The Best Stupidity of G.I. Joe 2

I just came back from watching G.I. Joe: Retaliation, the sequel to the 2009 film the world was craving for. Guys, it is dumb. It is dumb as hell. But it is the best type of dumb, the type that emerges from a perfect storm of poor decisions and baffling plot choices that comes all the way back around to be laughably entertaining.

Thus, in lieu of an actual review, my five absolute favorite dumb moments of G.I. Joe: Retailiation:
(oh, spoilers below if you care)

5. The G.I. Joe team becomes convinced that the President of the United States has been replaced by a doppelganger because he has started saying "Sort of" instead of "Kind of". This is discovered by analyzing every public statement he has given in the past several months using computers from the '90s that they found in an abandoned rec center.

4. They confirm the President is an imposter by running his hair through a portable DNA scanner disguised as a tube of lipstick. Which they built using leftover parts. From '90s computers. That they found in an abandoned rec center.

3. Cobra Commander activates his doomsday weapon by pressing a button in a briefcase. If the exact same button is pressed a second time, it not only stops the launch but causes all seven of his billion-dollar satellites to EXPLODE. No lock is put on this briefcase.

2. At the start of the movie, COBRA frames the by having Storm Shadow (the white, evil ninja) dress up as Snake Eyes (the black, good ninja) and assassinate the President of Pakistan. This is literally step one of their plan in the movie; making the world think Snake Eyes killed a world leader is vital. And yet, rather than just, temporarily, use swords with black hilts (you know, the type Snake Eye would use) Storm Shadow uses his same swords and just puts slide-on black covers over the ends. You guys, there's committing to a costume and then there's this.

1. When the imposter President makes a joke about North Korea, "Kim Jong Il" throws his arms out and acts totally offended like the US had just the violated Bro Code.

"What'd I do? C'mon guys, that's really uncalled for."

The Shifting Realities of Following TV

Last week, TV critic Alan Sepinwall wrote a piece questioning if we're reaching the point where audiences are faced with the prospect of too many quality television shows being aired. Too much good TV? Absurd, I said! No one complains that about too many books, or too many quality movies. Besides, in the current television landscape (where there exist four separate pawn-shop series, where a NASA-founded channel now assigns an entire night of the week to wedding shows, and where a broadcast network at one point devoted 1/3rd of their prime-time line-up to procedurals distingusihed from each other mostly by how they arranged the letters S, C, and I in their titles) we should be delighted at all of the options for well-written TV that we have at our disposal.

But then I thought about how I stopped watching The Americans after the pilot episode. How I have yet to get into Bob's Burgers despite it's critical acclaim and prescence of H. Jon Benjamin. How every new series that gets recommended to me gets added to the end of an ever-increasing mental list. And I realize Sepinwall may be right.

Calling the fact there are so many high-quality series on television right now a "problem" isn't exactly accurate. It's a fact that celebrates the possibilities and variety that can be found in the medium, and TV afficianados should rightly cheer whenever a new great series emerges. However we have finally reached the point where, for the first time, there are so many good shows that it has become impractical for one person to see them all. And that means that TV critics (both amateur and professional) need to accept a few things.

For a long time TV followers have been able to get away with being a completionist lot. There were X number of 'must-see' shows, and for the most part that number was small enough that those who wanted to could stay completely caught up. Now however, that possibility no longer exists. Where before the limited number of channels capped the number of series that aired (with a new show unable to premiere until another was canceled), the growth in original cable programming ensures that more series get made each year, any of which could establish themselves as yet another 'must-see'. At the same time serialized plots have wormed their way into even the most episodic sitcoms, making it harder and harder to skip out on any given episode. Thus, TV fans are now being forced to choose between which series to follow, an experience that's a bit of a rude awakening.

So we're going to have to come to terms with not being able to watch everything. Fine, we'll adapt. Unfortunately even as TV viewers will have to adjust their expectations, certain aspects of current television analysis and fandom punish this approach. The proliferation of internet reviews, many of which review series episode-by-episode, have done wonders for promoting critical discussions about the medium. The most obvious downside however, is that spoilers are everywhere. It has become difficult enough to dodge leaked plot twists for shows you are only a couple of episodes behind on. Yet when it comes to completed series one just hasn't gotten to yet, it's even worse. The conclusion of The Sopranos is already The Sixth Sense of TV endings in terms of ubiquity, and you can bet that when Mad Men ends next year the fate of Don will become equally entrenched in pop culture. I don't believe that being spoiled on certain points is an inherently bad thing (I knew the endings of Se7en, Fight Club, Oldboy, and The Usual Suspects before I saw them and still consider them amongst my favorite films). But it does change the viewing experience, and so people are encouraged to embrace the 'need to see everything now' mindset in order to ensure their sense of surprise.

One other big factor that needs to be acknowledged is that the fan engagement and discussions around certain series really do make them a higher priority to watch "live". In general, a show that focuses on plot and action over character stands to lose as viewers stop pushing themselves to keep up with every series. Lost was a phenomenal series that made its 'as-watched' discussion a big part of its appeal and experience. The trade-off is that its legacy is less clear; a friend of mine who just watched the series remarked that he greatly enjoyed the show, but was saddened that most of the debates and conversations he wanted to have about the show had already occurred years before. Contrast this with series like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel, which have less constant narrative momentum but allow new viewers to engage in their own debates and analyses almost a decade after their they ended.

I'm not saying that dodging spoilers or prioritizing plot-heavy shows is the best way to juggle the glut of great series we find ourselves with today. There's no clear answer to how best to watch shows, not one that fits everyone in a medium as personally engaging as television. But these are exactly the issues that audiences must face as TV evolves and expands. It's not just television that is changing; how we watch it is going to have to change too.

Disney Re-watch Part 2

Part of the fun of re-watching old Disney films is that I get to pick up on things I'd never quite noticed before. For example, they got to call people 'jackasses' in Pinocchio, something that would never fly in today's environment. More importantly however, I've come to realize that the world of Disney has a system of government that appears to be based on one simple thing: can you talk to and/or command animals? If you can, congratulations! You're a princess! One would think there are better ways to set up a monarchy, but then again I'd expect King Triton would just lightning bolt the first timid shrimp that suggested forming a republic.

Moving on to more specific thoughts...

Pinocchio
I mentioned above that some of the language Disney got away with in this movie surprised me. That's not the only thing that makes Pinocchio a product of its times: it notably lacks the karmic retributions that are so prevalent in most children's fare. Stromboli attempts to kidnap Pinocchio as an indentured servant, the fox and cat duo lead him astray twice (though really, after the first time that's on Pinocchio for not learning anything) and the coachman runs a horrifying magical slave market. While our hero escapes all of these foes, none of them are ever brought to justice and remain free to prey on others. It's a jarring disconnect from pretty much any modern Disney tale (and it's a bit ironic here, seeing as Pinocchio is all about acting good so that good things will happen to him). And yet I think this attitude works very well here. I'm not saying the villain has to win (as much as some of my favorite films may seem to dispute that theory), but not spending time on the bad guys' comeuppance is a refreshing change of pace and it allows the story to focus solely on Pinocchio and his adventures.

Also getting off scot-free: Gepetto, cat-kicker

Of course one of the reasons that the story works out this way is that the film's based on a series of serial stories. As a result, Pinocchio is far more episodic than an organic whole. The movie can be essentially divided into four distinct sections, all of which are introduced abruptly. The final act literally starts with a note that reads 'BTW, a whale ate Gepetto :p' Even Pinocchio's lie-lengthened nose is only mentioned in a single scene, and even there it's not actually utilized. Still, all of these different mini-arcs give Pinocchio a good amount of variety and it's definitely an enjoyable lark.

Sleeping Beauty
Story-wise this film isn't exactly a cinematic triumph. Running only 76 minutes, Sleeping Beauty's plot still manages to feel simplistic and padded. The motives of the villainess never go beyond "she's EVIL", potentially interesting dynamics and conflict between the two kings and Prince Philip are cut short, and Princess Aurora herself is around for less than 1/4th of the picture. Instead, the three good fairies are put front and center and their role is...problematic.

For the first two-thirds of the movie, pretty much everything bad that happens is these three's fault. Maleficent only curses Aurora in the first place after the blue fairy provokes and insults her. They spend sixteen years in hiding only to prove too impatient to wait another two hours before casting spells, a move that brings about the princess' discovery and spindle-prick. Then, in order to stall for time rather than admit their failings, they curse the entire kingdom with their own slumber spell. I can't underscore how awful a plan that is: it's not only a shortsighted and drastic solution with no end in sight, but because of it they almost miss learning about their only chance at a cure. And yet in the third act, the the fairies' competence level is suddenly boosted to a perplexing degree. During the final confrontation their spells are so strong that they seem to barely need Phillip's help in slaying Maleficent at all, a move that sadly undercuts the heroism of the film's male lead and serves as a fittingly frustrating capstone to the trio's scattershot characterization.

What Sleeping Beauty does have going for it though, is that it's absolutely beautiful to look at. The animation is a wonderful blend of stylized, storybookesque backgrounds mixed with smooth and fluid characters, giving the film a unique look as Aurora and the others dance through a series of fantastically-drawn sets. The effective "look" of the movie also proves exactly why Maleficent has become the poster child for Disney villains. While her personality may be cliche, her horned cowl, flowing cloak, and regal posture is a strikingly effective character design that is as ominous as it is elegant. Plus, dragon. Dragons are awesome.

Snow White
Looked at with a critical eye, the plot of Snow White isn't actually any more complicated than that of Sleeping Beauty. If anything, this movie (whose story only spans about 36 hours!) might have even more filler. But it doesn't feel that way, and it's because each of Snow White's many interludes is different and charming by itself. Sure Snow fleeing through the woods, the forest creatures cleaning the house, and the dwarves washing their hands for dinner each take around five minutes, but they manage to stand alone as distinct 'silly symphonies' that also manage to work into the greater plot. Snow White also wastes no time getting started: we've met Snow, the Prince, the Queen, and had an assassination attempt and flight within the first ten minutes. It's not all great: the animation of the human characters mostly is distractingly creepy (especially the Prince) and "Someday my Prince Will Come" terrible and overrated. But it is charming and funny, and holds up not just as an animation landmark, but also a genuinely good movie.

The Little Mermaid
This movie, more than any other in this batch, is where my memory diverged the most from what's in the film. Ursala has stood out in my mind as being one of the better Disney villains, but upon a rewatch I was surprised to discover that her character and motivations are very simple and under-developed: the awesomeness of "Poor Unfortunate Souls" had led me to oversell a relatively average antagonist. Even weirder, while I remembered the fish Flounder, I had completely forgotten about the seagull Ariel deals with despite the fact he's extremely relevant to the plot while Flounder mostly just swims around nearby things.

Considering it hasn't been that long since I'd rewatched The Little Mermaid, I'm a bit surprised at how much of it felt new to me. The songs are famous enough but I'd overlooked how phenomenal the score is as well, and how atypically proactive Eric is as a prince, taking in random shipwreck victims into his home (and risking his life and a messy succession dispute in order to save a dog). But these things are exactly the point of this project: to rediscover things.