues to be mapped around us, primarily through editing — shot of Gotō looking, shot of the alley from his perspective, shot of Gotō poking his head around the corner we saw in the previous shot, shot of the intersecting alley from Goto’s perspective — but also camera movement. Even if we don’t take the camera pushing in toward the alley as literally representing Gotō moving in that direction, the push-in still conveys a sense of distance between the camera’s starting position and the alley itself. What I’d emphasize is not the literalness of the first-person perspective, but that 1) the show is taking pains to set up the geography of the the scene, and 2) that it does so from the perspective of someone physically in that space.

Of course, then we get that overhead shot of the alley, a view clearly not aligned with Gotō's POV or anyone else’s, and obviously not an angle from which we’re used to encountering alleyways in real life. As a result, we do lose that sense of direct immersion — but there are tradeoffs: for one; the shot clarifies for the viewer exactly where Masayoshi and Gotō are in relation to each other; second, and more importantly, the bird’s-eye view shows how realistically small and cramped the alley is. An alley is, after all, a gap between two buildings, not a thoroughfare -- but it’s unusual for them to be portrayed in such a way that viewer actually registers the space as confining. Here, the alley appears as a thin band between two steep walls that take up most of the frame, and while the area is neat and tidy, the propane tanks, bottle crates, and ventilation systems jutting out into the alley narrow it even further.

So even though the angle breaks with the literal “man on the street” perspective, the way the space is designed still adds to scene's sense of authenticity — and since we can tell that there isn’t much room to maneuver, and see how little distance there is between Gotō and Masayoshi, this also ups the tension.

Finally, the cold open having Gotō discover Masayoshi more gradually — perceiving his movement, but not calling out until Masayoshi’s presence is confirmed by the car headlights — suggests how difficult it is to see in the darkness of the alley. As viewers, we can pick Masayoshi out almost immediately, because the show isn’t really trying to hide him from us — notice how the shot’s lighting and color draw the eye to that specific part of the frame?

So adding a step to Gotō’s discovery process is important, because it emphasizes how dark this space is from the perspective of someone who’s in it.

Altogether, the cold open positions Samurai Flamenco as a series grounded in ordinary reality, with its “realism” defined by how closely the show tracks with everyday experience — particularly, of urban space. To put it another way, the cold open suggests that while this series will aim for a certain level of visual verisimilitude, its world is “the real world” because its characters live in and move through the kind of spaces that we do in real life. That in turn sets certain expectations for character behavior and what could reasonably happen in this series.

That said, we still have to reckon with how Masayoshi’s declaration at the end is framed. Think of how when Masayoshi’s head rises into the frame, he eclipses Goto, filling nearly the entire visual field;

how the world turns to gold behind him as he speaks; that when he names himself an “ally of justice,” he’s staring right at the camera — at the viewer.

While none of these shots violate the realism of the cold open up to this point (it’s truck headlights that create the gold backlighting effect, after all) these shots are slightly more dramatic, expressionistic, and attention-getting than what’s come before. The resulting contrast makes Masayoshi’s “I’m an ally of justice” feel just this side of uncanny — an eruption of strangeness in the middle of the ordinary that unsettles and disrupts. Put another way, when Masayoshi says that, and it’s framed that way, it feels like something outside what we might usually expect could happen. Now, I’m not claiming this is super-secret foreshadowing that Masayoshi’s desire to be a hero will literally warp the fabric of reality around his wish. That feels like a bit of a reach. But I would say that the cold open primes us for the idea that however ridiculous the hero media Masayoshi is obsessed with can seem, it might just have the potential to change the way things work, and is therefore worth serious attention.

The episode version, of course, upends that when it shifts the focus from what Masayoshi is saying to his full-frontal nudity. Still, as the scene devolves into wacky antics, the gag isn’t so much what Masayoshi is saying as his apparent obliviousness — he’s spouting lines like this while standing naked in a public alley, and even after Goto identifies himself as a police officer who intends to arrest Masayoshi and has told Masayoshi to freeze, Masayoshi’s response is to continue approaching the clearly nervous cop and plead his case.

The joke hinges, in other words, on Masayoshi’s personality. And if we look at what distinguishes the episode version from the cold open, we see that its unique formal features work to emphasize character and relationship development.

As mentioned earlier, the episode version completely removes several shots that were part of Gotō’s discovery of Masayoshi, like the view of the alley entrance and Gotō noticing Masayoshi in the dark, meaning Gotō spots him more quickly, and we get to their encounter that much faster. The overhead view of the alley is also gone, but in this case, the dialogue and action that took place during that shot are still there — just reframed into a shot/reverse-shot sequence alternating between Masayoshi and Gotō. We can still sense physical distance between the characters, since they’re framed in matching medium long shots, are seen roughly from the other’s perspective (almost-but-not-quite Gotō’s view of Masayoshi, and vice-versa), and are never in the same frame together until Gotō insists he’s going to arrest Masayoshi (that is, after the big nudity reveal).

Nevertheless, the space feels subtly bigger and more open than when we saw the buildings boxing the pair in, in part because we’re seeing it broken up into multiple views rather than as a single complete space.

What’s lost in spatial realism is gained in our actually getting to see Masayoshi and Gotō’s reactions to each other during their initial exchange, which were largely hidden in the cold open. To be sure, the visuals align with Sugita and Masuda’s vocal performances, so there are no real surprises here. Still, both characters are instantly easier to understand and relate to because we can see Masayoshi’s alarm at being discovered, Gotō’s caution that has him lean forward (that tilted chin) rather than take another step, Gotō’s irritation that this clearly nervous and at least half-naked guy sitting in an alley has the nerve to insist he’s “not a strange person” — and so on. We have a richer sense of who both of them are, and what their interactions will be like, because of this reframing.

In addition, the visual language of the episode version puts Masayoshi and Gotō on roughly equal footing. The cold open achieved its own kind of balance, giving Gotō the majority of the screentime, but giving Masayoshi the “final word.” Still, it was very clear which of these two will be the main character, because, aside from Masayoshi having the more unique look, he also gets the more impressive framing (again, he ends the sequence center frame, close-up, literally bathed in golden light). But the episode version undercuts the mysterious air Masayoshi had by the end of the cold open, and depicts both Masayoshi and Gotō in almost literally the same way, with the same framing, and roughly the same amount of time spent on each of their shots. This actually continues past the material covered in the cold open: the setup for Gotō’s “A pervert!” — a low-angle tilted shot — is also used to show Masayoshi protesting, just reversing the angle;

then, the shot over Gotō’s shoulder as he insists he’s going to arrest Masayoshi is flipped into one over Masayoshi’s shoulder as he approaches Gotō;

and so on.

In this version, the presentation privileges neither of them, and one way to read that that makes sense in light of everything that comes after is this: while Masayoshi is the lead, Gotō is equally important — not just to “the story” or “the plot,” but to the entire experience of Samurai Flamenco. More generally, the episode version says this series will be driven by characters interacting, (mis)communicating, and responding to the strong personalities around them.

To wrap up this comparison, I suggested that the episode version is poking fun at Masayoshi rather than the at idea that hero media might be worth serious consideration. What I’d add is that it does kind of still do that. Despite his conviction, Masayoshi loses his composure once Goto calls him a pervert, and from this point until the episode’s climax, his interest in heroes becomes a source of humor, while Gotō explaining why Masayoshi’s plans won’t work serves to highlight the ridiculousness of building your life and moral code around Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, and the like.

The show advances both ideas — but it didn’t have to stage Masayoshi and Goto’s first meeting twice to do that. Because it did, and because it avoids identifying one version as “what really happened,” instead allowing the versions to overlap but not exactly, I think that “Samurai Flamenco, Debut!” sets up the idea that both takes are correct: hero media is ridiculous entertainment for children and can’t impact the real world; also, hero media can inspire people in powerful, positive ways, meaning it can absolutely make a difference. Repetition with a difference becomes a way of creating and holding open the tension between these two ideas, both within this premiere episode and across the series as a whole.

Again, I want to stress that repetition does a lot of other things in this episode, and in this series. It’s a versatile tool that Samurai Flamenco makes use of time and time again, and there will be ample reason to come back to it as I work through the other 21 episodes. But looking back over “Samurai Flamenco Debut!!” and thinking about Samurai Flamenco as a whole, I feel like the sheer amount of repetition in this episode also signals how important repetition as a concept will be to the series. I’m thinking, for instance, of the way that genre tropes and formulas become an explicit problem in the show’s long middle arc, particularly the Torture and Flamengers episodes — and how routines, cycles, and being stuck in a rut are problems for several major characters. As with the two versions of Masayoshi and Gotō’s first meeting, the effect is subtle, and more apparent in hindsight than on first viewing, so “foreshadowing” might feel like too strong a word — but if you take into account all the different kinds of repetition in episode one, there’s just so much of it that it’s almost hard not to see it that way.

In Plain Sight: Gotō and His Girlfriend the Second Time Through

One of the pleasures of revisiting Samurai Flamenco is discovering how different the series is on rewatch. It’s not just that you start to spot foreshadowing of late-series twists and surprises; rather, knowledge of what’s to come and how much changes over the course of the show colors your viewing. For instance, until I knew how much more grown-up Masayoshi would be at the end of Samurai Flamenco, I didn’t appreciate just how self-centered and stubborn he was in the first nine or ten episodes — and not just when he’s at his worst during the Torture Arc. Likewise, Kaname definitely had a “trickster mentor” air pre-Flamengers, but when you return to the show’s early episodes after seeing him become more reliable, all his earlier buffoonery starts to look suspect.

Well, maybe not all. He did punch out a Wow Show! host because he got in too much of a punchin’ groove. And there was the time he jumped off a running motorcycle that nearly slammed right into Gotō. And…

But hands down, what affects all subsequent re-viewings of Samurai Flamenco more than anything is the Gotō’s Girlfriend situation. Even the discovery that Masayoshi had reality-warping powers has less of an impact, because while that does explain some things, it doesn’t prompt the complete and total reevaluation of one of the show’s fundamental pillars. Learning about Gotō Girlfriend’s disappearance and how Gotō has coped with that loss does have that effect. Although Gotō was never as straight-laced as a character in his position might be, he was always Samurai Flamenco’s anchor in Normal, setting the baseline for reasonable behavior, expectations, and actions that more eccentric characters played off of. Moreover, as the show’s effective co-protagonist, Gotō was the character we spent the most time with after Masayoshi, including time when Gotō was alone…which was not infrequently spent exchanging messages with his Girlfriend. Conversations with Her were one of the major ways that Gotō’s character was developed — and for viewers to learn what was on his mind when Masayoshi wasn’t around, since Samurai Flamenco isn’t big on interior monologue.

…well, it didn’t seem like it was.

The revelations in 19 and their fallout therefore don’t just cast new light on a few scenes — they impact virtually every episode, even those in which Gotō has a minimal part. That’s not to say that the impact is the same in every instance, though. Sometimes, knowing what’s in Gotō’s backstory clarifies what was formerly an ambiguous moment, like Gotō agreeing to overlook Samurai Flamenco and Flamenco Girl’s activities despite being tased by Mari the night before. Gotō is pretty forgiving -- but it probably didn't hurt that Masayoshi pointed how Mari’s violent vigilantism “saved many women who might have been victims.” (To drive it home, what does Gotō do as soon as Masayoshi says that? He looks at his phone.)

More often, knowing where the messages Gotō receives are coming from seems to offers new insight into what Gotō is thinking, suggesting inner turmoil not visible on the surface, or intensifying an otherwise understated emotion. (Think of Masayoshi’s sunny acceptance that killing monsters is part of being a hero during Torture Arc, Goto’s obvious unease — and his Girlfriend saying that the look in Masayoshi’s eyes frightens Her.) Occasionally, this can shift the overall tone of a scene. The most memorable instance is, of course, when Gotō gets a message in the middle of trying to Stop the Rocket, turning what was already the best gag in a subtly comic action scene into one of the most wonderfully WTF moments in the entire series. More generally, though, when Her texts trigger a tonal shift, it usually makes the scene in question a little more melancholy, in direct relation to how happy and/or invested in his relationship Gotō appears at the time.

While I won’t discuss the Gotō’s Girlfriend situation in every write-up, I do plan to come back to it often. Beyond cataloging what feels different in hindsight, there's a lot about it that I find interesting and worth exploring — for instance, how to talk about Gotō’s Girlfriend as a character. Even though I generally talk about Her as if She’s singular, She's really two characters who overlap but aren’t identical: Real Girlfriend who disappeared when She and Gotō were in high school; and Text Girlfriend, Gotō’s coping mechanism who exists only in his head and in his texts, but who nevertheless exists as a presence for the audience.

Paradoxically, the latter is the more developed Girlfriend and the one we get to know best, while Real Girlfriend becomes more of a cipher the more we learn about Her. That's worth discussing on its own, I think, AND in connection with everything that happens with Her and to Her in Final Arc. I have such complicated feelings about that that this write-up gets delayed a week every time I try to say more than "I'm going to write about this at length later." Suffice it to say for now that there’s a lot I like and also parts I find troubling, and I can’t wait to dig into it…eventually.

Before moving on to episode-one-specific Girlfriend discussion, a few notes on terminology and approach. First and foremost, I’m going to do my best to discuss Gotō’s mental state in a sensitive way, not just in terms of the language I use, but also how I frame my discussion. Second, because “Text Girlfriend” is the one we spend more time with, you can assume that if I don’t say otherwise, She’s the one I’m referring to when I say “Gotō’s Girlfriend.” Finally, and related to number two, unless it’s genuinely necessary, I’ll avoid going out of my way to flag the difference between Text Girlfriend and Real Girlfriend — for instance, putting big quotes around “Her” to indicate that we’re talking about texts that aren’t from Real Girlfriend (ex. "Then Gotō shows Mari one of 'Her' texts, and..."). That would arguably be a more precise approach, but I’ll be taking a lot of care not to conflate the two Girlfriends — and assuming you took the spoiler warning seriously, you’ve seen the show, and you don’t need me to keep highlighting the obvious.

Getting Acquainted with the Lovebirds ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

Virtually every scene focusing on Gotō, his Girlfriend, and their relationship become at least a little bittersweet on rewatch, but I think that’s especially true of their bits in episode one. The obvious reason is because for most viewers, this is the first episode you revisit after watching episode 22. You go from seeing Gotō in the depths of despair after losing Her -- and thanks to the flashback, you actually suffer through it with him twice in the same 22 minutes. Then, suddenly, Gotō is back in that relationship, looking happy and satisfied, except now you KNOW. And you know what he's in for 21 episodes later. So that’s part of it.

The other reason these scenes can be painful the second time through is because episode one so effectively sells Gotō’s Girlfriend as a character, along with Gotō’s feelings for Her. Her texts convey a vibrant and distinctive personality — although not all of it comes through in the simulcast translations. For instance, She doesn’t just open that first text with “Hey,” but a more playful “Nyahoho~i”; and says “I want to see you” four separate times, with the last three coming almost one right on top of the other — “I want to see you! I want to see you I want to see you I WANT TO SEE YOU.” There’s also a skipped-over line that has her playing up her embarrassment at having left her umbrella behind (“(/ω＼) Embarrassed— 💩”)

I bring this up just to note it, not to rag on the translator(s). Apart from the ordinary stresses of simulcast translation, limited onscreen space, and limited time to display the translation, it wasn’t obvious at this point in the series that Gotō’s Girlfriend’s texts would be important enough to warrant a fuller, more colorful translation. Plus, they did include the \(^O^)/ emoji in their translation of the first message, which draws attention to all the embellishment in the original, thereby giving a little more of the flavor of her messages than we’d get if it were just straight text.

And really, you don’t need to be able to read Japanese to see that Her texts are packed with emoticons and emoji, including animated hearts, surprised and embarrassed faces, and ample use of the poop 💩 emoji. Look a little more closely, and you’ll notice every sentence has something attached to it, acting as intensifiers (the blue despair face 😨, broken heart 💔, and poop 💩) when she announces she can’t find her umbrella), clarifications (the little purple devil 😈 that turns “I’m kidding” into good-natured teasing), and decoration, as when her nickname for Gotō, “Gocchin,” is flanked by six different emoji (“💖🐷 Gocchiiiiiiin✨❤️🦁🌸”). She sometimes substitutes emoji for words, like the umbrella emoji ☂️ for “umbrella,” and also seems to enjoy visual punning: when She announces She’ll come next month to take — “tori” — her umbrella home, She follows that with a bird emoji 🐦, which can also be “tori.” Then She turns “yoroshiku onegaishimasu” into “yoroshiku onegaishimanbooooo,” ending with a mola mola/ocean sunfish emoji, which is “manbo” in Japanese.

Already, a particular voice and presence emerges from these two messages. Gotō’s Girlfriend comes off as cute, playful, and clever, but with a certain agreeable weirdness, too (“onegaishimanboooo”). That She can be informal and joke around with Gotō (“I want to see you” x 4, “Just kidding, I’m going to bed”) suggests She’s confident in a well-established relationship, and that She and Gotō are enough on the same wavelength that She can say something like that without fear of hurting him. Alternately, maybe She’s a little thoughtless about stuff like that. But looking at all the decoration, these are messages that would take a little effort to type out, so we could see that effort as a sign of Her affection — along with the fact that as emoji/emoticon-intensive as Her messages are, She replies almost immediately when Gotō answers Her text about the umbrella.

Gotō’s quick to pick up, too, snapping open his phone just as soon as he gets the notification and staring intensely at the screen as he reads. Then…he just melts. Cut to Gotō walking to the convenience store, humming to himself; he’s swaying side to side, a little spring in his step, a smile on his lips…

His pace starts to pick up; his grin widens.

Now he’s running, now he’s bounding down the street — and finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Gotō lets loose a joyous shout into the night.

Sugita’s performance is perfection — and I think that’s true of Gotō’s portrayal here more generally. We don’t have to be told that Gotō is smitten with his Girlfriend — we can see it in the way that he’s physically overcome by his feelings for Her. That sudden burst of energy is in such stark contrast to the Gotō we saw standing guard at the police box just moments ago, not just visibly bored but frozen in place, literally unmoving until the very end.

Now, to be sure, that scene reads as more comic than bleak, thanks to its bright color palette and the lighthearted background track (“Nonki na Hirusagari”). Still, it’s clear that police work can be dull, and that Gotō’s relationship is a little ray of light that allows him to endure the dullness, and the coming home to a teeny-tiny apartment where no one is waiting for him, and the not being able to go to the convenience store without having to get past a bunch of idiot kids acting like idiots right outside the door,

and of course there’s a huge line, and oh would you just LOOK at this DRUNK ASSHOLE cutting in line, and of course the cashier just rings him up like it’s no problem —

I’m deliberately laying it on a little thick here, because, again, the tone of this segment is light — but because the tone is light, it can be easy to miss that our introduction to Gotō is largely a collection of the little frustrations that are part of Gotō’s daily life. The exception is his time with his Girlfriend. At this point in the series, Gotō’s contentment is entirely wrapped up in Her, and damn that’s painful to type now. I do think it’s to the show’s credit that none of this plays as farce the second time through, especially given how over-the-moon Gotō is. It’s all a little weirder, and I do find myself asking questions like “Is this the first time he’s done the bit with the umbrella, or is this an established scenario he runs through every now and then?” But the overwhelming feeling I have is pity, for him, and for Her.

One last thing episode one-specific thing I’d like to note before wrapping up. As much foreshadowing as Samurai Flamenco offers, the show generally avoids tipping its hand vis-a-vis the Gotō’s Girlfriend situation. I’ve rewatched the show many times, and found just a few instances that, in hindsight, seem like blatant hints that things aren’t exactly what they seem. See, for instance, episode 4: Gotō sends Her a text, and while he’s waiting for a response, he types out another message that we don’t see. The next time he opens his phone, he has a text waiting on him from Her.

Σ(･口･)

Episode one has something that may qualify: in certain shots early in the episode, Gotō has lines under his eyes that aren’t part of his standard character model.

We see them during his first scene at the police box, when he’s so deeply bored, then they show up again when he’s texting his Girlfriend at his apartment after work.

Their final appearance is when Gotō is listening to Masayoshi explain his crimefighting plans, just after the commercial break.

It’s be easy to read that as Gotō just being exhausted…although the only other time I recall seeing Gotō with lines under his eyes like this with any consistency — and he isn’t just waking up or something along those lines — is the long flashback in episode 22, when Gotō is drowning in grief over his Girlfriend’s disappearance.

In that light, this feels kind of like a sign: “Despite seeming like a fully functional adult in a wholly satisfying relationship, Gotō is still suffering, maybe more than he even knows.” In general, I think that’s true, especially given how Gotō reacts to Masayoshi calling him out in episode 20 — but I’m hesitant to put a lot of weight on these lines as evidence given that they sort of…appear and disappear. They’re completely gone after Gotō leaves his apartment for the convenience store, and stay gone until after the episode’s midpoint. Then, after their brief appearance in Masayoshi’s collection room, that it — lines no more. It’s not simply a matter of omitting details that wouldn’t be visible from a distance, either — we get plenty of close-ups between the convenience store and the collection room, and no lines. If the show wanted Gotō with lines under his eyes to mean something really important, you’d expect them to be consistent, right?

At the same time…you’ve seen Samurai Flamenco, right? This show struggled to stay on model for features the characters are supposed to have all the time, like Masayoshi's prominent lower eyelashes. It wouldn’t be surprising for a design element that was only supposed to be in place for part of an episode to go missing during the initial broadcast run. And as much attention to detail as the Blu-ray improvements show, corrections were relatively skimpy until the Flamengers arc. So I do think it’s plausible that the show may have intended the lines under Gotō’s eyes to carry a specific meaning that would become more apparent on second viewing — and they just dropped the ball. We'll probably never know, though.

Broadcast vs. Blu-Ray - Are the Improvements to the Blu-Ray version of This Episode Enough to Justify Seeking it Out?

Yes, but I’d say more if you want to get a friend into Samurai Flamenco than if you’re interested in a dramatically different viewing experience. The broadcast version of “Samurai Flamenco Debut!!” wasn’t particularly polished despite being the first episode out of the gate, and the alterations made for the home video release are relatively minimal. If you’ve seen the show already, you probably won’t notice them the way you will the revisions to the Flamengers episodes, for example.

That said, there are some changes that I appreciated. The first part of Masayoshi’s “CHANGE! SUNSHINE!” gets an animation bump, adding details to each frame. More importantly, there are also small fixes that improve spatial continuity, like replacing the background behind the drunken salaryman during his confrontation with Masayoshi so that he actually drops his cigarettes in the street Gotō ends up walking down. That wasn't true of the broadcast version. Likewise, the Blu-ray version makes sure that the video of Masayoshi lecturing the delinquent middle schoolers shows him pointing a finger at the delinquent middle schooler recording him rather than randomly thrusting his finger into the sky. It’s a better-looking episode, no question, but the difference isn’t dramatic.

See my detailed comparison here.

Scattered Observations

“Samurai Flamenco Debut!!” is the only episode for which series director Ōmori Takahiro provided the storyboards, and one of only two for which he serves as the episode director. (Would you be surprised if I told you the other was…episode 22?) This is fairly typical for Ōmori, who is often credited as the “director” or “chief director” for a series as a whole, but “episode director” for only the first and/or final episode of a show. I have a pet theory that in addition to what we generally think of as directorial skills (knowing how to set up a shot to create a particular impression, coaching performances, etc.), Ōmori is also a talented project manager, and that he’s a big part of the reason why Samurai Flamenco came out as good as it did as studio Manglobe approached its end.

The setting of Samurai Flamenco is Yukimachi Town, a (fictional) district within the larger (equally fictional) Shibiru City. We aren’t actually in Tokyo proper yet, and won’t be spending a lot of time there until the Flamengers Arc.

You may have noticed that Gotō and his co-worker Totsuka sometimes have a dark-colored stab vest on over their uniform, but usually only one of them at a time. That’s not an error — if you watch, it’s always the one who is standing guard outside the police box, or who has just come from in from doing so. That specific duty is called ritsuban. The fact that the one standing outside is usually turned away from the police box interior makes it easy for Gotō to conceal his reactions when something Samurai Flamenco-related comes up. Likewise, that Totsuka is looking inside during Masayoshi and Gotō’s conversation in this episode underscores that yes, Totsuka is listening in…

Every character seen in the opening has at least a cameo in episode one, although Mari, Mizuki, and Moe only show up on a magazine cover. They won’t appear in person until episode two.

Look closely when Masayoshi opens the door to his apartment, and you’ll see he has a Red Axe keychain.

The curry Masayoshi and Gotō eat is branded with Brass Rangers Ensemble, the sentai series that’s airing in-universe during this part of Samurai Flamenco’s run, and that Masayoshi has a guest spot on in episode 5.

If you enjoyed this write-up, please share it with your friends, and support Samurai Flamenco in whatever way possible. Stream from legal sources (ex. Crunchyroll), buy the home video releases if they are available where you are (I can personally vouch for All the Anime’s excellent Region B Blu-rays, and am currently enjoying Peppermint Anime's German dub), and support people who engage with the show, whether through critical essays and appreciations, fan art and fan fiction, remixes, or whatever.

Until next time, FLAMWENCO!

Ko (ratherboogie)

#samurai flamenco #samumenco #hazama masayoshi #goto hidenori #goto's girlfriend #gotou hidenori #long post #image heavy #gotou's girlfriend #samumencometa

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randomrichards · 6 years

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THE BEST MOVIE MOMENTS OF 2018:

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Opening/Closing Credits from BUDDIES

I’m putting this as honorable mention because this is an older movie recently rereleased.

The first film about the AIDS Crisis, Buddies strikes at the heart with its opening credits with a typed list of AIDS victim up to 1985. Set to a mournful score by Jeffrey Olmstead, the never ending list of lives cut short puts you in tears.

Alex Honnold faces Boulder Problem in FREE SOLO

Most thrillers can only wish they could be as gripping as in the moment when Alex Honnold maneuver’s his way through the most challenging section of El Capitan Wall without rope in this Documentary.

Ray Offers Wisdom from Mid90s

“If you looked in anybody else’s closet, you wouldn’t trade your shit for their shit.”

Ray (Na-kel Smith) and his friends may not be the best role models for the impressionable Stevie (Sunny Suljic), but in this moment, Ray teaches him a lesson in perspective.

Glenn Close’s performance in THE WIFE

I’m not referring to any moment. Just Glenn Close’s acting. She speaks more volumes with her face than most actresses could with dialogue.

10) The Beach Scene from ROMA

Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) is an extraordinary woman. Sure, her life hanging towels and cleaning dog poo doesn’t seem like anything special. But like many lower working-class people, she endures. Boy does she endure a lot of shit in this movie. Not only does her deadbeat boyfriend ditch her to practice martial arts, but her baby is born dead. Despite all this, she not only continues her work, but she shares a close bond with the family. She showcases this bond and her strength when a fun day at the beach goes horribly wrong.

When Paco (Carlos Peralta) and Sofi (Daniela Demesa) swim too far out, Cleo walks into the ocean to save them despite not knowing how to swim. We watch in dread as she faces severe waves to find the kids, the camera always close to her.

This scene also contains a beautiful scene of the family hugging Cleo when she tears up over losing her baby. Seeing them all huddled together in front of a bright white sun captures the heart.

9) “A Place Called Slaughter Race” from RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET

Admit it, it’s fun to take pot shots at Disney Tropes. Hell, even Disney gets in on the fun. And boy do they seize on every moment to mock Princess tropes when Vanellope Von Shweetz (voiced by Sarah Silverman) encounters the Disney Princesses. Of course, it helps that Director Rich Moore and Head of Story Jim Reardon creates some of the best episodes of the Simpsons. Though there are many hilarious moments[1], none can hold the candle to Vanellope’s “I Want” song.

As she reflects over a puddle, Vanellope sings about her longing to be in the gritty game “Slaughter Race.” Seeing this little girl perform this lighthearted musical number over a background of riots and dumpster fires is comedy gold. Nearly every element of this number elevates the comedy, from singing shark (with cats and dogs in its mouth) to the creative lyrics (“Am I a baby pigeon spreading wings to soar?/ Is that a metaphor?/Hey, there’s a dollar store”). And the number still finds time to emphasize Vanellope’s fear of hurting Ralph (John. C Reilly).

Kudos to Alan Menken for mocking the trope he (and the late Howard Ashman) introduced to Disney. Just as deserving of Kudos is Silverman, who faced to task of singing in Vanellope’s high pitched voice.

8) Charlie Loses Her Head from HEREDITARY

With her unusual hobbies, connection to her late grandmother and that clicking sound, you’d assume Annie’s (Toni Collette) daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) would be the centre of the whole film.[2] Boy, were we in for a surprise.

Spoilers!

When Charlie suffers a peanut allergy reaction, Peter (Alex Wolfe) races her home. On his drive, he sees a mysterious figure in the middle of the dark road. In his attempt to dodge it, he doesn’t see Charlie hanging out the window. Seeing her head slam right into a pole leaves us as traumatized as Peter is. To see them kill off a main character so early in the film is downright shocking. With this death, predictability goes right out the window and we are left uncertain of what direction this film will go.

7) Neil Armstrong Soars in the X-15 Rocket Plane in FIRST MAN

It’s funny how the most exciting scene in this film isn’t the moon landing. Don’t get me wrong, the scene’s still breathtaking in its realism, but it’s surprising how thrilling the opening scene.

Damien Chazelle hits the ground running with Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) soaring the atmosphere in an X-15 Rocket Plane. He soars higher and higher into the skies until he flies out of earth’s surface and gets stuck in space

Albeit, you know he will be back on earth in time for the moon landing. And yet, I found myself on the edge of my seat, wondering how he’s going to get back to earth. Most of it is thanks to the visual effects, which contains some of the most believable since 2001: A Space Odyssey. The effects leave CGI in the dust with practical effects that look so real, you’d think Gosling was actually flying into space.

6) The Ferris Wheel Scene from LOVE, SIMON

High School Movies are home to many unforgettable romantic scenes. There’s Samantha (Molly Ringwald) and Jake (Michael Schoeffling) standing over a birthday cake in Sixteen Candles. There’s Patrick (Heath Ledger) singing to Katarina (Julia Stiles) on the bleachers in 10 Things I hate About You. And who can forget Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” outside Diane Court’s (Ione Skye) in Say Anything. Be ready to include the closing scene of Simon (Nick Robinson) waiting on the Ferris wheel for online pen pal Blue from Love, Simon.

After being outed by a student, infuriating his friends for deceiving them in his attempt to stay closeted and abandoned by Blue, Simon makes a plea to meet with Blue face to face on the Ferris Wheel at a carnival. As he rides on the Ferris Wheel, he, fellow classmates and the audience wait in anticipation for Simon’s happy ending.

5) The Book Heist from AMERICAN ANIMALS

When Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) plotted to steal extremely valuable books from the Transylvania University library in Kentucky, they thought they had the perfect heist. With the help of their friends Erick Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) and Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), they thought they pull off a heist as smooth as Oceans 11.[3]

But reality hits them like a sledge hammer when they try to pull off the heist. Unlike their dreams, Librarian Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd) doesn’t get knocked out with one taser jolt. It also isn’t easy to lug a six-foot book down a flight of stairs. Then there’s the fact the basement has no exit. That’s just a few of many problems they never consider. From then on, we witness them pay a huge price for their hubris and lack of real-world understanding.

Only youths as smart as they are to come up with such a stupid plan.

4) The Mutant Bear from ANNIHILATION

Biologist Lena (Natalie Portman) and her team find themselves in a quite a bind. After entering the Shimmer, physicist Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson) has barely survived an attack from a mutant alligator and Anthropologist Cassie Sheppard (Tuva Novotny) has been attacked by a bear. Now paramedic Anya Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez) has gone mad and has tied up Lena, Radek and Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh). But when they hear Sheppard’s cries for help, they will soon find Anya is the least of their worries.

Their journey delivers many grotesque, nightmare inducing visuals (especially the slithering intestines.) But the most memorable moment in this film was the image of the helpless crew trapped in a cabin with a mutant bear. Bears are scary enough on their own, but a faceless one is pants spitting meeting. And then you hear it imitate Sheppard’s screams and suddenly you need a new pair of pants.

3) The Great Snap from AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR

The whole Marvel Cinematic Universe had been leading up to this moment. The fact that nearly every character had a moment to shine in this one movie demonstrates the astounding direction of the Russo Brothers. But despite all the epic fight scenes, everyone agrees that this film’s greatest scene is the heroes moment of defeat.

Despite every effort made to stop in, despite outnumbering Thanos and despite Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) sacrificing Vision (Paul Bettany) to destroy the mind stone, Thanos still got all the infinity stones. And with a single snap, Thanos succeeds in wiping out half the universe’s population. One by one, we watch many of our heroes vanish into dust while others watch in helpless horror. But none are more heartbreaking that the moment when Spider-Man (Tom Holland) falls into Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) arms, crying “I don’t want to go.” All because some characters couldn’t make the sacrifice needed

Yes, we knew he was going to succeed in the end.[4] And yes, you know most of the heroes won’t stay gone.[5] And yes, their return will likely involve the surviving heroes sacrificing themselves.[6] But the ending still feels powerful despite this knowledge.

It all concludes with Thanos sitting near a cottage, content in his triumph. If the MCU ended here, it would have been a perfect ending. But I’m still curious to see how this will go.

2) The Closing Close-Up in CAPERNAUM

The closing image of Zain’s (Zain Al Rafeea) face will haunt you beyond the closing credits. Throughout the film, we’ve seen this kid struggle through hell on the streets of Lebanon, trying to protect his sister from their resentful parents and helping an Ethiopian Migrant Worker take care of her son. But when he’s sent to prison for assaulting a pimp who bought his sister, he decides to sue his parents for the crime of bringing him into this miserable world. Writer/director Nadine Labaki never looks away for a second to the brutality of Zain’s world and how it brings out the worst in Zain.

When the film freezes to the image of Zain smiling for a Passport photo, your heart breaks for him as Khaled Mouzanar’s haunting score plays out.

1) Tish and Fonny’s Walk Through the Park in IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

No other opening scene has done a better job of putting its audience under its spell than when loving couple Tish (Kiki Layne) and Alfonzo “Fonny” Hunt (Stephan James) stroll through a park holding hands.

There’s beauty in every element of this scene, from Nicholas Britell’s romantic score to the warm looks in the character’s eyes. But what really sells it is James Laxton’s lush cinematography. The colours pop through the yellows and blues on the couple’s clothes and the green of the grass. You are as in love with this couple as they are for each other.

Then the film cuts to Tish visiting Fonny in prison, this time the yellow is the prison, the blue is Fonny’s jumpsuit and the green is on Tish’ outfit. From then one, we know why their love is worth fighting for.

[1] Mostly at the expense of Ariel (Jodi Benson)

[2] Especially when she appears so prominently in the advertisements.

[3] As indicated by a fantasy sequence.

[4] Since we know this was going to be a two parter.

[5] Especially when there are already planned sequels to Black Panther, Spider-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy. After all the money Marvel’s got from Black Panther? They’re not going to give up that meal ticket.

[6] What with Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Evans retiring their characters.

#random richards #Random Richards Reviews #If Beale Street Could Talk #ralph breaks the internet #Capernaum #Avengers #infinity war #annihilation #American Animals #Love Simon #Buddies #Free Solo #Mid90s #Roma #The Wife #First Man #Hereditary #a place called slaughter race

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mesaylormoon · 7 years

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Film and Fluff Blogging: A Review of Riverdale Season 1

My. Goodness. Where do I begin to describe my mixed feelings about Riverdale? I have never been particularly interested in shows predominantly marketed toward teenagers, and this show has reminded me why. Riverdale not only has a tonally-dissonant premise, it combines such elements as one-dimensional characters, countless cliches, poorly-written dialogue, plot holes, and clumsy plot twists--so many of them that I would normally consider this a terrible show. Strangely enough, though, every element of Riverdale that makes it irritating... also makes it uniquely charming.

A friend of mine, who loves Riverdale, recently recommended this show to me. I was quite hesitant at first to watch it, but I thought following along with it would give me something new to enjoy, as well as give me a chance to grow closer to her by sharing some of her interests. While I don’t dislike the show (in fact, Riverdale is a guilty pleasure of mine), I understand that it is hugely flawed.

Riverdale, a once-peaceful town, is suddenly shaken by the mysterious death of Jason Blossom. No one knows knows what caused his untimely death, but Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones, and the rest of their friends, are determined to find out. In the midst of all this, our main characters also navigate a world of drama, romance, school, and scandal, as they struggle to make it through another year.

The synopsis of Riverdale alone is enough to confuse the average viewer, and anyone can see that these stories, when combined, make the show seem confused and inconsistent. Ideally, if one decides to feature two major stories within a television show or movie, they should relate with one another. Obviously, crime/mysteries and teen drama are premises independent of one another. I understand that shows like Riverdale are meant to appeal to a relatively young audience, but not every teenager is interested in the artificial, manufactured drama involved in high school-centered media. Had the writers and directors not pandered to their stereotypical demographic, their latest outing would’ve been stronger. In my opinion, Riverdale would have benefitted from keeping focus on one of its stories--the mystery or the lives of Betty, Archie, and company--and including a subplot involving either the emotional effects of Jason’s death on his family and friends, or the maturation of the characters as they learn to grow past the petty problems of their social lives. Because of the choices made when writing Riverdale, viewers are left with a story that feels lacking, and fails to deliver what could’ve been a more entertaining, consistent, powerful piece. But with that said, I also think that the addition of the show’s high school side plot can be quite entertaining. It allows for humorous exchanges between Riverdale’s protagonists and antagonists, and provides a charmingly awkward “sort-of” satire of teen films. At times, these humorous moments are welcome in a show that takes itself abnormally seriously.

The characters of Riverdale are all flat, and do not distance themselves from the teen show/film cliches they so love to mock. Jughead Jones, arguably the show’s most popular character, is a perfect example. He is a typical distant, withdrawn social outcast who loves sardonic humor and believes himself to be different because of this. As I’m sure most of you are aware, this character trope is as old and tired as they come, and Cole Sprouse’s dry, monotone performance makes Jughead an even less memorable character.

Archie Andrews, in my opinion, is the worst of the cast. At first, he seems to be a sweet boy who cares deeply for his childhood friend, Betty. As the show progresses, however, he becomes more of a selfish player, forgetting about a friend who very much loved him in favor of practically every female character in Riverdale. Ultimately, he is self-sacrificing and loves his family and friends, but these qualities are somehow not enough to make up for his flaws.

Betty Cooper, while a friendly, timid girl, is easily the most uninteresting of her friends. The show does elude to a psychotic side that lies dormant within her, but given the first season’s lack of focus on this element, it’s hardly worth mentioning.

Oddly enough, I think Veronica Lodge is a fairly interesting character. She is established early on to be a supercilious person, but she balances out her more negative qualities and actions with a good amount of positive development. It becomes more obvious by the end of the season that she desires to be a supportive and selfless person, and the air of snobbiness that’s left within her actually gives her a bit of a fun edge. Veronica is a decent spin on the “rich girl” archetype, and Camila Mendes very clearly enjoys being able to bring to life the traits associated with her role.

Cheryl Blossom is obviously the most unlikable character in the cast. In the first episode, she appears to be a tender, grief-stricken girl who is deeply mourning her brother’s death. While the latter is true, she quickly sheds this disguise, showing the audience that she is a cruel, sadistic, taunting, manipulative, attention-hungry individual. I’m honestly unsure whether or not Cheryl or Jughead is the more cliche of the two, but both characters are terribly written all the same. What saves this trite girl, however, is Madelaine Petsch’s performance. Petsch is aware that Cheryl is comprised of every obnoxious cliche you would use to describe characters like her, but her delivery and gestures are indicative of immersion in the role. She smiles and speaks insincerely, her voice rings with an occasional annoying sweetness, she walks and postures with sass and self-righteousness, the works. Petsch, like Mendes, has probably wanted to play someone like Cheryl for years, and she has her fun moments.

The pacing and haphazard placement of plot points also detract from Riverdale’s entertainment value. Almost every time a character’s new story arc is being established, it seems to be interrupted by the story arc/appearance of an unrelated character. This certainly makes the storytelling sloppy; it would’ve been more coherent had the show somehow been written in such a way that the characters’ arcs could’ve had their own time devoted to them.

The plot twists of Riverdale do allow for more plot investment, but they often open a whole set of plot holes. Perfect examples of such plot holes can be found later in the season, and they all revolve, of course, around the death of Jason Blossom. The characters believe that he drowned, but as the story progresses, the narrative leading up to his death changes inconsistently. Cheryl later describes the story as hearing a gunshot while walking through the forest, but it is later revealed to have been a ------ --------- -- --- ------. Although the mystery still lingers up to this point, it raises questions such as: why would Cheryl have pretended to know anything about her brother’s death; why would have the other characters seemed to be genuine in their beliefs of hearing a gunshot at Sweetwater River; and wouldn’t Jason’s mother have been suspicious about her son’s behavior and followed him before -- --- ------? There are other plot holes to be addressed in the show, but these were the most prominent. Again, the mystery involved is intriguing, but plot holes such as these prove to be little more than distracting.

Riverdale is, without question, an extremely flawed show. Many of its characters are unlikable and/or forgettable, the drama can be forced and manufactured, the story often fumbles, and most of the performances by the actors are terrible. But in some respects, the characters seem to be aware of how stupid the show they’re in is, and their interactions with one another are entertaining because of the archetypes they embody. I suppose Riverdale is a serviceable “parody” of teen dramas and mysteries (although that is not what it intends to be) and all of the show’s negative qualities allow for audiences to enjoy it as a fun romp. It’s an ideal show to watch if you’d like to have a good laugh with family and friends, and it’s interesting enough that’d you’d like to know how the story will continue. Despite its flaws, I’d love to see the second season of Riverdale, and I hope I have the chance to see what I’ve missed in the last few months.

#riverdale #riverdale review #the cw #kj apa #cole sprouse #lili reinhart #camila mendes #madelaine petsch #betty cooper #veronica lodge #archie andrews #jughead jones #2017 shows #cheryl blossom #cheryl bombshell

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robedisimo · 7 years

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Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi [SPOILER-FREE REVIEW]

[Disclaimer: this review is based on the Italian dub of the film. As such, all opinions on the quality of dialogues and acting are subjective and partial.]

If you were to ask me which franchises I consider myself a fan of, it would take some time for Star Wars to cross my mind. Not because I’m not a fan – trust me, I am – but because loving Star Wars just goes without saying. If you’re asked what your defining personal skills are, you don’t reply that you’re able to articulate sounds in such a way as to form meaning. It’s an incredibly specific skill and only 0.00001% of animal species on Earth possess it, but it’s kinda implicit in the fact that you’re having the interview, isn’t it?

My point is, if you’re a “fan” of any kind, you’re a fan of Star Wars. Call yourself nerd, geek or pop-culture freak, for those of us worshipping at the altar of fiction there’s probably no more widely beloved embodiment of what makes telling ourselves stories so damn enjoyable. It’s been the foundational myth of modern geekdom for three generations now, and I doubt it’s going away anytime soon.

Two years ago, writer/director J.J. Abrams tried to recapture that magic in The Force Awakens, a long-awaited seventh episode which – in my opinion – got a little more praise than it actually deserved... mostly out of everyone’s desire for it to succeed, if I had to hazard a guess. It was an entertaining nostalgia-filled romp and a fantastic technical feat of filmmaking, but it left us wondering: was there anything more to the saga’s future than just a warm cup of yesterday’s excitement, served in a shiny new packaging?

As it turns out, yes. Yes there was.

Holy crap.

Enter writer/director Rian Johnson, best known so far for the 2012 critical hit – and moderate box-office success – Looper, picking up where Abrams had left, grabbing the wheel with both hands, and leaning on the gas pedal as hard as he can. Handing what was supposed to be a cohesive trilogy arc over to a completely different author could’ve easily ended in a tailspin, but the franchise’s engines come out of it roaring. For the first time in a really long while, Star Wars is back, both narratively and creatively. And, most importantly, it’s back at the top, setting the high mark for the rest of the blockbuster field.

There’s too much to say about The Last Jedi and too little one can really touch upon without indulging in spoilers, so let’s get past the technical aspects first. Johnson’s film is a feast for the eyes, and I honestly can’t recall another Star Wars instalment so absurdly rife with stunningly iconic moments of visual creativity. I can guarantee that at least five scenes from this movie will be permanently seared into your personal mental library of great franchise-defining moments on visual merits alone, without even starting on those that are equally memorable from a narrative standpoint. Meanwhile John Williams’s score, it goes without saying, is as majestic as ever, and helps keeping things familiar even when they occasionally breach into surprisingly new territory for the franchise.

Indeed, Johnson’s almost alarming confidence in steering the ship leads to an episode that’s structured in a very unusual way for a Star Wars film. Rather than a sequence of events, The Last Jedi feels more like one single, prolonged scenario fracturing into an elaborate series of subplots, not unlike what you’d expect from an especially expansive episode of today’s long-form television. It’s an odd approach and it does result in occasionally uneven pacing, but the upside is that Episode VIII just doesn’t let up, ever: it’s a breakneck rollercoaster run from beginning to end, containing the full spectrum of what viewers can get from the Star Wars brand. It’s tense, it’s action-packed – the space battles and lightsabre fights are absolutely amazing –, it’s emotional... and often surprisingly hilarious, too.

As other reviewers have noted, The Last Jedi hits a number of comedic notes of a sort that’s pretty unfamiliar for the franchise, but the great news is that it works. All jokes land, and some of them land really hard. As a matter of fact, here’s the one “spoiler” I’m willing to throw your way: you know those “Porg” creatures we watched fill our holiday toy aisles, threatening to turn the galaxy far, far away into a Minions cartoon? Forget about those: they’re not a concern. Johnson’s Star Wars isn’t afraid to indulge in the more kid-friendly aspects of the saga, but – and here’s the catch – there’s balance to it.

A balance which seems to pervade all elements of this sprawling new chapter, 152 minutes – now the longest Star Wars ever, beating Attack of the Clones by a good ten minutes – encompassing everything about the franchise: the classic narrative archetypes and the surprise plot twists, the epic drama and the silly creatures, the practical effects and the all-you-can-eat CGI buffet. Where Abrams seemed to be looking firmly backwards to the Original Trilogy, Johnson appears to look both ways: to the old and the new, keeping the best of the classics while moving ahead at full steam.

Perhaps the most trivial but telling sign of that attitude is the almost total abandonment of classic Star Wars wipe transitions, here at the franchise’s lowest in a numbered episode – Rogue One dispensed with them entirely, along with the traditional opening crawl. This mixture of old and new breathes through every single one of the film’s structural elements, carrying forward Abrams’s work especially when it comes to the use of practical sets and – were possible – practical effects. One scene in particular – I won’t say anything more, it’s absurdly good – is actually pretty shocking in how much it serves as a defiant middle finger to Lucas’s CGI overdose in the Prequel Trilogy.

Okay, well, maybe not a middle finger per se, but certainly a conscious effort to fix what hadn’t been done so greatly before: an effort which Johnson actually delivers towards Abrams’s treatment of characters as well, retroactively making a couple of The Force Awakens’s weakest aspects more interesting for fans. There definitely is a certain desire to be in charge reflected here, culminating in the fact that The Last Jedi, long and story-packed as it is, feels more like two episodes in one... or one and a half, at worst. In a way, it’s as if this film wanted to be its own end to the trilogy, tying things up in such a way as to render future developments irrelevant to Episode VIII’s narrative.

And if you ask me? That’s a good thing. Will the next Star Wars be just an Ewok-filled appendix to a spectacular second chapter, or will it actually surprise us all with an explosive epilogue once Abrams hits us with Episode IX: Return of the J.J.? As far as I’m concerned, that not longer matters: the Sequel Trilogy has already delivered, and delivered in spades.

But I’ve kept you waiting long enough. What about the cast? Well, I’m happy to report that Daisy Ridley is a lot more convincing – and noticeably at ease – in her role as Rey than the first time around. John Boyega’s Finn is entertaining as ever, and Oscar Isaac’s Poe finally gets a lot to do in this new instalment, which is great because that man deserves a leading role in a franchise all his own. Everyone else does great in their respective roles – keep an eye out for Laura Dern in an especially hard-to-forget new addition to the saga – and both Adam Driver and motion-capture veteran Andy Serkis rise to new heights of villainy, finally freeing the Sequels from the gaping void left by Vader.

It’s the returning cast, however, that truly allows The Last Jedi to shine. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better return to major-league acting for Mark Hamill, nor of a better return to pop-culture prominence for Luke Skywalker, a legend reinvented for a whole new generation of adoring fans. Yet for all that Episode VIII devotes so much time and love to the aging Jedi Master, it finds enough in its story not to leave Carrie Fisher’s beloved Princess behind. Leia is perhaps the biggest surprise in Johnson’s film; if this is how we were fated to see her for one last time... well, what a send-off. What a wonderful send-off.

In a year that already gave us War for the Planet of the Apes and Blade Runner 2049, this is incredibly the most satisfied I’ve been upon exiting a theatre over the past twelve months. Go see The Last Jedi as soon as you can: it’s fun, it’s huge, it’s a new generation-defining classic. It’s warmly nostalgic, yet boldly new. Above all, it’s a work of love of the highest order. It’s the best Star Wars film ever made, even if it can never hope to recreate the groundbreaking impact of The Empire Strikes Back’s small-budget wizardry. If your inner child has been good this year, this is the gift it deserves for the holidays.

[Verdict: EXTREMELY POSITIVE]

#KenAtTheMovies #Star Wars #Star Wars: The Last Jedi #Star Wars Episode VIII #review

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evenstevensranked · 7 years

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#28: Season 2, Episode 16 - “Wombat Wuv”

Louis is infatuated with the new cheerleading coach, so he decides to become the school mascot in an extremely farfetched attempt to win her over. Meanwhile, Ren becomes a cheerleader and goes into pep overdrive.

We start this episode at cheerleading practice where we see that Ren is a cheerleader now...? Okay. The girls are getting ready to welcome Ms. Morgan, the new cheer coach. Louis and Twitty are nearby and play the most immature but hilarious prank on Ren. She goes to do a split and Louis sets off a fart noise. Okay.. As I typed that sentence, I was overcome with juvenile cringe. But the noise is so perfectly timed and Louis gets such a kick out of it that I can't even be mad.

Eventually, Ms. Morgan appears and Louis has an out of body experience. Literally. His soul leaves his body and does an interpretive dance for this woman. It's a very memorable moment. He's seriously in awe of her beauty. I love how Twitty wasn't even phased by her, though? Louis was all "DUDE WHO IS THAT?!??" And Twitty said "Eh, idk... some lady" omg.

Louis’ transparent soul leaving his body to express his feelings in the most random way possible. Only on this show, man.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that in addition to seeing that Ren is suddenly a cheerleader now.. we also see that she’s kinda terrible at it. So, how in the world did she make it onto the squad in the first place??? This is a question that always pops into my head every single time I watch this episode. Then, without fail, I always breathe a strange sigh of relief when the writers actually bother to explain the situation through dialogue between Louis and Twitty! Louis casually says that Ren needs the credit for her resumé to show she has school spirit or something... which actually makes sense. A lesser show would’ve made Ren be a cheerleader for this one episode with no explanation whatsoever. But, still. I find it hard to believe they'd just let her on the team for a reason like that. You have to at least be physically capable! Which Ren clearly is not:

If ya couldn’t tell, she’s the one in the middle causing the entire group to collapse.

They fall on Kenny the mascot guy -- who you can see was totally out of the line of fire, but purposely threw himself on the ground because the plot demanded it. He quits on the spot and now our story truly begins. Louis gets the bright idea to swoop in and save the day by taking over the mascot gig. He immediately sees this as an opportunity to basically start dating Ms. Morgan. Lawd help me honeychild. YOU'RE 13, LOUIS. It’ll be difficult to have a relationship with Ms. Morgan when she’s busy spending time in prison.

Louis goes to Ms. Morgan's office and she talks to him in such a sweet and sultry voice which is probably the worst thing she could do in this situation. Louis' heart is beating so loud, he's able to pass it off as some ruckus going on outside. Wow.

Later that day, Tawny sees him with the mascot suit and assumes he stole it for fun. I love how she says "You should’ve told me! I would've done it with you!" Look at these lil rebels over here! They're so cute. Tawny looks extra goth here too which is awesome, lol. Louis tells her that he's the new mascot. She’s so shocked she shoves him against the lockers, and Shia does the greatest scream here!!! You can see him laughing a bit. I love it. Unfortunately, part of Louis' ugly side comes out right around here. He starts totally blowing Tawny off now because there's a ~new woman~ in his life. He cancels plans with her because he has mascot practice and cryptically won't explain why he took the gig in the first place. "It's just something I had to do" - Wow, Louis. The Dramatics™.

I just had to include a screenshot of Tawny’s outfit. Black Doc Martens and some peasant flowy gothy dress. Yes. (This was a fast-motion bit, so this is the best cap I could get)

Louis calls Twitty over for an emergency meeting after school. Idk why but I think it's hilarious how Twitty comes jogging into his room out of breath lol. "I ran all the way over here, what's the emergency?" Friendship goals honestly. Needless to say, Twitty is less than impressed when Louis confesses "I'm in love with Ms. Morgan." Twitty can see right through the infatuation and knows that Louis is living in lalaland. But according to Romance For Boneheads, (a total "For Dummies” knockoff) he has the classic symptoms of a man in love.

It's pretty adorable to see Louis all worked up like this, but kinda sad at the same time because this is obviously not going to end well. Twitty suggests "Maybe you just ate some bad bean dip" which is so funny to me, like.... what.

Louis continues ranting about how perfect Ms. Morgan is and says "I think we'd be a fun couple" as he gazes out his window and we get the most ridiculous daydream ever I can't even deal with this. He and Ms. Morgan are returning from a vacation to the Bahamas. Louis randomly starts playing mini bongos (the same ones that are on his windowsill actually! I never noticed that before!) and Ms. Morgan dances around him. Eileen concurs “You two are a fun couple.” Gotta love how his parents approve even though Louis IS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD and Ms. Morgan is definitely at least 30 lol. EDIT: I just checked. The actress was 36 here! omg.

I love how they made sure Eileen and Steve look somewhere between happy and highly disturbed. Fun fact: This episode was actually directed by Donna Pescow! So... perhaps these facial expressions were her own idea lol.

Louis starts drooling at the thought and we see THE RETURN OF THE ANNOYING CGI TONGUE FROM GET A JOB.

Seriously. Who thought that was a good idea? It just looks awful and so out of place. Y'all know by now how I feel about this surreal stuff they randomly throw in. It just feels weird to me. Anyway, Louis reveals that his master plan is to go to mascot bootcamp and make Ms. Morgan fall in love with him. Easy peasy! Louis is one confident guy, sheesh! Twitty immediately asks "Wait. What about Tawny, dude?" Awwwww. Then we get one of the greatest moments ever. Louis tries to say he thoroughly explained everything to her and that she fully understands, but a flashback to that moment paints a very different picture:

“Thoroughly explained”? Yeah, not so much. Tawny is so confused, haha. (gif credit)

Cut to Wacky Walter’s Mascot Bootcamp! Where a bunch of mascots come together and learn techniques such as “the basic booty shake” and sizzling on the ground like a strip of bacon.

What school would have a cow for a mascot?

Louis has basically found his calling at mascot bootcamp. Wacky Walter was seriously impressed so he decides to give Louis his old jetpack. Yeah, let's just give this 13 year old kid a dangerous, fire powered means of transportation. Good idea. Someone shut this guy down! Have I mentioned that Louis is 13 years old?

After a successful day at bootcamp, Louis excitedly rushes into Ms. Morgan's office to tell her about the jetpack thing and how he plans to fly around at the pep rally later on... And one of the greatest moments of the entire series happens. THE MORGAN UNIBROW IS REVEALED!!! This is absolutely iconic. Nothing beats this series of Louis Stevens faces. My favorite quote has gotta be “OH YA SHAVE IT, DO YA?!” Here it is in all its glory:

youtube

Since Louis was under the impression Ms. Morgan was a flawless goddess, he cannot handle this flaw of hers... like, at all. So he quits being the mascot and gives her some lame excuse. Eventually, the two of them have a little heart to heart and he confesses the real reason. It's a touching moment. It’s sorta cringy, but I can’t help but laugh when Louis admits: "I wanted to hang out with you. Well..... actually more than that" oh my god. Ms. Morgan tells him that he'll find someone who's just right for him. Louis says “I found her. But I think I messed that up too” in reference to Tawny. I’m dead. So sweet. Yay for Louis/Tawny development!!!

Louis then makes a poor attempt at making up with Tawny and she flat out calls him a jackass. Yes. A JACKASS. On Disney Channel. Holy crap, guys. Tawny is the freaking best honestly. She won’t put up with Louis’ bs for a second and it drives him insane. Dats love. It’s great.

Oh, god! I forgot about Ren's subplot! I’m the worst. Okay. Basically, the other cheerleaders think that Ren isn't perky enough. They encourage her to find her "perky place" and let's just say, Ren goes overboard. She starts cheering for everything. Algebra, the mail, and even her laundry. It's so bad that Steve has to do a mini-intervention. Dang. Once she’s aware of how stupid cheering seems, she starts to think that cheerleading is pointless. Ren shares her negative feelings with the squad before the pep rally and all of the cheerleaders get super depressed. Ren was literally telling the girls that their cheering does no good at all in the grand scheme of life and that they shouldn’t do it anymore. I never understood this, because when they go out to do their routine Ren is still putting in the effort to be extra peppy! It’s almost like she set them up so she’d be the only one who looks good. I never got that. Am I missing something? EXPLAIN!

The lack of spirit from the cheerleaders spreads a wave of depression across the entire gym. Oops. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Ms. Morgan tries her best to rally up the crowd but is failing miserably. She gets one kid to do the wave with her... that’s about it.

Twitty tells Louis “Dude, your ex-girlfriend throws one lousy pep rally” which is pretty funny. Louis decides to save the day once again and puts Wacky Walter’s jetpack to use. He comes running out in costume ready to fly around. Ren screams “HEY, EVERYBODY! LOOK! IT’S THE WOMBAT!!” which sounds so ridiculous like the kind of melodramatic dialogue from movies in the 1930s and 40s -- where the actresses are ~so passionate~ they always sound one breath away from passing out. It makes me laugh.

Louis flies around to some royalty-free “Rocky” theme rip-off before he comes violently crashing down (and lands in a convenient pile of pompoms) because he’s 13 and shouldn’t be trusted with a jetpack -- especially indoors.

Tawny takes care of him right away and she’s about to get the nurse when Louis stops her “Tawny, don’t leave. I have to tell you something. You have..... the two most beautiful eyebrows I’ve ever seen” - How precious is that?! Tawny’s brows would unfortunately not be on fleek by today’s standards though. You need to have freaking caterpillars on your face these days. Funny how styles change. BUT THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT. That eyebrow line was such a cute and clever thing to say!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cheerleaders kick Ren off the squad, which is good news for Ren because she wanted to quit. As she walks away from them, the girls do this catchy cheer: “She’s going! Bye bye, farewell, adios, hey hey!” This always gets stuck in my head.

That’s it! I like this episode a lot. Louis learns the age old lesson of “nobody’s perfect” -- a message Hannah Montana would later drill into our memories for all eternity. It’s really nice. There’s Louis/Tawny content here, so this episode is already winning. It’s just pretty iconic overall imo. Ren’s plot is pretty cute, too! I don’t even know what to say in this little summary paragraph because all of the episodes at this point in the list (#29 - #20) are all solid episodes leaning towards positive for me instead of neutral like most of the episodes in the #50s - #30s.

Thanks for reading!

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#rank #even stevens #louis stevens #shia labeouf #ren stevens #christy carlson romano #review #tv #tv shows #disney channel #old disney #nostalgia #early 2000s #louis x tawny #louis and tawny #season 2

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trentteti · 7 years

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The Morning Cometh: The December 2017 LSAT Recap

As we do for every LSAT, we’re here today to give an instant reaction to the December 2017 LSAT. We’ll do a deeper dive into the exam once LSAC publishes it, but for now, we’re giving a brief recap based on the whispers we’ve been hearing. If you took the exam this Saturday, hopefully this will allow you to reflect on the exam you just took and provide some measure of consolation that many others also found certain parts of the exam difficult. If you didn’t take the exam yesterday, but are studying for February or beyond, hopefully this discussion will give you insight into the LSAT trends we’re seeing.

Remember this time last year? When pretty much all you would hear, from pretty much anybody, was how unfathomably terrible a year 2016 was?

Doesn’t that seem quaint now? 2017 basically strolled in and was like, “You think you’re so bad, 2016? I’ll see your too soon celebrity deaths and unexpected elections, and raise you the actually terrifying consequences of those elections, destructive natural disaster after destructive natural disaster, the unshakable realization (for men, at least) that almost all men of some power basically terrorize women for pleasure, and perhaps the official installation of an American oligarchy.”

If you’re looking for a token of normalcy and stability during these trying times, well, hopefully you’re not looking to standardized tests. But if you are, the LSAT may be the succor you need.

Because the LSAT, in 2017 at least, has been remarkably consistent and predictable. There haven’t really been any curveballs or massive spikes in difficulty. No truly baffling Logical Reasoning questions. No truly stultifying Logic Games. Reading Comp has been difficult, but we’ve known that’s been the difficult section for a while now. The LSAT itself has faced a bit of tumult recently, but the test itself has been a paragon of consistency in 2017.

And this past Saturday, we got the fourth and final LSAT of the year. And by all reports, it was another one that went by the book. Below you’ll find our section-by-section breakdown …

Logical Reasoning

It’s tough to get a clear picture of the Logical Reasoning sections after the test. The typical test taker gets around 50 short stories about a diverse array of topics (and those with Logical Reasoning as their experimental section get about 75). These questions could conceivably be about anything (although they almost always cover at least a few of their favorite topics, like experimenting on children and things that could possibly lower a highway accident rate). Trying to recall specific Logical Reasoning questions is like trying to recall specific lines of dialogue after binging a show for 10 hours straight. Your mind is, understandably, a bit jumbled after being inundated with that much information. All that really stands out is the truly outré questions. So most test takers tend to overestimate how difficult a Logical Reasoning section is, given that the perplexing questions are the ones that they remember most clearly.

For that reason, I’m very relieved when I don’t hear much about the Logical Reasoning sections following an exam. If I get a lot of “it was pretty straightforward” and “it seemed normal,” that means there weren’t a ton of questions that threw test takers for a loop. Although there were undoubtedly some difficult questions strewn about, when LR isn’t very memorable it suggests a vast majority of the questions were manageable, well within our students’ capabilities.

And straightforward and normal is pretty much all I heard about these Logical Reasoning sections. There didn’t seem to be a ton of questions that truly stumped test takers, like the question relating to the duplicitous orangutans from June 2017 or the caveman mask-wearing crow researchers from September 2017.

Even the questions that many students did remember were on well-trodden LSAT topics, like dinosaurs and Alzheimer’s. There was a Soft Must Be True question about whether bite marks on T. Rex bones indicated that the ancient carnivores were also cannibals. And there was a Strengthen question that turned on supporting the idea that the turmeric in Indian food functions as a prophylactic for Alzheimer’s disease. The strangest question seemed to be a Necessary question on whether constructing a building at certain depths under the sea would disturb dolphins.

As far as question distribution, we can’t make any definitive statements until LSAC releases the exam and we can actually crunch the numbers, but reports suggest that this was an exam heavy on Soft Must Be True and Disagree questions, but a little light on Sufficient and Necessary questions. I’m also hearing that there was a rare Soft Must Be False question (a semi-exotic question type that requires you to pick the answer choice that can most justifiably “be rejected” on the basis of the passage). And, in news that would, if true, be truly shocking to me and a handful of people who care about this sort of thing, I’ve had multiple test takers say that there were two Parallel Flaw questions on a section. Which would be a inconsistency (albeit minor), given that the last, like, 50 LR sections, featured only one Parallel Flaw question per section.

Reading Comprehension

Reading Comprehension has been a bit of a bear the last few years. After every test, pretty much every test taker would have the same post-op: that Reading Comp section was super tough. Usually that would be the first thing they said. And almost always, there was at least one passage that truly rocked test takers to their core.

For this test, however, the reports have been much rosier than usual. Most people have said that this Reading Comp section was a bit easier than expected. This could be a product of instructors like me finally getting through to test takers that they should take the section seriously and practice fastidiously and challenge themselves with difficult passages. Or, perhaps more likely, it could be a product of the test writers finally relenting and giving out some more comprehensible passages. But either way, it seemed like this set of passages were, for the most part, not as traumatic as they could have been.

The first passage covered dialects, a frequent topic the test has recently added to its Reading Comp repertoire. Specifically, the passage was about the the Chinese dialect developed in San Francisco’s Chinatown, and how recent Chinese immigrants would understand the new English-influenced strain of Cantonese.

The second passage appeared to use an analogy involving an action movie hero who narrowly avoids death through a string of impossible contrivances to show how life in this universe required a similarly impossible string of contrivances. This, in turn, supports the theory of the multiverse — that there are actually many other universes, existing parallel to ours, in which things played out differently. Sounds like a bit of a trippy passage, but fans of the cartoon Rick and Morty, in which multiple realities is a central feature — and especially devotees of the “Pickle Rick” episode, in which one of the titular heroes becomes, in pickle form, an action movie hero who narrowly avoids death through a string of impossible contrivances — may have had an easier time unpacking it.

The third passage was yet another comparative passage on the legal system. That makes 2017 3-for-3 on comparative passages on the law. Talk about consistency. Mercifully, this one actually related the law to something test takers are a little more familiar with: jokes and food. It sounds like these passages discussed why comedians and chefs don’t rely on copyright and patent law to protect their jokes and recipes (or, in the case of Guy Fieri, their jokes of a recipe). It appears that both professions use social and professional norms, and not the expensive and complicated legal system, to protect their IP.

The fourth and final passage sounded a bit weird to me, but apparently most test takers did well-enough on it. It was about a writer who interpreted social Darwinism (another common topic on the LSAT) to mean that competition is no longer needed for humanity’s survival, and who took that interpretation to argue that women should no longer be constrained by gender roles, and should instead take an active pursuit in scholarship and activism.

Logic Games

After a few easier Logic Games sections in recent exams, the test writers seemed to have ratcheted up the difficulty for this one. Now, they didn’t do this in the way they normally do — by making one of the games an unconventional twist on a normal game. Instead, it appears that they gave test takers four normal games with conventional set-ups, just made them tough versions of those games.

The games that gave students the most trouble, it appears, are the third and fourth games. In the third, apparently an engineer had to determine which stops along a metro train line would be closed. Some stops would be closed, some would not. This game sounds quite a bit to me like the semi-infamous on/off light switch game from the October 2005 exam. However, some have indicated that they believed this was an ordering game, which could mean either that I’m wrong or that they misinterpreted this game.

The game with the most complaints was definitely the fourth, in which test takers had to schedule cleanings for 8 floors of an apartment building, from Wednesday through Saturday, with two cleanings per day. It sounds like a pretty straightforward Overbooked Ordering game, but apparently it was tough to come by deductions for this one, making it a bit difficult to get through the questions.

Conclusion

In all, another straightforward LSAT in a year that’s been anything but. The only thing that changed here was that the difficulty shifted from Reading Comp to Logic Games. Many test takers opined that this exam was slightly more difficult than September’s. If the curve of the September exam was set at -11 (meaning you could miss 11 questions and still get a 170), this curve is probably going to be set at -11 or -12.

So what now? Well maybe despite this test being consistent with the last few preceding tests, you still feel like it went poorly and you’re considering canceling your score? You have a few days before you have to make that decision. Before electing to cancel your score without seeing it, try watching this video.

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The LSAC’s official cancelation policy can be read here. According to LSAC, you have until 11:59 pm EST on the sixth day after the exam to cancel using your LSAC account. Which is a confusing way to say that your deadline to cancel is Friday at 11:59 pm EST. So you still have some time to think it through. Sleep on it. Consider whether the section you blew was the likely experimental section.

If you think you did well on it, well, we can only hope you’ve been celebrating throughout the weekend.

If you have any additional thoughts, feelings, or concerns about the exam, please drop a comment below!

The Morning Cometh: The December 2017 LSAT Recap was originally published on LSAT Blog

#december lsat #LSAT #morning cometh #trent teti #lsat

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