October 2024 Watch Part 2

Friday, 1 November 2024

The theme for this month is definitely homesickness. I didn’t realize how many of these movies and shows took place, at least in part, in or around LA and especially how many times I mentioned that fact in my reviews. I feel like there is a pretty big variety between what I chose to watch this month as well, as I didn’t notice any other themes cropping up in these selections, except maybe the historical accuracy and mythmaking question that’s been on my mind. This makes quite a few appearances, and while I think I’m understanding my perspective on it better, by no means have I reached a conclusion yet.

MaXXXine (2024, dir. Ti West)

The trailer for this movie really sold me, and I want to give it kudos for that. I watched X and half of Pearl in preparation for the movie during the summer, and did not have particularly high opinions of either. If you’ve read my other posts, you may have seen I watched Angel back in September, which I saw posited as sort of similar to this movie, although I’m not sure it’s fair to compare them as this film is quite different genre-wise, though choosing one genre to fit it into gives me pause. I suppose horror or thriller; tonally, it was almost very crime-like but the gore elements firmly rooted it in horror for a large portion of the movie, and I really appreciated that ambiguity. As well, it deals with movies as a major motif and element, so despite my reservations based on the other films in this series, I was eager to try it out.

In MaXXXine, the titular character Maxine Minx is transitioning from adult films into major motion pictures with her role in The Puritan II years after the brutal murder of her friends and colleagues, in which she was the sole survivor. At the same time as her production begins, several of Maxine’s friends are killed while she is stalked by a private investigator hired by a mysterious figure. The movie’s director is a demanding yet rewarding boss, who urges Maxine to deal with whatever in her life is distracting her from the film’s production. This prompts her to confront the killer, who turns out to be her father, a televangelist who wants to save his daughter from the sins of Hollywood.

When it came to this movie, I had mixed feelings going in. The trailer and concept were so my style, but I could’ve said the same for the first two movies in the series, which I didn’t love. To give a bit of clarity on my thoughts going into this movie, I will briefly discuss my opinion of the rest of the series. I had a higher opinion of Pearl, though some internet issues cut off my watch and I was not compelled to continue when it was fixed, which is emblematic of my issue with it. X on the other hand, I really disliked. I’m a huge fan of slashers (in general, less so 70s slashers, though) and I found the movie very difficult to watch, thinking its premise dull and its characters bland. This movie was honestly a marked improvement in comparison to those. I found it consistently more interesting; where Maxine was honestly very boring to me in X, she felt more compelling here. I’ll discuss it more later, but the slasher elements were much stronger. The tone was also absolutely great, and that with the pacing made it a more engaging watch. Overall, this was my favorite movie out of the series, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say I enjoyed of any of them. I saw one comment that said, “This movie was to classic Giallo films as to what X was for American slashers.” I think that’s a fair and accurate statement, though not in the way the commenter intended by any means. All three films work with genres that I happen to love (including modern homages of!) and they did poor jobs at emulating those genres or saying anything meaningful about/with them.

The writing of this movie left a lot to be desired. I appreciated the improved work with characters and weaving in elements of the setting in terms of the year, but my praise ends there. This series has proved to have an affirmation-heavy writing style, with repetition of lines that feels like it’s trying to create a memorable quote for merchandise and trailers rather than narratively meaningful echoes of an earlier statement. These lines are repeated so often that it gets annoying. This movie had much fewer of the same lines we’ve heard so far, but still fell into this trap. Several of the lines that weren’t repeated had this adage quality to it, where I felt like I was being instructed on how to watch the movie while watching it. “Everyone loves an underdog” and “Angry people are so easy to lead” are two examples. While it was much improved compared to X, the character writing was similarly bland, as there was very little depth to anyone besides Maxine, which made it difficult to feel the urgency of their deaths or desires. I debate over the idea that this distance from the characters was intentional (I can see a way it would work thematically), but I think that even if it was, it just makes the movie sort of boring.

In a similar vein, I was bored by the plot itself. I found this upsetting because usually I love movies about movies; this is an element I am pretty much guaranteed to appreciate. But in this film, I was underwhelmed. It seems so invested in creating this sense of time and commentary on stardom, but its success in these is so varied. The sense of time is fairly strongly done, using pillars of the 80s while not relying on them too heavily for nostalgia. As for the commentary on stardom, its engagement with its themes is lackluster and I couldn’t help but think of other times I’d seen similar things done better the whole time I was watching. I think, honestly, this comes down to a lack of love for movies, or at least an effort to truly engage with them. Often these films are discussed alongside the word “homage” and while I haven’t discovered if this is in fact the goal, it seems pretty transparent in its inspirations while also entirely shrouded. That is, it seems to want to take from this history of film and make commentary on it, yet doesn’t actually do anything specific or interesting. As well, this film lacked substance, especially with how much it seemed to want to say something. The reveal of Maxine’s father being the killer is a great example of this. It was predictable and on-the-nose with the framing in the opening of the film and the incredibly precise (to an insulting degree) declaration of the theme: “You gave me just what I needed [to be a star].” And yet at the same time, it felt unearned with his lack of presence throughout the movie. It didn’t feel like the shocking or exaggerated twists we might find some satisfaction in, because it lacked an earnestness and cohesion; if there was adoration for these genres on the part of the filmmakers, it did not translate. The movie seemed to know exactly what it wanted to say, but I kept wondering why it felt at all compelled to say that, or what we’re supposed to do with it. Its entire thesis was so forcefully drilled home but completely unsupported by anything but extremely in-your-face evidence, that it ended up making it feel shallow and insignificant.

I don’t want to make it sound like the movie was all bad. It greatly excelled in its visuals. Its use of different aspect ratios/qualities and color was truly nice to see. The horror scene with the goop was visually interesting and engaging, and felt quite visceral. But in the same scene, the use of flashbacks really took me out of it. Overall, this was a very hit-or-miss device for me, as they only sometimes felt like they worked. A stronger example would be Maxine seeing a vision of Pearl standing in the window of the Psycho II house, which felt more impactful as it never zoomed in, forcing us to see her from a distance, yet certain we knew who stood there. A lot of the horror scenes that were not explicitly deaths of other characters featured Mia Goth’s face or bust in a way that really stood out. With the upcoming discussion of the treatment of corpses, I thought this was a very notable choice.

The kills and violence in this movie were engaging and interesting, with adrenaline-inducing cinematography and great choreography of blood specifically. Still, I couldn’t help but notice these really only happened to men. Women’s deaths were instead represented by their corpses, a gender stratification I found off-putting in the way it reduced women to their bodies (even though I think there is an argument to be made about looking away from physical violence toward them). The treatment of corpses was so carefree, with coroners shoving them around and detectives showing them off to a crowd to see Maxine’s reaction and sending them flying down sets of stairs. It felt discomforting, but I go back and forth over whether this was intentional. If it was, I question what that intention is. There is also a line referencing the murder of Elizabeth Short, a case nicknamed “The Black Dahlia” that really seems to instruct how we’re meant to see these moments—that these women are reduced to their corpses, both in the sense of their bodies and their deaths. Still, the use of true crime in the reference to this case and overarching references to the serial killer known as “The Night Stalker” felt unexplored in any meaningful way aside from establishing setting. At the end of the movie, Maxine is walking around and passing these people who are not always dead as she walks by, leaving them in her upward trek toward her target. It felt very surreal, but not in a rewarding or significant way.

There are threads of something meaningful here: the way women are reduced to their bodies, which are treated poorly after death; that violent crime acts as a backdrop for the world the characters inhabit; Maxine’s reaction to the violence and how it reflects her past and establishes her future. And yet, it refuses to commit. The bodies are thrown around and disrespected, but this is never resolved, they are just used as a prop for the climax of the movie. The violent crime concepts establish setting for the audience, but don’t meaningfully impact the way the characters move through the world. Maxine has things happen to her, but she very rarely takes action herself; those moments are exciting, but so few and far between that she really lacks strong traits that make her compelling overall. Not only that, but it undercuts the theme as she profits off a series of tragedies, but not in a way that feels particularly thematically engaging.

I think my issue with this movie comes down to a lack of heart. When I think about movies about movies (both literally or in the sense of metafiction/parody), I think of a mutual love I share with the filmmakers for this medium, for specific genres, for the nitty gritty aspects of storytelling that make up the things we love. I did not get that from this film. I keep wondering what changes would fix this movie, what minute differences would make it engaging enough that I want to come back to it, but I think there is too much I take issue with to come up with any earnest suggestions. If you’re looking for something about movie-making, about genre, about exploitation of stories, about violence, about family ties, about the final girl becoming the monster—then honestly you’re better off watching Scream 3.

My Lady Jane (2024, created by Gemma Burgess)

The single most important thing I can say about this show is that it is not at all what is advertised. There is absolutely no way around it; it’s not a matter of being presented in one way and when you look back you see something you missed. It was not only advertised with explicit lies, but if you even look up basic information about it, these too are mostly untrue. This is very frustrating, because there is absolutely an audience for what this show is offering, but rather than appeal to them, it presents itself as something it is not. I love a period piece with anachronistic elements; it really allows for an interesting mode of storytelling. I’m interested in the idea of being very loose with historical fact, as it’s a topic that’s been on my mind a lot lately as I sort my thoughts out about it. I even love playing with genre within a certain work. With that said, I have very mixed opinions on how this show decided to go about representing itself, that to some extent impacted by enjoyment of the show.

If one just goes by the advertising of this show, My Lady Jane is an irreverent, sexy period drama. If they very briefly research a vague premise of it, they will find a romance story about the historical Lady Jane Grey, also known as the “Nine Days' Queen,” who was executed nine days into her reign in 1553; they may also here learn that this is a reimagining of history in which she is not executed. The trailer of the show boasts the line, “What if history were different?” They may even come across the idea that this particular story involves “magical realism.” This by no means prepares them for the major genre shift into fantasy eleven minutes into the first episode. At this point, they learn that this is a reimagining of Tudor England in which there are people who have the innate ability to shapeshift into animals, and they are violently oppressed by the current regime.

Here’s the thing: in the end, I enjoyed the show well enough even with the fantasy elements. Had it not been canceled, I would’ve watched the second season. The characters, despite being mostly flat and static, were very fun. The premise of a quirky cast of characters is compelling to me, and the performances absolutely backed it up. Even side characters received a reasonable amount of screen time and complexity for the eight-episode runtime. I struggle to even name characters I especially liked, because in the end, I was invested in all of the storylines as they came together. They were woven in quite well to each other. Still, I really struggled with the turn in genre and how that is represented in discussions around the show, and I kept running into issues with how it went about establishing itself.

One prominent example is the voice over. This is a very difficult device to use meaningfully, and this show was a great example of why. Everything that the narrator said could easily be seen on the characters’ faces or grasped with context clues. It felt condescending to have everything explained so frequently. Had the dialogue been more formal, the casual and modern tone of the narrator would’ve worked way better, but because the characters used a similar style of speaking, it felt tiresome rather than playfully juxtaposed. It displayed a lack of confidence in the viewers, constantly feeling the need to explain itself. At one point, we were removed from the show to be told that it would be entirely different if the main love interest went to therapy. This moment and others like it felt so painfully insecure over how the show would be received, and this was only demonstrated more intensely in how it chose to advertise itself by obscuring the fantasy elements.

On that note, I must discuss the elephant in the room: I didn’t love the Ethian aspects of the plot. I didn’t hate them, and thought they were weaved in well, but I probably would not have watched the show had I known. Aside from the fact that I’m just not big on any kind of animal-people, it undercut a lot of the drama in an unfortunate way. It very consistently relied on it as a plot element rather than the innate political intrigue the plot could’ve demanded. I’ll illustrate with an example: Mary as a villain was difficult to sympathize with because her main trait is that she was prejudiced; her stance on Ethian existence compared to Jane was the primary touchstone for the political intrigue. One of the draws for period pieces for me, irreverent or not, has always been the space for complex characters and complex plots. With Mary’s primary motivations being bigotry (as opposed to, for example, ambition or hubris or a wider breadth of political opinions), the narrative became very simplified in the sense that Jane could be righteous while Mary was evil. It’s a reduction of what could’ve been a deeply complicated and fascinating narrative, and more solidly rooted it in the fantasy genre. That’s not a knock against the genre, just to point out that it more firmly suggests an idea of heroism as opposed to villainy that is not personally interesting to me. Of course, the show was true to the fantasy aspect in the magic system as well, but it becomes a different question when it starts to impact the building of story. These characters are only sometimes acting out of self interest and personal motivations, and it all felt very external because of the clear allegorical nature of the way Ethians were woven into the world. Using the historical religious conflict this plot stood in for would’ve still allowed for this characterization and dichotomy between parties, but to a less severe extent.

It is that allegory that gives me pause, as it doesn’t seem to want to engage with the question of why it does what it’s doing. Most of all, I struggle with the defenses of this show that suggest people are taking it too seriously or simply “don’t get it.” I often find this sort of argument dismisses valid criticisms as they refuse to engage with the idea that the choices made when you create a piece of art are meaningful and revealing of greater themes and ideas. The central question here is: why have the historical elements at all? Why not just write a fantasy with fully invented characters? What does it say about the show and about our feelings regarding the show, that it is cloaked in the clothing of a historical drama? I think, ultimately, I’m simply not the audience for the show. It’s unfortunate that its trailer did not delve into the rewriting of historical aspects or the presence of the Ethian storyline, as there is absolutely an audience for it. It seems strange to me they kept these elements so shrouded, and suggests that same insecurity we saw before, but now in its own premise, a feeling that was very off-putting for me.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the fantasy genre and especially this show’s shift into it, I thought it worked well with what it had. The political drama was indeed engaging and it especially shone in the climax/final episode of the show. Very often in fantasy do we see a big, long battle (even when it does not necessarily fit) to end the plot; this show definitely had the makings for it, but it never fell into this trap and instead kept a pacing that was more true to the rest of it. There was a larger fight sequence toward the end of the final episode, but it was done well: it was short (i.e., other things happened in the episode), the main characters who had no fighting abilities were not participating through violence, and it felt like a reasonable way to solve the current issue.

This show is fine, and definitely fun. It’s not a masterpiece by any means, but it was an enjoyable watch. It felt unsure of itself in many aspects, and I think this ultimately hurt it. Still, it did not take itself too seriously, which made for a lighthearted and engaging tone. If you like fantasy and historical romances with comedy elements, you will likely enjoy this show. Also, the costumes were fun.

Woman of the Hour (2024, dir. Anna Kendrick)

I debated including this movie in my responses, because despite liking Anna Kendrick and being excited about her directorial debut, I didn’t have very strong opinions on this movie. However, it speaks a bit to my ongoing thoughts regarding historical accuracy so I’d like to touch on those.

Woman of the Hour tells the stories of a handful of different women who had encounters with serial killer Rodney Alcala. Primarily, it follows Sheryl Bradshaw, who encountered Alcala on a dating game show in Los Angeles in 1978, and Amy, a young runaway who is eventually responsible for his capture in 1979. We watch as these women, and a few others, encounter Alcala in various ways to various ends.

This movie is not fully historically accurate, choosing to focus on a few women who would’ve been engaged with Alcala’s crimes in different ways. We see women who were victims of these crimes, who might’ve been had things turned out slightly differently, and who were loved ones of other victims. The wide cast allowed for a range of experiences to be represented, while still devoting enough time to the main characters to craft a cohesive narrative. Kendrick mentioned the importance of the desert scenery in the story, signaling “the vastness of their [lives] beyond this moment.” The film was very careful to remain cognizant of this idea. Sheryl’s story is perhaps the best example of this, as she has an emotional journey going on as she struggles to find her place in LA. The occurrence with Alcala is monumental in her life in that it is her chance to be on television after years without a role, but it is also just one part, and the man himself is deemphasized, even though he is present throughout those scenes.

There are small glimpses into all of the women’s lives, sometimes shown through monologue or the physical setting they are in, but they betray rich and full lives outside of these depicted moments. It consistently emphasizes their perspectives in other ways, as we see from their eyes multiple times, including when Alcala is finally arrested. The choices for which women to depict were interesting, because they complemented the themes of the variety of their lives. The writing of the show was interested in showing empathy for these women, which was definitely clear in the final product. By choosing to show such a vastness of circumstances even in similar moments, it represented them with complexity and difference despite their similarities of experiences with Alcala. I’ve seen some disappointment that Amy’s story alone would make for a better movie, and while I don’t want to speak to that point exactly, it would be telling an entirely different story. This film chooses to give voice to the tragic moments as well, and while the tragedy is represented, so too are the rich character of these women’s lives.

The marketing of this movie as being “based on a true story” seems monumental in this discussion of historical influences. It seems to be a phrase that has simultaneously fallen out of fashion and become all the rage in television and movies today. The small detail of that phrase signals a treatment of historical events that aims to represent it accurately while not shying away from being dramatized. It is a subtle, incremental choice, and yet makes all the difference in how it orients the audience and the movie itself. To understand the use of dramatization, let’s turn to a specific example. During her episode of The Dating Game, Sheryl becomes frustrated with the questions she is required to ask and the general tone of the show; she elects to change the cards in the second round and replace them with questions she finds more engaging and less insulting. This did not occur with the real life Bradshaw, but it did occur on the show and inspired the script in a practice that John DiLillo’s article about the film on Tudum calls “fictionalization with a core of truth.” There is a subtle blending of these small details in, which added intrigue to the characters and narrative to the history without adding excessively fictitious plots. This choice was echoed in many, small ways, such as the context on details of the case tastefully added to the end of the movie and preceding the credits.

This movie was interesting, but a little boring. The aesthetics are what really got me: I cannot resist a 1970s look and the movie definitely made the effort. It was an intriguing case study in the conversation of historical accuracy and I appreciated the filmmakers’ perspective on its craft, but it was more of a dull, straightforward watch. I’m also not typically a fan of true crime movies, so my ambivalence on the film could easily be on account of that.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Season 1 (2023–2024, created for television by Rick Riordan and Jonathan E. Steinberg)

My advice for anyone moving to a different country from the one they grew up in: bring your favorite book from childhood. I got a few suggestions to bring a favorite stuffed animal, but I’m not a fan of them, so I think the book thing would’ve been better for me. I mean, this is one of my favorite series anyway so it also would’ve been nice to be able to just reread them, but I definitely needed that familiarity. Fortunately, earlier this year the television show adaptation finally came out, which gave me a great option for that sense of home. This is technically my fourth watchthrough of it, although that is because I would watch each episode three times after they came out earlier this year. I found that my opinions of it shifted slightly with more time to think about it, but they remain overwhelmingly positive and hopeful for more to come.

The first season of Percy Jackson and the Olympians is an adaptation of the first novel in a series by the same title. It follows Percy Jackson as he discovers he is the son of the Greek god Posideon and goes on a quest to save his mother in the Underworld and clear his name after being accused of stealing his uncle’s godly instrument. He undertakes this quest with his two friends, Annabeth and Grover, and they traverse the continental United States, fighting monsters and foes along the way. The entire quest is guided by a prophecy, which becomes a major element on the characters’ minds in this version of the story.

I am primarily interested in this show as an adaptation of these books I’ve loved for a decade and a half; I am fully cognizant of the fact that I am in no position to judge it as a first-time viewer, because I know these books like the back of my hand. Also, I find great significance in the nature of adaptation, as it allows for a new perspective on an older text that can be so rewarding if done with love and thought. The Percy Jackson franchise is of particular interest to me in this way, as it has a wild expanse of continuations and adaptations that affect the world it creates in distinct and varied ways. This show is a perfect example of a strong adaptation, illustrating all the things an enterprise like this is capable of: altering the tone, shifting the perspective, emphasizing new themes and interpretations, and bending a new medium to tell a different and similar story.

One of the most obvious choices of this show was its change in tone from the novels. As they are written with a first person perspective, we are shown this story exclusively from Percy’s point of view. This means that what the audience knows is limited by what information Percy has access to, but also by his perspective on events. His voice is so particular, and we see in depth this humorous, rich interior life of his. Naturally, when translating the story to screen, much of this interior life is lost. Traits that are innate to him yet do not appear outwardly are a struggle to see unless we are specifically in his head. Without this perspective, the world feels much more somber and intense. This is something that is discussed in the books, but becomes wildly apparent when you are seeing it on a screen. The story takes on a different tone, but it never veers into the idea of a “gritty fantasy,” even when the world feels so much darker without Percy’s humorous narration to guide us. But this is a choice that really works: it emphasizes the drama of the situations the characters find themselves in, still retaining a lighthearted heart and jokes to lighten the mood at appropriate times. It crafts a delightful blend between more serious moments and casual ones, which allows for a fullness to the world that feels so fresh and exciting. Also, I was a huge fan of how they chose to reveal interspersed enemy scenes. These are very typical to the fantasy genre, but the show follows the book’s lead in prioritizing Percy’s perspective; specifically, these moments appear not in omniscient, outside scenes, but in Percy’s dream visions. This allows for the audience to have some understanding of the enemy forces at work, but never strays from the point of view we are meant to be seeing this story from. I’m especially curious how this element will play out in later seasons, where it seems tempting and rewarding to switch to that outside perspective.

A particularly engaging aspect of this adaptation was the shift in themes. While all of the more relevant themes were discussed in the novels, the choice for emphasis was entirely different. The ideas of what makes a monster, heroism and glory, Percy’s aversion to stories, family, and betrayal were all so captivating. The betrayal example is of note, as it is done so differently between these two versions. In the novel, you can almost forget the betrayal is coming. There is a lack of emphasis on it and richness in the rest of the story that make it easy to forget it’s coming, even if you’ve read the book a dozen times. Compare this to the show, in which it becomes a major driving force for Percy’s decisions. The idea of being betrayed is constantly on his mind, so much so that it determines his choice of companions for his quest and stunts his relationships with them after they depart. When the betrayal finally comes, the audience fully expects it and still finds it a shock. This method represents a larger trend of emphasizing themes that were very much present in the books, but take on new life and meaning in this adaptation. It sets the stage for questions of agency and loyalty that will likely become more prominent as the story progresses.

The questions of tone and themes inherently invite a discussion of the show’s writing; in case it is not already abundantly clear, I loved the writing. I’m aware of the criticisms of the dialogue being unnatural, but I didn’t really have a problem with that at all. In fact, I found it charming and so clear in its voice. I think there’s a reasonable debate about whether we should hear the writers’ voice coming through in the dialogue, but I was such a fan of this particular style that I found myself fond of the stranger lines. Outside of a microscopic lens, the small plot changes made a world of difference. They helped the story to feel refreshed and exciting, bringing in new ways to interpret and present different moments while staying true to the story that has already been told.

When it came to the use of fantasy, I found myself wanting a bit more. Specifically, I was quite put off by the frequent references to “two different worlds.” That was actually one of the draws for me of the books, that it was fantastical but didn’t have that element of difference from reality made so clear. In this element, and in the earlier element of “finding one’s skill,” it seemed to resemble other fantasy media in a way I found myself starting to tune out. There are pains taken to make these work thematically, but they speak to a broader trend of the show being slightly generic in its use of fantasy. We see this again in the visuals of the show. I by no means hated the way it looked, but visually it wasn’t my favorite. I don’t even have any specific criticisms and I’m nervous they can all be boiled down to it not being the way I imagined, but it seemed to lack a distinct visual style in a way that was slightly disappointing. It didn’t negatively mark my experience of the show, but I did find myself wanting for something a bit more exciting. As novels, the original series has always stood out to me in its use of fantasy and story to do something that still feels fresh and unique, but the way the show used these elements made it feel slightly uninspired at times.

Though some elements did occasionally feel generic and leaning too heavily into fantasy tropes in what is otherwise a truly fun and engaging bit of worldbuilding, the show overall felt like a strong start to a series. The writing stood out above all, and it was so exciting to experience this as an adaptation as it really brought out the parts of the books I love so much in such a new way. It felt like getting to know the story for the first time again, which is so impressive for someone who is dedicated to many adaptations of this book. If I had one suggestion above all for this show, it seems like a nod to a specific director would be hugely beneficial to cleaning up many of the problems I saw. Also, I want to shout out my favorite companion podcast to the franchise. Monster Donut (links to Spotify) does an excellent job of analyzing all entries in the franchise, including episode discussion for the show. They bring new life to the discussion of this story I love, and I would strongly recommend giving their show a listen.

Derry Girls (2018–2022, created by Lisa McGee)

I had watched this show every once and a while over the years and enjoyed it, but I have not felt compelled to finish it until now. This year I am part of a group Halloween costume of the characters of this show, so I thought I should finally fully watch through it. I am so glad I did. This show ended up being one of my top comedies of all time; it is so fun and sweet and excellent.

Derry Girls follows five teenagers who grow up in Derry in Northern Ireland at the end of the Troubles. They attend an all-girls Catholic school and find themselves involved in various hijinks over the years. They are surrounded by a quirky cast of characters, who appear with some variance over the seasons.

The simplest way to describe this show is through its charm. Despite its short runtime (nineteen thirty-odd minute episodes), the world feels lived-in and complex. The show’s strength comes from a combination of writing and performances. The cast is absolutely excellent; much of the humor is centered around these very quirky characters, but they never feel unrealistic despite the exaggeration. The show works with nostalgia to some extent, but it’s simultaneously so idiosyncratic and rooted in real life context, while also being general enough that it feels cross-cultural in its portrayal of these young people’s lives. It speaks to truths about life and friendships, but is also so grounded in its setting, that it is difficult to explain exactly what sort of effect this has. It’s entrenched in cultural context at the same time it feels so universal, and this very distinct sense of the world is added onto through the show’s use of structure and history.

Many of the episodes are structured such that there is a main problem the gang must solve through various hijinks, only for a second obstacle to present itself at the last minute that is conceivably resolved offscreen. It creates this cliffhanger effect that is never quite relieved, which makes the episodes exciting to watch while retaining a very strong episodic sense. So often do shows with so few episodes run into an issue with blending together in favor of an overarching plot, but this show manages to avoid that fate with this episode structure and more subtle through elements. These come in the form of historical references that orient the show in a broad sense of time but don’t overtake the primary focal point of the conflict.

The historical context is critical to the show’s reception, as it weaves an incredible and complex tone throughout the whole show. Moments of drama and solemness are interspersed in a highly comedic foundation, which contributes to that feeling of being lived-in and real. The show’s tone is a truly incredible feat that demonstrates the production’s expertise with mood and genre. When it comes to the discussion of history and myth in fiction, I debate over whether I want to include this as a part of it. On the one hand, it is decidedly fictitious and always presents itself as so, yet feels more realistic than other entries in this month’s responses. Even though the characters are exaggerated and entirely constructed for the show, the way it deals with its context feels genuine and careful.

This show is truly such a strong entry in comedy television. It makes wonderful use of its structure and setting in order to create a distinct voice and style. That doesn’t even touch on the fact that I absolutely have to give this show kudos for presenting one of the only writer characters that I do not despise and also including a frame narrative at the end in a subtle and not ridiculously frustrating way. If you’re looking for a fun comedy about friendship and community, this is an excellent option.

Hocus Pocus (1993, dir. Kenny Ortega)

The first Halloween film for October, oh boy! And the last one on the list for this month’s responses. Alas, I didn’t end up watching too many seasonal flicks this year, but there are a few trickling in at the end that might make it into next month’s post. I was really glad I got to enjoy this film with friends, as it’s been an October staple for the last few years, although I can’t say I was a particular fan of it as a child. Rather, this movie came into my life a bit later, but I absolutely fell in love.

In Hocus Pocus, Max and Dani have moved to Salem, Massachusetts from California. On Halloween night, while trick-or-treating, Max’s crush Allison take them to the house of the Sanderson Sisters, witches who lived three hundred years ago, and Max summons them by lighting a candle. The witches want to eat the children to stay young and so begins the kooky pursuit of our young heroes. Other creatures and people appear on this journey: the boy transformed into a cat who aids their journey, the corpse of the sisters’ lover who chases the kids around, and even the Devil himself makes an appearance.

This movie, above all else, is so Halloween. It has a lovely, spooky ambience, with picturesque landscapes and scenes, many of which were shot on location in Salem. The trees are in full fall decay and houses are those old New England structures, which makes the town feel cozy and autumnal. This sense of atmosphere is assisted by the seasonal décor, with houses decorated and people dressed to the nines; it invents a town culture in which everyone goes all in for Halloween, to the extent that transplant Max feels offput by the intensity with which people treat the holiday. The visuals of the magic are flashy, brightly-colored enchantments that add to the charm of the film.

The costumes are also gorgeous for both the witches and the children. Surrounded by people in elaborate Halloween costumes, these characters still manage to stand out. The sisters are dressed in these gorgeous, colorful garbs with distinct visual silhouettes and signature colors that feel cohesive and whimsical. This is alongside unique makeup and hairstyles that contribute to that sense of distinction yet sameness. Take Winnifred’s look for example: curly red hair piled atop her head, circular dots of blush on her cheeks and red lipstick that makes her mouth look permanently puckered; this contrasts against the green of her clothing, a structured collar to her cloak that invokes a powerful, almost regal sense. The children characters are treated to a similar care with their outfits, although theirs are much more subtle. Dressed in comfortable streetwear or homemade costumes, they invoke that sense of coziness that has appeared so frequently in the visuals of this movie. The visuals of this movie are so strong when it comes to communicating a strong ambience, which makes it such a perfect watch for October.

Tonally, this flick is also an excellent work. We simultaneously feel the fear and urgency of the situation for our main characters, yet it allows us to also experience the excitement of these charismatic, silly witches. The performances of the Sanderson Sisters are naturally discussed to death, but this movie wouldn’t be the same without them. Their presence allows for moments of levity even with the darker themes of this movie for kids, lessening the potential scare factor for them and creating an engaging, over-the-top performance for older viewers. It blends scary elements, comedy, and whimsy that mirrors the feeling of Halloween itself.

This movie is a mandatory watch for me in October due to its strong ambience. The plot itself is busy, with several vignette-like scenes that feel like independent performances strung together to make a movie. This is in part due to the writing and in part due to the sense of time and artifice created in its costume and setting. It is an utterly charming movie and I would absolutely recommend it as a Halloween classic.