Quizzical-Panda Reviews

WataMote: No Matter How I Look at It, It's You Guys' Fault I'm Not Popular! (2013)

Tomoko is best girl

[9/10 · 26 March 2016]

I've never seen a show that can so quickly move from heartbreaking to hilarious and not skip a beat. The best thing about the show is unquestionably it's main character, Tomoko Kuroki, a 15 year old asocial girl (who I personally suspect has undiagnosed Asperger's Syndrome) as she attempts convoluted schemes to try and make herself popular. On paper she should be horrible, with an unquestionably vindictive side, and a deep-rooted tendency to pass responsibilities. However, she possesses an unquestionable resilience, that no matter how dark and lonely it feels, she's still in control, with a fantastic tenacity to continue in her pursuit of social acceptance. Both English and Japanese voice-actors perfectly sell her anxiety and naivety. When she acts cruelly, the Universe usually punishes her for it, so she never reaches the point of her being unlikeable. These flaws allow us to laugh as she winds up in calamitous and embarrassing situations none of which I will spoil.

But this becomes the chief tragedy as well as a source of humour. As we see how warm and nice she was at the very beginning of childhood, to slowly see her devolve into isolation and rejection, from being almost transparent in Middle School to totally transparent in High School is hard to watch. To see that happiness drained from her face to one of cynical desperation can be hard to watch, but what is harder still is the main perversion of her character; her twisted sense of priority. Despite having the unquestionable love of those in her family, she appears almost ignorant of it, instead frantically pursuing the next scheme to somewhat increase her social standing for a brief few years at best. Her life has flown far off course and she doesn't even really understand why.

If you have a problem watching people in embarrassing situations, especially if you can relate to them, you won't find much enjoyment in the comedy. Tomoko's antics produce more 'Spaghetti' than the entirety of Italy. I found my cheeks physically hurting from the amount of cringe that was upon me, even as I laughed uproariously. We feel bad for her, but none of it is serious enough that we feel bad for laughing. We know she's going to come back with some poorly thought-out scheme next time and get right back on with it.

An obvious reason that the show took off was the similarity of the main character with many Anime viewers, who would have similar niche interests, as well as unsatisfactory social lives. It was ultimately 4chan who revived the Manga, and kept it from falling into the ether, igniting a wave of popularity in the West before the translation even came about (the creator would write a subtle thank-you to 4chan when the English edition came out). Tomoko is one of my favourite characters precisely because she is so flawed, while possessing all the right traits to keep me rooting for her, which is the basis of good writing.

I haven't even talked about the great opening which perfectly sells her anger at her isolation in the grimy prison she finds herself, the ED, which provides a magnificent dissection of her character in lyrics, and the animation, which uses colouring, and the lack thereof, to express the draining of her individuality beneath the crushing losses she finds herself enduring. Frankly, if I could have any form of interaction with her, I would simply give her a hug; she clearly needs some.

Gravity Falls (2012–2016)

Just West of Weird

[10/10 · 16 February 2016]

Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere in Oregon, two twins exit a bus. A flashy showman, their Great Uncle, greets them, and invites them into the paranormal epicentre of the world. While it seems he's too much of a trickster to believe in the supernatural he promotes, the kids explore the town, and find enough adventure, mystery and conspiracy to last a thousand lifetimes. It's an experience that will change the both of them forever.

Gravity Falls' intro has no lyrics, and yet, in roughly forty seconds of screen-time, we already know the settings, the major characters, their virtues and flaws, their relationships, and a whole lot of foreshadowing for things that won't even be touched on until the very end. This very effectively sums up the show; a lot being thrown at you, even if you don't recognise it at the time. It constantly thinks back to itself, with some of the most in-depth continuity, background or foreground, of any show, animated or not. Characters casually appear in the background several episodes before an episode revolves around them, minor plot-points are revisited dozens of episodes later, and damage to both people and property doesn't vanish after a single episode. Almost every major plot twist (and there are many) involves a heavy degree of foreshadowing, stretching back into the first season. Thankfully, it's never quite enough for the casual viewer to pick up, but enough to reward multiple viewings. Being a show that revolves around mystery (the creator, Alex Hirsch, had the intention to blend the episodic mysteries of X-Files, with the overarching mystery of Twin Peaks), every episode is littered with codes and riddles that are used both for comedy, and hints about upcoming confrontations. The more one dissects each episode, the more one realises the dedication and effort that was put into every one.

But regardless of the mystery elements that define the series, the heart and soul of the show is the relationship between the twins, Dipper and Mabel. Both on the cusp of puberty, Dipper is introverted, adventurous, and deeply precocious, while his sister is extroverted, more interested in the prospect of summer romance than the supernatural, and has an infectious, childish optimism for life. So many pitfalls that beset other twin/sibling relationships in shows are avoided in their writing: identical characters, every episode being a conflict between the two, one of the two always being right, etc. While very different, the two compliment, rather than conflict with each other. When they tease, they know when to stop, when they fight, it's a big deal, and when they see the anguish the other goes through, they sacrifice. What a relief from the endless cynical jibes that define character interaction in the modern era; here, the two unquestionably love and cherish the company of each other. It's the most affecting twin relationship one could write without straining believability. Both have insecurities about themselves, and both are deeply flawed from the outset, which they learn to overcome together. Hirsch said one of the most amazing things about the show for him was the sheer amount of people calling him up to thank him for their getting closer to their siblings, after having drifted apart, or never having been together at all. The relationship between Hirsch's own twin sister and himself as the obvious inception for Mabel and Dipper gives a deeply authentic vibe, creating one of the best written sibling relationships in all fiction.

This allows the show to do something really well; humour. Hirsch never intended to do a kid's show, and constantly wrote the show from the perspective of what would children get into, and what would make adults laugh, a formula which enabled the show to have the entirety of the top ten broadcast ratings on their channel. Consequently, the strong characterisation and connections between the characters, (the twins, their con-man Great Uncle, the practical but dim-witted janitor, and the tomboyish counter-girl) allow for miraculously high-quality character-humour. However, this isn't to pigeon-hole the show's comedic writing, which has an incredible range from slapstick, to visual gags, to fourth-wall breaks. There is not a fart joke to be found, but there are jokes that no child could possibly get that will send older viewers into uproar (such as the Great Uncle giving the names of his hands as "Scratchy and Shaky.") When asked which episode in particular the censors most objected to, Hirsch replied "All of them".

While the humour can often be adult, including some of the most depressing, nihilistic monologues one can get away with given the rating, the level of darkness in terms of horror is something that shocks most people who watch the series for the first time. With a shape-shifter morphing into a spider version of the main characters, screaming severed heads, and lines like "I've got to turn some children into corpses", Gravity Falls never shied away from nightmare fuel. Yet even then, the show never forgets that it is primarily a comedic series. In the midst of extreme drama, there will be isolated comedic moments that are just enough to make you laugh, but integrated enough not to detract from the tone. The intensity of the drama cannot be underestimated though, with major life and death decisions having to be made by children who are clearly not prepared for the turmoil they are going through, which makes us all the more heartbroken to see their anguish.

Ultimately, the show concluded on the creator's terms; he envisioned a beginning, middle, and ending, and saw it through to the (highly emotional) end. Gravity Falls will never suffer the same zombification that overcame once great shows like the Simpsons, leaving one of the most consistent high-quality programming across not just children's, or animated television, but the medium in general. It's a show for all ages, and an adventure in itself.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (2009–2010)

How To Succeed In Almost Everything

[10/10 · 14 February 2016]

Everyone should experience FMA:B at least once in their lives; it saddens me that I'll never get to watch it for the first time again. It's a work of remarkable clarity, set-up, and execution, with a vibrant world of vibrant characters, good, bad, and straddling in between. The viewer's full spectrum of human emotion is dissected, from excitement to laughter, and often grief. It has earned its place as one of the most critically praised Animes, if not Television shows in general. This is the second adaptation of the acclaimed Manga series, the former having suffered from being released while the Manga was ongoing, leading to an invented ending that dissatisfied most viewers.

The primary protagonists of the series are the Elric brothers, who, when their mother died at the hand of incurable illness after their father left, attempted to use their alchemy to resurrect her; for this blaspheme, Edward, the elder, lost his arm, and Alphonse, the younger, lost his entire body. Ed proceeded to sacrifice his leg to bring his brother into a nearby suit of armour; their main objective in the series is to return to find a way to return to their old bodies. While Ed is the smarter, and bolder of the pair, he struggles with insecurities not just related to his height, but unbearable guilt for the situation he put himself and his brother in. Also, while Alphonse can't feel pain as a suit of armour, he can't stop dreaming about being able to taste and touch again, and has existential questions about his soul. What a change from the constant conflicts of other fictional sibling relationships. Refreshingly, they unquestionably love each other, and rarely fight, any conflict being portrayed with all the seriousness it deserves.

The show boasts one of the most incredible supporting casts ever put together. There's the magnificently realised Roy Mustang, the military officer infamous for his open ambition and ostentatiousness, but who's actually one of the most altruistic and heroic leaders in the cesspit he inhabits, not to mention an exceptionally skilled Flame Alchemist. There's Scar, a one man vengeance machine, out for revenge against the country that genocided his people, whose loyalties continue to muddle as the story unfolds. We are introduced to Hohenheim, the father of the Elric brothers, whom one fears may be a dead-end, 'neglectful father' trope, but opens up into a near mythical legend as his backstory is put together. If I were to run through all the great side-characters on the show, this review would never end, but it speaks volumes that any of the aforementioned, of whom any could be the protagonist, aren't even the main focus.

The villains are nearly perfect. They accomplish the main two tasks any good villain should do:

1) Convince the audience to hate them, and want them to lose, preferably with the most amount of pain/humiliation possible.

2) Convince the audience there is a chance they could win, or at least have them question how the hero could possibly defeat them.

There are many major villains, and all fight and conclude uniquely. The members of the main villain army are based on, and named after, the Seven Deadly Sins. All share a unique design and character, with all of them hiding some trick up their sleeve. I won't dare spoil the identities of several of the villains, but suffice to say that the more you find out about them, the more interested you are, and they never disappoint. For being based off a single defining (negative) trait, several of them possess incredibly human insecurities, despite their universal mockery of man and his emotions. This level of depth wasn't necessary, but is incredibly satisfying. The ultimate villain certainly doesn't disappoint, his indefatigable aura leaving a terrifying impression.

Being a show based around the search for the Philosopher's Stone, several of the monologues on the meaning and struggle of life leave deep resonance with viewers. Perhaps the best scene on the matter is when the leaders of the Ishvalan tribe offer themselves to spare the tens of thousands of their remaining people, and are rebuffed with mockery by the enemy President, since "One human life is worth one human life." When a Tribal leader warns that God himself will strike down the President for his atrocities, he responds, "How much longer do you think your 'God' plans to wait before unleashing his fury? Just how many thousands of lives must I take before he decides to strike me down?" Further themes on the meaning of life, the futility of immortality, the nature of God and Truth, the necessity of suffering, are passionately explored, and fulfil character arcs like a hand in glove.

The world the characters inhabit never feels restrained; we are shown almost all sides of the country, from the Northern tundra, to the Eastern desert, the Western mountains, the ruins of ancient civilisation, the slums of the forest, and the glitz of Central. One can still detect life all across the country, even when they are off-screen. Foreign visitors arrive in the nation, each with their own agenda, often competing with each other for the same objective. The nature of alchemy, and of equivalent exchange is explored, and how it ties into the way this Universe operates. The show is magnificent in being able to construct a deep lore, explaining the history of the state, its relationship with neighbours, relationship with religions, and its own descent into militarism and autocracy.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood captures you from the very first of its title sequence; even the credit themes leave a soaring sensation that impels you to continue to watch. It fails in no respect, delivering some of the most heart-breaking, heart-warming, and heart-pounding scenes ever put on a television screen. Every few episodes deliver a moment that shocks you with how far it goes. The experience of watching it is something I'll treasure, and something I'll never forget.

Ed Wood (1994)

The Most Important Message In All Film

[9/10 · 14 June 2015]

I already knew much about the man, having seen Plan 9 from Outer Space, and Bride of the Monster, albeit on MST3K. Back then, I was fascinated by these terrible movies, which seemed to have a lot more fun in them than the "good ones" of the time period, some of which, however acclaimed, I do not care about. I didn't know about Wood's passions, his history, his relationships, and I could think of no better vassal than this film.

Criminally ignored at the Box Office, despite the consolation of Critical Acclaim, and the first Oscar ever given to someone portraying a real life movie star, this is one of the films that runs the full kaleidoscope of human emotion, not the least of which is heart. Ed Wood lived to be a joke, and his inept films are a demonstration for that, though it is never cruel in the slightest towards him. Depp, in a performance that eats Jack Sparrow for breakfast, radiates a passion for his work that anyone who likes films can grasp instantly. He idolises his film stars, has posters in his ramshackle apartment, and talks about them all the time at worm. Added to this is Wood's battles with the studio system, wherein we now have an actual reason to root for him, whereas other movies would throw an obstacle at the protagonist without the audience given time or reason to like him. It may be cliché, but look at Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars Prequels. We don't care about him, so why should we care about his situation. Wood is the underdog, screwed over by the Hollywood system. Yet they have a point. He is fantastically terrible. And that is the main victory of the film. Despite knowing that he's crap, we still want to see the producers hand him money to make his dreams come true, despite it being a Box Office bomb in the making. Most other pictures would have had us rooting for the producers in that case, but here we root for the doomed path. His Reaganite optimism is a breath of fresh air in an industry dominated by the bottom line. You'd wish you could be friends with this guy, talking about your favourite movies together, going to the bar, and of course, the cinema.

I can go no further but talk about Landau's Lugosi, which thankfully was fully rewarded with an Oscar. Lugosi is the number 2 character in the film. Once top of the world, in Dracula, The Black Cat, The Raven, he's a morphine addict waiting for death. Wood is the precursor of Lugosi's arc, who gives meaning to his life, racked by debt, divorce, and addiction. While this could be the recipe for sentimentalism, we are thankfully spared that, and given a tour-de-force in comedy. Swearing is so much funnier with his Hungarian accent, especially when he gets perverted. "If you want to make out with a young lady, take her to see Dracula heh heh." A recurring joke has that no one realises Lugosi is even alive, and certainly that Karloff is his superior, whom Lugosi doesn't seem at all bitter to. "**** YOU!!! KARLOFF DOESN'T DESERVE TO SMELL MY ****!!!" His relationship with Wood is the core of the film. Lugosi is given a reason for life in his dying days, and this gives his character meaning. It was based on Burton's own relationship with the sickly Vincent Price.

Then there is the humour, which was inevitable given Wood's ineptness, and it shows:

A Monster Octopus has no motor, and the actors have to move the legs themselves

An actor in a police get-up scratches his face with the business end of a revolver while his finger is on the trigger, before falling over and knocking down a wooden gravestone.

Lugosi reads incomprehensible dialogue on the set of Glen or Glenda: "Bevare ze BIG GREEN DRAGON, who sitz on yor DOORstep."

Many others follow, but the best is when Lugosi goes on live television for a skit. I won't dare spoil it.

Wood made decisions that no sane man could have made, but in a Producer's-style twist, he ironically ensured that his films would be remembered forever. Some say Plan 9 is the worst film ever made. This is evidence that they've never watched many films. I could literally name 100 worse films right now. The reason? Wood had a passion that could not be tamed, and that life and energy still translates across the reel.

The main message of the movie is a brilliant, but important one: It doesn't matter how good you are at something. You're not wasting your time if it is what you love.

F for Fake (1973)

Virtual(ly) Reality

[10/10 · 21 March 2015]

Orson Welles had a tough career. After his masterpiece, as if I need name it, was stiffed at the Oscars due to Hearst's pressure, and his follow-up, the Magnificent Ambersons, was mutilated by the studio. From there on in, his films were often either play-safes that brought nothing of great importance to the table (The Stranger) or never brought anything at all (the infamous Don Quixote project.) His career had unquestionably been knee-capped by the Hollywood system, but with a new film, he was confident that he could outwit them.

He made a documentary film on a shoestring budget, but perhaps it's a stretch to call this a "documentary." It feels like some sort of grand experiment in pushing the boundaries of all genres. To be honest, it's practically impossible to even confine it to one genre. It discusses fictitious events in an honest mood, so it isn't really a documentary, but it explores real people and their lives. The Criterion describes it as "Virtual Reality," which is probably the definition we should choose.

The film is primarily about the career of Elmyr, a Hungarian refugee who creates phony paintings by famous artists, before selling them off to dealers for tens of thousands. His biographer is just as duplicitous, best known for his yarn about writing a Howard Hughes autobiography with the man's help, which also fooled the experts, for whom Welles mocks the entire duration. Elmyr is breathtaking in the easiness of his misdeeds, effortlessly recreating Picasso in 10 seconds. But to describe this as a documentary about these two people is like describing Citizen Kane as a film about newspapers. Welles's barely concealed adoration of these two is the basis of an entire film which praises trickery and deceit, which he likens to the film industry in general.

The film's bedrock is the sheer passion that Welles puts into the film, with a voice that always rings of a smile, and a pleasant ambiance that never let's up. His editing underscores that with his powerful cutting, and his own "biographical" insights. There's something incredibly comfortable simply in watching Welles sit at a chair in a film editing room, explaining Elmyr's life trickery. Soon, we realise that even he seems to love playing tricks on us, and we quickly realise that we have our own unreliable narrator, who seems to enjoy the topic of his film so much that he needs demonstrate it.

One never knows where the truth begins, and lies end. Welles makes us realise the absurdity pervading art, where one man can decide whether a painting should be worth 10 thousand or 10 bucks, simply because it was done by another person. If they are both masterpieces, why should they be priced different? This is ultimately the reason Elmyr is doing his story in a jail cell, since no dealer would dare take the stand, and admit himself a fool. One can tell Welles is siding based on his own stand-off with the Establishment, and he can see a little of himself in Elmyr, who he jokes around with.

Ultimately, the film leaves more questions than when we began. Distorted editing forms a false impression of scenes, fictitious stories are presented as fact, and the truth blends effortlessly with fraud. Yet we don't know the difference lest Welles reveal it to us, ultimately proving Tom Clancy's point that fiction has to make sense, and reality doesn't.

The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1926)

A Film Historian's reward

[9/10 · 16 March 2015]

What was the first animated feature length film? Most people wouldn't have a clue. The second largest answer would probably be Snow White. And you may think it's Prince Achmed, but no, it was the Argentine film El Apóstol, which is tragically lost, leaving us with Prince Achmed being the film to be given the honour of the oldest SURVIVING Animated Film.

This is a film that doesn't deserve to be remembered for it's milestone, but rather on it's artistic merits. In the chaotic 1920s, German cinema was the one film industry that challenged Hollywood, before something happened which killed that which could not be killed by War, Depression, Insurrection, and Hyperinflation; Nazism. German cinema at the time is a magnificent peephole into the opening steps of an alternate reality, of a thriving Industry in the centre of Europe. You had Metropolis, likely the greatest Silent film of all time, you had The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, the great inventor of film Experimentalism, and you had Prince Achmed.

You really cannot name many films to compare with Prince Achmed, not in quality, but style. It possesses a unique blend of (literally) Cardboard Cut-out characters placed against an illuminated background, from which we fill in the blanks in our heads. This may sound absurdly cheap, but it allows us to visualise everything we need see, and allow us to consciously fill those gaps. Highlights include whenever the Lamp Spirits make an appearance, and the screen is illuminated in a swirling ball of light. Also one particular scene where the Sorcerer contorts a ball of strings into a portal from which to see Achmed. The constantly changing backgrounds constantly refresh the palate, and we never cease our wonderment with the scenery. It feels like you're watching something that should never have been made, in the sense that it is so unlike all else, that it feels like an unexplored route at a fork in the road. Every frame feels like something special is happening.

Thankfully, the Director, one of the first ever female Directors (though Germany seemed more accepting of them, like a fairly notorious one who would gain fame a decade later) remembered to add plot. This was the fatal ingredient in Heaven and Earth Magic, which had no plot at all, and the wonderment was dead inside of five minutes. The story comes from an amalgamation of the Legends of the 1001 Arabian Nights. She couldn't have picked a better source, for it's sheer scale and imagination, and she effortlessly weaves these Legends together, of Aladdin, Achmed, flying horses, the fight between Sorcerers. It feels like a story in that collection of Legends, and feels like pure imagination itself when combined with the backgrounds.

Of course, there are going to be some drawbacks, notably the confusing chronology when trying to square Alladin and Achmed's stories, which seem to happen too quickly. Then there's the initial scene on the Wak-Wak islands, which seems there just to titillate viewers, though the more adult vibe is appreciated as an escape from the Disney Ghetto. But when it boils down, the majority of the film feels like a great stream of imaginative Nirvana. I wouldn't be surprised if kids loved this today, it they could overcome the need for the Silent cue-cards.

These are the films that only those who care about cinema even know exist. For this reason, they feel like our own ancient treasures, tucked away in the belly of the Earth.

Rashomon (1950)

"It's human to lie"

[10/10 · 29 December 2014]

This is the first Kurosawa film that really punctured the Amero-centric film bubble, that left Hollywood the near sole producer of films after their nearest competition, Germany, lost their best directors due to Anti-Semitic pogroms. Thankfully, there is no pandering to try and imitate such a film, there are no musical numbers, not much action of any kind, and characters that aren't the nicest of people.

The story starts in the rain, as a group of people huddle around under an abandoned building to avoid it. From there, the common man is told by a woodcutter about a rape and murder in the woods, as well as a depressed monk who is losing his faith in the human species. From there, we are told multiple differing stories from multiple perspectives about what happened, and all of them vehemently contradict each-other. All of them cast a mystery that gives the viewer nothing to go on but their words.

What makes it work is that all of the stories, though self-pitying, all feel like they could have happened. There is no favouritism between the three parties, and all are giving 100% believable performance when they retell their stories, including minor pieces of exposition which lend credence to their tales yet further.

We are consistently cutting back to the commoner who's actually pretty funny and worldly, who offers a simple, unpretentious counter to the more philosophical world-view that Kurosawa is trying to explore. His crudeness is even somewhat likable. His attempts to try and rationalise the stories are magnificent in their roughness. There is further character development between the monk and woodcutter, both of whom have character arcs in their own right. Both stories, that of the 3 under the building, and the rape and murder, are excellent in their own right, but once combined, we can even then see parallels between them, and that shifts the film into masterpiece territory, without being a completely inaccessible puddle of pretentious cinema. This is a film a 12 year old who likes Transformers can watch as well as some 50 year old Swedish artisan.

One really gets a sense of the desperation eating at men's souls, including in all the murder scenes, and the sniping between the nihilist commoner and the (clinging) spiritual monk. There is a sense of underlying nastiness at the heart of everyone, but likewise a sense of potential redemption, though it most certainly doesn't completely conquer all that is wrong. Rashomon leaves us with an honest portrayal of the human species that doesn't leave us completely hopeless, nor wilfully ignorant.

It leaves us with hope, and hope can only exist in fear.