#last weekend my wife and i very suddenly and very tragically lost one of our cats (our baby boy Charles)

[heymacy]

.

[thefilmsnob]

Glen Coco’s Top 10 Films of 2020

This has been the weirdest damn year for film--and basically everything else--we’ve ever witnessed. Theatres closed, re-opened, then closed again; dozens of films were postponed, and no one knew where to watch the ones that weren’t. I didn’t see nearly as many films as I usually do and, even so, the selection was relatively underwhelming. Nevertheless, there were still some good pictures released, so, as always, I’m sharing my top ten films of 2020 plus a bonus track...there’s always a bonus track.

#10b. (Bonus Track) Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

Director: Jason Woliner

Starring: Sacha Baron Cohen, Maria Bakalova

On the surface, Sacha Baron Cohen’s characters may seem utterly absurd and childish--and maybe they are--but, the genius behind them is their ability to reveal the ignorance of the people he encounters and make you question where the true absurdity lies. Cohen accomplishes this yet again, even if this sequel isn’t quite as fresh as its 2006 predecessor. Yet, in the United States of 2020, ravaged as much by asinine politicians, disgraceful racism and dangerous conspiracy theories as by the actual Covid pandemic, Borat is an entirely welcome presence. He makes all the right people look as wrong as they should, especially former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani who’s caught red-handed in a compromising position opposite a very young girl, thus exacerbating his epic fall from grace while reaffirming Cohen’s brilliance.

#10. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Director: George C. Wolfe

Starring: Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman

Despite my initial ambivalence, this movie has lingered in my mind for months and that’s always a good sign. Set almost entirely in one location, a 1920s Chicago recording studio, and focusing heavily on a group of musicians shooting the breeze in its basement while their demanding singer talks business with the big wigs upstairs, seemingly nothing much happens and, yet, everything happens; dreams are envisioned, pain is recalled, ideas are shared and, of course, music is made. Those elements are enhanced by the film’s stellar technical features from the production design, to the costumes to the hair & makeup. Yet, it’s the performers who steal the show, which is expected from Viola Davis but a pleasant surprise from Chadwick Boseman who, sadly, gives his final performance. The late actor saved his best for last playing a young trumpeter whose ambitions are constantly hindered by his inability to let go of his tragic past.

#9. The Way Back

Director: Gavin O’Connor

Starring: Ben Affleck

For those of you with the misconception that Ben Affleck is a bad actor, you might want to watch The Way Back in which he plays a former high school basketball star and current alcoholic who’s dealing with the death of his child and separation from his wife when he’s asked to coach his former team. Sure, this covers familiar ground, but it does so better than similar films, finessing the more predictable aspects, adding some welcome touches and treating the subject matter with the respect and seriousness it deserves. The basketball takes a backseat to the character drama here, so the film’s quality relies heavily on the performance of Affleck which might be his best to date; he makes his character’s inebriation so convincing you can practically smell the beer on his breath. And you hope to God he gets the help he so desperately needs.

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/613090953214001152/the-way-back-12-out-of-5

#8. News of the World

Director: Paul Greengrass

Starring: Tom Hanks, Helena Zengel

This is a film we need right now for several reasons, not least of which being we get to spend two hours with ‘America’s Dad’ Tom Hanks, a decent, honourable man playing another decent, honourable man in 1870 who encounters a strange young girl on the road near an overturned wagon and promises to return her to her remaining family. With Hanks’s character Jefferson Kidd traveling from town to town reading the newspaper for its citizens, this is also a timely film, stressing the importance of a free and fair press as opposed to the propaganda that saturated the Trump administration and his favourite news outlet. An unusually--yet refreshingly--straightforward and old-fashioned Western for 2020, its highlights include a climactic exchange between adult and child, made so effectively tender with such minimal effort by Hanks, as well as a meticulously crafted chase and shootout sequence at the halfway point, directed with optimal tension and clarity by the great Paul Greengrass.

#7. Nomadland

Director: Chloe Zhao

Starring: Frances McDormand

It’s about time we start including Frances McDormand in lists of greatest actors. In Nomadland, in which she plays a wanderer of sorts who’s lost her husband to cancer and her company town to a poor economy, her performance transcends labels like ‘realistic’ or ‘natural’ and arrives at a place that doesn’t feel like performance at all. She blends in seamlessly with a cast of real nomads playing themselves, living out of vans in the western US, as unconstrained by societal norms as the film itself is by conventional story arcs. We want to see this minimalist lifestyle, which includes seasonal Amazon warehouse gigs and long nights in a freezing cold van, as depressing or unfulfilling, but writer/director/producer/editor (Jesus!) Chloe Zhao dares us to admire both the freedom and sense of community formed among this nomadic subculture. Cinematographer Joshua James Richards also plays with our expectations, bathing the screen in soothing blues and purples, transforming the unremarkable landscape into a thing of beauty.

#6. Da 5 Bloods

Director: Spike Lee

Starring: Delroy Lindo, Clarke Peters, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Norm Lewis

In Da 5 Bloods, writer/director Spike Lee deviates from his usual urban American setting to explore the tropical forests of Vietnam, but his focus remains fixed on the African American experience, their plight and search for justice. His subjects are a group of Vietnam War vets who reunite in present day Ho Chin Minh City to retrieve a cache of gold bars left behind some 50 years prior, originally part of a political transaction, as we see in appropriately grainy 4:3 full screen flashbacks. The reason for this mission is more righteous than a simple payday, but Lee refuses to paint these complex characters with the same brush--there’s even a MAGA in the bunch!--nor does he oversimplify the film’s profound issues. A genre-defying work, Da 5 Bloods is a character study, social commentary, war picture and action/adventure flick all rolled into one with some truly shocking developments and one of the finest casts of the year. How Delroy Lindo was denied an Oscar nomination for his volatile performance is beyond me.

#5. Promising Young Woman

Director: Emerald Fennell

Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bo Burnham, Alison Brie

In one of the most unique films of the year, Carey Mulligan delivers a brave, bold and beautiful performance as Cassie, a woman with a tragic past who spends her weekends at the club pretending to be blackout drunk, only to shame and humiliate the sleazy men who try to take advantage. Writer/director Emerald Fennell does a masterful job at peeling back the layers of this dark revenge tale ever so gradually to reveal Cassie’s true motives while rebuking, not just society’s abhorrent offenders, but those enablers and silent bystanders who try to hide behind a flimsy shroud of innocence. Benefiting from one of the sharpest screenplays of the year and a fitting score, Promising Young Woman never ceases to ramp up the tension, a strategy that culminates in a shocking final sequence which is at once disturbing and satisfying. It’ll all leave you guessing until the final, brilliant shot.

#4. The Invisible Man

Director: Leigh Whannell

Starring: Elisabeth Moss, Aldis Hodge, Storm Reid

Originally conceived as part of the ill-fated ‘Dark Universe’--Universal Pictures’ planned movie franchise featuring its classic monsters--and starring Johnny Depp, The Invisible Man was drastically retooled and produced as a stand-alone film with a modernized story. And like so many horror projects of the last decade, it’s refreshingly inspired and well-crafted with a deeper purpose than merely spooking its audience, though it succeeds at that as well. Writer/director Leigh Whannell uses this movie and the fearless performance of the great Elisabeth Moss to examine abusive partners and their persistent hold on their lovers-turned-victims long after the relationship has collapsed. Moss is stunning as usual, portraying an already traumatized woman trying desperately to convince everyone she’s not going crazy as well, even though that’s exactly how it looks. Equally impressive is the restraint by the filmmakers who use the ‘invisible’ effects sparingly yet strategically, creatively and, ultimately, very effectively, making every scare plausible and entirely earned.

#3. Sound of Metal

Director: Darius Marder

Starring: Riz Ahmed, Olivia Cooke, Paul Raci

In a world in which people are complaining about losing their freedom because they have to wear a simple mask to save lives, it’s good to see a film that shows what real loss looks like. If you can’t imagine being a heavy metal drummer who suddenly goes deaf, writer/director Darius Marder spells it out for you in big, bold, sorrow-inducing letters. He’s aided by Riz Ahmed giving possibly the best performance of the year as a man who, on the surface, tries desperately to hold on to his life and passion while, deep down, he knows that’s impossible. Sound of Metal is a tender and heartbreaking yet hopeful story, but what’s even more effective than the film’s dramatic presentation is its remarkable sound design. At times, characters sign to each other amidst ambient noise. Other times, the sound is muffled as if we’re putting our ears up to a wall and hearing a fraction of the dialogue from the other side. And, less frequently, when Ruben’s condition is at its worst, we hear nothing at all. Just complete and terrifying silence…which speaks volumes.

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/647329085467574272/sound-of-metal-out-of-5

#2. The Trial of the Chicago 7

Director: Aaron Sorkin

Starring: Mark Rylance, Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Jeremy Strong, John Carroll Lynch, Frank Langella, Michael Keaton, etc, etc, etc...

Aaron Sorkin could write about two accountants conducting a routine audit and make it absolutely absorbing. So, imagine what he does with a courtroom drama about the volatile situation surrounding the 1968 Democratic National Convention and the group of anti-Vietnam War protestors accused of inciting riots at the event. Now an accomplished director too, Sorkin organizes all the moving pieces involved with style and grace while deploying his famously kinetic dialogue. With those lines coming from the mouths of his stellar cast, it’s hard not to hang on their every word and be invested completely in their struggle. I could listen to Mark Rylance’s showstopping line-reading of the simple phrase, “No, he doesn’t!”, all day and never get tired of it. Among its many achievements, The Trial of the Chicago 7 deftly navigates heavy topics like police brutality, unpopular wars and a corrupt justice system, showing just how little things have changed in the last 50 years.

#1. Palm Springs

Director: Max Barbakow

Starring: Cristin Milioti, Andy Samberg, J.K. Simmons

Anyone who knows me may be surprised by this pick, but here we are. Nothing makes sense these days. We’re all as confused and anxious about life as Sarah and Nyles are at a wedding in Palm Springs. Despite what the title suggests, the film doesn’t follow a group of horny teens getting up to shenanigans in the famous resort town, but if I describe the actual plot in depth, I may spoil the fun. I will say these characters seem to be reliving the same events over and over again. What’s so impressive about this film is that, although it repeats itself, it never feels repetitive. The twists and turns, the absurd hilarity blended with bracing poignancy, ensure our unwavering focus on this briskly paced little gem. Yet, it’s the irresistible chemistry between the two leads, played by the equally irresistible Cristin Milioti and Andy Samberg, that forms the glue that holds it all together, whether they’re pulling off childish pranks, discussing their unusual sex lives or debating the very meaning of life. I’m telling you, this movie has everything: comedy, drama, romance, science-fiction (?!), J.K. Simmons, several weddings, an inflatable pizza slice, dinosaurs, a crossbow and colourful beer cans and summer wear that seem destined to become iconic.

[bisongrass]

Mar 28, 2020

I have been meaning to write more, but it feels hard to find the time. Even though -- judging by social media, anyway -- it looks like people have nothing BUT time, I’m still working, and in the hours when I’m not working, I’m usually cooking, eating, exercising or talking on the phone. 

My need to be connected -- I think I can go so far as to say our need to be connected -- was acute following the lockdown. I had a keen urgency to see people, to talk to people, a feeling I thought of as “missing” (as in “I miss them!”), but “missing” seems to carry some connotation of a length of time passing. This was a sudden missing. We were thrown into a world devoid of familiar, known systems, rhythms, and routines, a disorienting happenstance at any time, but then, on top of that, we no longer had our usual of matrix of social connections. We sought out phone calls and videoconferencing, but the phone calls were intimate -- voices from the dark; ear to mouth, mouth to ear -- and the video group chats were beset by minor technological infelicities (people’s video freezing or suddenly becoming inaudible, dropped connections, the impossibility of any group splintering into organic subconversations, the peculiar awkwardness of having nothing else to look at than other people’s faces, even during the normally occurring conversational pauses). I was thrown instantly into a kind of mourning. 

Before this pandemic, I was already someone who was needy for any physical touch -- I loved having my hair cut just for the way that my stylist would ruffle and tweak my hair while she worked. I loved the quick press of a hello hug, the small arm grab accompanying a good piece of gossip, hands-on yoga adjustments, etc. You could say I was an aficinado. Even to sit with someone and not touch them, that was a kind of contact, less tangible, but something like a sixth sense constituted of proximity and close watching, a kind of immersion in the person’s essence. To have this, all this, removed, to say nothing of the possibility of other kinds of touch, was a severe deprivation. I was reminded of a conversation with my therapist about Harlow’s Monkeys -- those newborn monkeys who, having to choose between a wire mother which provided milk, and a fuzzy, warm inanimate mother, chose the fuzzy mother. Such is the importance of touch. What we have now with Skype and Zoom and so on is the wire mother of socialization. I eat the food I cook -- I have never cooked more in my life -- but also alone. My refrigerator is another wire mother.

It’s been cloudy for days and days. On some days, when I am working from home and I’m staring out the window, I feel like I am living in my own lung, dim and grey and filled with an atmosphere that is entirely mine. Sometimes the low constant pulse of anxiety and the loneliness cause me to feel lightheaded. I think, what if I have an anxiety attack? If I have an anxiety attack, I will pass out in my house, and I will come to in my house. No one will be the wiser. That makes me think I will not have an anxiety attack. Although I do come close one day. I am helped by leaving the house and going for a long walk.

At times, I feel a kind of psychological drifting or unmooring. Imagine a clod of something amorphous, like wet clay. Normally, every social transaction I have pushes up against me, giving me contours, letting me know the shape of my Self. Now, I am this shapeless form that is drifting through space. I feel vaporous, lightly fizzy. I write in order to give myself some shape.

It’s not just transactions with friends that shape me. The value of what one Medium writer called “microfriendships” was suddenly laid bare. On the phone this week with a pet store, trying to get a delivery, I ask a woman to describe all the smoked bones she sells so I can choose. “Well, the big knuckle is really big.” “How many fists big?” “I would say three fists big?” “That seems awfully big.” Etc. We laugh together at this spontaneous poetry. 

Sometimes I talk to people who know me well and they say “I worry about you.” The first time I heard it, it made me feel even worse. Should I worry more about myself, I wondered? What did they see, what did they fear? I like wearing a suit of competence even just for myself.                                                                                                                                                                                                        I check on other people who are worth worrying about. One friend, B., a co-worker, is stuck in the basement of his house for two weeks while his wife self-isolates upstairs on a trip back from the States. We both work all day on news stories about the unfolding, ongoing, unfathomable way life has changed and how it may change further. I read headlines about how much the arts industry brings into the economy and has lost this year, I read about clashes in China as people from the same province as Wuhan try to leave its borders, i read about the uptick in domestic violence there, I read about Prince Charles’s health. I’ve incorporated a daily check-in with B., for me as much as for him, usually by text, though we have a long and distracting conversation on the phone one day that I think it good for me, and I hope for him. The next day, as I pass his house on a walk, I see a shock of hair emerging from his alleyway and I cannot believe my extreme good fortune when he appears, exiting by complete coincidence at the same time as I am passing by. I halt and point at him and cross the street to sit on the low wall bordering his front garden, while he stands two metres away, on the path to the house, and we talk for fifteen minutes. How are you, he asks me. Most times when I answer this question, I don’t even find words; I start crying immediately, and what I’m crying at, somehow, is also at how I must seem to the person asking. I am a tragic figure, Woman Living Alone Under Lockdown. 

I say I’m not good, and I feel myself about to cry but I don’t because I’m not sure if it would alarm him. He says, “I’m okay now but I wanted to open a vein this morning.” He’s laughing but I get it. He recommends that I try “FaceWine” with friends but I can’t drink. It is a perfect time to be a drinker, these days. He says, pot? I say, Are you out of your fucking mind? We laugh.

As B. and I are speaking, we notice the people passing by as we talk -- the couple where the man is dressed in sunglasses and surgical mask, the younger woman with an exuberant head of hair chatting loudly and obliviously on her cellphone. Our mutual acknowledgment of these sights -- even my knowing that he is seeing what I am seeing, and that he is possibly wondering if I am thinking what he is thinking -- is a balm to the soul. We laugh together at the cellphone conversation and I say “You see? This is it, this is the stuff! You saw that! You saw it too!” 

Then he has to go back in his basement and interview an economist about the future.

*

Last weekend, I met a friend in High Park. She is furious at the way people have been clustering there, passing each other too close on the paths. She already had an acute sensitivity to people being in her space even before this. Now it’s in overdrive. The day is very cold and I had to bike 30 minutes to be there; she is in running shoes and wishes she had dressed more warmly. We find a baseball diamond that is penned in by a fence and run in. We both charge around, feeling the freedom of knowing no one will come within six feet, no matter how erratically we move. We do cartwheels. A man is walking around the park making an urgent unformed sound.”Uhhhhh,” he says, a kind of loose keening. “Uhhh!” I feel like he is saying something true.

*

Another friend, J., lives nearby. She has had lung cancer and has an autoimmune disease, so the virus is an especial threat to her, but she still walks her dog twice a day. Initially I stopped by her house to see if she needed anything, but she says her neighbours have been looking after her, buying her groceries, etc. I keep checking in with her anyway on the phone, and today she tells me that she thinks this is not much different than her regular life; she says, I think I was already living in self-isolation! She’s not disturbed much at all. I realize I am calling her now for me, for my own sanity. We have a funny kind of chemistry, verging on flirtatious. She takes joy in her own whimsy, laughing at herself in a way I find endearing. She’s been watching these pots of buried begonia stalks in her basement. Every time I call, I get an update on whether she has seen any pink shoots. Not so far.

*

On one of my walks, I remember how, as a teenager, I used to go up to the train tracks behind Dupont Street, and this week, I find a spot where I can sneak up there once again. It’s just as I remember it, that feeling you get when you see the tracks glinting pale in the darkness, leading to some distant vanishing point, the gravel underfoot, the smell of creosote -- a kind of wonderful private expansiveness. I am amazed at how relaxing it feels, immediately, to be away from people. I have a powerful impulse to lie down in the wretched dry weeds at the edge of the gravel, staring up at the sky, listening to the silence. I keep walking for as long as I can before diverting myself back onto Christie Street, next to a Loblaws. The supermarket an instant locus of stress. I think: these tracks will always be there for me. But two days later, I visit again and there is a lot of foot traffic, people alone walking, jogging, couples both socially distancing and not. Last night, I had a nightmare that I was walking by the tracks by myself and a man approached me head on, and I soon understood from his body language that he meant to try something with me, he was a threat in some way to the sanctity of my body. I suppose he is the virus.

*

Last night, my friend T. and D. come visit me, because I am crying all the time, because I can’t bear living alone much more. I want to move in with them, but T. is allergic to dogs and D. has a sister who they also have been seeing. Too many potential vectors. They arrive just after dark and we start walking with the dog, who is overjoyed to see them. The dog is also used to seeing more people, more friends, in her day to day as well. At the corner of Harbord and Manning, we run into S. & R., which is a coincidence that bowls me over. The five of us, in normal times, vacation together, take walks together, and it’s as if some underlying physics has taken over, drawing like together with like. We would never have planned such a socially risky move -- being in a group feels like it invites public shaming -- but we decide to continue, spacing ourselves out widely, moving up and down alleyways. A person on a balcony, seeing us, yells “Good formation,” and I give her my mittened thumbs-up. 

We pass the house of other friends, C. & P. We text to see if they will come to the back door and in moments, C. appears. We stand in a ridiculously large circle and visit. C. and P. have three children and two of them are still too young to know how to entertain themselves. C. is fried but laughing about it. We talk about grocery shopping because we share the same supermarket, which now has a “bouncer” who asks if you’ve been out of the country in the last 14 days or if you have a fever. The line-ups creep up Christie Street and every conscientious Annex shopper arriving with reusable bags now has to leave them outside the store while they shop -- health hazard. C. tells how her husband, P., is so hard-core about no plastic that he carried the items out of the grocery store in his arms in multiple trips, placing them in his children’s wagon to take them home. 

We talk about C. applying for emergency funds because she is a freelance photographer. She’s already got a mortgage deferral. She says they’re in a relatively lucky position, though. C. is Croatian and talk turns to Zagreb, where there was an earthquake in the middle of the lockdown. C. tells about a family she knows with a newborn whose house cracked in half. They had to go collect what they could from the house between tremors. 

We watch a baby raccoon washing itself on the roof of the house and a guy on a bike with his dog rides down the middle of the alleyway. Perhaps annoyed by this sudden gauntlet of humans he needs to pass, he says “What’s all this?” We say, we are watching a raccoon, and he says, oh, cool. Stay safe. Stay safe.

D. says that in Italy, people have been throwing eggs at people walking in groups. Several of us are confused about why you would waste eggs like that. 

Though we stick to alleyways, I still feel guilty on the walk -- guilty when we make each other laugh, guilty for our voices ringing out, guilty for the way that we present an intimidating presence for people who want to avoid human contact. The joy we usually share feels like a sin of some kind, or, at best, a mismatch with the prevailing mood of sternness and judgment. A guy passed us talking on his phone. “I think I just saw a group on a social distancing walk... I think they can hear me saying this... that’s okay.” 

* 

In the middle of the night, I check my phone. K. has posted from India, where she got stuck visiting family while with her parents. She should have been home two weeks ago but now there are no flights out of India. The president, Modi, declared a lockdown that was enforced four hours after it was announced. Cops are harassing people on the streets who are trying to get things like diapers and medications. (K’s mother needs it for her thyroid.) It seems unspeakably sad. I send a message to K. “I am breathing with you.” She writes back, saying “I don’t mean to make anyone feel worse.” She has her own meds she’s going to run out of soon. I can’t let this be my problem, but I don’t know how to responsibly ignore it. A co-worker checked in on me a few days ago by asking “How are you, my empathic friend?” Empathy in this situation feels like an evolutionary disadvantage. I could worry myself to death. K. and both practice tonglen and death meditation. I think she’s got a better handle on it than me. 

*

Today I got my period. I had somehow imagined that that, too, would hit pause. Here it is, though. It ushers in a new phase of exhaustion. I try to co-watch American Gigolo with a friend, over the phone. It’s an amazing artifact, deep 80s, Penthouse aesthetic, palm trees and high-waisted suits, severely unironic dialogue. Forty minutes into the movie, she says, “Are you still there? You’ve been quiet for a while.” I had fallen into a deep, blissful dreamless sleep, while Richard Gere’s toned and hairless chest moved across the screen, dramatically striped with shadows from a Venetian blind. 

[drink-n-watch]

  Hmm..well…where do I start here. Oh I know! Hi Crow, how are you today? I hope you had a good week. Mine was a bit exhausting but the weekend is looking pretty great (I actually have very little to do and plan to plop down on the couch and play video games for the rest of the day once my part of this review is done. I haven’t been able to do that in months! I can’t wait.

  That sounds great! I’ll try to turn the review around quickly so I don’t keep you from your video games. I haven’t had as much time for video games as I’d like, either. Like you, my week was exhausting, but I made it to the weekend! Oh, and just to make it official (since I bet it’s clear from the context), I’m bold this week!

  Oh and because Crow has taught me well: spoiler warning. We are going to be discussing episode 24 of Demon Slayer in some detail so if you don’t want to know what happens, please go watch the episode first. Double spoiler, it’s not the type of episode with a lot of twists and turns, not that much to spoil here.

But if you like character moments as much as I do, there were some real gems in this episode! And the therapy nurses were just adorable in a little kid kind of way! And what they did for Tanjiro… Oops, don’t want to get ahead of ourselves… 

Before the beginning of the episode proper, we have a short opening tag between Shinobu and Rengoku. Seems a new powerful demon has risen and has devastated the ranks so Rengoku is going to investigate. This is only a short set up for something that obviously going to become important later, but it also served to make me a little interested in the character of Rengoku.

I like good humoured lugs and at first glance he falls into the category. Too bad the entire conversation was a gigantic death flag. It stopped just short of him announcing he has 3 weeks until retirement. I expect we will not see him alive for long and that bummed me out a little….

Well, at least he didn’t say he would finally get to spend time with his wife and kids or something like that. I agree with you. The scene had a seriously ominous overtone. Even his light-hearted question of what she was planning to do with the “head-butting kid” just emphasized that something’s up. 

Just for a bit of context, Tanjiro (and Nezuko although we don’t see her once again) are now slowly recovering at Shinobu’s manor after the events of spider mountain. Turns out that’s where Inosuke and Zenitsu have also been as the manor is something of a makeshift hospital because reasons.

Inosuke seems to be in a deep depression, which has the fortunate side effect of making him quiet and calm and generally rational, while Zenitsu is potentially worse than ever. Sigh…

Double sigh.

The three of them back together was a low point in the last episode and right from the get-go, we can tell that it’s going to be the majority of this episode. How did you feel about that Crow?

I keep wishing Zenitsu would show some growth like Inosuke did. I’ve developed more sympathy for Zenitsu since his fight on Spider Mountain, but a little of his sniveling goes a long way. A really, really long way.

Were you as happy as I was to see Murata alive and well? Looking might healthy too! I think it’s because Murata represents the everyman. A well meaning but otherwise unexceptional slayer caught at the wrong place in the wrong time and he made it! Most did not have his luck. In many ways Demon Slayer has not been a particularly kind narrative so this bit of improbable happy ending was welcomed in my book!

I’m not too proud to admit I cheered when he showed up, for exactly the reasons you just talked about. Kinda felt sorry for him, too, as he was saying how scary the Hashira were just as Shinobu walked in! Poor guy… 

Aside from resting and taking medicine, the boys have to go through recovery training with the staff(?) of the manor. I’m not quite sure what the relations are here. I know Kanao is a Demon Slayer and basically Shinobu’s apprentice. The girl with the twin tails was also wearing a uniform so she might be part of the corp but the three younger girls I’m not sure about.

I’ve taken to calling them the therapy nurses.

Anywho these ladies are tasked with whipping our heroes back into shape and health. I thought they seemed quite capable if a little scary. Crow, were you worried about them having to wrangle the likes of Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu?

At first I was worried! Then I saw them in action, and I started worrying for Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu! Even the little therapy nurses were really strong! Great teamwork, too. 

In many ways, this episode reminded me of the Wisteria House one. Both are more or less set up and filler. Both involve the boys recovering from serious injuries and both have those silly little character head eye catches. Unfortunately, both feature the characters at their loudest and for me, most annoying. I really can’t blame Inosuke this time around, but Zenitsu stepped up to pick up the slack. Heck even Tanjiro started shouting at some point.

If Demon Slayer is at it’s best in tense and gory action, I think it’s at it’s worse when attempting “slice of life comedy”. Am I being too harsh?

No. My enjoyment dipped in direct relation to how much Zenitsu screamed. When he and Inosuke decided to stop going to therapy, I noticed that I perked up. In fact, there were some seriously cool moments when Tanjiro was alone with therapy nurses. 

Despite what I just said, Zenitsu’s initial glee in the rehabilitation training did make me smirk. It was cute. However, it was just a joke. What I mean by that is that to me, these scenes couldn’t be taken into account for character development or even establishment. This isn’t really the Zenitsu we’ve been introduced to so far. He becomes clingy and pathetic around girls, even more so than usual. Up until now, every time we’ve seen him try to seduce a woman, he was either terrified and physically clinging to her while crying or tripping over his own words.

Not to mention that the girl he was suddenly seducing was the exact same girl he was being a complete brat to when she was trying to give him his medicine. He’s seen and been very close to this exact girl for days now, there’s no reason for his drastic change into a smooth-talking Casanova.

That’s what I mean by it’s “just” a joke and if the humour doesn’t land for you, then it’s a wasted sequence. Did you enjoy it Crow?

The short answer is no. The long answer is also no. My favorite part, actually, was looking at the head nurse/doctor’s expression when Zenitsu tried to hit on her. She wasn’t having any of it. Yeah.. that’s what made me smirk and became my gif of the week!

The second half of the episode clams down a bit and becomes more introspective as Tanjiro decides to train in earnest.

Here we find out that the Hashiras and certain high-ranking slayers use total concentration breathing at all times. This seemed impossible to me and as amazing as the reveal was, something about it bothered me. First it sorts of cheapened the technique itself, so really it’s just normal breathing after a while. We’ve seen it visual portrayed as so impressive but it’s really just plain old breathing after a while.

Second, to both me and Tanjiro the prospect of constant total concentration was amazing. And although Tanjiro is outmatched by all the Hashiras, he is still in the same league. You can imagine him surpassing them after enough training. So exactly what kind of monster will Tanjiro become if he masters this technique? We’re slipping into Dragon Ball Z levels of constantly evolving power to the point that it becomes ridiculous. This should have been held of for later seasons in my opinion. What do you think?

I’m willing to wait and see what they do with it. I got the impression — and they didn’t really say, so it’s only an impression — that even after he learns to do it all the time, he had to give it constant attention. If he didn’t, he’d slowly lose the skill until he needed to restart training.

That being said, I don’t want him to become too powerful too fast. That would drain too much of the drama that they’ve used to such good effect. I’m a little heartened by some of the details in this episode, like it taking Tanjiro weeks to get his stamina back. I think that’s more realistic than many shows I’ve seen where the hero just brushes him or herself off and is fine.

And I just want to give a shout-out for the therapy nurses and how helpful they were to Tanjiro! I have to wonder if Shinobu coordinated with them, so that when they say he had potential and was willing to stick with it, they would give him hints about what to do next. 

I’m just going to assume that Crow’s favourite sequence is the rooftop conversation between Tanjiro and Shinobu. It’s an emotional reveal of Shinobu’s past and motivations that really fleshes out the character and thugs at the heartstrings. I did like the scene. It was well made and constructed. The quiet night and deserted rooftop created a melancholy ambience that was perfect for the story. I assume this will make Shinobu even more beloved by the part of the fandom that are already taken by her.

In practice, Shinobu’s background is on par with all the tragic backgrounds we’ve seen in Demon Slayer so far. Shinobu’s older sister was a slayer and eventually she lost a fight, this seems to be the destined fate of most slayers, unfortunately. As such, even though she does want to be understanding of demons as her sister was, Shinobu harbours a deep hatred and disgust for them that she simply cannot shake. It is admirable that she seems this hatred as something to surmount rather than embrace, but it does explain how brutal she is when dealing with demons.

You guess right. Did you see Shinobu’s expression when Tanjiro asked if she was angry? It was the first time I’ve ever seen her not in utter control of herself. She was shocked. That seemed to help her open up, though.

We’ve known that the Hashira all must have dark backstories. But seeing it so well portrayed in this case did make it more clear to me why most of the Hashira were so ready to kill Nezuko out of hand. It also makes Shinobu’s restraint — e.g., asking Tanjiro to tell his story before they decided — all the more remarkable.

Shinobu’s expression when Tanjiro asked if she was angry!

Shinobu did say one thing that stuck in my ear, she told Tanjiro that she was letting him inherit her dream of peaceful coexistence with demons…Inherit her dream… Great! More death flags! Are we even going to have any Hashiras left by the end of this? I hope weird Mist boy is powerful cause he’s gonna have to step up!

That struck me, too. Especially when she said, “Knowing that you’re working hard in my place reassures me to no end. I can rest easy now.” What? You can do what? Just what is she planning to do? Is brining Tanjiro and friends into her household part of her exit plan? Not sure I like where this is heading! Just thinking about the strain they must always be under makes her saying how exhausted she was seem to tragic. What kind of decisions might that mental state allow?

All in all, this episode had a few great scenes in what was essentially filler. I’ve seen it before so I’m not too worried. I know that Demon Slayer will get back to exciting as soon as we find the next demon to fight. I sure am looking forward to that though!

Me, too! And the scenes that weren’t filler were really, really good. I’m still chuckling about Tanjiro’s reaction to Shinobu being so far in his personal space!

Reviews of the Other Episodes

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 01: Cruelty

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 02: Trainer Sakonji Urokodaki

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 03: Sabito and Makomo

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 04: Final Selection

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 05: My Own Steel

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 06: A Friend fo All Humans

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 07: Muzan Kibutsuji

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 08: The Smell of Enchanting Blood

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 09: Temari Demon and Arrow Demon

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 10: Together Forever

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 11: Tsuzumi Mansion

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 12: The Boar Bears Its Fangs, Zenitsu Sleeps

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 13: Something More Important Than Life

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 14: The House with the Wisteria Family Crest

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 15: Mount Natagumo

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 16: Letting Someone Else Go First

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 17: You Must Master a Single Thing

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Episode 18: In which Tanjiro Dispenses Good Advice

Review Of Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 19: The Bonds That Tie Us And A Family Affair

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 20: Playing House

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 21: Challenge Accepted and Be Careful With That Thing

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 22: Master of the Mansion

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu No Yaiba Episode 23: Hashira Meeting

  Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Episode 24: Taking a Breather Hmm..well…where do I start here. Oh I know! Hi Crow, how are you today? I hope you had a good week.

[slovaksinadelaide]

Rudolf Klempa

Pondelok, 16.októbra sme uložili do hrobu v cintoríne Centennial Park nášho krajana Rudolfa Klempu. Zomrel neočakávane 2. októbra 2017 vo veku 86 rokov. Zádušná sv. omša na jeho pamiatku sa konala v kostole sv. Pavla od Kríža v Blackwood za účasti pekného počtu jeho príbuzných, priateľov a slovenských krajanov. V mene Slovenského Klubu sa s ním rozlúčil jeho dlhoročný priateľ František Vnuk týmto prejavom: Dear family and friends of Rudy Klempa, We are assembled here to say our last goodbye and to commemorate the rich and eventful life of Rudolf Martin Klempa, husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather and friend. On behalf of the Slovak Club of S.A., of which he was a foundation member and at one time its president, and just recently the treasurer, it is my sad and melancholy duty to express our sincere gratitude for his valuable and selfless contribution to the Slovak community in S.A. Death is an unavoidable and inescapable part of our life, and yet we find it hard to understand why such a tragic thing happen to people we love, especially when it happens suddenly. This is a question without an answer and we should not be searching for the reason why, but celebrate the life of our dear Rudy and recollect the many and remarkable things he accomplished and how rich and memorable his life was. This is a time to remember how much he meant not only to us here, but to all the people whom he met and with whom he dealt during his life. There was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned. He was born on 31st August 1931 in a small village Závod in Western Slovakia. He was eight years old when the Second World War broke out. Thus his young years were marked by all the hardships and limitations which that cruel war imposed on everybody´s life. The war, which ended when he was 14 years old, was not followed by years of peace. His native Slovakia lost its independence and three years later, in 1948, the Communist take-over of power enslaved the country and severely restricted the religious and democratic freedoms of its citizens. The young and proud man Rudolf Klempa did not accept this state of affairs passively. He decided to look for a life of freedom outside the Communist camp of enslavement. In 1951 he left his native land, illegally crossed the border into Austria and, after a few months in a refugee camp, he eventually landed in this country in 1952. Australia became his new adopted motherland and Adelaide his new home town. Here I met for the first time. It was in August 1952, 65 years ago... The hospitality which Australia so generously offered on us was tied up with the commitment to accept the work which was allocated to us upon our arrival into this country. We had no choice of place, or kind of work we would prefer. Only after two years were we free to find a job of our liking. For young men coming from the war-ravaged and poor Europe Australia was a land of plenty and of unrestricted freedom. Those early fifties were really very exciting years in our lives. We were strangers in a new land and we used to meet at weekends. At those nostalgic gatherings we tried to keep our Slovak traditions alive. We organized our social activities, sports and other pursuits. We had our soccer team, we had a choir of singers, in which prominently featured the quartet: Čuntala-Fruss-Klempa-Višvader. Rudy was the youngest of us, but he took part in all our activities. When we decided to form our Slovak social club, here again he was among its founders. Rudy was a skilful mechanic and soon found a suitable employment in the trade he liked. In those days the typewriters were rather noisy mechanical devices with many moving parts which required frequent repairs and continuous maintenance. And that was Rudy´s job. Later on he opened his own shop and was selling typewriters, counting machines and other types of mechanical office equipment. In all respects he was a successful businessman. He retired in 1991, but his prosperous business under the name Klempa Office Machines still operates on 462 Morphett Street, City. And then there is Rudy – the family man. In his mid-twenties he met an attractive Polish girl Stefania and fell in love with her. They married in 1961, and their marriage was blessed by three lovely and gifted girls: Anna, Christine and Tania.   Rudy was a dutiful and caring family man. He loved his wife, his daughters, his sons-in-law and later his grandchildren and other members of his family and in turn he was loved by them. We know and understand how they mourn his sudden departure. We share their loss and extend to them our deepest and sincere sympathy: May the merciful God console you in your sorrow. Rudy will be much missed by all of us who knew him. The Slovak community lost in him an active and dedicated member. We will always appreciate his deep commitment and dedication so selflessly displayed on many occasions. He was a genuinely good man who gave not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Soon we will commit his body to the grave. But we Christians believe that this is not the end. We are strengthened by our faith, which tells us that by dying our lives are not taken away, only changed and, when this earthly dwelling turns to dust, an eternal home is made ready for us in heaven. And Rudy was a man of faith. So in confidence we pray to our merciful God and Father: Odpočinutie večné daj mu, Pane a svetlo večné nech mu svieti! – Eternal rest grant unto him, o Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace! F. Vnuk (16 October 2017)