On the Edge of Winter

Last night I watched the second episode of Fringe, "The Same Old Story", which aired September 16, 2008. I got some strong X Files vibes off this one, though not at all in a bad way. It was fun watching the trio investigate a serial killer who impregnates prostitutes with rapidly aging foetuses.

Anna Torv and Joshua Jackson give TV sizes performances while John Noble is definitely cinema as Walter Bishop. He's entertainingly brusque and the gags about his faulty memory are cheap but still funny. Anna Torv's Olivia is a little bland but I like how they gave her some impressive Sherlock Holmes moments.

I'm watching Fringe on Max (formerly HBOMax) which I realised I could get a 2.99 a month subscription to if I get the one with ads. They actually placed the commercials in the commercial break moments on the show which is kind of a nice thing for the pacing. It's been years since I've seen new commercials and I feel like it's a particular psychic link to pop culture I've been lacking. I've been having "broadcast editions" of MST3k playing while I cook dinner, episodes transferred from people's VHS collections including commercials from the early '90s. All those Mentos commercials and Big Red commercials and--damn--Sears commercials. I still have some shirts from Sears. I got to be careful with this nostalgia.

I heard Mystery Science Theatre 3000 didn't make its minimum donation goal during its Turkey Day marathon this year. I can't say I'm surprised. The new episodes are only streaming on the show's own dedicated streaming service, the Gizmoplex, which is slow and expensive, so I haven't been able to watch it and I imagine a lot of other fans can't. What I have seen from episodes shown on YouTube is a generally inferior product to all the episodes readily available on YouTube or Shout Factory on Amazon Prime. And, of course, RiffTrax. Joel Hodgeson, series creator and original star, may have a great creative mind but it seems clear now that Mike Nelson was really who held the show together. He was head writer from the second season, when the show first premiered on Comedy Central, and now apparently he's the only one with the business sense to make the format financially sustainable. It's always been a cheap looking show with a small fanbase but increasingly large budgets due to the need to pay for the rights to the movies being riffed--the minimum donation goal for the new season was over four million dollars. Oh, well. We'll always have the memories.

Dreams After Bikes

Last night brought another strange dream. This time, I was in a neighbourhood near my old neighbourhood from when I was in elementary and junior high school. It was night and pitch black. Above, I could dimly see orange enemy zeppelins slowly patrolling. I knew they were occasionally dropping demons totally concealed in black clothing. Their mission was to savagely murder everyone they met so I built a lookout platform on top of one house. I sat in there with some people and we got to talking about how phony the Oscars are and we all took turns mocking acceptance speeches.

I also watched Pee-Wee's Big Adventure last night. That's one of those movies I used to watch constantly when I was a kid. So much so that, even though I don't think I'd watched it in thirty years, it felt overly familiar. Maybe my last impression of it was that I needed to give it a rest, I don't know. It's still a remarkable film. Roger Ebert put it very well when he said the film created a complete fantasy world "like Alice in Wonderland or Lord of the Rings." There's a fundamental logic in the film that doesn't exist in reality or in any other film and the character of Pee-Wee is at the center of this strange universe. When he tells Dottie he's a "loner, a rebel", in any realistic context you'd say, yeah, that's true. He's a complete eccentric and his home, with his complicated decorations and gadgets, only leaves room for one. But then he giggles to himself after he leaves Dottie. It was all a joke, he had no insight into his own character. Or maybe he just doesn't think it's true. He is remarkably good at making friends, after all.

Twitter Sonnet #1794

Corrective pads can square a shoulder shot.
Beyond the frame, an actor tries to cut.
A million mice can take a single cot.
The hare was trim from ankle down to butt.
Along the road to loafers, wheels were shod.
Returning palettes crack beneath a load.
No items now can sell before the pod.
The moisture glutton soon became a toad.
A mountain den provides the shelter place.
With good in cans, the goods were waiting late.
A finished deck expelled the wasted ace.
In secret fish the praise was saved for bait.
As ev'ry pretty thing'll start as sad.
The planet's noisy moon'll start as bad.

Tactical Bikinis

Those who worry we'll have to do without gratuitous cheesecake after the apocalypse will be relieved to see 1988's She-Wolves of the Wasteleand, aka Phoenix the Warrior. What might have been a mildly amusing, fifteen minute softcore porn was unwisely stretched to feature length. Beautiful women and cheesy effects at some point stop making up for the blandness of the performances. Still, there's some charm in this turkey.

In this post-apocalypse, all the men are dead after they started a war, of course. Now it's the presumably more peaceful minded better half of the species who battle it out with machine guns and spears. However, one withered, evil geneticist is trying to remake men and impregnates future Playboy Playmate Peggy McIntaggart with a boy child.

She's on the run for her life, dodging vicious ladies in skimpy, ill-fitting costumes and heading out to the budget-friendly desert. What can she do?

Enter Phoenix (Kathleen Kinmont), the fearsome sand trapper. What is a sand trapper? Who knows. It's something that requires Phoenix to tote an m16 and train herself to peak fighting prowess. She demonstrates her skill again and again in ponderously choreographed fight scenes.

Halfway through the movie, they run into Guy (James H. Emery), another escapee, who happens to have the reflexes to take point in the action scenes. So much for that all-girl premise.

The movie also features Persis Khambatta from Star Trek: The Motion Picture as the villain. This was not her best film but she tackles the role with gusto.

She-Wolves of the Wasteland is available on Amazon Prime under the title Phoenix the Warrior.

Languages of Dream

Last night I dreamt I was at Grossmont College in San Diego, the community college I went to before SDSU. I was in a little garden and I found a shaggy grey cat under a shrub, in a drain pipe. There was also a kitten but the kitten was exactly like the adult cat. That is, a scale miniature, with the head in the same proportion to its body as the adult cat. But the fur couldn't scale so it looked like solid, moulded plastic. It was kind of a pale plum colour instead of grey.

I've been remembering my dreams a lot lately after a very long period when I was forgetting them. The night before last, I dreamt the new Doctor Who episode was written by someone who wanted to skewer the Church of England but knew absolutely nothing about it. So in the story, Rose had a part time job as a bishop down at the local church. She had to wear black robes every day and her coworkers called her lazy even when she was working hard.

Here's a pretty music video one of my students recommended:

One of the most striking things to me about K-Pop is often the lyrics include English. It's a reflection of how much stronger South Korea is in English than Japan. Japan just recently ranked shockingly low again in English education. Usually when I ask teachers for their opinions as to why, they say Japan focuses too much on testing--that is, memorising grammar and vocabulary instead of practicing conversations and role playing. I would say that's part of it. English is kind of studied like a dead language and the rules are much stricter to be more conducive to memorisation. Yesterday, I was talking to a teacher who was stressing the importance of differentiating "shrine" and "temple". In Japan, Shinto structures are called shrines and Buddhist structures are called temples. It's useless for me to point out that actual English is far less strict and the words "shrine" and "temple" are applied to all sorts of things, well beyond the spheres of Shinto and Buddhism.

Mostly, there's just a pure lack of interest in truly learning English in Japan. You'll hear the occasional one or two lines of English in a J-Pop song--and quite often bad English. Meanwhile, in South Korea, pop artists are writing whole songs in perfectly intelligible English. There's a market for it and therefore an interest. I just don't see it in Japan.

Meeping Time

Doctor Who is back and for real this time, not like those Chris Chibnell seasons. Last night, "The Star Beast" premiered, the first of three 60th anniversary specials, all written by Russell T Davies, the man who brought the show back in 2005 and ran it for a few seasons. Also back is director Rachel Talalay from the 12th Doctor era (2014-2017) lending the special a narrative coherence not seen since that time. And, of course, David Tennant and Catherine Tate have returned to star and they're both fantastic as ever.

I enjoyed the special though I was reminded as much of Russell T Davies' weaknesses as of his strengths. "The Star Beast" is flattered by its contrast to the messy 13th Doctor era but, taken on its own, it ranks with only average Davies episodes. One thing it's definitely not is a good starting point for people unfamiliar with Doctor Who.

It begins with a long recap of Tennant's final season and an explanation of why Donna can't be allowed to see too much of the Doctor. Even this is not enough for the new viewer not to be bewildered by gags like the psychic paper or references to various aliens in doll form.

The dolls were made by Rose, Donna's daughter and the first properly transgender character on the show, played by Yasmin Finney. Finney is fine but Davies' treatment has a Guess Who's Coming to Dinner feel to it, kind of hokey and awkward. Donna and her mother talking about Rose in the kitchen felt like something from a PSA.

I liked how Rose had a shed where she goes to be alone and make dolls and it's where she stashes the alien Meep. But on that note, it seems like we should've gotten more reactions from Rose as revelations about the Meep started coming. Maybe the show didn't have time because it was focusing on the Doctor and Donna, but it felt like Rose was set up to be more of a main character.

I like how her name ended up being a clue that paid off, though. It's the kind of loose thread that in the Chibnall seasons would've just been a mistake or a leftover from a sloppy rewrite. In "The Star Beast", it's a hint that makes sense of a big payoff.

The new TARDIS interior is pretty great. It's perfect for the anniversary.

"The Star Beast" is available on Disney+ in most of the world and BBC's iPlayer in the UK. In the US, all previous episodes of the revived era are on Max, formerly HBOMax, and unrelated to Cinemax. The classic era of Doctor Who is available on BritBox. Is this all confusing enough for you?

X Sonnet #1793

The signal cords connect to make a web.
A linen sky conforms about the giant eye.
An empty farm awaits no Johnny Reb.
Construction starts as girls deliver pie.
Synthetic suits were suited best for sand.
As travel north's rerouted south, we turned.
Our answer song enlarged a little band.
Of burning hair, the spirits quickly learned.
Returning faces wear a single coat.
Beyond the age of thirty-five was ten.
Plus four would make the man another goat.
And senseless lunches craft another win.
Returning hearts were doubled twice from space.
A cart of clothes could fill the wooden case.

Believing the Season

Last week, the principal of one of my schools invited me to go to a concert of Christmas choirs performing Japanese songs as well as the works of John Rutter. It was a nice time and he also gave me a ticket to Toji, a Buddhist temple in Kyoto, and I used it yesterday.

This was my second visit to Toji so I concentrated on trying to take interesting photos. It was afternoon on a cloudy day so there was some dramatic light.

The Japanese maples still had their beautiful autumn leaves.

The Japanese heron enjoys his new fame, courtesy of Miyazaki Hayao.

A few days ago, I learned my two year old nephew, River, is very sick and in the hospital. So I bought some charms for him at Toji, one for health and one for the protection of children. I suppose it'll take about two weeks for them to get to him, though.

I ate lunch at a nearby mall in a crowded foodcourt. I just got some KFC, I suppose because the Christmas season has started (KFC is a traditional Christmas food in Japan). On the long train ride to and from Kyoto, I read Philip Sidney's Defence of Poesy (1579) and Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus (1592 or 93) . Yes, I carried the Norton Anthology of English Literature, volume 1, in my bag for the whole time. Not the slimmer volumes they make now but the big cinder block that contains material from the fifth century to the 18th. Lately I've been reading Saint Augustine again, City of God, as a refresher for my comic and Augustine's hatred for art and poetry was getting me down. Sidney cheered me up, even if Defence of Poesy is kind of a sloppy work.

In a way, I can sympathise with people who dislike fiction because they believe it consists entirely of lies. I don't generally like even polite lies myself, I think they're a waste of time. But having found myself arguing in recent years with people who basically dislike fiction for that reason, my counterargument is given by Sidney in this famous quote:

Now for the poet, he nothing affirmeth, and therefore never lieth; for, as I take it, to lie is to affirm that to be true which is false: so as the other artists, and especially the historian, affirmeth many things, can, in the cloudy knowledge of mankind, hardly escape from many lies: but the poet, as I said before, never affirmeth; the poet never maketh any circles about your imagination, to conjure you to believe for true what he writeth: he citeth not authorities of other histories, but even for his entry calleth the sweet Muses to inspire into him a good invention; in troth, not labouring to tell you what is or is not, but what should or should not be.

This is why the increasing preference for non-fiction over fiction worries me. I say that as someone who certainly enjoys reading and viewing forms of non-fiction. Fiction exercises the brain in a way that non-fiction is deficient.

The Treachery of Feasts

Isn't it nice when two opposing factions can come together over a hearty dinner? I wouldn't be so sure. Take 1971's The Beguiled in which Clint Eastwood as a Union soldier is invited to the dinner table of a house full of Confederate women. This subtle, vicious, psychological film is a fascinating piece directed by Don Siegel, the same year he made Dirty Harry, also with Eastwood.

Johnny McBee (Eastwood) is grievously wounded in battle but counts himself lucky when he's taken in by a school for girls. The barefoot girls and their fussy headmistress are at first resolved to turn him over to the next Confederate soldiers to happen by but, nursing Johnny back to health, they all become infatuated with him. Everyone except the house's only slave, Hallie (Mae Mercer).

As a Union soldier, McBee points out to Hallie that the two of them ought to be friends. But Hallie has only fear and hatred for any white man.

Three women become particularly smitten with him--the virginal and romantic Edwina (Elizabeth Hartman), the perpetually horny Carol (Jo Ann Harris), and the headmistress herself, Martha (Geraldine Page), who misses her brother with whom she had an incestuous relationship. McBee mustn't have been too experienced with women, because he thinks it's a good idea to lead all three of them on, showering each with flattery and promises. I knew his goose would be cooked once he was foolish enough to go to bed with one of them.

So, yeah, I think that was a pretty good Thanksgiving movie. Eastwood's perfect here as a soldier too confident in his prowess to figure there might be more kinds of battlefields than he dreamed of. Geraldine Page is by turns a good, moral leader and deeply twisted. One of the most memorable scenes is a dream sequence of a menage a trois involving McBee, Martha, and Edwina. I like how the movie shows the whole sequence before revealing whose dream it is.

The Beguiled is available on The Criterion Channel.

Thanks for Simpsons

And now it's Thanksgiving for you in the U.S. too. I thought I found a perfect Thanksgiving movie last night which I'd never seen before but then my internet went to shit and I couldn't finish it. So maybe I'll talk about it another day. So I just watched "Bart vs. Thanksgiving" again.

It's hard to believe how good The Simpsons used to be. This 1990 episode was the show's first Thanksgiving episode. Lisa creates a centrepiece for Thanksgiving dinner which Bart heartlessly destroys to make room for the turkey. So the little boy runs away with the dog and learns a lesson on the wrong side of the tracks. Bart's thoughtlessness feels like the authentic thoughtlessness of a bratty child. I love the bit where he offers to help his mother make dinner and his effort involves asking her for help for every step despite his task consisting only of getting cranberry sauce out of a can.

But my favourite gag is the Macy's parade announcer who, observing the deflating Bullwinkle balloon, says Bullwinkle is "getting a taste of his own medicine." When his cohost points out this makes no sense, the announcer adds, "Now he knows how the pilgrims felt!" It's absurd but also an accurate portrayal of fried, low level television personalities of the time.

The Simpsons is available on Disney+.

X Sonnet #1792

Enforced returns escape but once a year.
Of dusty tomes the sleeper loudly speaks.
A stringy meat adorns the native's spear.
Beyond's a house where ev'ry tile squeaks.
With broken pepper, Holly steals the house.
A list of problems stopped the jolly day.
Computers never care about a mouse.
There's always clicking data 'long the way.
In many forms, the splendid fowl appears.
Adorned with stars, his wattles brightly blaze.
No chicken counts among his saintly peers.
My friends, upon the mighty turkey gaze.
The looming dinner broke the silverware.
The bird awaits in Christmas underwear.

Thanksgiving Bourbon and Bearclaw

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. It's Labour Day here in Japan so I get the day off. I basically celebrated Thanksgiving last night. I roasted a chicken breast in my convection oven and drank some Wild Turkey. I always like to drink bourbon in autumn, I suppose because it pairs well with both Halloween and Thanksgiving. I bought a big bottle of Wild Turkey 101 at a department store. The regular supermarkets and drug stores here tend to carry only the 80 proof version and what the hell is even the point of that? Might as well buy Jack Daniels.

The Wild Turkey 101 was particularly tasty this year. Maybe it's my imagination but it seems to have more of a vanilla flavour than before. I hope it's not a sign of desperation they're pushing an 80 proof version and adding sweetener. Well, I have been enjoying it this year.

I couldn't decide on a Thanksgiving movie. I wanted to watch The Searchers but didn't feel like paying to rent it. Then I saw Paramount+ had Breakfast at Tiffany's filed in their holiday movies for some reason. So I watched that. Holly Golightly as portrayed by Audrey Hepburn remains one of the greatest characters in the history of cinema. It's more than just her iconic look. This woman who lives in a constant fear of settling seems so authentic, both for the writing and Hepburn's performance. What it has to do with Thanksgiving, I have no idea, unless it's the fact that breakfast is a meal?

First the Mansion, Then the World

How much am I a sucker for haunted house movies? Apparently enough of one I watched 2023's Haunted Mansion. Yeah, that's what we're eating over at Disney+ nowadays. It didn't go right down the gullet, to be fair. I watched the first few minutes and immediately perceived grossly incompetent filmmaking. But I've always prided myself on being able to finish watching any movie and, damnit, I wasn't going to be beaten by a movie based on my favourite Disneyland ride. So I strapped in and choked it down.

LaKeith Stanfield stars as grieving widower and astrophysicist paranormal investigator Ben. The first scene is an intensely banal meetcute, he and his future wife. Flash forward, and he's a depressed hard drinking tour guide for historic buildings in New Orleans, something you'd think would come into play but never does.

Meanwhile, Gabbie (Rosario Dawson) is a widow who has moved into the titular mansion with her young son and has found it's obviously, cartoonishly haunted. Can Ben and Gabbie meet and make a new family? Can they overcome their grief and help the innocent ghosts who are all quite friendly except for one wicked guy played by Jared Leto? Are you still awake? I gotta tell you, it was a constant struggle for me.

It's not the cast's fault. Ahsoka notwithstanding, Rosario Dawson is always reliable for some human warmth and Stanfield isn't bad, though he's clearly doing a Neil DeGrasse Tyson impression. The film also has Owen Wilson and Danny DeVito.

When Wilson's character is introduced, director Justin Simien goes in for a closeup on Wilson's hand as he removes his glasses, awkwardly breaking up the film's constant medium shots of actors in dialogue. What am I looking at, I thought. What is this? Why am I watching this?

The real failure is a lack of understanding of what makes the ride effective. The movie faithfully reproduces characters and scenes, like the stretching room and the ballroom. But it misses the underlying thread of menace and tragedy. On the ride, these are all damned souls. In the movie, they're just innocent victims. We needed bad people who died in gruesome ways. It would've been sensible to have guilty pasts for the main characters too, and, no, Ben lamenting that he couldn't tell his wife he loved her one last time doesn't count.

Did it scratch my haunted house itch at all? I liked how the interior of the house was an impossibly vast labyrinth. I like the aesthetic of the ride reproduced. Alas, it's spoiled by generic blue and orange colour tinting. No, I can't in good conscience recommend this movie. Go to Disneyland and the real Haunted Mansion. Assuming it hasn't been changed to ghosts chasing people carrying bowls of fruit.

Haunted Mansion is available on Disney+.

Joss Ackland

Joss Ackland died a couple days ago. An actor with an invariably effective, sinister presence, he appeared in many films and television series over more than sixty years. His most high profile roles may have been in Lethal Weapon 2 and The Hunt for Red October. I saw him in Hammer's Rasputin: The Mad Monk and Amicus' The House That Dripped Blood as well. But it's primarily for his television roles I'll remember him, particularly in the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes series episode, "The Copper Beeches".

Ackland is an incredibly menacing villain, particularly opposite a strikingly vulnerable young Natasha Richardson as his intended victim.

He also appeared in one of my favourite Young Indiana Jones episodes, Adventures in the Secret Service, or the first half of that, a fifty minute episode originally called "Austria, March 1917". With a teleplay by Frank Darabont from a story by George Lucas, it's a solid little suspense narrative that also features Christopher Lee in a small role. Ackland's role is curiously silent, despite the actor's deep voice being one of his most impressive qualities. But he is effective as the sinister inspector, wordlessly dogging Indy on his secret mission like a spectre of death.

X Sonnet #1791

Another knight returned but dressed in red.
A rain of sealing wax conveys the sign.
The light of fire rimmed the troubled bed.
A nervous mind consumes a broken line.
Surprises bake the skin above a man.
Electric action changed the scene to night.
Relapsing purged the urge to stage a ban.
Offensive gadgets end the need to fight.
Divided phones could never meet a cord.
Absented cells could never call an ear.
Assembled sentries dot the gaming board.
Assorted bubbles spill the news of beer.
Advancing turkey lines present their wings.
Through hollowed cobs, the autumn sings.

The Unstable Hell Mouth

I sure am enjoying Buffy season six a lot more than I used to. Over the weekend, I watched "Seeing Red" and "Villains", and what an absolute delight those two are. "Villains" is an e-ticket ride while "Seeing Red" is a fascinating specimen of television production.

"Seeing Red" pissed a lot of people off. Arguably, it's a jarring tonal shift for anyone used to Buffy as safe and cosy weekly viewing, where every problem our heroes encountered was a surmountable cheap special effect. But it's not like there hadn't been character deaths before. It's as though, with season six, Joss Whedon deliberately lulled the audience into a world of weaker stakes. The trio of nerds didn't seem like very serious or threatening villains and most of the drama revolved around Willow's magic addiction and the relationship between Xander and Anya.

Oh, yeah, and Spike and Buffy. The other controversial scene in "Seeing Red" is Spike attempting to rape Buffy. Logistically, I've always had a problem with the scene because the first time Spike and Buffy had sex it was a fight scene in which the two brought a building down around them. So how could Spike, on any level, really expect to overpower Buffy? So the scene feels a little forced. I think we're meant to think Buffy's been weakened by a recent fight but that's never clearly put across. If they really wanted it to make sense they should have had Buffy visibly restrained in some way. Anyway, I like the idea of reminding the audience that Spike had no soul. James Marsters is just so damned charming in the role, it's easy to forget. Of course, a vampire taking a victim's blood is already a kind of rape so maybe it would have been better if he'd done that instead.

After that, Willow's single-minded mission of revenge in "Villains" is just terrific, especially after all the dull moralising of the addiction episodes. In "Villains", she may as well be singing "Let It Go". Alyson Hannigan is interesting in ways she hadn't been since season three. And when she finally gets her revenge it's just delicious.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is available on Disney+.

Doctors in Need

The above is a new Doctor Who video recorded for Children in Need, an annual charity event in the U.K. for which big stars and productions often record sketches. It's not clear if this is meant to be canon. I would think it's too silly but Russell T. Davies has shown the occasional penchant for silliness. It is funny, all concerns of story integrity aside. The awkward line about having recently been a "brilliant woman" seemed aimed directly at people concerned Jodie Whittaker was being erased in some way. In fact, I'd argue Davies has already stumbled a bit by having the Doctor's outfit changed by the regeneration. If he'd put Tennant in Whittaker's costume, no-one would have complained. It's not a particularly gendered outfit, anyway (which is one of the many reasons Missy was a more entertaining gender swap).

Davies has also revealed that the featured redesign of Davros is canon and will be seen going forward on the series.

We had long conversations about bringing Davros back because he’s a fantastic character. Time and society and culture and taste has moved on, and there’s a problem with the Davros of old in that he’s a wheelchair user who is evil.

I had problems with that, and a lot of us on the production team had problems with that, of associating disability with evil, and trust me, there’s a very long tradition of this. I’m not blaming people in the past at all, but the world changes and when the world changes, Doctor Who has to change as well.

So we made the choice to bring back Davros without the facial scarring, and without the wheelchair, or his support unit, which functions as a wheelchair. I say this is how we see Davros now. This is what he looks like. This is 2023. This is our lens. This is our eye. Things used to be black and white, they’re not in black and white anymore. And Davros used to look like that, and he looks like this now, and that we are absolutely standing by.

I think, because it’s Children in Need night. It’s a night where issues of disability, or otherness, or being excluded from society come right to the front of the conversation. So of all the nights to make this change, I thought it was absolutely vital to do this, and I’m very, very, very proud of the fact that we have.”

Oh, no. I'd be more worried if the sketch weren't genuinely funny and I think Davies, perhaps in spite of himself, is still capable of good writing. But he needs to stop the futile woke shadow-boxing. There's no winning that game. If there was one soul in the whole world complaining that Davros, in concept, somehow maligned real people with disabilities, I would be very, very much surprised. I think everyone understood that Davros was meant to be slowly changing into his own creation, becoming a Dalek. Ah, well. Fingers crossed.

The Sky Has No Rim

A couple months ago, I remarked that I was the weirdo still playing Bethesda's twelve year old game Skyrim while the rest of the world had moved on to Bethesda's brand new game, Starfield. Well, it turns out I'm not such an oddball as the number of people playing Skyrim has been edging out the number playing Starfield. At this rate, unless something changes, I wouldn't be surprised if Skyrim was consistently outpacing Starfield by January.

Would could change? There could be a whole bunch of mods, though it'd have to be some pretty drastic ones to overcome the basic lack of joy players seem to have found in the game's principal features. Bethesda games are famous for allowing the player to freely explore vast territory and it seems Starfield's vast territory is dull as dirt. Much of it, indeed, seems literally to be dirt as exploring often involves crossing vast reaches of barren landscape. That sounds like more of a punishment than a game, if you ask me.

It's not so unlike the Fallout games. Fallout 4 may be much more complex, with more character creation options and various forms of dynamic gameplay, but it still all boils down to running around in a junkyard. In Skyrim, you have forests, snowy peaks, and ancient Nordic tombs. Even the worst places have an attractive aesthetic in one way or another.

Starfield, even if it weren't dull and ugly, would still have to compete with the wealth of user made mods that have accrued over more than a decade. Of the 110 mods I use with my copy of Skyrim, several are graphics and and sound mods. You can't honestly call it a purely 12 year old game. In many ways, a modded Skyrim is as up to date as recent releases. And the mods, conceivably, may only improve as years pass. What might this suggest about the future of video games as a whole? For years, people have already been complaining that games are being released unfinished. That doesn't generally include Bethesda games, but many of the mods for Bethesda games are devoted to fixing bugs or streamlining code in the vanilla releases. Could we get to the point where game studios just release bare frameworks, or starter kits of animation and graphics, and then expect online communities to generate free content on their own?

Just look at all the free labour that's gone into the Beyond Skyrim mod that's been in construction for several years. A mod endeavouring to fill out the entire fantasy world in which the country of Skyrim is located, Beyond Skyrim features not only custom graphics, items, coding, gameplay, and writing but even composers of original music, teams of musicians, as well as professional quality voice acting. Are studios asking themselves what is the bare minimum of product they can put out to trigger a volunteer labour force as massive as Skyrim's?

This is my latest character, Grushenka, named after a character I had in Morrrowind over twenty years ago who was originally named after the character in The Brothers Karamazov. Her dress is based on a 1660 gown and comes from a mod. Her sword is a silver rapier which comes from a weapons mod that also includes custom animations. Her hair comes from a mod that includes hair that utilises modded physics and, thanks to another mod, is blown naturally by the wind across the tundra. I'm using a modded combat system as well as a modded survival mode that adds detrimental effects from cold weather, hunger, and lack of sleep. This particular mod was an official Bethesda release but the hunger portion of it was ridiculous. Only a few items of the game's vast collection of foods were actually able to sate the player character's hunger. A helpful user mod revamped the whole system based on a the real world calorie content of Bethesda's assortment of in game foods including bread, fruit, meat, pastries, etc. This, of course, adds a whole new dimension to the game, another thing that keeps it feeling fresh.

X Sonnet #1790

It starts with dust and ghosts of blasted cars.
The restless heath explodes with howling blooms.
But autumn crashed across the tracks of bars.
Another drink at three before her looms.
The plan was never red and blue apart.
Again the arms combine to make a pact.
Where larger feet would tread's a bigger heart.
Where angels like to walk we seldom act.
It's rolling snow that stills the mind.
Collapsing crusts of diamond blanks abide.
The mental world adheres to freezing rind.
In storage, melons broke before the bride.
In scattered clouds, the viewer sees some dots.
The cluttered points reveal confusing spots.

Vanishing Point Appears

I was in the mood to watch 1971's Vanishing Point again after watching Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry. I lamented again that there never seemed to be any blu-ray available but then I remembered that I hadn't actually checked in years. I looked on Japanese Amazon and discovered there were plenty of Japanese editions available for 1,020 yen, or about ten bucks. I ordered it and it arrived the next day. Out of curiosity, I checked American Amazon and found the only American edition of the Blu-ray currently sells for 69 dollars. Otherwise, American Amazon is selling the German edition for eleven dollars (plus 4.99 for delivery) and the Japanese edition for 22 dollars. In this case, it really pays to live in Japan. Unlike with Eli Roth's new movie, Thanksgiving, opening this weekend in the U.S. but not until December 29 in Japan. Goddamnit. I know people don't celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan but, come on. The movie's literally called Thanksgiving.

Anyway, I can't find fault with the Japanese blu-ray of Vanishing Point. All those beautiful shots of Kowalski racing across vast American landscape are pristine.

The mystery of Kowalski's motivation to drive recklessly fast across country is the heart of the film. I find I like the character of Super Soul less and less every time I watch the movie. I don't like that he and Kowalski have an explicitly mystical connexion over the radio. It would have been nice to have a DJ interpreting Kowalski's actions but without any hint that it was an accurate interpretation. It would have been nice to hear more interpretations from the cops aside from the one guy musing Kowalski may have killed someone.

I like Kowalski's encounter with the snake trapper. That's much subtler. And of course I love the naked girl on the motorcycle.

I can't say that's a subtle moment, not only because she's a nudist but because she's got a whole poster fan collage of Kowalski. Though the fact that she and her boyfriend exist so conveniently for Kowalski actually works out to be a nice puzzle rather than a plot convenience. They don't really need to be there to get Kowalski further along on his journey. They're almost like Tom Bombadil and Goldberry (you know, when people talk about Tom Bombadil, they usually don't talk about Goldberry) in Lord of the Rings. It's just this happy little chapter that both does and doesn't fit with the whole.

I like how Kowalski declines her invitation to sleep with her. That bit seems like it could've come from The Faerie Queene. He likes her, he's attracted to her, but he's calmly sure of his destiny. Which is just to keep driving.

The Dirty and the Mad

Larry hopes to achieve his ambition to race in NASCAR by robbing a supermarket. He'll need all his diving skills sooner than later in 1974's Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry, a more anarchic specimen of the '70s road movie genre. It has some great car action and the three leads form a terrific trio of mayhem.

My favourite, of course, is the woman, Mary (Susan George), who forces her company on Larry (Peter Fonda) and Deke (Adam Roarke) after Larry tries to split on her after a one night stand.

With her heavy tan and bug eyes, British actress Susan George conjures the loudest American accent she can manage. She's so skinny, she's like a noisy chihuahua.

Peter Fonda's Larry matches her erratic behaviour and he's as likely to laugh at a police barricade in their path as scream furiously.

Deke is a nice counterpoint to the both of them, always exhibiting a meditative calm. They first make their escape in a blue Chevrolet Impala before switching to a lime green Dodge Charger. There's some terrific stunt driving, the most memorable scene involving a duel with a helicopter containing a sheriff played by Vic Morrow.

Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry is available on The Criterion Channel until the end of the month.

Dreams and Music

Last night I dreamt I saved Ewan McGregor from a car accident. I think I was riding in the old red Aerostar my family had when I was a kid. We were on the freeway and it was flooding with muddy water flowing from behind us. Suddenly, a white sportscar raced through it, trying to get past us but it skidded sideways into a wall and stopped. Inside, I could see Ewan McGregor unconscious. I waded across the water and somehow managed to get his door open and lift his head above the rising water. He woke and wasn't grateful at all. He managed to get the car started and sped away. Movie stars!

I used to write about dreams all the time but haven't been remembering them lately. This week, I've been snacking before bed on some dark rye bread I made on Sunday and I've been remembering dreams every night. I also had a dream about going back to San Diego and somehow completely forgetting to bring the vests I usually wear these days.

Before bed last night, I found myself on another nostalgia trip, watching music videos from the '90s. Boy, music sure was good back then.

I was also in the mood for classic rock and found The Rolling Stones now have a pretty amazing official video for "Sympathy for the Devil".

X Sonnet #1789

The evening worms were blue to walk the dog.
She knew the meaning etched in fortune's check.
The scribbled night would pay the burning log.
What lovers hear across the evening deck.
Residing back before the denim wait.
Corrections crack the shield before the doll.
In triumph turtles take the bat for bait.
A billion clowns could fill the lurid mall.
Revolving tricks are nothing new again.
If boredom blanks the mind, the mirror soothes.
Entire buildings use her single pen.
The crickets' noises never stopped her moves.
The river rose for roads and rusty cars.
A plan was made to summon dreams to Mars.

If Everyone's a Marvel then No-one's a Marvel

I don't plan on seeing The Marvels in the theatre but I will watch it on Disney+. I'm an MCU completist at this point and, as much as I hated Captain Marvel and feel absolutely nothing for Monica Rambeau, I did kind of like the first couple episodes of Ms. Marvel.

I was surprised to see Stephen King post this on X yesterday:

How can a guy so good at writing perverse characters not in the least understand people gloating over a movie's failure? I don't personally feel a desire to gloat over it but I will admit to feeling some relief. It's like an election where people vote with their dollars; maybe Disney will finally get the message audiences can't be taken for granted. You can't manipulate people into liking something just because you release it between, and connect it to, two very popular movies as they did with Captain Marvel.

Critical rhetoric about the tendency to prioritise message over entertaining storytelling has migrated from a small segment of internet personalities into an increasingly wider pool. I'd say that's only part of the problem. I think there's a basically cheap look to the productions and the characters often lack dimension. These are products of the same problem that has plagued Disney since the death of Walt Disney--there are too many cooks in the kitchen and too many of them, as a frustrated Bob Dolman remarked when trying to write the Willow series, don't know what they're doing. So we get things like Quantumania in which Evangeline Lily is cgied into saving the day despite it making no sense on any level. Or the latter portion of the Ms. Marvel series which steered the show away from a somewhat engaging teen superhero story into one where the star herself seemed to become bored by the rushed, brow-beating storytelling congealing around her.

It's frustrating seeing what used to be a a series of, on the whole, effective films turn into a creaky, overburdened sled on which dozens of greedy clowns have tried to cram themselves as it goes downhill. Yeah, it feels kind of good watching it finally crash into a tree.

Bankhead has No Head for Banking

The cure for gambling debts is probably not going to be more gambling but Tallulah Bankhead just doesn't learn in 1931's The Cheat. It's not much of a story but it's enough of an excuse to admire Bankhead's charms.

She plays Elsa, a woman happily married to the moderately wealthy Jeffrey (Harvey Stephens). He cautions her not to spend so much, at least not until he makes the fortune he's sure is coming from his stock trading.

Alas, she goes right ahead and loses five thousand dollars gambling and then tries to cut cards with the house, going double or nothing, and loses another five thousand, having to write an IOU for the total ten grand. And it gets worse from there.

Predatory world traveller Hardy Livingston (Irving Pichel) smells blood and decides he can buy Elsa's body. Is he wrong?

This is a pre-code film (it's included in a Pre-Code Divas playlist on Criterion this month) but there's not too much of the salacious in it. Livingston does something to Elsa late in the film that would certainly raise the hackles of the censors.

Watching movies from the late '20s, early '30s, and the '70s makes one aware of how much women's clothing to-day has breast padding. I've always liked large breasts but there's something to be said for variety and there's no arguing Tallulah Bankhead cuts an elegant figure.

The Cheat is available on The Criterion Channel.

Kobe Dumplings

On Friday, I went on a field trip to Kobe with the second year students. Kobe is a city just west of Osaka and we were on the bus for about an hour and a half. It was a really nice day, apart from all the rain.

Four big buses carried all the students and teachers. Each bus had a centre aisle with pairs of seats on either side. I sat all the way in the back on the only middle seat. All the girls sat on the left and all the boys on the right so I was the border region between two boys and two girls, as it happened four of the most talkative students on the bus. I played a card game with the boys and talked to the girls about Kobe, coffee, and sweets. Then they all played a card game called Jin-roh which they deemed too complicated to explain to me. Players drew hands and then most of them covered their eyes while one pointed at certain players silently to the dealer. When the players uncovered their eyes, it was announced who among them had died. I'm still not sure how strategy was involved or if any was.

We arrived at a parking lot by the bay. I knew Kobe has a Maritime Museum and it happened to be nearby but I didn't see any old ships. It wasn't until we were leaving that I saw this pretty tourist rig coming into the harbour:

First we all went to a building with a large assembly room with few chairs. Students sat on the floor in rows as they do for assemblies in the gymnasium at school. A couple of guys showed a Power Point with video about the Great Hanshin Earthquake of 1995 that affected the region. Students were then given tasks designed to give them the impression of what it was like to survive in the aftermath. Groups of four or five students were given sets of cardboard boxes with which to make rudimentary little homesteads. Most of them managed to follow instructions and make their little houses. I laughed at one girl who first tried to make a rickety tower of boxes before abandoning her group and trying to sit with one who'd already finished making their house properly. She was scolded by a teacher but, had this been an actual emergency, I bet she'd do pretty well for herself.

After this, the students were given newspapers with which to make shoes. Finally, we all ate the lunches we packed or bought (I made sandwiches with pastrami and spinach on bread I'd baked on Wednesday) before setting off for Kobe's Chinatown.

All of the students were given 1000 yen (about ten bucks) and allowed to roam free for three hours, buying whatever snacks or souvenirs they liked. It was crowded and tricky to navigate all the umbrellas out for the rain.

I spotted a Spider-Man on one of the restaurant signs like the one I saw in Namba:

And then I saw another one:

A student later told me she saw a third. It seems to be a new tradition now in Japan for restaurants to invoke the blessings of Spider-Man.

I didn't want to spend very much money or eat anything that might disagree with me on the bus trip back. I watched enviously as students chowed down on candy apples and fried chicken. Many of the shops were selling some kind of panda dumpling that all the kids wanted. So I thought I'd get one and save it for when I got home. I got one packed with a pig dumpling:

As I expected, the pig was filled with ground pork. The panda turned out to have azuki bean paste. They were both pretty tasty and paired well enough with my Wild Turkey. Speaking of wild, I also saw this sculpture in Kobe on Friday:

A pretty fun town, Kobe.

X Sonnet #1788

The devil bear devours closet space.
A graceful rodent steals the hearts of soups.
Together, teams perceive a messy face.
Could Baby shuffle Hoyle cards in loops?
A spiky monster funds a dizzy band.
Without a trace of guilt, she called the ghast.
Required desert parts included sand.
But other stories told became the past.
Extorted tension trips condemning ice.
So happy waves were laughing late at lunch.
Eroding cliffs, the water chuckles twice.
Enough to give a god a hefty hunch.
If pig or panda face approached, we ate.
The fear of seven held by six was eight.