Series Recap - Mission: Impossible (1996)
Ahead of the release of Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation this Friday, I'm going to be looking back at the four previous installments in the series to chart the evolution from one film to the next and see how well they individually hold up. The M:I movies are especially interesting in this regard because where most action blockbuster franchises settle into a bland uniformity once the sequels start churning out, each entry in this series is most notable for how different they all are from each other. Even the Bond series, which over its fifty-odd year history has reinvented itself time and time again, does not come close to the tonal disparity existing between each new M:I release.
The original, directed by Brian De Palma, remains my favourite and the most tonally distinct of the four to date. Where John Woo's sequel, which I'll cover tomorrow, turned the series' focus almost exclusively to big-budget action, De Palma's Mission: Impossible is more interested in plot and atmosphere than large-scale shootouts or big action set-pieces. True, the climax in the Channel Tunnel is as enjoyably loopy as anything which would follow, but the film leading up to it channels the intricately plotted Cold War spy thrillers of the '70s rather than the typical blockbuster fare of the time.
The plot starts off with a mission to retrieve a leaked list of undercover agents going horribly wrong, leaving Ethan Hunt the only surviving member of his team. Under suspicion of being a traitor, Hunt sets about following leads to uncover the person who really betrayed him. At the time, the movie was mockingly referred to as Mission: Impenetrable for its convoluted storytelling, possibly one of the reasons why subsequent entries in the series have kept plotting to a bare minimum. De Palma's film has its share of twists, but isn't especially difficult to follow for anyone paying attention. There are perhaps a few too many ancilliary details introduced around the margins, but the plot unravels for the most part in fairly straightforward fashion.
If anything, that slight overcomplexity feeds nicely into the spirit of the genre that the film most closely emulates. The '70s saw the thriller genre become heavily politicised, reflecting the paranoid escalation of the Cold War and the sense that even one's own government was not to be trusted. The heroes of the time frequently found themselves questioning old loyalties and struggling to comprehend the far-reaching implications of the situations they found themselves in. Hunt starts out as the quintessential company man, loyal to a fault to his mission and his team, yet finds himself having to collaborate with an arms dealer, Max, and steal from CIA Headquarters, in the movie's exquisitely tense signature scene, the very list he was initially assigned to protect. In other words, to prove his innocence he has to do exactly that which he was wrongfully accused of doing in the first place.
That level of moral complexity is something the series abandoned immediately afterwards, which is a shame since it elevates the material so compellingly here. De Palma has great fun playing with the tropes and visual stylings of the genre, creating a rich atmosphere which adapts to the changing mood of the narrative. The first act, in Prague, is drowning in Third Man-esque shadows as Hunt finds himself alone, in constant danger and straining to make sense of a puzzle for which he seems to be missing all the crucial pieces. As he is forced to compromise his old certainties to make progress, the dominant colour scheme shifts from deep black and blues to greys and browns, emphasizing the new world of moral murkiness that the movie inhabits. As his plans start to come together for the third act climax, so too does the movie become more boldly colourful.
De Palma's love of genre cinema made him a perfect fit not only for emulating the style of old-school thrillers, but subverting it as well. Turning Jim Phelps, the only character to carry over from the TV series, into the villain was one hell of a ballsy move, not to mention an immensely controversial one at the time, but plays brilliantly into the movie's themes of shifting loyalties and political cynicism. Casting Vanessa Redgrave as arms dealer Max was similarly inspired. Redgrave turned what could have been a rote and uninteresting supporting character in the hands of a man into something far more devilish. Just as James Bond's boss, M, had recently been recast as a woman in GoldenEye (1995), the female Max reflected the growing influence of women in all areas of society, while also subverting the femme fatale trope so beloved of the genre. Max is sensual and slyly predatory, using flirtation as both a tool to achieve her ends and a mask to cover her ruthlessness. She's exactly the sort of boldly defined supporting player that later movies have so noticeably lacked, especially with Redgrave, a character actress par excellence, finding just the right level of dry wit to leverage the movie's sometimes over-serious tone.
Max's experienced, manipulative sensuality exists in stark contrast to the youth and relative sexlessness of Tom Cruise's Hunt. Even across four movies, Hunt has never found much by way of personality, but that blank slate quality works in his favour here by stripping him of much of the overblown machismo blighting so many action heroes then and now. Cruise's portrayal skews closer here to the Jeremy Renner character from Ghost Protocol: a highly competent field agent whose primary skills are in analysis rather than action. Indeed, he barely kills anyone until the movie's end. This intelligence is emphasized in one of the movie's most inspired scenes. Phelps, having returned from the dead, recounts a falsified version of how he survived his apparent assassination at the beginning of the movie. Hunt vocally accepts the story, all while mentally mapping out what really happened and confirming Phelps as the traitor. It's an audacious piece of narrative trickery in which De Palma sets dialogue and visuals against each other to simultaneously advance the plot and enrich our appreciation of Hunt's talents.
While the series would certainly go on to have its share of successes, that this early subversive streak and focus on atmosphere and plot were so thoroughly abandoned is a great loss. Mission: Impossible is not a perfect film by any means, but is a more faithful and interesting adaptation of its source material than all which would follow, while also being unafraid to subvert it to create its own big screen identity. Cinema could do with more heroes like this early Ethan Hunt, a more intellectual, even slightly nerdy version of the generic action man he would turn into for the following movie.
New SPECTRE Trailer Reboots The James Bond Iconography
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With the end of Skyfall having left Daniel Craig's rebooted James Bond at effectively the same point in his timeline where his predecessors started, the latest trailer for SPECTRE, set for release in the UK on October 26th and the rest of the world on November 7th, sets up much of the series' most famous iconography for a spectacular return.
Most notable for fans will be the remix of John Barry's On Her Majesty's Secret Service theme, a piece of music somehow even Bondier than the main Bond theme and an important signal for the direction we can expect the SPECTRE plot to take. On Her Majesty, of course, was the movie which saw Bond get married before his bride was cruelly murdered by supervillain, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. That this trailer showcases not only the OHMSS theme but also plenty of snowy mountain action and heavy hints at Blofeld's return - check out Christoph Waltz rocking that Nehru jacket - suggests now would be a very good time to revisit George Lazenby's only outing in the series... not least to reappraise the Australian actor's hugely underrated performance.
The trailer contains plenty of other nods to the series' heritage. The SPECTRE meeting recalls Thunderball. Bond on a train brings back memories of From Russia With Love, while his white dinner jacket - let's hope he's in slightly warmer climes than the mountainous region glimpsed earlier to avoid a satorial faux-pas - marks the return of a classic Bond look. The sitting back in a white-shirt-with-holster combo is pure Dr. No and also referenced in Tomorrow Never Dies. Monica Bellucci gets a similar unzipping - if lacking a certain magnetism - to Miss Caruso in Live & Let Die, while the return of Mr. White directly connects the movie to two of Daniel Craig's previous Bond adventures, Casino Royale and Quantum Of Solace.
Of course, as Star Trek Into Darkness so ineptly proved, a reboot cannot thrive simply by rearranging its history. The trailer shows off some cool new stuff as well, not least a jaw-dropping barrel roll from a helicopter (just in time for Starfox Zero!), some gorgeous cinematography, Ralph Fiennes' M getting his first opportunity to be grumpy in an office, and an endearingly hammy villain line from Waltz ("I am the author of all your pain"). Less encouraging is Bond going rogue yet again, his unforgivable collar pin (Tom Ford, sigh), snippets of clichéd dialogue ("Right now, I'm your best chance of staying alive.") and a few scenes which feel a little too close to similar moments from Craig's three previous movies. Making such a direct connection to OHMSS also threatens to hugely raise the stakes for Léa Seydoux's Madeleine Swann if she's to go head to head with Diana Rigg's Teresa Di Vicenzo, aka Bond's missus and the series' most fully rounded female lead.
Regardless, it's a new Bond film and therefore excitement was mandatory even before that exquisite OHMSS theme kicked in. Having read a fairly recent draft of the script, there's one major narrative problem which needs to be sorted out, but if it can overcome that, the result could be a fitting successor to the hugely enjoyable Skyfall. I wasn't mad about the Casino Royale script when that leaked either, so there's a positive precedent here at least. Anyone looking to bone up on their Bond lore ahead of time might want to check out all the movies listed above - hell, just watch all of them - plus the OHMSS novel and Octopussy short story.
[Review] Go Set A Watchman
The circumstances surrounding the publication of Go Set A Watchman have been sufficiently well documented and debated that there seems little need to retread that ground here. Whether or not you choose to buy the book as a result of its questionable journey into print is one best left to your own conscience rather than a thousand words of a reviewer wrestling with his. The core matter to be dealt with is simply whether or not it is a worthwhile book. My answer would be an emphatic yes.
It must be noted that it is also a tremendously challenging book, a long way from the moral simplicity of To Kill A Mockingbird, the novel it was later redrafted into but to which it now serves as a pseudo-sequel. Much has already been written about Atticus Finch being revealed as holding pro-segregationist views - with, as might have been expected, plenty of people popping out of the internet woodwork to let everyone know it was obvious to them all along, even if they didn't say anything at the time - and Scout, here known by her birth name of Jean Louise, struggling to deal with the idea of her father not being the paragon of virtue she had long looked up to.
That's not the challenging part, however. What is fascinating about Watchman is that, despite being written and set in the 1950s, its concerns are startlingly contemporary. Its themes cover the expected ground related to family, racism and the humanisation of childhood idols, but also moves through the politics of identity, class and privilege. Not all of these are given the same weight, understandably, but that they are tackled at all strips the book of Mockingbird's fairytale quality, which allowed various problematic elements to go ignored or dismissed as simply representative of their time, and roots it in something much closer to realism. Considering that such issues continue to disunite the States today, the change is an essential one for times where a reassertion of homespun values simply won't do.
It's difficult to say whether the book can be enjoyed on its own terms because it exists, both textually and thematically, in such stark opposition to Mockingbird. Whomever advised author Harper Lee to rewrite Watchman into that novel was a genius for recognising the elements which bore all the hallmarks of a best-seller, but in light of this new publication, should also be admonished for allowing its complexities to be so diminished. Where Mockingbird took a very clear and firm moral stance, Watchman takes the altogether more difficult but honest route of reminding us that it is dogmatic zealotry on both sides, and the dehumanisation and comforting vilification of those who disagree with one's views, which is often the real obstruction to progress.
Make no mistake, Atticus' views are, by today's standards and, I suspect, possibly even to some people in Lee's time, stomach-churning. A lengthy monologue in which he lays out his thoughts on how '[...] the Negroes down here are still in their childhood as a people' is brutal, and Jean Louise's anger, in light of her own, more modern views, becomes not only understandable but energizing. As thrilling as it is to revel in her takedown of her father's prejudices, however, Lee's point is not affirm one side over the other, but to emphasize the importance of communication and understanding even between those whose politics could not be more diametrically opposed. As long as people only seek to validate their own opinions, Lee suggests, and surround themselves with those who agree with them while demonising all who don't, the only result can be the ugly stalemate of each side sniping impotently at each other from afar.
Atticus' thoughts on segregation may be difficult to read, but Jean Louise's conversations with both him and the other people of Maycomb reveal her initial generalisations to be no less simplistic. While her views on integration are more acceptable to most modern audiences, she in her own way is no less patronising and close-minded than she accuses others of being. For all her noise and fury at Atticus, she has little interest in the thoughts of those affected by segregation - the ageing Calpurnia is the only black person given much of a voice, even then confined to a solitary scene where her function is to console the anguished white girl - and, until the very end, outright refuses to listen to anyone who challenges the fixed worldview through which she defines herself.
Having spent the years since Mockingbird living in New York, the pouty resilience of the young Scout has mutated into the self-righteousness of a prototypical East Coast lefty. One gets the feeling that had the older Jean Louise been present at the Tom Robinson trial, which is given a brief mention and notable retcon, she'd have been quick to label her father a misogynistic rape apologist. That she later gets called a bigot (a turnip-sized one at that) by her conservative uncle is bound to ruffle a few feathers in view of her stance against segregationism, but rationally the essential point is hard to argue with. The wisdom of Watchman is not coming down on one side or the other, but as a reminder that rapprochment and honest conversation are the only ways out of America's historical holding pattern of racism and hate.
As for the rest of the book, the prose is adequate but largely uninspired, not above occasionally slipping into facepalm-worthy clichés - particularly a real stinker of a chapter closing line about colour-blindness - and lacking the rhythm and small linguistic graces which grow out of considered editing. The plot is barebones at best, conducted largely through a series of didactic conversations which only spring to life once the novel's themes take shape in later chapters. Brief flashbacks to Jean Louise's childhood are oases of humour and sweetness, but whilst on their own terms show how the innocently naive Scout laid the roots for the ideologue of later life, readers familiar with Mockingbird will find little new contained within.
The book's politics are so dominant, however, that how one interprets them will likely be the decisive factor in whether Watchman is deemed a worthy successor, of sorts, to its esteemed forebear. Already you only need put the title into Google to see how quick commentators have been to twist Lee's message of unity into one affirming their own views and prejudices - precisely what the text clearly warns against. That complexity and empathy is what makes it an important and essential second entry in Harper Lee's literary canon. Mockingbird may be the more refined and comforting read, but for all Watchman's many rough edges, it does what any good sequel should by expanding the perspective of the original into something richer, braver and wiser, dare I so blaspheme by even suggesting, better. The true mark of its success is perhaps that, even with the contentious nature of its publication hanging over it, it nevertheless proves itself worthy of celebration.
[Review] Ted 2
Despite having little affection for either the comedy stylings of Seth Macfarlane or the acting career in general of Mark Wahlberg, I ended up being quite fond of Ted. Macfarlane's propensity towards hollow shock value, vulgarity and incessant, context-free pop culture references were softened by the need to develop actual characters in telling a story across a feature-length period of time (not that he paid much heed in his subsequent, abysmal directorial follow-up, A Million Ways To Die In The West) and Wahlberg's willingness to send up his tough guy image whilst playing opposite a foul-mouthed teddy made an instantly charming partnership.
The good news is that Ted 2 offers more of the same. Wahlberg is on stupendous form and his riffing with Macfarlane's Ted continues to be a seemingly inexhaustible source of laughs. On the downside, as was the case for Pitch Perfect 2, more of the same and nothing more feels decidedly underwhelming in the wake of an unexpectedly strong first outing. Ted 2 isn't short of terrific sight gags and humour at once utterly filthy and delightfully childish, but lacks the spark of joy and surprise which, like the eponymous bear, elevated the original to something greater than its component parts.
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Ted 2
Director: Seth Macfarlane
Rating: R
Release Date: June 26th, 2015
At the centre of the plot is a civil rights allegory in which Ted, wishing to conceive a child with his new wife, Tami-Lyn, discovers that the State does not legally consider him a person and has revoked all his rights. With the help of an aspiring lawyer (Amanda Seyfried), whose lack of pop cultural knowledge is more than made up for by an avid enthusiasm for weed, he and John travel to the Supreme Court to get the ruling overturned. Despite being atrociously argued every step of the way, there's no doubting the sincerity of the movie's attempt to raise pertinent and serious social issues, but in doing so, the movie is starkly divided between the relatively seriously handled courtroom scenes and the juvenile silliness piling up elsewhere. It's a credibly ambitious plot for an otherwise by-the-numbers sequel, but gracelessly handled in a way which drags the movie down whenever it comes up in any meaningful capacity.
Seyfried also struggles to find her place or find any life for a character who never adds up as a credible human being. While there's no reason an aspiring lawyer couldn't imbibe copious quantities of drugs in her downtime, from a dick-shaped bong no less, she shares a similar problem to the courtroom scenes in that she seems a completely different person when we're expected to respect her competence in a professional capacity. Macfarlane also puts her at the centre of a number of mean-spirited jabs directed at Lori, John's romantic interest in the previous movie and now ex-wife. Lori was of course played by Mila Kunis, Macfarlane's own ex, and the constant references to what a bad fit she was for John and how much she tried to change him only come across as Macfarlane allowing his personal issues to bleed into the screenplay.
Fortunately, when the movie pulls back to the core of what made the first one work, the relationship between Thuderbuddies John and Ted, everything clicks back into place. The hit rate of the jokes isn't especially high, but the sheer number means laughs come fairly regularly regardless. The best of these are the quick cutaways or short, sharp surprises, such as a magnificent sight gag involving a glass table, assaulting joggers with apples or Ted popping out of a drawer to randomly punch John in the face. The fact Wahlberg reacts as though he's been hit by a bulldozer only makes it all the more delightfully mad, and his commitment to selling every stupid line and humiliation builds to a fever pitch of idiotic effervescence. Macfarlane makes a terrific sparring partner, aided by Ted's delightfully expressive animation, and while some of the jokes are stretched out far beyond their reasonable limit - one involving harvesting Tom Brady's sperm goes on for minutes when it would be much more effective delivered as a one-shot cutaway - any scene the two share together is immediately among the movie's best and funniest.
It's a shame the strength of the core relationship is so routinely undermined by Macfarlane's self-indulgence, not only through the extensive prolonging of certain jokes, but in artificially halting the movie right at the beginning for a thoroughly uninspired old-timey song and dance number, in recalling Giovanni Ribsi as Donny, one of the worst parts of the first movie, to provide an unneeded additional antagonist, or in pop culture references that feel increasingly half-hearted. There's nothing here as glorious as John's mauling of Rita Coolidge's All Time High, for instance. John and Ted work so well together that they just about hold everything in place and some of the one-liners, particularly one about the Kardashians, are so depraved they verge on being applause-worthy. As hard as the movie is to dislike, however, a return visit to the Tedverse only makes its faultlines increasingly apparent.
Remembering Nintendo's Satoru Iwata, The CEO Who Made The World Smile
There can be few higher aspirations in life than bringing joy and happiness into the lives of others. Former Nintendo President, Satoru Iwata, who died yesterday aged 55, achieved this for millions of people around the globe. When we think of CEOs these days, we imagine soulless corporate suits crushing those lower down the ladder in pursuit of profit. Iwata could not have been further from that image. At a keynote speech in 2005, he famously stated that: "On my business card, I am a corporate president. In my mind, I am a game developer. But in my heart, I am a gamer."
Having stated his career as something of a prodigal talent in programming, working on such titles as Balloon Fight, Earthbound and various Kirby games, Iwata ascended the ranks at Nintendo to become the company's first President not descended from the Yamauchi bloodline. Where his predecessor, Hiroshi Yamauchi, was every bit the stoic, fiendishly brilliant businessman, Iwata transformed Nintendo into a company with a welcoming face that suited their line of games and characters which had been a staple of so many fondly-remembered childhoods.
Iwata never lost his passion for the video games medium and his achievements are spoke of in hushed tones throughout the industry. He coded the NES classic Earthbound all on his own. He debugged the entirety of Super Smash Bros Melee in three weeks to ensure the game hit its scheduled release date. He ported the battle system from the original Pokémon Game Boy games to Pokémon Stadium in a week without any help from design documentation. When Game Freak were struggling to contain the world they had created for Pokémon Gold and Silver into a single Game Boy cartridge, Iwata developed a compression technique so efficient that the developers were able to fit the entirety of the previous games' world in there as well. If Shigeru Miyamoto was the genius behind many of the company's most enduring mascots, Iwata was the technical master whose brilliance may have operated behind the curtain, but was no less impressive or important.
It was during his tenure as Nintendo President that Iwata truly began leaving an imprint on gamers' hearts and minds. He oversaw the creation of two of the world's most successful and innovative consoles, the Wii and the DS handheld. Both were dismissed at launch by competitors, yet went on to achieve groundbreaking global sales. For all they lacked in cutting edge hardware, both offered a diversity and whimsy in their games library that could not be found anywhere else. It was during this time that Iwata also began working to soften the company's image, offering an unprecedented level of openness and accessibility to its fans. In his Nintendo Direct online presentations, which he used periodically to announce updates on new games, he showed off a famously self-deprecating, meme-conscious sense of humour as the loveable half of a double act with Nintendo Of America's burly COO, Reggie Fils-Aimé. In his Iwata Asks interviews, he gave unprecedented insights into the thought processes of some of the world's most important game developers.
When the Wii's successor, the Wii U, struggled out of the gate, Iwata showed that his kindness was not limited to his public persona. Facing severe pressure from shareholders to lay off employees and embrace the cynical practices of free-to-play gaming which had become so prevalent and lucrative elsewhere, Iwata resolutely stuck to his guns, firmly believing in the importance of respecting and trusting the company's core fanbase. In 2014, he elected to cut his salary in half in order to avoid having to cut employee numbers as a consequence of poor financial results. This act of astonishing humility and, yes, understanding stood in stark contrast to the actions of other multinational CEOs at the time, who spent much of the financial crisis protecting themselves and their salaries at all costs.
Whether remembered making his signature 'direct' hand gesture, holding up a bunch of bananas, or in the puppet form so immediately embraced in last E3's Digital Presentation, Iwata personified all the qualities which made Nintendo so special to so many people around the world, never straying from his core belief that video games are meant to be fun for everyone. He oversaw one of the most creatively and financially successful periods in the company's history. Even with the recent downturn in fortunes with the struggles of the Wii U, he was in the process of modernising the company with moves into mobile gaming and toys-to-life, on course to right the ship without compromising its all-important central values. Most importantly, he was a man of singular nobility, talent and generosity, who was always loved and respected even by those who sometimes did not agree with his decisions. The outpouring of grief following his passing is testament to how deeply he was loved by those touched by his work and who felt welcome into the accepting, open-hearted Nintendo community he was instrumental in creating. Though his death leaves us with tears in our eyes, his legacy left smiles in our hearts.
Thank you, Iwata-san. You really were a Super Player.
R.I.P. Satoru Iwata, 1959 - 2015
Marvel's Daredevil Finds Its Elektra In Elodie Yung
Marvel have announced the casting of French-Cambodian actress Élodie Yung as Elektra in the upcoming second season of Daredevil on Netflix. Yung is well versed in the action genre, having played Jinx, a ninja, in 2013's hopeless G.I. Joe: Retaliation. Marvel's Jeph Loeb described Yung as 'the perfect actress to embody both Elektra’s impressive and deadly physicality, as well as her psychological complexity. Paired with Charlie as Matt Murdock, the two will bring one of the most beloved and tumultuous comic book relationships to life with all the accompanying sparks and spectacular action sequences the show is known for.'
There will likely be some curiosity over whether Yung's interpretation of the character will see some changes to her history. In the comics, Elektra is a Greek woman who trains in martial arts following the deaths of her parents. She shares a mentor with Matt Murdock in the shape of Stick, played by Scott Glenn in the series, despite her later choosing to ally herself with The Hand, a sect of ninja assassins who have been hinted at as a long-term threat. Given Yung's heritage, it is also possible her Elektra will be linked in some capacity to Nobu, a ninja-turned-businessman who, prior to his fiery death at Murdock's hands, was allied to both Wilson Fisk and a clan with a strong resemblance to The Hand. That's strictly speculation, but with Jon Bernthal also joining the series as Frank Castle, aka The Punisher, there will be no shortage of fan favourites in play when the series returns in 2016.
[via Marvel]
Did This Week's UnREAL Go Too Far?
UnREAL, Lifetime's new drama about a devious young television producer working on a fictionalised version of The Bachelor, was renewed for a second season earlier this week on the back of a wave of critical adoration. The show has managed to find traction with a much younger audience than the network's typical output, while the performances of Shiri Appleby and Constance Zimmer have attracted awards buzz. In other words, the show is giving Lifetime the reach, attention and respectability it has rarely enjoyed before, all while staying true to its essential remit of producing compelling women-oriented television.
Where that might typically mean the schlocky silliness epitomised by Kristen Wiig and Will Ferrell's parody, A Deadly Adoption, which the network gamely aired earlier this year, UnREAL isn't without its soapy plot twists but grounds them with a cast of complex characters whose moral compromises provide much of the show's real tension. The setting, a barely-disguised riff on The Bachelor entitled Everlasting, is its own little slice of brilliance, allowing the writers to employ the over-the-top melodrama so typical of reality TV, with the caveat that such contrivances exist because the characters are working overtime to make them happen. It's an inspired conceit, for which creators Marti Noxon and Sarah Gertrude Shapiro deserve great credit. It's no surprise that Shapiro is herself a Bachelor veteran, while Noxon previously worked on Buffy and Mad Men, perhaps explaining why the show has managed to balance its discordant elements so effectively to date. Spoilers, unsurprisingly, follow.
I say to date because the episode which aired last Monday night, entitled 'Fly', pushed the show's credibility and moral shading further than it ever has before, perhaps reaching a tipping point whereby that essential balance between soap and pseudo-realist drama was critically undermined. The episode revolved primarily around Ashley Scott's Mary, an older contestant and single mother, designated the show's MILF, whom show creator Chet deems to have outstayed her welcome. Chet makes a bet with Quinn (Zimmer), one of the show's senior producers, that she'll be sent home by the episode's end. Quinn, with the help of Appleby's Rachel, decides to create additional drama by bringing Mary's abusive ex onto the show, thereby forcing the show's bachelor (British playboy, Adam, played by Freddie Stroma) to step in as her white knight and making it almost impossible for him to later send her home without looking heartless and hypocritical.
Domestic abuse is one of those topics that is difficult to handle correctly in drama without coming across as exploitative and tacky. The climax of 'Fly', in which Mary is manipulated by her ex into committing suicide, could be generously described as coming perilously close to crossing that line. This is not to suggest the topic itself should be taboo: my personal belief is that nothing should be off-limits for artistic presentation, as art and entertainment provide an essential means through which important or difficult topics can be explored and presented to people who might otherwise be unaware of the complexity of the issues at hand. Nor do these topics always have to be handled in a certain way: the recent furore surrounding the presentation of rape on-screen, for instance, is not so much an issue with it being used in drama at all, or even its use in an exploitative or shorthanded capacity. It is that it is so rarely used in any other capacity, with few to no current examples of sexual abuse depicting the long-term physical and psychological effects on the victim. That in turn is corrupting the perception and discussion of rape in popular opinion and therefore urgently needs to be addressed. Personally, I would also extend those concerns to the presentation of torture, which has remained firmly lodged in Bush-era celebration since the inglory days of 24.
There are certainly elements to UnREAL's depiction of domestic abuse which feel like they could make a positive, if challenging, addition to the cultural conversation. The most impactful is the scene in which Mary goes to confront her ex, Kirk, in the trailer where he has been locked up, only for him to turn the tables and slowly, coldly convince her that the trauma she and her daughter suffered at his hands was her fault. This is horrifyingly close to the way real abusers often operate in real life, getting inside their victims' heads to keep them under their control and feeling helpless and alone. Considering how often the question comes up of why abuse victims don't simply leave their abusers, having such an unflinchingly precise depiction play out on screen, no matter how nasty to watch, can surely only be a positive both for those who do not fully grasp how psychological abuse can be just as dangerous, if not moreso, than physical abuse. It might even be helpful for victims themselves, in possibly allowing them to better understand their situation by seeing it played out in a fictional setting.
The problem is what it leads up to, Mary's suicide by jumping off the roof of the Everlasting mansion. Depictions of abuse, rape and torture do not need to end triumphantly: indeed, a negative ending is perhaps more valuable for forcing home the brutal ramifications of such situations rather than reducing them to a test of strength which risks making real-life victims feel weak for their inability to escape them in the same way as their fictionalised equivalents. They do, however, need to feel genuine, which is where the problems come in for 'Fly'. Everything in the episode felt like it was specifically engineered to get Mary onto that rooftop, as opposed to being the natural outcome of a series of ugly events and histories. Rachel and Quinn have severely compromised their morals before - one of the show's greatest strengths is its depiction of female characters in increasingly dark shades of grey when fictional women are still too often slotted into minor variations on the 'saint' or 'superbitch' tropes - but had those tendencies slightly alleviated by small traces of decency demonstrated elsewhere. It's hard to believe that even they, who high-fived over the idea of 'girl power' earlier in the episode, could ever be so blind as to think bringing an abusive ex onto the show could ever be seen as 'empowering', doubly so when the daughter whose arm he broke also happened to be visiting the set.
Not only does Shiri Appleby's Rachel go along with it, but stands idly by when Kirk goes into a violent fury again, reacting only when she herself is threatened. When Kirk is eventually restrained by a camera operator - because not only did they invite the long-time physical abuser of one of their contestants onto the show, they also didn't think to have any security around - the show presents it as though we're supposed to be relieved that the visibly shocked Rachel did not get hurt, even though she showed no concern for Mary or her daughter only seconds earlier. No-one deserves to be the victim of violence, no matter how reprehensible their actions, but to try and cast Rachel as the sympathetic one was a staggering misjudgment. Even Shia, the producer whose actions in swapping out Mary's bipolar meds with a placebo are directly linked to the episode's outcome - another problem, as it suggests Kirk's psychological abuse is only effective due to Mary not being on her medication, when perfectly healthy people are no less susceptible in real life - objects to the plan, albeit perhaps on the basis that she knows her actions have already compromised Mary's mental state.
Even for a show where characters rarely come off as decent or caring people, everyone seems unnaturally blasé about the horror that Mary is being put through. Adam takes a punch to his perfect face for stepping in to protect her, yet seems more amused than concerned when he pieces together how Rachel has been manipulating events to endanger a woman he at the very least has otherwise been presented as friendly towards. When Mary does eventually end up on the roof, preparing to jump in a slightly too twee pure white dress, Quinn's only real concern is that she doesn't have a camera nearby. For all the slow-motion running to Mary's side when she eventually jumps, there's no sense that any of the three characters present are even slightly concerned that they were directly responsible for someone's death - a much nastier version of a plotline from an earlier episode, in which Quinn and Rachel opted not to tell a contestant about her father's heart attack - so much as their inability to get it all on camera.
It will certainly be interesting to see where UnREAL goes from here, because as heartless as the Everlasting producers may be, it's nigh-on impossible to believe that the show wouldn't be immediately shut down by its network and investigated as a result of a contestant committing suicide, especially after forcing her to confront her abusive ex. That the next episode is entitled 'Savior' doesn't bode well for a realistic outcome, especially with only six of the nine episode order having played out to date. These ridiculous contrivances undermine what good the show could have done with a realistic exploration of domestic violence, instead turning potentially impactful drama into a plot point seemingly devised for shock value alone. In other words, it's the sort of thing that might have been expected from the Lifetime of old, but which until now UnREAL had stood above. A shame.
Warren Ellis To Write New James Bond 007 Comic Series
Dynamite Entertainment has revealed that Warren Ellis is to pen an ongoing James Bond comic book series launching this November. The series will see Bond returning from an assignment in Helsinki to follow up a mission which resulted in the death of a fellow Double-O. Ellis, one of the most esteemed writers in the comic medium and veteran of such classics as Hellblazer, Transmetropolitan, Global Frequency and various superhero series for Marvel and DC, will be teaming up with artist Jack Masters, of Marvel's Wolverines, to mark Bond's return to the format after an absence of over twenty years.
The series is a result of a partnership between Dynamite and the Ian Fleming Estate, announced nine months ago, which is rumoured to also include adaptations of the original Bond novels. Ellis described his delight at the opportunity to 'tell visual narratives with the original, brutal, damaged Bond of the books', a welcome and reassuring recognition for fans that Fleming's character was considerably more melancholy and troubled than the one-dimensional superhero depicted in most of the movies. The 'brutal' description is an interesting one, as while Fleming's Bond was undeniably cold and professional in his duties, part of the damage that Ellis describes stemmed from a clear awareness of the ugly nature of his work and the cost it exacts on his soul. Daniel Craig's Bond has picked up on Fleming's unironic violence without, post-Casino Royale anyway, delving much into how it has shaped Bond's personality and outlook.
Even Bond's attitude towards women is rooted in his troubled relationship with his profession. He indulges his appetites with the voraciousness of a man who doesn't believe he will live to see the following morning - in the Moonraker novel, Bond describes how he never saves money, believing it pointless - but is also something of a frustrated romantic, genuinely falling in love with several of his Bond girls even though it invariably ends in tragedy. Ellis is a hugely accomplished character writer and it will be fascinating to see which elements of Fleming's character he chooses to employ in his own interpretation. It will also be interesting to compare it to how Bond is depicted in SPECTRE, the movie scheduled for release in the same month which promises to delve into the character's past.
[via Comic Book Resources]