Category: Television (page 3 of 4)

500 Words on Space Dandy

Courtesy Funimation

Space Dandy is a dandy guy. In space.

One of the first anime directors I was introduced to many years ago was Shinichirō Watanabe. Folks who know the genre will likely recognize his name as the man behind Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo. He’s worked with legendary anime studio BONES before – this is the studio that gave use Fullmetal Alchemist and Wolf’s Rain – and their latest collaboration is truly something to behold. The series is called Space Dandy, and its lead character of the same name is, in fact, a dandy guy. In space.

Space Dandy hunts aliens. Specifically, he looks for alien species that have not yet been documented, as registering new alien species earns you a substantial reward. Dandy’s dream is to use that cash to buy a chain of themed “breasteraunts” known as BooBies so he can hang out there for free. He flies a ship called the Aloha Oe, and is aided by his souped-up Roomba-style robot, QT, and a Betelgeusean (read: space cat) beatnik named Me#$%* – everybody calls him ‘Meow’.

Oh, and there’s something about an intergalactic conflict and Dandy’s being chased by some malevolent monkey-person wearing a hat pilfered from Bootsy Collins who takes orders from a twenty-foot tall dude with a flaming skull.

In case you haven’t noticed, Space Dandy is not a series to be taken terribly seriously. Where Cowboy Bebop was, by Watanabe’s own math, 80% serious and 20% comedy, Space Dandy is the opposite. There are hints of a narrative through-line here and there, but it really never imposes too much. Or at least, it hasn’t yet. The show is still being shown both in Japan and here in the United States.

That’s part of what’s so fascinating about it. On top of the absolutely breathtaking and smooth animation, and plenty of legitimately funny moments, there’s something to be said about the fact that new episodes are premiering on the same day on opposite sides of the Pacific Ocean. The nature of the collaboration has lead to very similar quality in terms of dialog when it comes to the subtitled version one sees on services like Hulu and Crunchyroll, and the dubbed version on Adult Swim. For someone who grew up with some truly wince-inducing dub work in early entries back when it was called ‘Japanimation’ on what used to be referred to as ‘The Sci-Fi Channel’, this is really impressive stuff.

There’s a lot to like in Space Dandy. Every alien we see is the brain-child of a different animator, the Narrator frequently forgets key information he was supposed to dispense while also confirming that in space there is no fourth wall, and the whole thing feels steeped in the sort of ray-gun aesthetic you’d get if Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon hung out in Margaritaville. It’s a lot of fun to watch, and I’m very curious to see how the series continues to develop.

It’s music is catchy, too, but this is Watanabe we’re talking about, so that’s a given….

2013: The Surprises

Courtesy Fox

There was a lot that took me by surprise in 2013. Some surprises were good, and others were not so good. Rather than dwell on the negatives, I’d like to look back on some of the things that came along in both an unexpected and pleasant way, at least in the realm of entertainment.

In all honesty, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was by Sleepy Hollow. I had already plowed through all of Supernatural, so I’ve already galvanized myself towards television dealing with all sorts of fascinating scenarios dealing with the unknown, the strange, and the mythical. It’s especially been proven that this works even better for me when the characters are interesting and the storylines decently written. So, Sleepy Hollow fits that bill pretty effectively. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, really: the level of camp in the show is nowhere near as high as I thought it might be, the use of practical effects and sets is actually incredibly endearing and unique in a world inundated with CGI, and the diverse and talented hero cast keeps everything coherent and thoroughly watchable.

On the other hand, I really have no idea where Almost Human came from. Cyberpunk certainly hasn’t gone anywhere, and while the show does seem to call back to the likes of Blade Runner and Deus Ex, it has an aesthetic and realization all its own. Like Sleepy Hollow, the core of the show is an excellent hero cast at the top of their game. The future envisioned by the show doesn’t seem ridiculous, and many of the cool gizmos simply exist in scenes, instead of getting lengthy technobabble explanations. It feels like a living, breathing world, and the fact that it’s populated with complex, interesting characters makes the show a must-watch for me.

However, I think the biggest surprise to me in 2013 was Pacific Rim. I knew the film would be a fun time at the movies, but I was thoroughly surprised at how good it is. Gulliermo del Toro probably could have skated by merely by virtue of the hook: giant robots fighting monsters with modern aesthetics and technology. However, Pacific Rim explodes with imagination and color, wrapped in the drive and atmosphere of classic supernatural disaster flicks like Independence Day or any given Godzilla movie, and features characters that aren’t as one-note as they easily could have been. It tells a coherent and well-paced story, it has a killer soundtrack, it informs its characters through action instead of exposition, and yes, it appeals to the basic child-like desire to pilot a robot just as big as a giant monster so you can punch said monster in the face. I know it isn’t perfect and I know it’ll have its naysayers, but when I think about Pacific Rim, I can’t help but smile. It’s just too damn fun for me to dwell on its flaws, and I really can’t wait to see it again.

What surprised you the most in 2013?

On The Fringes

Courtesy FOX

When I watch a good television program or film, one with a narrative that builds its characters and takes the plot in ways one might not expect, I feel the dichotomy in me between watcher and writer. In the moment the story is happening, the emotional connections I feel with the characters, if they are written and acted well enough, feel vital and affecting. Afterward, in retrospect, I can observe the direction and outcome of those moments, and fully understand the foundation behind the decisions the writers made as well as postulate where they might be headed.

It’s important to remember that any character in a story can die. It’s all in the manner of how, when, and why. I think ‘why’ might be the most important piece of the puzzle, and I don’t mean the motivations of their in-story killer. The writer, callous and unfeeling as they might seem, should have good reason for offing one of their creations, especially if that creation is well-liked. Knowing this, I think, actually helps in reading stories as well as watching them. Chuck Wendig could easily kill Miriam Black. Jim Butcher’s under no obligation to keep Harry Dresden alive. And we all know how George R.R. Martin feels about the immunity of popular characters to the flashing scythe that is his pen. Character death is one of those writerly decisions that can hang on the fringes of the story, either making the whole thing more tense or dragging the whole thing down.

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Keeping It Real

Courtesy Fox

I’m a sucker for the fantastical and out-there just as much as any nerd. I grew up adoring the concept of giant fighting robots that disguised themselves as cars. I like faster-than-light travel, I love dragons, superheroes do not seem ridiculous to me, and I believe anything is possible when the human mind is set to a task.

That said, you have to keep it real in some way or another.

It’s one of the reasons I liked Nolan’s take on Batman so much. It completely divested itself of any sort of camp, far-fetched villains, or completely unbelievable science Batman would need to solve his problems. None of the solutions are magical. And while several characters from The Avengers are arguably gods amongst men, they are presented in such a way that they are still characters, using their powers and abilities as tools rather than being defined by them. “Take [the Iron Man suit] away, and what are you?” is a question Captain America could have put to Bruce Banner or Thor, and both of them would have had answers. They’re real characters, even if their powers make them much larger than life.

It can be a fine line to walk, though. You can’t ever let a special power become a one-size-fits-all answer to whatever problem is in front of your hero. Take, for example, the action-comedy-espionage TV series Chuck. For a while, the ubiquitous Intersect computer taking up Chuck’s poor brain is simply an encyclopedic database allowing him to provide vital intelligence and clues to his handlers. However, it later gets upgraded and allows him to, among other things, know kung-fu. After introducing a much more plausible and in-character means for him to step up to the level of the other two leads – a wrist-mounted computer that can hack anything, displays nearby floor plans, and could presumably be worked on by our hero – he’s handed a different means that is mostly used as a deus ex machina to get him out of trouble.

By contrast, consider Fringe. At no point in that show is an answer easily found or invoked to get our characters out of a situation. Choices must be made, actions always have consequences, and the status quo of the show is constantly in question. There’s no magic button to return everything to normal. While the show does have problems of the week, the resolution of the problem does not necessarily mean a happy ending.

It could be argued that Chuck is a comedy and Fringe is not, therefore the former does not need to be taken as seriously or given the same scrutiny, but that argument’s faulty. Giving your characters an easy way out through some artificial or magical means just smacks of laziness to me. If you make such things too prevalent or rely on them to drive your story forward, your characters are going to suffer. This is true no matter what the genre or medium is. Harry Dresden may be a wizard, but never do his powers allow him an easy solution, and all of his actions have consequences, sometimes deadly ones.

I’m in the third season of both Chuck and Fringe (thanks, respectively, to a friend’s DVD collection and Amazon instant video) and the disparity is pretty clear to me. As characters grow and tension mounts in Fringe, I feel characters becoming stunted and stagnant in Chuck. I maintain that you cannot let the trappings of genre and the coolness of powers or gadgetry overshadow the characters or stakes of your story. Even when you’re dealing with the most far-flung of fantasies, you have to keep it real.

Wordbending: On Korra and the Avatar State

Courtesy Nickelodeon

I think I can safely say I was not the only one who went into Avatar: The Legend of Korra with high expectations. Given the rather vehement reaction in the wake of the first season’s conclusion, many people not only shared those expectations but felt the show failed to deliver.

Let me be clear about something before I get into the nitty-gritty of this: I liked The Legend of Korra. The art direction is top-notch, the voice acting is great, the music is very well done, Republic City felt well-realized, pro-bending is a neat innovation – there’s a lot to like, here. The first season was good. It isn’t fantastic. It isn’t Last Airbender, and I think that’s why so many people are upset.

I can see why. The biggest problem Legend of Korra has is in its writing. And the biggest problem the writing has is in its characters. Don’t get me wrong: some characters are flat-out great, and others show great potential. But the show seems to have trouble bringing that out, because the plot keeps getting in the way of the characters’ development. With only twelve episodes in a single season to tell a ‘legendary’ story, things are rushed or overlooked in favor of moving the plot forward.

The problem with this is similar to driving a car with engine problems. You can get from point A to point B, sure, but if your transmission slips, your cylinders are misfiring, your spark plugs are dirty, and your oil filter’s clogged, it’s going to be a bumpy ride at best. The plot of Legend of Korra is fine, on a basic level. But without well-defined motivation and growth and arcs, the characters are just cogs in the plot’s machine. They don’t define the plot by their actions, their actions are defined by the plot. As much as I admire the attention to detail in the art design of the series, some equal amount of detail in the plot and characters would have gone a long way.

For most of the season, Korra is blocked from both airbending and the spiritual side of being the Avatar, due to her stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted nature. For the record, I’m perfectly okay with our girl being stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted. I thought it was a great starting place for the new Avatar, a great contrast to the free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky, and friend to all living things Aang. Over the course of his story, Aang becomes more mature in his outlook on the world, more sensitive to the needs and desires of his friends, more in control of his emotions, and capable of facing conflict rather than avoiding it. Korra, on the other hand, remains stubborn, belligerent, hot-headed, and short-sighted. The biggest example of this would be in how these two come to understand and control the Avatar State.

When his story begins, Aang has access to the Avatar State, essentially a divine form in which he has access to all the knowledge, experiences, and power of the previous Avatars, only when he’s under extreme emotional duress. He must struggle to control himself in it, at first, and it takes a great deal of meditation and growth for him to master it before his final fight with Ozai. He learns a lot about himself in the process, and by extension, the audience learns more about him. Korra, on the other hand, is blocked from both airbending and the Avatar State because of her grounding in the physical world and her focus on the martial-arts aspect of bending. The events of the finale leave Korra without much of what has defined her entire life. It is at this moment that she experiences an epiphany. It was, in my opinion, how the season should have ended. The two or three minutes that follow were rushed, unnecessary, and far too pat. They undermined the truly powerful moments that came before. I mean, I was very moved by two events in the finale, but seeing what came after the second one completely defused any emotional charge I was feeling.

I don’t know why they felt this ending worked. I don’t know why some events occurred that completely contradicted what we saw the immediately previous episode. I don’t know why the Equalist movement was so demonized after establishing a very clear situation within Republic City that made the Equalist point of view make sense. It’s things like this that keep Legend of Korra from being a fantastic show, instead of just a good one.

And it is good. Don’t take any of the above criticism to mean I don’t like the show. I do, and part of the reason these things bother me is that they undercut the show’s massive potential. I think that as long as the second season actually develops its characters, doesn’t sweep the politically volatile environment under the rug, and keeps Korra from using the Avatar State to solve everybody’s problems, it will more than make up for this season’s problems.

After all, both The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine had rocky starts, but grew into fantastic shows. Legend of Korra has that same potential. I just hope Bryan and Mike, the shows creators and head writers, don’t blow it.

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