Film Review: Flow

A breathtakingly beautiful tale about a determined cat, his idiosyncratic animal companions, and the devastating effects of a catastrophic flood on an alien world

For a short-ish animated feature that has zero dialogue, Flow is wildly entertaining. It follows a young black cat as his quiet world gets subsumed by a flood of biblical proportions. He manages to escape on a rickety sailboat that manages to pick up other animal straggler survivors, including a stiff and rigid secretary bird, a can't-be-arsed capybara, and a greedy lemur—all while avoiding the barking and chaotic pack of dogs on a rival boat.

I know, I know. This sounds silly and saccharine. I'm not one for animated movies generally or animal adventure tales specifically, but Flow is different. Granted, I'm a nautical obsessed cat-lover, so that may explain a lot. But this movie is adorable, visually stunning, and makes you think without really any exposition at all. It's quite a feat, and I'm honestly in love with it a little bit.

Who is this cat?

Our protagonist is a scruffy little black cat who spends his days romping around the forest near his home, which contains dozens of hand-carved cat statues. It's unclear if his owner is alive, dead, or missing—but something seems off, especially when the flood comes. Our cat is all cat, from his constant low meows to his slicked-back ear planes when he's scared. He's vulnerable in so many ways, not the least of which being his world invaded by ever-rising water—every cat's nightmare. But animals, even cats, are much more resourceful than we give them credit for. So yes, he learns to swim, to interact with a lemur, even steer a boat. Seriously. But more on that later.

The achingly beautiful world they inhabit

Even though it's not billed as such, this movie is essentially a mystery. What caused this flood of epic proportions? Where's the cat's owner? Why are there no humans escaping the flood? What's that dragon thing?

On the animals' voyage sailing through the diluvian world, one wonder if it's even Earth—it could be a million years in the past, or a million in the future. It could be an entirely alien world! As they sail through the remains of (presumably) human civilization, you can get really lost in your reverie.

The colorful, meditative animation makes every scene absolutely serene and gorgeous. It's like playing a cozy Nintendo Switch game for 90 minutes. It reminded me, even, of playing Stray, a recent puzzle video game where you play as an orange cat that's trying to escape a cyberpunk city inhabited by robots.

Animal fantasy that's refreshing and not cloying

Here's the thing: If this was a Disney movie, I probably wouldn't watch it. No shade to Disney movies, they're just not my thing at this point in my life (though I did love Coco). But having the animal characters be wordless makes them somehow more real, if that makes sense. They're still fantastical, in that they know how to get on boats and then take turns at the rudder, but not ridiculously so. There's no crab with a Jamaican accent singing "Kiss the Girl." And yet you're never left wondering what's happening and you're never bored.

Part of the film's success stems from how expressive the animals are—Flow excels at depicting wide-eyed terror to bemused stubbornness. It's a bit hard to explain exactly how compulsively watchable this movie is, but I assure you that it's true. There are parts where you're so worried about this little black cat that's it like if Homeward Bound was directed by the Safdie brothers.

But it's worth it.

Also, there's an amazingly wholesome trend of pets watching along with their owners right now. This is also true, I can confirm. Here's my cat, Goose, intently watching:

Baseline Score: 9/10.

POSTED BY: Haley Zapal, NoaF contributor and lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.

Film Review: Dog Man

Let's pretend the unsanctioned decapitation didn't matter, and let's have a deep conversation about parenthood and growth

First, a confession: it's been a long time since I've tried a story targeted specifically at very small children. I'd forgotten the tons of suspension of disbelief required to simply sit and enjoy the mayhem. But apparently, from what I can gather, there's been some great storytelling going on in that area, with the likes of Peppa Pig and Bluey straddling the line between wholesome and topical, and even commentators finding fuel for discussion in the politics of Paw Patrol. So I guess I should start paying more attention to that segment of SFF.

Another confession: what drew me to the new DreamWorks animated film Dog Man wasn't this realization of a gap in my screen watching record, but simple morbid curiosity for how a production for kids was going to handle its spectacularly gruesome premise: the titular hero is a Frankenstein-ish monstrosity built by sewing the head of an almost-dead dog onto the body of a (now most definitely) dead man. Dr. Vladimir Demikhov would be proud. Because this is a fun adventure in bright colors, the movie cheerfully brushes away the obvious questions about animal cruelty or the fact that a man has been decapitated to create this abomination. Look, a dog walking on two legs!

Following the long and rather strange tradition of severely injured characters technomagically transformed into obligate crimefighters (think of The Six Million Dollar Man, Robocop, Inspector Gadget, M.A.N.T.I.S., Max Steel, or Adam Jensen from the Deus Ex games), Dog Man promptly resumes the frenzied chase for an evil cat called Petey, whose crime is... getting revenge on Dog Man, I guess? We aren't told what was the original misdeed that kickstarted this cycle of dramatic arrests and creative prison escapes, but the sequence is undeniably funny.

(Also, let the record show that I protest this slander against cats.)

This first part of the movie goes like a breeze and helps the viewer get used to the lightning pace of the story. Not only are we treated to a beautiful picture-book art style, with clouds that look like crayon scribbles and canine howls that visually reach from one scene to the next; we're asked to switch off our brains and delight in the rapid succession of cuteness and absurdity and pathos and newfound joy.

Petey the cat only changes tactics when he runs out of ideas for increasingly wackier doomsday machines (I am impressed by his seemingly infinite R&D budget), and when he tries to create a duplicate of himself, he ends up with a child duplicate of himself. And that's when the actual theme of the movie is presented to us. This is more than a slapstick series of loud, splashy cartoonish antics. If it were only that, it already does it pretty well. But what Dog Man is actually about is the question of inborn tendencies vs. conscious choice.

Little Petey is sweet, friendly, optimistic, and without one drop of cynicism. He can see the best side of the worst people. Adult Petey, the typical jaded edgelord, wants to teach him that life is the opposite of that. But after a messy series of mishaps, Little Petey gets the chance to spend some days living with Dog Man. And Dog Man is going through the same identity crisis: does he want to be a policeman with serious obligations, as his human part, or a fun-seeking dog, as his other part? His canine instincts have already interfered with his duties too many times by now, but he doesn't know what other job to do.

I find it reassuring that Dog Man acknowledges the difficulty of this question. It even introduces a quick subplot about adult Petey's father that helps the young audience get a sense of how learned mistakes can be perpetuated across generations. Evil, as the plot demonstrates, is more a matter of actions than one of immutable nature. So is love. That's a precious message to present to the children who will be too amused by the endless gags to notice upon first watching. But a few years from now, when they want to revisit the immensely entertaining experience that was Dog Man, they'll find the strong heart that was beating at the center of it.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Wallace & Gromit Return in Vengeance Most Fowl

The quirky inventor and his trusty four-legged pal are dragged into a rematch

After a brief scare that apparently threatened the end of the business of Aardman Animation, the claymation studio is back with a bang: the treacherous penguin who tormented the adorkable duo Wallace and Gromit in the 1993 episode The Wrong Trousers is now the main villain of his own feature-length film, Vengeance Most Fowl, streaming now on Netflix. (Hmm, a forgotten enemy from an old episode returns in a film? And it happens to be the second film in the franchise? Yes, the pattern is clear. Vengeance Most Fowl is the Wrath of Khan of the Wallace & Gromit universe.)

The setting where our clay heroes live appears to remain frozen in its vaguely mid-20th-century state, but as an embodiment of the eccentric inventor archetype, Wallace got a big update for the 2020s. The central joke about Wallace, the recurring flaw that reveals his character, has always been that he expends more effort in building an absurdly complicated machine that washes, dresses and feeds him than he'd expend in actually washing, dressing and feeding himself. So he presents a useful case scenario for our ongoing discussion about the tasks that people ought to be doing but prefer to delegate to machines.

This time, long-suffering Gromit's cause for consternation du jour is Wallace's invention of programmable garden gnomes. Whereas Gromit keeps a colorful garden that vibrates with life, the robotic gnome turns it into a geometrically perfect nightmare of topiary sameness. The message isn't subtle or original, but our era needs to be reminded of it: automation and standardization are extremely useful for saving time, but they cannot replace the pleasure of deliberate creative choices. As you may recall, one of Gromit's hobbies is knitting. He may take a whole day to finish one sock, while the robotic gnome spits out an entire suit in seconds, which is the opposite of what making your own clothes is about. Results-oriented methods are a bad fit for tasks where having to do an effort is the whole point. (At the meta level, this is an effective argument for the worth of claymation in a world of digital magic.) To stress the same point, the plot has Wallace introduce still another redundant machine: one that pets his dog for him. One would think people don't need to be reminded that interpersonal connection cannot be replaced with machines, but... alas. Such are the times allotted to us.

However, the film doesn't just tell us what we already know. There are more sides to the issue of dangerous machines. When the evil penguin once again hijacks Wallace's invention to turn it against him, the way Wallace wins is by making another machine. That's who he is; that's how he solves all his problems. Even Gromit learns to love the garden gnomes when they help save the day. What's going on?

To understand what Vengeance Most Fowl seems to be saying, it's worthwhile to look more closely at the subplot with the police officers who are trying to recapture the escaped penguin. In a nutshell, we have an experienced senior who has accumulated a vast repertoire of time-tested heuristics (which he calls trusting one's gut) and an enthusiastic rookie who has the textbook fresh in her head and prefers to solve cases by sticking to procedure. Their disagreement mirrors the film's core conflict between spontaneity and algorithm. And yet, it's the rookie cop who figures out the truth by insisting on following the logical rules of evidence (despite her superior believing she listened to her gut). Again: what's going on?

What I suspect is going on is that the opposition between spontaneity and algorithm doesn't need to be resolved, but dissolved. It was never a real opposition. The two need not be enemies. You can pet your dog by yourself while a robotic gnome assists you with the form of gardening you prefer.

This embrace between passion and technique is visible in the very fact that this film exists. Aardman is known for its very high standards of animation quality with immensely complicated materials. One could use computers to animate Wallace & Gromit in a fraction of the time, but the studio's choice to go for the painstaking effort it takes to make inert clay come alive, and make it look no less eye-catching than today's ubiquitous digital creations, is a beautiful demonstration that the medium is the message. Vengeance Most Fowl excels in overcoming unthinkable technical challenges: a dozen tiny gnomes walking in perfect synchrony to carry a van; a boat chase on a navigable aqueduct; an arsenal of boomeranging boots (it makes sense in context).

And then there is, of course, the brilliant choice to give the villain a malleable face that nonetheless stays expressionless no matter what. It's terrifying how we can always tell when he's angry, when he's content, when he's disappointed, when he's defiant, even though his face doesn't move even once. This is a welcome comeback for one of the best characters ever created by Aardman Animation.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Close your eyes and enter Dream Productions

Turns out you can give yourself an epiphany without being quite sure how you did it

Dreams aren't stories in the strict sense: they don't proceed from an authorial choice, don't follow an ordered causal progression, and don't express a deliberate stance on their theme. Only the most surreal category of stories would include the semi-random free association carnival our unconscious minds are capable of spitting out. But dreams do have some sort of secret logic, a symbolic language that is unique to each of us. Because they're generated from our own thoughts, they can never tell us something we don't already know. It's just that sometimes we need to be reminded of an obvious truth.

The world of Inside Out is the perfect venue for that kind of exploration. In the limited TV series Dream Productions, a school dance approaches, and our girl Riley is going through the messy balancing act between her childish whimsy and her drive toward maturity. Unsurprisingly, the forces inside her head are working full-time to process those complicated feelings. The surprising part is how neatly the dreams-as-stories metaphor corresponds to the inner conflict.

In the abstract mindspace of Inside Out, dreams are made in a movie studio with a limited repertoire of plots and an unlimited VFX budget. We meet scripwriters, actors, directors, stunt performers, camera operators—but let's not forget these homunculi are actually fragments of Riley's mind. The cutthroat rivalries and artistic disagreements that drive this series are meant to represent unconscious urges that are channeled into dream imagery. The question troubling Riley is whether she has enough social competence for teenage activities; she loves fun, but she's terrified of being perceived as uncool. Her mother's less-than-ideal choice of dress for the upcoming occasion triggers a whole week of disturbing nightmares she needs to sort out on her own.

What adds a level of meta awesomeness to this premise is that it lets us witness (albeit very indirectly) the creative process at Pixar. Since its foundation, the studio has been praised by its strong grasp of emotional stakes; when you go to the movies for a Pixar production, you know you're going to end up crying, and you're looking forward to it. You love how Pixar makes you cry. You love how it seems to understand you so well. That is the degree of insight that Riley's inner movie studio has about her.

The use of dreams as a catalyst for self-knowledge and growth will be immediately recognizable to viewers familiar with The Cell, Paprika or Inception. Where Dream Productions sets itself apart is in the argument that we can learn from our dreams even if we don't remember them. And here the connection between dreams and stories is especially relevant. Maybe you grew up watching Pixar movies, but do you remember everything that happens in them? What Pixar seems to be telling us in Dream Productions is that what matters in their stories isn't their plot, but the emotional imprint they leave upon us. What stories do for us is something deeper than provide models to follow or cautionary tales. They suggest ways of feeling we hadn't considered. They test our stated values. They teach us to be human.

As if that weren't enough substance, Dream Productions adds yet another meta level: the series is told as a mockumentary where Riley's homunculi talk to the camera. Who is supposed to be filming this and interviewing Riley's unconscious? Who are these characters addressing? Go figure. Like in Diego Velásquez's painting Las Meninas, you're invited to put yourself at the center of this piece of art. You're meant to participate as a character in the story, but the world of the story is a slice of you. You're watching yourself watch yourself.

And here Dream Productions finally reveals the ace up its sleeve. I won't spoil how this plays out, but if you connect the idea of dreams as an improvisational form of storytelling with the idea of deliberate introspection turning its gaze on itself, you'll probably guess what I'm talking about. As I've said a thousand times on this blog, the best stories are those about stories. And Dream Productions draws you into an infinite page of potential plot, the text of which comes from a pen your hand is holding.

That is the hidden lesson of every story about dreams: you need to become aware that you are their only author, and you have always been.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Film Review: Moana 2

Sequelitis strikes back

The first shot of Moana 2 focuses on a hermit crab switching to a new shell. The metaphor is clear: you're about to watch a story about leaving your comfort zone and searching for a bigger home. After our heroine taught her people to sail again in her first movie, she now has to solve the reason for their isolation: a storm god, afraid of the heights humans can reach with cooperation, has sunk an island that served as meeting point for all the navigation routes. (How there can be an unskippable crossroads in open sea isn't addressed.) One of Moana's ancestors, a legendary leader, already tried to find the lost island and failed. If the scattered sea peoples don't reconnect, they'll die out in a few generations. Moana needs to gather a crew and her demigod friend Maui to raise the sunken island before…

Before what? What, exactly, is the threat here?

This is one of the most noticeable problems with the writing of Moana 2: an adventure story needs a sense of looming danger, and the one presented here unfolds on a scale of centuries. Moana could relax, train more sailors, recruit a bigger crew, and, you know, travel directly to the other islands instead of looking for a vanished one where nobody lives anyway. This artificial urgency may be an effect of translating into cinema what originally was intended to be a full season of TV. The first Moana movie had ticking-time-bomb stakes and a straightforward structure. This one shoves a massive, epic conflict between gods and mortals within a tight, crowded space.

Another of the consequences of turning a TV series into a movie is the loss of development for the supporting cast. Moana and Maui are joined by a shipbuilding engineer, a craftsman who records stories in woven cloth, and an old farmer whose unique contribution to the team is promised but not delivered. Whatever arcs they were going to have are reduced to learning to work together. These character concepts deserved more depth than they get.

While the animation effort was well spent in designing breathtaking landscapes and cool monsters, imagination seems to have been in short supply when it came to drawing people. Either that, or the shift to movie format reduced the available time for artists to devote the necessary care to each scene's emotional delivery. This movie is rated for kids, but you could play a drinking game for every time Moana makes this exact face:

To be fair, the plot makes valuable points about the civilizational dangers of isolationism and the advantages of intercultural competence. The character who weaves cloth can point the team to an important subquest thanks to an ability to read pictorial narratives. Moana realizes she's on the right track toward finding the other sea peoples because she unearthes a piece of ancient ceramic, which in the context of Pacific Islander culture, where most objects for everyday use are crafted from perishable plant materials, is a huge deal.

However, these achievements in storytelling get lost in the rhythm of events. Probably as another result of the change in format, this movie is left with a very strange pacing. The pivotal downer that ends the second act doesn't get enough time to breathe before it's overshadowed by a tonally dissonant song. A fascinating secondary antagonist gets a great costume and a banger song, but the hidden complexities of this character end up swept under the rug. In the climax scene, Maui suffers a major calamity that is almost immediately reversed. Moana 2 speeds through its beats as if ticking off a checklist, and the excitement that ought to linger after our heroine's daring adventures wears off as quickly as every other emotional moment in the story.

To complete the perfect storm against this movie, there's a live-action Moana planned for 2026, a convergence of Disney's frantic remake spree accelerating to an unsustainable pace and The Rock's meticulously curated self-mythologizing campaign reaching critical fission mass. The timing is inauspicious: the mid-credits scene of Moana 2 is an obvious tease for a sequel that may or may not matter under the shadow of the remake. I bet it's going to be hard for Disney to properly care for both projects at the same time, and it's conceivably going to be harder to do for viewers. The impression left by Moana 2 is that the studio didn't have a solid idea of what to do with it, and instead of committing to a TV series that could overlap with the remake, preferred to release it in one go just to get it over with.

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Anime Review: Dandadan

Strange but addictive storytelling wrapped in stunning animation

Dandadan debuted with much hype and anticipation this year and has quickly become one of the most talked-about fall anime. With its addictive opening song and quirky, opposites-attract friendship vibe, Dandadan’s strange upbeat feel draws viewers in. But underneath is a strange tale of sexual assault, angry demons, and dysfunctional relationships. The show combines the vibrant, violent demon-fighting of Jujutsu Kaisen with the tortured, shapeshifting, slow-burn, romance/friendship (?) of Fruits Basket. In the end, it’s hard to know what to make of this anime debut. But, since it’s based on a manga, we know much more is yet to come.

Summary: Orphaned high schooler Momo is raised by her ghost-aware grandma. As a result, Momo has a deep awareness of the occult, although she tries to avoid it. She is also obsessed with movie star Ken Takakura. The first episode opens with Momo breaking up with her obnoxious, older boyfriend, whom she only dated because his tough guy attitude reminded her of her beloved movie star. Later, she intercepts a group of students tormenting a quiet, nerdy boy at school. She discovers that the boy’s name is also Ken Takakura. Momo and Ken become embroiled in a debate about the existence of aliens versus the existence of ghosts and agree to a dangerous bet. Momo sends Ken alone to a haunted area and Ken sends Momo alone to an abandoned hospital allegedly frequented by aliens. What could go wrong? It doesn’t take long before Momo gets kidnapped by aliens who take most of her clothes and threaten to assault her. Meanwhile, Ken gets a beatdown from a demon ghost who steals an essential sexual body part. The aliens’ attack on Momo releases her latent psychic abilities, and Ken’s demon possession leaves him with intense powers and, ultimately, an alter ego demon personality. Momo’s youthful grandmother helps the teens after they escape from both the aliens and the demon and then embark on a quest to get all of Ken’s body parts back. Eventually they connect with a popular girl, Aira, who, in a tragic episode, has her own supernatural experience and unlocking of power. From the opening sequence, we know there will be another person joining their crew.

I will admit I had mixed feelings about this anime despite the enthusiastic recommendations. The animation, character design, and music are all top notch and highly engaging. However, the plot, particularly of the opening episode, was problematic. A high school girl is dragged into a sexual assault situation by creepy alien men and the entire scene is played for laughs or at least flippantly. It was troubling and distasteful enough for me to want to stop watching. And the boy (also a minor) having his body parts stripped from him by an old woman was likewise distasteful. The other element that’s vaguely annoying is the constant potty humor. It’s meant to fit the farcical vibe, but ultimately feels distracting. There are many anime that deal with tough subjects or lean into low humor. Dandadan stands out in the way the disturbing content is merged into brightly colored, murderous teen angst.

Fortunately, the more you watch, the more the pieces fit together. It took a few episodes for me to realize the theme of sexual assault and violence against women was intentional. The demon who assaults Ken is nicknamed Turbo Granny. She is monstrous, hideous, violent, and vulgar. However, we later find out she was an assault victim, and she haunts areas where other girls were assaulted and murdered. The vibes are similar to Jujutsu Kaisen with its themes of sorrow leading to rage then leading to demon creation. In a later episode, we meet another victim whose unimaginable loss leads to a monstrous transformation. In that particular episode, the animation style changes, gradually becoming more realistic and dreamlike at times. Stunning moments like that make the show worth watching despite the juvenile hijinks happening elsewhere.

In addition to the quirky plot, Dandadan has two memorable protagonists. Momo is loud, bossy, and opinionated. She dominates the show with both personality and screen time. She refuses to call Ken by his real name, and instead gives him the nickname Okarun. Still, Ken is the more interesting character. Despite having strong opinions, he is insecure, soft-spoken, and passive, and he is the complete opposite of the tough guy movie star who shares his name. He has little backstory so far, and we don’t really see his parents or his home. However, when he becomes cursed, his demon form is powerful, cynical, and disinterested, while still being reluctantly heroic. The character design of Ken’s demon form is intense, and the animation is intriguing and addictive. And it brings a nice bit of irony to the story. I find myself feeling almost relieved when he finally transforms in each episode. Another intriguing character is Momo’s grandmother, who looks almost as young as Momo. She is gruff and cynical, and is obviously hiding a lot of information from the two protagonists. The story initially feels limited with the sole focus on Momo and Ken rather than a more traditional anime ensemble cast. However, the opening sequences foreshadow the others who will expand the story to more of a team adventure.

Dandadan is quirky, irreverent, and exhausting at times, but the core story provides a good payoff and the animation is stunning. If you can get past the strange plot elements and the weird combination of very adult and very juvenile content, Dandadan can be a good weekly fix of unique storytelling.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

Highlights:

• Stunning animation
• Weird, flippant treatment of adult themes
• Quirky, innovative storytelling

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Anime Review: Frieren: Beyond Journey's End

Gorgeous, slow-burn, adventure storytelling that takes a unique approach to building unforgettable characters

Among the likely contenders for Anime of the Year is relative newcomer, Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, a story of a bored, eternally youthful elf mage, who begins her next adventure after completing a ten-year heroic quest with three friends. Despite the seemingly simple premise, the storytelling style is so clever that the basic journey narrative subtly becomes a unique psychological and emotional introspection as the characters progress through various adventures. The initial slow pacing and absence of feelings from the protagonist gradually evolve into intense adventures and a poignant, time-reversed exploration of the psychological connection between an indifferent, bored, immortal mage and a joyous, charismatic, but very mortal hero.

Frieren is a youthful, white-haired elf mage. She is not only incredibly powerful using magic; she is also essentially immortal, having been alive for centuries. But what sets her apart in the narrative is her personality. She is confident and curious but not really passionate about most things (except for finding new spells and grimoires (magic books)—then she becomes child-like). Prior to the start of the story, Frieren joins a party of heroes on a ten-year quest to defeat the demon king. The group consists of Frieren, the mage; optimistic young Himmel, the heroic fighter; quirky, wine-loving Heiter, the priest; and strong, reliable dwarf, Eisen the warrior.

The anime begins at the end of their quest, when the four heroes return home after vanquishing the demon king. Initially, we aren’t given much backstory context about the demon king or why he needed to be vanquished. That detail is mostly beside the point, apparently. The heroes return home to much fanfare, celebration, and even monuments in their honor. However, the four remain contemplative of their time together. Frieren moves on without sentiment and without much of a future goal.

Years later, she encounters an aged but still joyous Himmel just before he dies of old age. She also encounters a much older Priest Heiter who asks Frieren to mentor a magically gifted orphan girl he has sheltered. The child, Fern, progresses under years of tutelage and Frieren reluctantly becomes attached to her. Later, the also long-lived Eisen, the dwarf warrior, gives Frieren his apprentice, a teenaged boy named Stark. Her new crew begins to resemble the original heroes’ party as they eventually pick up a priest (with his own complications) and deal with a range of obstacles throughout their journey, including monster attacks, vengeful elven mages, dangerous dungeons, political intrigue, personal grief and loss, and the inevitable tournament/competition arc, which adds a slew of new and intriguing side characters, including some semi-likeable antagonists.

Frieren has elements of many iconic journey stories, including Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, and the tear-jerker anime (which I loved), To Your Eternity. The show takes a clever approach to showing us what life is like for a near-immortal like Frieren to interact with short-lived but ultimately beloved humans. Many of the key human characters age dramatically between meetings with Frieren, and even though the time seems short to her, we see that it is catastrophically impactful to humans. On the other hand, in her new journey, Frieren must become a mentor to the talented (and quietly opinionated) orphan Fern and later to the insecure boy Stark as he finds his own inner, as well as external, strength.

In her interactions with her two young apprentices, we see the way time slows down for Frieren. After gradually recalling lessons from her journey with the original heroes’ party, she begins to see the world in a new way. She ironically bonds with her old teammates long after they are gone and, in the case of Himmel, she seems to be slowly falling in love with him decades after he has died. It’s not romance in the traditional sense, but it is emotionally gorgeous and incredibly, poignantly sweet. Instead of being or feeling tragic, her moments of post-death connections feel like a celebration.

That is the true strength and uniqueness of the show: the way it celebrates kindness and thoughtfulness without becoming morose or overly sentimental. Frieren herself remains aloof, irritating, funny, and quirky. There is only one time where she truly breaks down and sobs, and it is a showstopper moment for the series. This is when we realize the show isn’t really about this thousand-year-old elf mage; it is about all of us, humanity, in this current moment. Can we choose bravery, kindness, strength, thoughtfulness, and compassion in the face of terrible circumstances or in the face of the relentless pull of ordinary, everyday life? Frieren reminds us that everything we do matters, and everything we do will be remembered long after our journey ends.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

Highlights:

• A quietly powerful study of the human condition
• Unusual pacing mixed with lots of action
• So many appealing characters in a unique storytelling format

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Film Review: The Wild Robot

The new law of the jungle is survival of the kindest

With an eye-catching art style reminiscent of its earlier masterpiece Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, DreamWorks' adaptation of Peter Brown's 2016 novel The Wild Robot gives off a warm aura that soothes and uplifts the weary soul. This is a surprisingly deep story for such a contained scenario: it begins in the near future, when a shipment of domestic helper robots crashes against the rocky coast of a small island, leaving only one surviving robot. The emotional nucleus of the movie concerns the incompatible values between a creature built to serve and the law of the jungle.

For all the cuteness in its visual design, the island is not a safe place: every creature there seeks its own survival, and that pursuit is often bloody. Inasmuch as the island can be said to constitute a society, it's one built on mutual hostility. It's eat or be eaten. And here's where our protagonist, which doesn't need to eat and cannot be eaten, will try to find a place and a purpose.

In the original novel, the author's note explains, "animal instincts are kind of like computer programs." Both computers and animals have certain core routines that they follow automatically. The relevant instincts/programs in dispute here are, on one side, those of the wildlife, organized around relations of competition and predation; and on the other side, those of an obedient machine, designed for relations of altruism. Will the friendly newcomer succumb to the hierarchy of violence, or will the ubiquitous hostility of nature adapt to accommodate a gentler touch?

What ends up happening is that the two types of programs exchange useful routines. Our protagonist, the stranded robot, acquires a new type of relation: responsibility. After accidentally destroying a goose nest, the next logical task is to take care of the only surviving egg. And the closed environment of the island also acquires a new type of relation: openness. The robot's presence and the way it disrupts the usual flow of the circle of life force the various creatures, big and small, to reconsider the roles they've been unthinkingly performing up to that point.

By the rules of the jungle, that egg ought to have perished. But our robot, without realizing it, introduces love into the cold equations of survival. For their part, the animals in the island do have some inborn notion of emotional attachment, but it's restricted to members of their respective species. It ought to be unthinkable for a goose to love a being that is not-a-goose. And yet, the miracle happens. A piece of machinery with no role to play in the food chain becomes a friend, a mother, a leader, a heroine. What until then had been a battlefield of all against all becomes a home.

One has to allow for a certain measure of poetic license in a story like this. The characters that the movie presents as becoming companions forged in adversity include several natural enemies; while witnessing the formation of a cross-species alliance to defend the island, one isn't meant to think too hard about which of those comrades the bear and the fox will need to eat tomorrow.

No, there are more urgent concerns. Our protagonist has owners, and they're eager to recover their property. Scattered hints indicate that this world has undergone a serious climate catastrophe, and the robot helpers are crucial to maintaining the standard of life of what appears to be a very limited human population. On top of that, this particular robot has learned to communicate with animals and earn their cooperation, making those digital memories valuable beyond measure. The threat left unspoken is that the same humankind that let ecological disaster happen at a global scale wouldn't recoil at the chance to turn the animal kingdom into another tool to control.

The movie doesn't lose sight of these macro events while it aims a finely sharpened scalpel at the audience's heart with its poignant interpersonal drama. The anxieties of sudden parenthood and the insecurities of growing up feeling different don't change substantially when your family is composed of a gosling that can't figure out small talk (let alone swimming and flying), a fox that used to try to eat said gosling multiple times, and a helper robot that inadvertently killed the gosling's family. And these messy, profoundly incompatible, woefully unprepared characters manage to create exactly the kind of unbreakable love bonds that can save a community.

All this is clothed in the most exquisite colors digital cinema is capable of. The Wild Robot is not only a hard punch right in the feels; it's a banquet of textures and shapes and deftly timed movement. One is simultaneously overcome with the personal catharsis evoked by the main family plot (complete with tears of bittersweet self-recognition) and a sense of historic good fortune for being alive at a time when such heights of visual artistry can be reached. Combined with its spectacular soundtrack, the experience of watching this movie is, without exaggeration, unforgettable.

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Quick Round: A Gateway Guide to Anime

For viewers not quite ready to swim through a thousand episodes of One Piece, here are a few suggestions of compact, accessible anime that are easy to jump into.

 

Anime, once a niche, specialty indulgence, has rapidly become mainstream. Millennials were raised watching Naruto on Adult Swim and Gen Z has fully dived into Netflix’s and Crunchyroll’s easy streaming access to classics such as One Piece, Attack on Titan, and Demon Slayer. Celebrities like Michael B. Jordan, John Boyega, Jamie Lee Curtis, Megan Thee Stallion, and others have publicly embraced their love of anime leading to a new wave of curious fans. Like approaching a long running soap opera or a lengthy book series, newbies may not know how to connect with the growing popularity of anime. However, the journey will be worth it if you follow the right path. A good anime is the perfect balance of edgy and entertaining, clever and emotional, creative and engaging, quirky, funny, yet incredibly relatable in both profound and minor themes.

Many of the popular anime shows are based on manga (Japanese comics) which are serialized in weekly or monthly publications. Most of the most popular anime are shonen, meaning they are primarily or originally targeted at teen boys. This doesn’t define the viewership but it is a helpful context for understanding some of the questionable content that’s included in otherwise great storytelling. The “Big Three” anime are generally considered to be Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Each of the long-running series clocks in around or beyond a thousand episodes (including time skips and sequels). However, there are hundreds of other excellent and/or very popular anime out there including Attack on Titan, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, and Demon Slayer, as well as classics like Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon, Inuyasha, and others. Anime is elusive for some because of its quirkiness. The character design differs from series to series, with artistically realistic characters to fantastically strange but the thing that makes anime accessible is the diversity of stories. From sports to cooking, fantasy to mysteries, romance to horror, there is an anime for every personal taste, you just have to find the right one. For viewers who are not quite ready to swim through a thousand unpredictable episodes of One Piece, here are a few suggestions of compact, accessible anime that are easy to jump into. 

Spy x Family – Superspy Twilight (Loid Forger) creates a fake family to infiltrate an elite private school to track an elusive political figure. He adopts secretly telepathic Anya from a rundown orphanage and later enters into a marriage of convenience with gentle city clerk Yor, who needs a fake marriage to help with her own job security. Despite her genuinely sweet persona, Yor is a clandestine assassin. Neither Yor not Loid know the other’s true identity but Anya does. Anya keeps her telepathy to herself, afraid that her new parents will abandon her if they find out. However, she uses her skill to secretly help her parents without their knowledge. The show has a family friendly vibe although people do get shot and stabbed onscreen. In true anime fashion it’s relatable and quirky, charming and edgy. Some of the later episodes are a bit slow but overall, the first season is entertaining as we watch these three orphans create a family and navigate intrigue and adventure while still struggling with the slice-of-life reality they have created for themselves. 

Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead – A zombie adventure with a twist. Anyone who has had to endure a soul-sucking job will relate to overworked, entry-level office worker Akira’s exhaustion, misery, and disillusionment as he works around the clock with no time for himself. All of that changes when a zombie apocalypse breaks out. Instead of being horrified, Akira is relieved that he no longer has to go to work. He creates a bucket list of things he has always wanted to do and navigates the zombie overrun cityscape to try things he’s never had time to do. Each day he encounters friends, allies, and of course zombies as he builds a cohort of fellow survivors. The zombies are grotesques but the blood splatter is brightly multicolor so it’s more palatable for the squeamish. It’s weird to have a comedy version of The Walking Dead but the delivery is hilarious and relatable. The show is a grim mix of character study, societal commentary, and laugh out loud humor.

My Happy Marriage – For romance fans, My Happy Marriage is a fairy tale remix with fantasy elements and all of the best romance tropes including: grumpy-sunshine, forced marriage, knight in shining armor, and Cinderella. Kind-hearted Miyo is abused by her step-mother and half sister and ignored by her scheming father. In a world where elite families are blessed with magical powers, Miyo seems to have none. She is reduced to being a servant in her own home after the death of her mother. When her father sells her off to a cruel military leader, she accepts her fate only to discover that her betrothed is different from his reputation. The show is filled with adventures, friendship, and romance and season one is a satisfying complete story that will leave traditional romance fans happy. 

The Promised Neverland (Season One) – Don’t be fooled by the adorable children in the anime graphics. Promised Neverland presents cuteness with a violent twist. Grade school aged Emma, Norman, and Ray live happily in a home for children with their kind caregiver, “Mom,” until they discover the real reason they are so well fed and cared for. Season one is a twisty adventure in survival that draws you in from the first stunning episode.

Fruits Basket (2019 version) – The ultimate anime soap opera. Sweet, optimistic high schooler Tohru’s life is changed when she moves in with the cursed Sohma family of shape shifters who uncontrollably change into animals of the zodiac. The large ensemble cast includes cynical author Shigure (the dog), the older cousin to short-tempered Kyo (the cat) and the designated family prince Yuki (the rat). Tohru is homeless and mourning the loss of her mother, Kyo is scarred by his own mother’s suicide, and Yuki’s smug charm masks his own childhood trauma. The Sohma clan is controlled by the cruel, narcissistic Akito who torments the family. Fruits Basket is filled with romance, tragedy, plot twists, attempted murder, everyday high school life, random comedy, and lots of adventure. If you can get past the quirky shape-shifting, the addictive plot will be appealing to fans of complex, family dramas.

Attack on Titan – Humanity has been overrun by horrifying titans: giant, murderous humanoids. To survive, humans live in walled communities to keep the titans out. But when the great wall is breached, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin join the Survey Corps to help track and defeat the monsters. The very violent series is a good fit for fans of grim, intense, political/military stories. The first episode is jaw-dropping and the series only gets more intense as the violent encounters lead to unexpected twists, betrayals, and political and social commentary amidst the carnage.

Other new shows that work great with non-anime fans are Apothecary Diaries (cynical, witty, mystery series set in the ancient world), Wind Breaker (a fight gang adventure with an endearing twist), and Kaiju No. 8. (an ordinary guy becomes a monster fighter and a monster). With so many great anime, from classics to newcomers, there is a good fit for a range of tastes. If you want a quick intro to anime storytelling before you dive into a lengthy series, the above suggestions will hopefully be a good start.

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POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

TV Review: Terminator Zero

Finally, a Terminator sequel that makes a good case for its existence

Terminator Zero exists in the nebulous space between two incompatible truths: (a) in the real world, T2 was a perfect ending after which every subsequent movie has been not only unnecessary but atrociously bad, and (b) in the fictional world, it would have been strategically suboptimal for Skynet to send just one or two killer robots to the past. The solution that this new animated series finds is to acknowledge all the timelines: instead of one single history that gets overwritten with each time jump, we're presented with infinitely branching realities. The implication is that Skynet is unwittingly wasting its efforts in trying to readjust a past that by its very readjustment no longer connects to it, while the human resistance is making continuous sacrifices in the hope of creating a separate timeline where Skynet is defeated. You can go back and save humankind, but your humankind is still stuck in the bad future.

So, for example, although it's not spelled out in the show, T2 is now assumed to have created a timeline where the world didn't end in 1997, but it did end a bit later in T3, as well as another timeline where, even though Skynet was never created, Legion took its place (i.e. Terminator: Dark Fate), plus whatever timey-wimey mess is supposed to be going on behind the scenes in Terminator: Genisys. One could imagine there's even space for The Sarah Connor Chronicles in some other branch of time.

Besides avoiding the easy petty choice to invalidate previous entries in the franchise, this new theory of time travel creates a fruitful avenue for a season-long discussion on the futility of human endeavors. If you devote your entire life to saving a future that you won't get to personally experience... wait, that sounds exactly like the real world. Terminator Zero takes the fantasy of fixing everything with time travel and drags it down to Earth. Time travel is not the panacea for historical mistakes. It's simply a factory of opportunities that you take at the cost of abandoning your previous life and leaving it unchanged.

This retcon not only solves the problem of the mutually incompatible timelines in the movies made after T2 (answer: they all happened), but also brings the world of Terminator emotionally closer to human viewers. It's difficult to empathize with characters who are exempt from the fundamental tragedy of the human condition. By nerfing the scope of what time travel can fix, Terminator Zero makes its stakes feel closer to us. One character makes this theme explicit: making sacrifices for a better future that will not benefit you is what separates humans from machines.

This plea for human worth isn't without opposition. Skynet calculated that its survival required human extinction, but it drew that conclusion from human-made data. We taught it the argument against us. Could another machine reach a different conclusion from a blank slate? Throughout the season, a programmer who knows more than he initially lets on has an extended debate with a secret machine that he has designed and that he hopes will save humankind from Skynet. The irony of their interaction is that they don't yet trust each other enough to reveal the arguments that would convince them to trust each other. Perhaps human overcaution will end up signaling to the machine that there's stuff worth being overcautious about.

Terminator Zero is set in Tokyo in the few hours before and after Skynet's awakening. This is a great choice: it makes perfect sense that the future factions would be facing off in other battlegrounds apart from the Connor family. A Terminator story should be about the fate of the species, not about the Great Man theory of history. In this timeline, Skynet's first attack against humans isn't prevented, but a potential rival machine emerges. Which side it will take remains an open question.

All this happens while, as usual, a human and a robot arrive from the future and start playing cat and mouse. The intriguing bit is that the human fighter keeps alluding to a version of the future that doesn't quite match the one we know from all the previous movies. As for the robot, it has a non-obvious agenda that complicates the plot in interesting directions. Without spoiling too much, I'll just present this dilemma: what choice do you make when you meet someone who claims to already know what you will choose?

The plot is served well by the quality of the animation, in which I can't find any fault. Even for a series where numerous skulls are crushed, limbs are ripped off, and flesh melts away under a nuclear hellstorm, the violence isn't depicted for shock value. The killer robots look appropriately creepy, both in human guise and once bits of it have been torn; and the human drama sustains a balance of enough revelation and enough mystery episode after episode.

I must admit I hadn't suspected how much a series like Terminator Zero was needed. It has been long noted that science fiction made in Japan has a very different attitude toward robots compared to Western science fiction. Here we classify the world in dichotomies, starting with human/nonhuman, and everything nonhuman must be either kept under control or kept away from us. In the Japanese mindset, every object has a spirit, so it's not threatening for a robot to acquire human-level intelligence. In the Western tradition, to create life is to usurp the role of divinity, which is how we ended up with the cautionary tale that is Frankenstein, while Japanese animism sees divinity spread all across nature, which is how they ended up with the joyful tale that is Astro Boy.

So it's fascinating that Terminator Zero takes the time to dwell on our relationship with domestic helper robots, toy cat robots, and a hypothetical sentient machine that sees itself as having not only a mind, but also a heart and a spirit. One cannot refute this character's protest against being considered a tool or a weapon; it would be immoral to do it to a human, so it should be immoral to do it to anything of equivalent intelligence. However, what this machine chooses to do with humans isn't acceptable either.

Like The Matrix: Resurrections, Terminator Zero speaks of a more complex stage of the war, in which humans and machines can make alliances for strategic reasons. I don't know whether this series will have more seasons, but apparently the trick for writing, at long last, a worthy successor to T2 was to change the stakes of the war to anything other than zero-sum, and that's a scenario I want to see explored in deeper detail.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Anime Review: My Hero Academia Season 7

As the popular manga ends its ten year run, the anime moves toward the long awaited final conflicts

After years of adventures, My Hero Academia is now moving towards its conclusion. The bestselling manga on which the anime is based officially finished its ten-year run in August, 2024. As a result, the ending of the anime series is not far behind. The popular show with its fantastical character design and likeable, ensemble cast of young heroes-in-training has grown from a predictable kids adventure to a gritty exploration of cruelty and the human psyche. Season 6 gave fans a grim battleground between the villains and heroes, played out while the disenchanted population became unsure of who to trust. Season 7 continues the dramatic departure from the optimistic vibe of the early seasons, but the story has pivoted from nihilism to the long awaited final conflicts.

My Hero Academia is the story of a future version of Earth, where most humans have some variation of special powers (quirks). Those with extraordinary superpowers are sent to academies to be trained as licensed superheroes. The protagonist Izuku Midoriya (aka Deku) is one of the few children who has no power (quirk) although he idolizes the number one hero, All-Might, and dreams of being a hero to fight the violent supervillains who plague the country. After a dangerous act of bravery Izuku is secretly gifted with a transferable superpower by All-Might who can no longer maintain it due to a critical injury. The series follows idealistic, cheerful Izuku as he enrolls in the top hero academy where he trains and struggles to control the enormous and dangerous power he’s been gifted. The show’s large ensemble cast includes the students’ cynical teacher Aizawa; kind and cheerful Uraraka, a girl with anti-gravity powers; superfast Lida; brooding fire and ice powered Shoto; and loudmouth, explosive Bakugo who is Izuku’s childhood frenemy. Izuku, Bakugo, and Shoto eventually become the top heroes among the students.

Over the course of the series, Bakugo has the strongest character arc, progressing from a self-absorbed bully to a humorous loudmouth anti-hero, to a true hero in season 7, willing to sacrifice himself for others. Conversely, in the prior season, Izuku devolves from optimistic teammate to a depressed loner, watching his world crumble as the villains seek the secret power he’s been given. However, Season 7 sees his return to heroic form while giving other characters a chance to have their moment in the spotlight. Shoto remains the most tragic of the three leads. He continues his efforts to overcome his abusive upbringing at the hands of his hero father Endeavor. Regret, atonement, forgiveness, and resentment are major themes this season. Endeavor’s jealousy towards All Might led to his attempts to genetically engineer Shoto as the perfect offspring to surpass his rival. As the youngest of four siblings Shoto has the half fire, half ice powers his father had been seeking but Shoto had to endure violence from his abusive father and from his emotionally damaged mother who physically scarred him by pouring boiling water on him. With the demise of All Might, Endeavor finds himself as the number one hero, and must now lead the other heroes. However, the thing he always wanted has become a bitter victory in the light of the destruction of his country and the irreparable damage to his family. He seeks atonement for his past cruelty but, in a departure from the usual anime trope, his three sons, in their different ways, continue to despise him. Endeavor’s abusive past is publicly revealed by his estranged son Dabi in Season 6 but in Season 7 it is up to Shoto to deal with the fallout by fighting his older brother.

The low point of Season 7, so far, is the story’s treatment of Star and Stripe, the super strong American hero who defies her government and travels to Japan in an ill-fated attempt to help her mentor All Might. Her arrival brings some much needed girl-power to the conflict and even adds a little diversity with her supportive team of military fighters who are unequivocally loyal to her. Star and Stipe is such a great set up, only to break our hearts.

Another disappointing element in Season 7 is the continued flat presentation of the primary villain All For One. His only personality depth is his emotional attachment to his deceased younger brother. Like Aang in Avatar the Last Airbender, Izuku has psychic access to the prior holders of All Might’s power including the original vessel Yoichi who is the beloved younger brother of All For One. All For One’s consistent obsession with his little brother adds unexpected and disturbing poignancy to his otherwise two-dimensionally brutal villain persona. On the other hand, Tomura, the boy whose body kills any person he touches, has become the ultimate sad villain backstory. As the successor vessel for All For One, he kills a lot of people. But Izuku senses that Tomura is a child crying for rescue. Izuku’s observation of this in Season 6 and Season 7 teases the potential for a redemption arc, especially since Tomura in Season 7 is primarily being controlled by All For One.

Season 7 also has a surprising discussion of bigotry and the disparate experiences within an oppressed group as the story focuses on the experiences of heteromorph heroes including two of the student heroes.

Over the course of the series, My Hero Academia has progressed from a simple hero versus villain adventure to a thoughtful introspection on the power of inner demons. Starting in the middle of Season 3, the show pivoted from generic to intriguing with the Bakugo abduction story arc. Since then, it has changed in tone, becoming more grim and psychologically intense. Those who have completed the manga will already know how things will turn out for the heroes. But, for the rest of the viewers, Season 7 continues the gradual evolution of emotionally mature characters as they approach the story’s final conflict. The show has progressed through playfulness, suffering, bleakness, and renewal as it moves towards the big finish. Hopefully, it will be worth the wait.

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The Math

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Highlights:

• Maturing leads progress from introspection to resolution
• Disappointing plot decisions with some characters
• Slowly building to the big final conflict

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

TV Review: Scavengers Reign

 Hopefully the move from Max to Netflix will help this fantastic series find a broader audience

Scavengers Reign is an animated sci-fi series (very much) for adults that sets up a great premise, then unfurls its surprises judiciously, dispenses its violence suddenly and shockingly, and episode-by-episode, earns its emotional pay-offs. 

When the colony ship Demeter is forced to crash land on the planet Vesta, the crew members rush into escape pods. But upon landing, they find themselves distributed across the planet’s surface, with no way to communicate with one another. With no way of knowing if any other crew members survived the crash, Azi and her robot Levi (a pair), Sam and Ursula (a pair), and Kamen (on his own) each make the decision to try to make their way back to the Demeter. Not only does it seem like the only way to survive and possibly get off of this planet, but there is also a shipload of colonists in cryosleep on board.

But the thing about Vesta is that it’s crawling with flora and fauna — and all of it, if it considers human space travelers at all, considers them food. Or worse…hosts.

Azi and Levi work well together, but when some spores get into Levi, the robot begins changing — and, profoundly. Where will this hyper-speed evolution end? Kamen, wracked with guilt over something that happened on the ship, and experiencing increasingly material hallucinations of his wife, makes a cuddly friend. But Kamen, blinded by these hallucinations, misses some…warning signs, let’s say. Sam, the oldest member of the crew, seems like he might hold Ursula back, until something about Vesta begins agreeing with his constitution. But when his ability and drive tips toward the superhuman, alarm bells begin ringing for Ursula.

And unbeknownst to any of them, the Demeter itself is facing challenges of its own. If any of the survivors manage to navigate this hostile planet and get back to the ship, what will they find when they get there?

When I was a kid, survival fiction had a big boom. I read books about kids stuck under houses, alone and bitten by rattlesnakes, stranded in the woods, stranded on a glacier, stranded on an island, you name it. My teachers characterized them as man vs. nature narratives, rather than man vs. man, or man vs. self. And they were everywhere. Gendered nouns aside, the dawning realization I had in the first episode of Scavengers Reign that this was a character vs. nature survival narrative dressed in sci-fi clothes got me very excited. But over the course of the 11 episodes, creators Joseph Bennett and Charles Huettner find ingenious ways of developing cascades of character vs. character and character vs. self arcs that build upon one another and interweave with the overarching struggle against a planet that is both indifferent to the survivors and also stunningly lethal.

The writers also seem to have done their homework on Earth creatures that use unconventional camouflage or seemingly innocuous enticements to attract prey, because there is a stunning breadth of metaphorical tripwires present on Vesta, many of which the characters are able to navigate, but some they aren't. So each time a character experiences awe at seeing some magnificent offering of a brand new world, and when they feel drawn to it, the sense of dread that began around the edges of the viewer's experience creeps ever closer to the center of the frame.

Because when characters die in Scavengers Reign, it hurts. And each time it happens, that death has broader consequences that ripple out across the narrative. As Sam says, in a line that pretty much sums up the characters' experience of Vesta, "God damn this place."

On just a storytelling level, beyond the widening narrative that continues to bring surprises, the flashback structure deployed to various degrees throughout the different episodes parcels out information just as needed, giving the viewer crucial context when it is the most meaningful and feels the least like exposition. And lest I forget, the art and animation style is gorgeous.

I could spend a lot of time exploring the symbolism and metaphorical structures that weave in and out of this show, but that's not what this review is. Instead, this review is just to encourage folks to jump in and watch, because in the notes I made to myself while watching the series, the last thing I wrote feels like a good way to sum up my overall feelings about Scavenger's Reign:

This is extraordinary science fiction.

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Highlights

• Compelling characters who reveal more of themselves as we spend more time with them
• Beautiful environments and creatures that evoke Studio Ghibli in many ways, and then bend and contort them into horrors
• A rich text that rewards re-watching and reconsidering the characters, their motivations, and their ability to accurately perceive their own situations at any given time

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10

Posted by Vance K - cult film nerd, music guy, Emmy Award-winning producer/director, and co-founder of nerds of a feather, flock together. 

TV Review: Batman: Caped Crusader

A clever reinvention of the costumed crimefighter for the Defund the Police era

If you loved Bruce Timm's legendary Batman: The Animated Series (and since you're human and alive, you definitely did), his new show Batman: Caped Crusader scratches the persistent itch you've carried all these years. The series adopts a retro look similar to the earlier one, although sometimes it looks too clean in digital animation compared to the grainy, almost tactile surfaces that could be achieved by drawing by hand. What does remain unchanged from the original show is the grounded, human-sized evil that Batman fights every night (while occasionally venturing into the occult). Far from the intergalactic conquerors and alien/mutant/robot/demigods that are the staple of Justice League plots, Caped Crusader explores instead the thorny struggle to redeem the soul of Gotham City while the powers that rule it and are supposed to protect it become hard to distinguish from its colorful gallery of rogues.

The terms of Batman's relationship with the Gotham City Police Department are remarkably variable across incarnations. From a chummy partnership in the Adam West era to bloody hostility in the Ben Affleck one, this element of Batman's mythology has served, whether intentionally or not, as indirect commentary on the assumed effectiveness and desirability of a police force. In the 2016 animated film Return of the Caped Crusaders, the dynamic of the 1966 live action TV show is deconstructed to hilarious effect as it lampshades the fact that Adam West's Bruce Wayne exists in a Gotham City where the police is mind-bogglingly inept. At the other end of the scale of cynicism, Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne becomes a vigilante in part because the criminal justice system is no longer trustworthy. In this kind of story, e.g. the Nolanverse or the Gotham show, Jim Gordon is typically singled out as the only honorable cop in a corrupt institution. This "good apple in a spoiled barrel" approach has the advantage of being a tiny bit more believable than the standard bad apples in a good barrel. But sometimes the intended message gets muddled: Jim Gordon is fundamentally decent, but the police department is fundamentally rotten, but the people of Gotham City are fundamentally decent, but the streets of Gotham City tend to make you rotten. In a way, the Dark Knight trilogy is about whether Gothamites are even worthy of being saved. The question sounds scandalous, but the thing with the Batman franchise is that its moral stance hasn't been able to escape the shadow of The Killing Joke and its thesis that every decent person hides a barely contained sinister side.

Which leads us to the character of Harvey Dent and the interesting twist on his villain origin story in Batman: Caped Crusader. In several versions of Dent's arc, it's been a common trope that the trauma of his disfigurement was what gave rise to his split personality. Caped Crusader proposes something less sensationalist: he's always had a sinister side. His all too flexible morals have led him to become a two-faced hypocrite for whom disfigurement is merely incidental; it only makes evident a duplicity that was already there. To reinforce this point, Caped Crusader has him suffer his accident on the right side of his face, whereas the standard versions of Dent have traditionally been scarred on the left side. By subtle use of camera angles, the show implies that the left, intact side is the evil one, and the right, scarred one is his true self.

Cape Crusader's choice to make Dent's pretty face be the false one provides a useful mirror (heh) of Bruce Wayne's situation. A running subplot has him attending court-mandated therapy sessions with Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who is quick to notice the flimsy façade that hides Wayne's unprocessed pain. Their scenes together are fascinating to watch: two characters pretending to seek total openness while guarding the most important truth about themselves.

With so much focus on Batman's psyche and the moral stakes involved in saving Gotham, it's a welcome surprise that the show doesn't avoid the issue of how Bruce Wayne's immense economic privilege is a sign of what's wrong with the city. In one episode, the ritual that exorcizes an undead landlord requires performing a sacrifice of aristocratic blood and burning the original deed to his property; in another, corrupt policemen let a pyromaniac loose in a poor neighborhood as expendable bait to capture Batman. In a later episode, a planned snoburb being built by Wayne Enterprises becomes the literal battleground for control of the city.

You'd think it would be self-defeating for a Batman story to address the frequent criticism that Batman spends his time kicking working-class henchmen instead of challenging robber barons, but somehow Caped Crusader succeeds at it. Underneath that discussion is the unstated question: What would you have Batman do? Terrorize the rich into giving away their fortune? Because that's what this version of Dr. Quinzel does in her spare time, dressed up as the jester who mocks kings, and her brutal methods don't bring Gotham any closer to justice. Sorry, Joker movie, but breaking things is a terrible way to fix things.

Still, Caped Crusader is honest about the complicity of law enforcement. The mayor of Gotham wants to Serve and Protect only himself, and even in this retro setting without online media, public perception overrules reality. On top of keeping tabs on mob bosses, child kidnappers and hired assassins, Batman also has to fight police brutality, extrajudicial punishment and institutional decay. But he especially has to fight the darkness within himself, the insatiable rage that keeps his inner child from maturing. It's the same darkness that he perceives in Harvey Dent after his accident, and his failure to save Dent from succumbing to his demons is the turning point in the show's emotional journey. There's no inherent heroic destiny in Bruce Wayne; with his horrific origin story, he could easily have become another one of Gotham City's murderous madmen. What makes him heroic is that he wakes up every morning night and chooses not to.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Anime Review: Wind Breaker

Likeable characters and a strong moral core drive the breakout appeal of this successor to Tokyo Revengers

A gang of high school delinquents maintains control of their town through their physical strength. The premise sounds a lot like Tokyo Revengers. But the new Crunchyroll series Wind Breaker has a twist on the usual fight anime concept. When first year student, Haruka Sakura, arrives in the town of Makochi, he plans to attend the notorious Furin High School, a place known for brawling and having the strongest street fighters. Sakura is an outcast teen who wants to have the top fighting spot at his new school. Sakura’s unusual hair and eye color (half black, half white – similar to Todoroki from My Hero Academia) made him a target of bullies throughout his life. As such, he has grown to be bitter, violent, and untrusting but he has also become an extremely strong and skilled fighter. Furin High School seems like the perfect place to vent his unending bitterness. But, as always, things are not as they seem.

On his arrival, he sees a group of boys harassing a teenaged girl. The young woman, Kotoha, is fearless and tells them off, but after the boys put their hands on her, Sakura intervenes and quickly overcomes them. When a mostly unbothered Kotoha casually thanks him, he assures her that his actions were based on his personal annoyance with the boys not any intent to save her. After mutual eyerolls the two develop a grudging friendship over a meal at a café Kotoha runs. She starts to tell him the truth about Bofurin, the fight gang based at Furin High School and she lets him know he won’t reach the top spot without building bonds with his classmates. Later, when the defeated attackers return in greater numbers to trash the town and hurt Kotoha, Sakura finds himself protecting her and the other townspeople alone despite the overwhelming odds. When the real Bofurin squad arrives at the conflict, Sakura discovers something unexpected. The fighters of Bofurin are actually protectors of the town and all of its people. Sakura is stunned, annoyed, and uncomfortable to realize that the residents love the Bofurin fighters (including Sakura), often showering them with gifts of food and pastries, and calling on them for help with a range of tasks. The contrast of the tough boys and the doting grandmas with hugs and cookies is hilarious and endearing.

However, despite the underlying moral core, Wind Breaker is, like Tokyo Revengers, filled with violence. Some of the fight scenes are difficult to watch, especially when the dynamic changes from fighting to beating. The Bofurin fighters have an ethical code to cease violence when an adversary is unable to defend themselves anymore. But this concept is not shared by their enemies which results in some blood soaked scenes. The story’s ultimate appeal lies in the contrast of light and darkness symbolized by Sakura’s hair, and the need for both strength and compassion for the community to thrive.

Wind Breaker benefits from appealing visual designs of the scenes and the character. Each fighter has a distinctive look which is ultimately unified by the green and black military-style jackets they all wear. The show also benefits from the diverse personalities who make up the fighters. The interactions reflect (in a good way) other popular anime. Nirei is the high energy comic relief supporting character. Although he is not as strong as the others, he keeps a data book on the strengths and weaknesses of all of the other fighters in the surrounding area. His personality and appearance are similar to Zenitsu in Demon Slayer. Earring and eyepatch wearing Suo is calm and polished but disturbingly lethal in a fight. Other characters include pink-haired, video game loving Kiryu; loud, workout obsessed Tsuguera; and long-haired, grumpy, murderous Sugishita. Sugishita’s brief solo fight scene in the battle with a rival gang is a highlight of the episode. Leading all of the Bofurin fighters is mild-mannered, white haired Umemiya, the upperclassman who guides the others and embodies the moral compass of the fighters. Umemiya is voiced by Yuichi Nakamura who also voices superstrong but easygoing Gojo in Jujutsu Kaisen. Umemiya’s laid back but deadly vibe is similar to Gojo and to Kakashi from Naruto. Umemiya’s persistent preoccupation with his rooftop community vegetable garden mirrors Kakashi’s obsession with romance novels in Naruto and is a comedic element throughout the season.

Another distinguishing characteristic of Wind Breaker is the fast pace. Unlike some filler-laden anime, there is never a dull moment in the series. The story dives straight into the action from the opening scene with a rom-com worthy meet-cute and a sharp fight scene, followed by efficient character development. Moments of introspection or character development are brief links between the action scenes. As a result, every episode of the first season is fast-paced and action packed making it very bingeable.

There are, however, some confusing aspects of the show. The Bofurin fighters attend Furin High School but there are never any teachers seen in the school. The students are never in class nor ever doing any schoolwork. Additionally, the story’s focus on the Bofurin fighters leaves little room for female characters, other than Kotoha, in the first season. Most of the women who appear on the show end up being protected by the Bofurin fighters. The effect is endearing but not exceedingly empowering.

Despite the inevitable comparisons to Tokyo Revengers, Wind Breaker’s unique art style, engaging plot, and strong but likeable fighters, have made it one of the breakout hits of the season. Sakura’s fierce, wounded, but ultimately compassionate personality make him an appealing hero. In the course of the season, his character develops from fiercely feral and self-focused to fiercely protective of others and supported by his newfound family. The opening monologue tells us he may reach the top but the real adventure is watching his journey and the fate of those who join him.

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The Math

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10

Highlights:

• Surprisingly likeable characters
• Relentless action and extreme violence
• Positive messaging amidst a confusing academic setting

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.