My blog on many subjects, principally my writing and thoughts. My current project is The Cluster Cycle, published by Roan & Weatherford. Its first two entries are Starborn Vendetta (2023) and Lost Station Circé (2024).
IMAGE CREDIT: AUTHOR WEBSITE. BOOK COVER DESIGNED BY MATT AT INKSPIRAL DESIGN
In a previous post, I gave a recommendation to a duology of sci-fi novels written by Stephen Cox, Our Child of the Stars and OurChild of Two Worlds. Out of curiosity, I decided to buy the paperback of Cox's newest novel, self-published for paperback and ebook. That novel is The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder.
The set-up is simple; taking place in 1880s London, Mrs Ashton and Mrs Bradshaw are lovers who mainly live off of Mrs Ashton's work as an evangelical spiritualist medium. Mrs Ashton has a secret ace up her sleeve; she can "read" people she touches, sensing their emotions and memories, lending her claims some validity. One day, a noble client seeks to hear from her mother-in-law, but her husband appears to stop it, and Mrs Ashton learns from reading him that he is not only a cruel and violent character, but has killed at least once in the past. Under threat from the husband's social and political connections, Mrs Ashton decides to investigate the matter.
In terms of genre, the best way I can describe this novel is 'historical low fantasy mystery". The story certainly doesn't go the way you think it might from the opening eight to ten chapters, which are basically all set-up for the meat of the story set in the English countryside. I think the best way I can describe the pacing is that the first third is over-slow for my tastes, but never so slow as to stop me reading. Then for the next two thirds, it picks up the pace aplenty with events and twists I won't spoil. The language is a part of that pacing, as while it's not entirely done in the style of Braddon, Collins and Doyle, it does have dashes and flavours of their approaches to writing.
Is this novel perfect? Well, no, but then nothing is. It does rely on some character cliches early on, though many are thankfully subverted. I think my biggest issue is with the character of Mrs Bradshaw. Compared to Mrs Ashton and the couple's hired help Maisie, Mrs Bradshaw feels underdeveloped and relies a lot more on her trope of the harsh Irish lass who will clobber unwanted male attention than the deeper characterisation given by Mrs Ashton's troubled past and Maisie's family responsibilities. There are also a couple of issues with the book's current printing: a few typos, one incomplete sentence. But those are well within the expectations of a self-published work, and throughout the book I only ran into less than half a dozen.
Even with these reservations, I would definitely recommend you check out The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder. Not only are you supporting a good writer's first self-published effort, but you'll be treated to a neat little piece of historical fiction with an enjoyable lesbian couple in the lead, and an actually intriguing mystery.
Note: This is the script for a video which you will find at the bottom of the post. Hope you enjoy one or the other, or both.
Bionicle has been on my mind recently. Why? Well, not just because of the Lego group recently cancelling a fan-made video game project dubbed Masks of Power after eight years of tacit acquiescence. It’s because Bionicle was a formative part of why I became what I am; an author, trying to get into the market alongside all the other things I’m doing. Including living a ‘normal’ life.
I first encountered Bionicle in 2003 through the Lego Catalogue, where I was absolutely terrified by the Rahkshi. I ended up getting my first set in 2004. I forget whether it was one of the Vahki, or the Toa set for Nuju. Either way, I got submerged into the world of Bionicle. I was already into Lego, through things like Alpha Team and the various more generic Lego bits we had at home. But Bionicle was different, and I found it had a story which pulled me in hard. Even after I stopped getting sets in 2007, I still followed the story until its original finale in 2010. And I bought the movies. All four of them. For better, and in the last case...for worse.
The Bionicle fan community is, I believe, unique within Lego’s corpus. It’s going strong to this very day, and the Bionicle Media Project is continuing its dedicated work preserving what might otherwise become lost media. This includes comics, books, web games, video commercials, even restoring some long-lost cancelled projects.
So, how can I best show my own love for this series, as Bionicle is on a lot of people’s minds at the moment? Well, I guess I could talk about the movies that helped me love this series, as the original trilogy remains some of my favourite set of films, even after twenty years. Even after everything else I’ve watched. I’ve absorbed countless pieces of other media, including the more dubious video game titles, but the movies are some of the most easily accessible. I’ve got the DVDs still, so I might as well go back and look over each of them. And find out why I still like them, even though they’re technically aimed at...a far younger audience than I.
Bionicle: The Mask of Light from 2003 tells...half of the story of that year’s released sets. There is a lot of extra stuff that isn’t covered, and while you can follow along, there are some casual details in dialogue that non-fans won’t get. I don’t think it’s an issue in this case. Also fun fact, I first watched this film in 2004, so when I heard the village leaders or Turaga being referred to using the names of the Metru Nui Toa, I...think my brain had a minor freeze. Because... Wait, what, Vakama? Nokama?! What’s going on, what happened!?
Partly due to how much it cuts, and party due to its intended audience, I’ve got to say it isn’t the best piece of Bionicle media in my opinion. A lot of my feelings of good towards it are rooted in nostalgia from when I first watched it. I had literally never seen anything like it; the corruptive Rahkshi, the scheming Makuta, the odd couple dynamic of Jalla and Takua, the internal conflicts of the Toa. All fairly standard, but delivered with real confidence. But that’s not to say there isn’t worth here outside of nostalgia.
I think one of the best plot threads in this movie is with the Fire Toa Tahu. He is painted as powerful, but arrogant and stubborn. When he is poisoned by one of the Rahkshi, slowly falling to its corruption, it forces the Toa to come together regardless of any differences they might have had before, especially Gali, Toa of Water. It shows the theme of unity which is present in...pretty much every piece of this series’ media. There is also Takua’s slow acceptance of his role as the titular mask’s herald, and it has a climax which is genuinely moving even if it dances around some heavier stuff.
And as for the production value? It’s really good for a first time, although it really shows its age in some of its composition and overall quality. This is a movie made with love. The animation feels solid, connected, you can believe the different characters are interacting with each other even if it’s entirely CGI. And Nathan Furst’s musical score ties it together beautifully. It may be a synthesised orchestra, but boy does it have some oomph.
So the first movie isn’t the best. It’s probably the weakest of the original trilogy. But it’s also got the heart and soul which would stand this universe in good stead going forward. And it shows what the original trilogy would do best; nice characters, great animation, and peak atmosphere.
Bionicle 2: Legends of Metru Nui, released in 2004, is a prequel to the original that follows six Matoran as they are chosen to inherit the mantle of Toa and defend their city from an insidious conspiracy that sees them branded as criminals. Honestly, the story has aged too well for its own good in these times. A state police that oppresses more than it aids, secretive operatives who disappear people, a charismatic leader few seem able to overcome.
I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as I do now partly because its themes weren’t as relevant to me back in 2004 compared to 2025. Also the characters’ struggles didn’t hit me as much as they do now. The story is all about rivalry, self-doubt, discovering yourself separate from other people’s expectations. Due to these, and the overarching theme of a city being overtaken by an unseen shadow, the tone is a lot darker than the previous film. There’s also a greater sense of kinetic flow, with more movement and action, which really brings characters to life.
Something that I fear must be mentioned is that is feels as if Bionicle 2 some parts either weren’t adjusted for rewrites, or some bits were cut. There were some cut moments from the first movie too, but here it feels more obvious. It suffers from the same issue as Mask of Light, in that it cuts about a third of the 2004 storyline, a whole initial threat from a sentient plant called the Morbuzakh. There’s also some clear asset reuse with a few characters that really breaks the flow.
But that doesn’t make this a weak movie. In fact, I think it’s my favourite out of the original trilogy today. My favourite part of it is Vakama’s struggle with self-belief, needing to mostly rely on his wits rather than his Toa powers to get himself and his fellows out of trouble. He really comes across as someone who had a role thrust on him, feels he should follow a set pattern, and isn’t doing very well. The performances really sell each of the characters, to the point that the voice work feels better than the first, even if it’s on a similar level. Similarly improved is the animation and overall production, and Furst once again delivers an entertaining musical score.
All of this comes together to make Bionicle 2 a fascinating entry, if a slightly uneven one. It’s my favourite out of the original trilogy, and features some real strides forward in terms of characters and plot. If it had been given more time, had a little more content, it could well be considered a classic outside the fandom. Honestly it feels like this entire trilogy is in a battle between runtime and content.
2005’s Bionicle 3: Web of Shadows, while a sequel in name, is technically an interqual, taking place during the last few events of Bionicle 2. I’m not sure what I expected initially going into this, but I knew the story would be darker. That was the whole marketing behind this year, we were going into dark and edgy territory. The quest of the Toa Metru to retrieve the Matoran, only to be mutated into half-beast forms by the occupying Visorak army, is still surprisingly compelling.
For one thing, the overarching atmosphere really carries the increased personal stakes, and given the age range this was being aimed at, its themes of struggling with personal growth and feeling foreign in your own skin are quite pertinent. Even more so if the viewer were grappling with something like gender identity. This was the first time I felt real stakes, and also the first time that sudden death was so openly and bluntly portrayed. It also feels the most complete out of the trilogy, like very little if anything had to be cut before release.
There is a slight artificiality with how Vakama has gone from anxious to arrogant, but it’s not too much of a leap that I don’t buy it entirely. The rest of the character dynamics are retained, and it fits the overall theme. And whatever anyone else says, Roodaka is one of the most intimidating villains in the series, and probably helped establish some of my tastes with villainy in general. Secretive, manipulative, apparently soft, but fully capable of destruction when provoked.
As to the production, I think the animation is the best of the movies so far, there’s real weight to things. And while the musical score isn’t as strong as its two predecessors, the voice work has absolutely taken a step up yet again. Alessandro Juliani is almost literally slaying as Vakama, and Kathleen Barr helping make Roodaka even more intimidating than she already is.
I’m not sure I’d consider Web of Shadows my favourite today, but it certainly was way back when. Maybe because the themes resonated more. And it’s still a great gateway into Bionicle along with the other two movies. It’s got maybe the best story out of the three, strong production, stellar performances, and it also closes out the movie trilogy’s story in a satisfying way. If you only watched the movies, you would get a complete story.
ERROR: BIONICLE: THE LEGEND REBORN COPYRIGHTED BY UNIVERSAL, INSERT IMAGE HERE
Bionicle: The Legend Reborn adapts the 2009 storyline—sort of—and acts as an attempted soft reboot of the series. Different studio, different cast, different world. I wish I could say I got this footage from my own DVD copy, but I got rid of that ages ago as I held no value for it, so the footage here is taken from the Bionicle Media Project. Mostly because...oh boy.
The story follows Mata Nui incarnated as a Toa-like being, arriving on the world of Bara Magna and becoming entangled in both a search to reclaim his people from his arch enemy, and an ongoing conflict between surviving pockets of civilisation on the desolate planet.
I’m sorry to say it all feels very....meh. It’s not that the story is terrible, but how it’s delivered in the movie feels borderline bowdlerised. The 2009 comics portray a brutal world beset by gladiatorial conflicts over resources, an entire tribe who regressed to an animalistic state, outlaws who prey on travellers. It’s not a happy place, and the background lore reflects that. But you wouldn’t know it from the movie. It feels very kiddy, and not in a good way. And many of the characters’ personalities bear little resemblance to how they appear in other media, or are reduced to bit-players when they had a sizeable presence in Mata Nui’s journey.
Another huge issue is the casting. The original trilogy used a cast from across the Commonwealth—Canadian, Australian, British—and most if not all of the cast had a background in theatre as well as voiceover. It leant a distinct tone to the movies. For The Legend Reborn, the cast uses more mainstream American voices for many parts, including Lieutenant Worf himself Michael Dorn as Mata Nui. And I’m sorry to say this, I think Dorn was hideously miscast. I just can’t take him or most of the rest of the cast seriously. That, combined with animation that feels disconnected from itself across any scene with character interplay, and an extremely subpar musical score that I’m only using in this video under protest, conspire to rob this movie of any atmosphere of mysticism and otherness the main trilogy had in spades.
It doesn’t help this film was intended as the first of a trilogy following the soft reboot storyline, except the line ended in 2010. They did wrap up the story through other media, but this movie ends the original continuity’s cinematic legacy on one of the most pathetic whimpers imaginable.
Oh yes, and a quite touch upon the 2016 creation. Bionicle underwent a reboot in the mid-2010s, and...it didn’t sell. It was retired after less than two years. Lego seems to have tried recapturing the spirit of the original with an animated series released on Netflix, titled Bionicle: The Journey to One. But it suffers from the same issues as The Legend Reborn, only worse. And...oh boy, I was not feeling the story in the slightest. I just cannot recommend.
Image source: CGI commercial for the 2003 Bionicle video game
A last point to talk of is how the films adapted the Lego figures themselves. There are whole documentary pieces from the development teams on how they turned these figures into CGI characters. I don’t envy the production crews the task of translating the designs between two wildly different mediums.
Technically The Legend Reborn is the most faithful to the sets, practically recreating them part for part while giving them greater movement. The irony is that this faithfulness turns them from actual characters into...toys. The original trilogy took creative license with the models to give them distinct body types, strong facial expressions, even elements such as hair and cloth analogues. It leant each of the models a realness.
And the 2016 series just look like a weird hybrid between static models and free-flow, with zero creative license.
Bionicle is a great story, a decade-long saga of unity, duty, and destiny. Of hope, despair, and perseverance. Of searching, sacrifice, and solidarity. And even if they’re not perfect, the original trilogy captures that atmosphere to a tee. It’s a shame the fourth movie is such an outlier and more an archival curiosity than anything recommendable, and that the reboot television series falls so flat. That still leaves you with three movies of a descent length that will be a fun watch.
I wish to extend my heartfelt gratitude to the production crew, actors and many others who got the original trilogy to happen. They created something truly special. And I think the last word belongs Vakama.
New legends awake, but old lessons must be remembered. This is the way of the Bionicle.
A little while ago, I gave a recommendation to this latest sci-fi novel by Gareth L. Powell, Future's Edge. Now I've read the thing in full, I can give a full review for what this platform is worth. This review is based on a copy of the paperback edition, releasing 25 February (I somehow got a copy over a fortnight early). So...is it worth reading?
The story principally follows Ursula Morrow, an archaeologist with two major issues in her life: an alien organism from an artefact that has bonded with her on a molecular level and rendered her invulnerable to injury, and being one of a small number of humans who escape Earth when it is attacked by a hostile alien force dubbed the Cutters. When an old flame turns up, she is drawn into a search for the artefact that infected her, as there is a chance it may be the key to turning the tide against the Cutters before they wipe out both humanity and other interstellar species under threat from a systematic genocide.
The story is neither simple nor overly complex, and is quite pacy. If I'm being blunt, the premise and overall set-up isn't anything truly groundbreaking. I was seeing constant parallels to sci-fi works including Titan A.E. and Dead Space, but the real quality lies in its writing and characters. Ursula is instantly likeable and relatable, and the predicaments she finds herself in are both outlandish and grounded. The supporting cast is also entertaining, from her ship captain ex-lover Jack to "Chris", the AI persona of his ship the Crisis Actor (one of the best-written AI characters in a long time, I might add). The writing also solidly portrays the desperation of a species being hunted to extinction, and other aspects I won't be touching on because spoilers..
I'll also say that this is a great place to jump into Powell's work. I may be wrong, but there don't appear to be any explicit continuity links with earlier sci-fi series, just a commonality of theme. Is it a repeat read? Not immediately, but definitely eventually. I have some issues with its ending, but that's more down to personal taste than overall quality. There are books I read once then never really touch again (Leviathan Wakes and Battle Royale spring to mind), so that I want to re-read this is a mark of its quality. I wouldn't say no to a continuation of this universe and these characters. Especially Ursula, as she is an entertaining protagonist.
8/10
(This has no impact on my score, but the paperback copy I received had some minor printing errors caused by crumpled pages and small typos. These are purely mechanical and do not impact my opinion of the story and writing quality.)
Since around June/July, I've been working on a new fantasy WIP which takes place across a sizeable chunk of Japan's history. And one of the films that helped solidify my liking for it, and that I've watched recently since I'm suffering from a horrendous variety of the common cold, is The Hidden Blade, a 2004 drama film directed and co-written by Yoji Yamada based on the stories of Japanese author Shuhei Fujisawa.
Image credit: IMDB
Set during the 1860s, the late years of the Bakematsu when the Tokugawa Shogunate was in the process of falling apart under encroaching Western influence and growing Imperial pressure, the story follows the life trials of low-ranking samurai Munezo Katagiri. From the forbidden feelings he has for his servant Kie, the social burden of his father committing seppuku following a financial debacle he was not directly responsible for, to ending up pitted against a former student of the blade Yaichiro Hazama by his clan's retainers, Katagiri's struggles in his small town existence are real and a lot more relatable than a wandering swordsman defending a town or the noble (quasi-fictionalised) plight of forty-seven ronin.
An interesting element to this story is that, counter to the typical samurai shown in the work of Kurosawa and a number of others, . Multiple films during this time, including Yamada's two other notable samurai films Twilight Samurai and Love and Honour (and Takashi Miike's 13 Assassins) seem to tear down the mythology built around the Edo-period samurai. The Hidden Blade is a slow-paced deconstruction of the laws and codes which trapped samurai, the corruption of their lords during the late Bakematsu, and the growing discontent and disconnect among different factions with the increasing influence of Western martial techniques. There is a real sense of the suffocating social rules that by this point were creaking at the seams which must be attributed to the actors and their peerless performances.
I must also mention the PEAK HISTORICAL ACCURACY to be found in this film. The setting is on point, the armour and fabric and cloth colours are on point, the smaller details are peak, and in an interesting example of the time's culture clash a retainer sent to teach Western military tactics is shown blending Japanese and Western dress styles in his clothing that makes him stand out as an almost-alien presence. There is also no modern locality names to spoil the mood (there is mention of "Ezo" rather than its modern name Hokkaido, which would've been a big gaff), and the architecture and long camera shots show little to no modern elements to spoil the illusion that this is late Edo Japan. Combine that with a mixture of contemporary-style musical elements and an admittedly ahistorical orchestral score by Isao Tomita, and you have...probably one of the best modern Japanese films.
Is this film a must watch? Yes, absolutely. This should be on the list of every true Japanese film fan, regardless of genre. The writing is engaging, the story slow but entertaining, the atmosphere is peerless, the acting is great, and the score is heartwrenching. Please, please find a way to watch this film.
This isn't going to be a full review. Just a brief opinion piece. I'm already pretty busy today, as I'm partaking in a reading session and a panel at today's Rainbow Space Magic Convention (please if you can register and catch today's events, starting from 17:00 GMT/9:00 PST/12:00 EST). So allow me to recommend two sci-fi novels written in a classic yet accessible style, from someone I only recently met but thoroughly appreciate having met and known. The duology Our Child of the Stars and Our Child of Two Worlds.
The author is Stephen Cox, and these are his debut works. Our Child of the Stars and Our Child of Two Worlds are set in 1969, a time of great social, political, and scientific change. Molly and Gene Myers are in the midst of a struggling marriage, not having the ability to have children, when a child literally falls into their town from above. An alien child whom they love and care for as their own. The story, spanning two books, follows the Myers and their adopted child Cory as they face prejudice, paranoia, and eventually the very real possibility that Cory's people would come to find him.
I don't want to say much more about this duology. If there is another book that turns it into a trilogy, so be it. But in my opinion, it doesn't need a third. It is a tightly-written duology that tackles social and personal issues that are as real now as they were in 1969. The irony is that the first book Our Child of the Stars wasn't meant to be Cox's breakout, but it has ended up being so. Do give them a read. As someone who started with the second book Our Child of Two Worlds, I can say you can jump in with either, although there's bound to be more satisfaction knowing what came before.
Please follow Stephen on his socials, and visit his website which houses pages for these two works.
A few months back, I put up a large review of the five main books from Ursula le Guin's Earthsea series. I've now completed my reading of this essential fantasy epic with Tales from Earthsea, a compilation of short stories scattered across the history of the Archipelago from its ancient past to a point between the events of Tehanu and The Other Wind.
The advantage and disadvantage with an anthology like this is that the stories can vary wildly in type and style, and also in tone. "The Finder" is a mythic and tragic tale of the founding of Roke. "Darkrose and Diamond", originally from 1999, is a fairly light tale of love under impossible circumstances. The Bones of the Earth tells of an old mage of Gont and his initially unwanted taciturn apprentice. "On the High Marsh" follows an unbalanced stranger who takes shelter in a mild farm. The final story "Dragonfly", originally published in 1998 as a "postscript" to Tehanu, shows the life and fate of Irian, a fiery young woman who confronts a rot within Roke's Nine Mages.
On the whole, these stories are enjoyable and can be read on their own, but there was much rich detail to be gleaned from additional knowledge of the other Earthsea books. Ursula le Guin's writing remains as scintillating as ever, showing her maturity through the years, and she even includes a short essay on the culture and languages of Earthsea. It also shows a pointed reevaluation of the traditionally patriarchal world of Earthsea as established to this point, showing the not insignificant but deliberately downplayed role of women in its history and culture.
If you liked the rest of the series, you will LOVE this book. And now I've finally completed it, I feel a little hollow and might want to read something else. Oh wait, almost forgot the score...
So, this article is not going to be very detailed, and it's about something that's been finished for years. But since I'm finally reading the final part of the series, Tales from Earthsea, I've decided to review the rest of this series. This is a series I got into late not because I didn't know about it, but that the copies available until I was in my early twenties because of dyslexia-hostile fonts. Now, grab your beverage of choice and enjoy one person's opinion of what I think is one of the fantasy genre's foundational series.
Illustration by Charles Vess from The Books of Earthsea: The Complete Illustrated Edition
A Wizard of Earthsea
The first book, and in some ways it shows it. This is the tale of Ged, otherwise Sparrowhawk, from abused goatherd on the island of Gont to a powerful mage respected across the Isles of Earthsea. This is one of the few books I've ever read in a single day. I took it up the garden, I reluctantly put it down for lunch and dinner. I rushed through it in five hours, and it's still a favourite. Ged's slow journey from naïve and overconfident to a wise man is interesting because it's as much about the internal journey as events outside. Running for most of the book from a strange shade he brought into existence in a foolish attempt to summon the dead, the story follows him as he encounters several different people that begin to shift and mature his worldview. It's not the smoothest read to a modern audience due to its episodic structure, but it's still a classic and sets up some interesting stuff for the Earthsea world. Also, it has a dragon.
7/10
The Tombs of Atuan
This one shifts the focus entirely to the far north of the Isles, where the pale-skinned Kargish people house a dying sisterhood worshipping mountain deities dubbed the Nameless Ones. The POV character here is Tenar, a young woman chosen from birth to be a priestess of the sisterhood under the name "Ahra", ending up encountering a half-dead Ged within the stone maze where the Nameless Ones dwell. For anyone expecting a direct continuation of Ged's tale, and who is unfamiliar with the Earthsea formula, the change in protagonist is a shock. But this is also a wonderful story with a young woman growing from isolated and brainwashed votary to a woman who willingly abandons her hollow position. In my opinion, a must-read.
9/10
The Farthest Shore
This is the final entry in the original trilogy, and again switches the POV character to Lebannen, also called Arren, heir to the nominal ruling family of Earthsea who is sent to accompany Ged on a quest to find out why the land is growing sick and magic is vanishing. This story is a bit of a tonal shift from the previous two books, as it focuses on an almost-horrific spiritual sickness that impacts everyone in Earthsea, but instead of physical ailments it attacks their minds and spirits. This is again an excellent read, and originally a compelling end to the story of Earthsea with an unsettling antagonist waiting at the end. Also, I kinda feel Lebannen as someone like me, an unsure and young person making their way through a world that appears daunting at best, hostile at worst. Plus, it's got dragons again!
8/10
Tehanu
This is the book I was warned about, and I can see why. It's a drastic tonal change again, written twenty years after The Farthest Shore and dealing less with magic and great threats over the mundane struggles of Tenar after she settles in Earthsea. It deconstructs elements of women in fantasy worlds, and shows Tenar as a potent character not through great deeds, but through compassion and understanding in the face of an often hostile worlds. The heart of the book is her helping to heal Ged after he loses his magic and to a point his will to live, and caring for the child Tehanu, who was horrifically scarred by an abusive family. It changes focus from the men of Earthsea to the women, and offers a sidelong glance into the other side of fantasy. And also, more dragons!
8/10
The Other Wind
This is, to some, the weakest Earthsea story, and the true ending to the overall series. In the spirit of earlier entries, the perspective shifts again, this time to the mage Alder, whose sleep is tormented by visions of his wife in the cursed Dry Lands where Earthsea's dead reside; and Tehanu, who still has unfinished business in the world of Earthsea and helps Tenar and Lebannen as they secure a marriage alliance with the Kargish people and face the threat of dragons attacking Earthsea from the west. This is very much a wrapping-up kind of story, without much character development outside Lebannen and Tehanu, and will make little to no sense to those who haven't read previous Earthsea titles. But it also closes out the story fairly well, and it's a good read.
7/10
And...there we are. My relatively brief summary of Earthsea. Honestly, you should go read them. Ursula K. le Guin is a great writer, and Earthsea is one of her crowing achievements. Just remember, when your visualising the characters...the people of Earthse aren't white!
In recent days, I've been acquainting myself with some of the classic science fiction present in our family bookshelves. Among them is a large volume of short stories written by masters of the craft. The one that caught my eye was "We Purchased People" by Frederik Pohl. I read it, and it's not one I can keep to myself.
The premise is a world where humanity is in trade with several different alien races. As FTL travel doesn't yet exist, this trade is done via advanced communication technology which allows the various species to exchange information for various trinkets and resources from Earth. Their agents are the dregs of humanity, implanted with technology that allows their "owners" to control them for any length of time. The protagonist is one such "purchased person", a man whose past is extremely shady and whose life is quickly thrown into utter chaos due to the innocent inquisitiveness of his owners.
This story isn't the typical sci-fi fare. It doesn't shy away from extremely mature subject matter, yet doesn't have a single severe expletive in it. The main character is the most extreme type of anti-hero, if any term including the world "hero" can be used for him. He's sullen, twisted, and his suffering doesn't elicit any sympathy at all. This is an analysis of how the cast-offs of humanity are used for some purpose.
On the whole, I would recommend this to true sci-fi connoisseurs. It's well-written, and has an interesting and twisted take on human-alien relations. It also shows up many elements of human prejudice and reminds one of some of the more disturbing elements of mental programming experiments from the 20th century. And yes, this story was written after people became fully aware of the CIA's Project MKUltra.
This review is based on the DVD Collector's Edition, published in the United Kingdom by Manga Entertainment.
Anime in the 1990s are sometimes a mixed bag. Several of them show their age through their animation or dubbing, but some remain great to this day. One of them is 1993's Ninja Scroll, a period action drama that cemented both the career of its writer/director Yoshiaki Kawajiri and the rise of animation studio Madhouse.
The story is pretty standard fair for its time. During the Edo period, a group of ninja are sent to investigate the death of an entire village, only to be all but massacred by one of a shadowy group called the Eight Devils of Kimon. The main protagonists are Jubei Kibagami, a cross between a ronin and a ninja who is blackmailed into helping by the Edo spy Dakuan; and Kagero, a survivor of the Eight Devils who has some serious relationship issues due to being a walking weapon whose touch alone is poisonous. The main plot is somewhat convoluted, but this movie's appeal is in its high action and the freaky powers of the Eight Demons, who fall directly into the tropes associated with ninja during the 20th to 21st century.
In the animation department, the movie is a triumph. It does use the common tricks of that era of anime (repeating animations, mostly-static conversation scenes), but it also features layered backgrounds and choreography that is stunning even after over two decades. The amount of love for the project is clear, ranging from the detail of the various ninja abilities, to the dedicated fight scenes featuring Jubei. There's plenty to enjoy during both the moments of calm and the hectic action scenes which come at frequent intervals. There's also the trait of arousing female and oh-so-manly male character designs that remains ingrained in anime culture.
The music from Kaoru Wada is very good. Not at all in keeping with the period, but also amazingly enjoyable. It pushes along the action and punctuates scenes of emotion without being intrusive. That also means that, aside from a few places where the music forms most of the scene, it can become unmemorable. The English dub is good for the time, having just the right amount of camp without reaching Dragon Ball Z or Pokemon levels.
Please note that this anime isn't for kids. Alongside Ghost in the Shell and Akira, it was one of the pioneers of true adult feature-length anime. This means that there is violence a plenty, blood and gore, disturbing imagery, nudity, and some traditionally awkward animated sexual encounters. I was surprised that it only contains very mild swearing, at least in the English dub. Despite being older than me, Ninja Scroll remains a classic for all the right reasons, even though it shows its age in places.
8/10
Oh yes, and a final note. I came to this movie after watching Madhouse's follow-up television series of the same name. I'll probably be reviewing the series next week.
I don't typically like overt violence in movies, and most British small-scale movies have that weird greying effect that makes them look more depressing than they are. But there are a few British movies of that type I've watched and enjoyed. The most recent - and most unexpected - is the Irish-produced Traders. Currently available on BBC3 via iPlayer, Traders is what might be described as an action thriller with a surprisingly dark twist.
The premise is simple; a man named Henry Fox dissatisfied with his low-paying work becomes embroiled in a game created by Vernon, a man he meets by chance. The game is called Trading, and it soon takes in a viral quality. The rules are simple; sell possessions to create a money stake, fight to the death, survivor collects both stakes and arranges it so the victims are presumed suicides with methods difficult to trace and confirm. His first "Trade" nets him 10,000, but the thought of more pulls him into more and more trades, which become increasingly dangerous and violent.
The theme of the movie is the time-worn question of how far someone is prepared to go for riches, but it can also act as a commentary on the modern world and how the internet is allowing the creation of these types of "entertainments". It's one person creating the Trading game, and that one person is causing dozens of deaths. The theme is disturbing to say the least, more so because of a distinct lack of blood and guts. This is where the subdued tone works in the movie's favour; the emphasis on middle to lower-class suburban neighborhoods drives home a feeling of desperation, the fact that those trading probably have problems in their lives that need this money. The ambiguous ending drives the overall message home.
On the whole, the movie looks good. You can tell the budget was low, but the tone and subject matter actually help rather than hinder. The cast, including Killian Scott as the lead and John Bradley as Vernon, does a creditable job of portraying a group playing for high stakes out of desperation or greed. It must be stressed that this movie is not for younger viewers. Quite apart from the disturbing content and subject matter, there's violence a plenty. Most of it is deceptively bloodless, and consequently more disturbing. For me, seeing someone stabbed to death is far less unpleasant than someone getting the life choked out of them. There's also the usual - but thankfully sparse - use of swearing.
On the whole, this is a great movie of its kind. A very modest scope belies a scenario many might easily compare to Stephan King's original Running Man or Battle Royale, but while not original it's still highly enjoyable in a delightfully disturbing way. Some contrived moments drag the experience down, and the ending might upset some, but on the whole this is worth a watch while it's available.
Note: This review is based on an unabridged 8-CD reading by CoverToCover.
Oscar Wilde is most widely remembered for his comic plays, which act as social satires of his time and contain some of the greatest witty dialogue ever put to paper. But Wilde's body of work also covers essays, short stories and novellas, the latter including classics such as The Canterville Ghost and Lord Arthur Savile's Crime. But one book has had a profound legacy outside his traditional sphere of work; the Gothic philosophical novel this review is dedicated to. It has been adapted multiple times for radio, television and the movies, but aside from a very few, they all seem to miss the point of this story.
The figure of Dorian Gray and his vaguely implied Faustian pact has cast a long shadow over Gothic and horror fiction, elevating the character and concept to a fame the original book has struggled to match. I'm sure most people know of Gray, but fewer know of the book itself. They know the character through the movies, where erotic elements have been added to appease a sex-hungry public in an age where many might consider romance to be dead. But this novel is so much more; it's a biting commentary on the society of the time, but without Wilde's traditional wit. This turns it into a far darker offering than his comparably fluffy plays.
The basic synopsis is well known and well worn. Gray, in the full flush of youth, curses a recently-completed portrait which captures a beauty which will inevitably fade. Through a disastrous romantic escapade with an actress, Gray sees the painting begin to change in a subtly unpleasant way while he remains pristine. This is the basic premise, but what many people will fail to grasp is the principles behind Gray's actions over the course of the novel. In his affair with the actress, there is nothing sexual; he falls in love with her acting ability, which brings life to the Shakespearean roles she performs. Later, when he resolves to use the painting's "gift" to experience life as never before, it is focused on the aesthetic wonders of life and experiences that heighten his sensations of the world (which, yes, includes the popular drugs of the time such as opium). We're never given exact details of his pursuits beyond his passing passions for music and jewels, but it's never stated once that he does anything sexual. It's all about the aesthetic beauties of life and gratifying his senses, in addition to a streak of experimentation that I'm sure most people will understand in some way. He also, at several points in the novel, exemplifies the Victorian upper class stereotype (and often reality) of never wanting to talk or thinking about things that were not "nice".
Alongside Gray are two characters that must not be forgotten. Lord Henry Wotten, an unrepentant and opinionated hedonist who influences the impressionable Gray, is arguably the one responsible for the events of the novel, even though he knows little of Gray's true nature. Basil Hallward, the painter who creates the eponymous picture, is Lord Henry's antithesis, being humble and morally upright. He is also gradually undermined by his complete infatuation with Gray as his ultimate muse (those who wish to see otherwise in Hallward's proclaimed "love" may do so, as I'm sure many at Wilde's indecency trials chose to). These two characters pull Gray in different directions, and provide mediums against which to compare Gray.
From a simple reading perspective, the prose can get a little difficult to swallow as Wilde goes into long philosophical expositions on Gray's inner thoughts, and a large portion of the central book is dedicated to explanatory time-skipping. But these parts inform and strengthen the experience, and key pieces of the narrative are scattered in within them. Without that additional exposition, you wouldn't understand Gray's progress through life half as well. Wilde's style, in contrast, helps convey the emotion of situations expertly and succeeded with a few lines in turning my sympathy for Gray into utter disgust - that's something a very few books have ever managed to do in my experience.
The story as a whole is highly enjoyable, and I recommend that you seek out a complete edition of the book rather than any abridgment or any but the most fanatically faithful adaptation. But for those who have seen Wilde's plays and expect light comedy and titter-worthy lines, be warned. There is little to no comedy in this novel, it's biting satire and mature philosophising people won't typically associate with Wilde. But in doing this, I'd say that Wilde created one of his finest works. and a true piece of literature. Regardless of its influence in horror, its place in the canon of fiction should not be ignored. In an additional note, the complete reading upon which this review is based - with narration by Edward Petherbridge - is top-notch and a worthy edition to any CD or audio collection. If you can find it...
Note: I’d intended this week’s post to be the third in my series on
approaches to genre, but I couldn’t resist the urge to write this review
of what ranks among my favorite Dumas dramatisations.
Few stories are as ingrained into popular culture as Alexander Dumas's seminal saga of revenge The Count of Monte Cristo. Wronged Marseilles sailor Edmund Dantes is falsely condemned to over a decade in the Chateau d'If, escapes with the help of friend and tutor Abbe Faria, and discovers a promised stash of unimaginable wealth on the little island of Monte Cristo. As the Count, and under a wealth of other aliases, Dantes sets about exacting a slow and calculated revenge on the men responsible for his ruin. The original book is a literal brick to read, but has spawned multiple adaptations, pastiches and parodies, and is ranked among both Dumas's (and his ghost writer partner August Maquet) greatest works and among the great works of literature.
There are over twenty separate adaptations in existence across multiple languages, including a stellar four-part BBC radio adaptation with Iain Glen taking the role of the Count. There are three notable movie adaptations, but the one I'm focusing on for this review is the Emmy award-nominated 1975 television movie with Richard Chamberlain in the lead role. This adaptation has the unenviable task of fitting the basics of a book coming in at nearly 400,000 words (the size of four standard modern books combined) into the modest span of 105 minutes, or one hour and forty-five minutes (116 minutes/nearly two hours in Europe).
The first thing to note is that this isn't a faithful transcript of the novel, but an adaptation of its salient points. This means that nearly every subplot has been cut, leaving the bare bones of the original novel's narrative. In this case, it's a plus, as many people probably need a graff to keep track of what's going on from one chapter to the next. Despite its meagre runtime, the movie does an admirable job of communicating the novel's plot, and succeeds in being more faithful to the original story than either the 1934 black and white adaptation or the more action-oriented 2002 version. There are clear influences from the 1934 version, from motifs to direct lifts for particular scenes, but the original novel's bleak tone is maintained. Dantes isn't a hero, he's a man out for revenge. And in this story, revenge is served very cold indeed. The cut subplots help keep the movie's pace at a breathless speed, and while there are multiple artistic liberties with the sequence of events, they don't stop it being an enjoyable romp through one of the great revenge plots of our time.
The casting has some mixed results. The lavish direction of the production shows in the actors brought on board, but it's difficult to be entirely convinced by Tony Curtis as Count Fernand Mondego, and some of the other performances come off as over-the-top. The other leads and major supporting roles are surprisingly good despite some occasionally laughable French accents; a shoutout must be given to Louis Jourdan in the role of Gerard de Villfort, who both brings a smile to the face and makes us relish the character's downfall. Chamberlain does a good job with Dantes, both in his innocence and his life as the Count, showing a gentlemanly grace combined with his cold-hearted determination to be avenged upon his foes. Those who only know Chamberlain for his roles of Aramis in The Three/Four Muskateers and 20 Years Later and his dual role of Louis XIV/Phillipe in the 1970s version of The Man in the Iron Mask will be surprised at how dark and tragic his performance is.
The production values are unquestionable. The location shoots and costume design give a sense of authenticity regardless of any anachronisms the expert might pick up. Set design invokes the renewed decadence of France during the 19th century following Napoleon's defeat, and many of the costumes reflect the gaudy designs present among the French elite at that time. The music, composed by Allyn Ferguson, is suitable sweeping and dramatic, even though it's totally at odds with the music they were actually playing at the time. But then, we didn't complain about Dmitri Tiompkin's work on The Fall of the Roman Empire. It just works, regardless of what the era's music was actually like.
To summarise, this movie is a good adaptation of Dumas's novel, but it's not the most accurate. In fact, only the BBC radio dramatisation's come anywhere close to being an accurate adaptation, and even then it cut bits out and made alterations to some events. This movie is a good introduction to this story that's become part of the Western zeitgeist, with some fine performances, its fair share of camp, and a lavish presentation and production. A good movie for those into classic period drama or the work of Dumas, but maybe less appealing for those who prefer a purer approach to adaptation.
On March 16, I was visiting family in Bristol, and as a treat I was taken to see a special event at the Bristol Jazz and Blues Festival. It was a screening of the classic silence science fiction film Metropolis, complete with a new electronic/orchestral score by Andy Sheppard. I didn't know it until I was in my seat and the MC started talking to the audience, but this was a unique performance - not only would it not be repeated again, but it was the debut of the to-date most complete cut of German filmmaker Fritz Lang's seminal work - with newly restored and incorporated footage, bringing it to within a few minutes of its original 1927 runtime. Full pre-release details here, and a critic's review of the performance here.
Having now experienced this landmark title, I can see why it both awes today and puzzled in its own time. It tells a surprisingly modern story of societal divides between the working class and the pampered elite, with the recurring sci-fi theme of the evils of industrialism being well-used here. But given the time it was made in, as the post-war Weimar Republic was beginning to fail and the Nazi Party was gaining political strength, it's easy to see why it didn't resonate with audiences - its clear anti-Nazi propaganda also can't have won it any favours in Germany at the time. The story resonates very strongly even today - particularly if you appreciate the subtle references to German folklore and legend within its characters - and even though some aspects display a deep naivete of how the world works, it still sends a strong message about interaction between workers and elite. Also it seems to have predicted the trend of sprinkling Biblical references ad nauseum, which this film thankfully can carry off with a grin rather than a grimace.
The performances are what you'd expect of a late 1920s silent film, but that also means there's a lot of emotional punch behind these scenes. The silent film tradition has reached its peak with this film, as has what was then current in German Expressionism. Artistically the film is a triumph, with impressive special effects for its time and art deco set design that does its era proud. The sheer scale of the sets and setpieces will awe you if you're accustomed to the pocket sets of comedy shorts from the time. But it also shows how the film is now a victim of its own influence - what was shocking and unnerving in 1927 is more or less commonplace today both in sci-fi and multiple other genres. Metropolis is still unique and a treasure, and it's a miracle that it's survived all this time, but its DNA can be seen in hundreds if not thousands of later films.
As to the performance I saw, it was mind-blowing mainly because of its music. The brass dominated the industrial scenes and pushed the raw cruelty of the workers' condition; low-key brass and electronica set the mood for the villainous scenes; brass and percussion backed the exciting scenes such as the workers' revolt; and some neat saxophone work punctuated the purity and hope main heroine Maria expresses throughout the film. Some of the themes repeated a little too much for my liking, but it still made a positive impression in its depiction of an urban metropolis run wild.
It's only now, more than two weeks later, that I can look back and fully appreciate the grandeur and bravery of the film, and how its score captured those feelings while putting their own unique twist on what it should be. As the MC said, there have been many different scores for Metropolis following Gotfriedd Huppertz's original, but I think this one should be considered the definitive score for the film after Huppertz's - not just because it was the most complete version, but because it did the film justice in a unique way, blending modern tones with the film's message to create a unique blend that, in my and several other attendees opinions, proved worthy of a standing ovation.
