Benjamin T. Milnes – Author of On The Subject Of Trolls and Zolantis

Aischomania – The obsession with making oneself ugly

You’ve either noticed it or you haven’t. If you haven’t noticed it, then there’s probably nothing I can do to point it out to you. If you have noticed it, then you probably already know what I’m talking about before I explain it.

Over the last few years, there have been a number of people – a very small number as a proportion of the total population, but very noticeable online – who seemed have developed an obsession with making themselves ugly.

Again, you either know who I mean or you don’t.

This is not something I saw coming. I think it is an internet phenomenon – it’s a phenomenon, for the most part, created by the internet – social media in particular. But ten years ago I would never have seen this coming.

Why do these people do it? I think it’s driven largely by a desire to be different – to be unique. Our society values individuality, which means that anything that shows you as not being like other people is desirable. It’s a fashion to show how you aren’t following the trend – how you’re doing something different – how you’re setting a new trend.

Of course, all of these people end up looking the same. Every generation has had this: a group of people who think that they are all different and special and unique, but who ultimately all end up looking the same. In the 90s and early 2000s it was the Goths. In the mid and late 2000s it was the Emos.

But unlike the Goths, who were (as far as I can tell) just obsessed with black dyed hair, eyeliner, black nail polish, and black clothes, and unlike the Emos, who were just obsessed with eyeliner and a brightly-coloured streak of hair sweeping across their face, covering their eyes, this latest cohort seems to be just obsessed with making themselves ugly. They favour mullets (a hairstyle that I’m sure a few years ago we all agreed should never make a return) – or more often a mullet with the front half of their head shaved. They favour nose piercings – like the ones that cows sometimes have. They reject the idea that people who are slender and muscular are generally better-looking. Like their predecessors, they are obsessed with coloured hair, but it is often a garish mixture of colours that do not go together.

I think this is driven by the desire to look different, but also with the presupposition that there is no such thing as objective beauty – that beauty is wholly subjective. This is a curse that has afflicted the Anglosphere for some time. The reality is that beauty is not wholly subjective. It’s not wholly objective either – it’s partly objective and partly subjective. That explains why humans have such a terrible time understanding it – we like absolutes – absolutes are easy to remember. It’s the same with fine art – paintings and the like – the beauty of a painting is not wholly subjective. The beauty of a building is not wholly subjective. The quality of a book or a movie is not wholly subjective. All of these things are partly objective.

If you are not yet disavowed of the idea that beauty is subjective, consider this: ask a thousand people who is better looking: Chris Hemsworth or Boris Johnson. You already know, roughly, what the results of such a survey would be before you see them. You could try the same survey with many such pairs of well-known people. You would, very often, be able to roughly predict the results. How are you able to do this unless there is a pattern to them? That pattern is simply an objective fact about human beings – what human beings consider beauty to be. That pattern might vary slightly from one society to another, but it cannot be wholly gainsaid. You also may not be able to predict equally as reliably how an individual person might respond to the survey, but that does not negate the pattern for a large population. Beauty is partly objective.

And I think all of these people who are obsessed with making themselves ugly, on some level, know this. What they do is about rebellion. It is using rebellion, as fashion, as a signifier of how virtuous they perceive themselves to be (where, in a society that values individuality and self-expression, non-conformity is considered a virtue). In a society that has mastered beauty (through cosmetic products, digital photo editing, the millions-strong filter for beauty that is Instagram, and even plastic surgery and weight loss injections), ugliness is the only form of aesthetic rebellion that remains.

I have seen this phenomenon enough times now that I find I need a word for it. As always, the best English words are constructed from Latin or Greek elements. There is an Ancient Greek word, αἶσχος, aiskhos, meaning ‘ugliness’, but also ‘disgrace’ or ‘disgraceful deeds’. This would seem to be the perfect word, so I name this phenomenon aischomania – ‘the obsession with making oneself ugly, usually as an act of social or cultural rebellion’. (I have tried to mimic the usual pattern of consonant changes when words travel from Ancient Greek to English, but I might have gotten it wrong.)

This word could also be applied metaphorically to the obsession with ugliness seen in other areas of modern life. Brutalist architecture – and a lot of later styles – is an example of aischomania. Modern art is, often, an example of aischomania. Even some contemporary styles of music are.

Aischomania – the obsession with and desire for ugliness, often with the belief that there is a kind of moral purity that can be found only through disgrace and self-degradation.

Words of Creation – Words that end with the Greek suffix ‘-poeia’

A few weeks ago, I came across the word ‘mythopoeic’. What a nice-looking word! Dictionaries give its meaning as ‘pertaining to the creation of myths’, but I sense it has a true meaning that is a bit subtler than that.

It comes from Greek mythos – obviously – meaning ‘myth’, ‘story’, ‘thought’, ‘discourse’, and Greek poiein, meaning ‘to create’ – from which we also get the word ‘poet’. Who’d’ve thought – the word ‘poet’ literally just means ‘one who creates’. (I guess that means we’re all poets now. Oh dear.)

From ‘mythopoeic’ we can get to ‘mythopoeia’, which is ‘the creation of myths’. It didn’t occur to me, at first, that there were other words ending with ‘-poeia’, but there are, and these form an etymological family of words all pertaining to creation.

As always with this series of posts, first I will list words ending with this suffix that I’ve found in dictionaries. (It may not be an exhaustive list.)

Word	Meaning
pharmacopoeia	‘the making of medicine’
logopoeia	The creation of words – not in the sense of coining new words, but in the sense that a word is formed over time by its usage in different contexts, and the associations it gains through its usages. (This word may be worth a blog post of its own.)
phanopoeia	The creation of images – particularly within the mind, the visual imagination.
melopoeia	The creation of sounds – again particularly in the sense of writing that builds the idea of a sound in the mind.
prosopopoeia	The putting of words into the mouths of others – what a great word. (A complex etymology.)
onomatopoeia	The famous one – ‘the formation of words or names by imitation of natural sounds’.

Most of these ‘-poeia’ words are quite grand, so perhaps any new words made with the ending should be similarly grand. Below I’ve thrown together some new words that could be made with this ending, but they’re a bit literal.

Word	Meaning	Adjectival Form
geopoeia	‘the creation of the Earth’	geopoeic
rhabdopoeia	‘the creation of wands / staffs’ – a great one for fantasy – a person who creates wands or staffs (like Ollivander) could be a ‘rhabdopoet’ – particularly in reference to the magical, rather than mechanical, aspects of creating a wand	rhabdopoeic
astropoeia	‘the creation of stars’ – for extra grandeur of concept, this could be used for metaphorical stars – i.e., celebrities – ‘the process by which a person becomes a celebrity and the crafting of their public image’ (although perhaps this rather removes grandeur than adds it)	astropoeic
oneiropoeia	‘the creation of dreams’ – again, could be used for literal dreams, or this word could be used to refer to how aspirations are instilled in the people of a given society – i.e., the process by which the American Dream is instilled	oneiropoeic
arithmopoeia	‘the creation of numbers’ – could be used to refer to the process by which mathematicians deduce that a different class of number (such as imaginary and complex numbers) is needed	arithmopoeic
chronopoeia	‘the creation of time’ – could be used to refer to how different events and activities create the perception of time in the mind – i.e., a very boring activity that makes time go slow is chronopoeic	chronopoeic
sophopoeia	‘the creation of wisdom’ – could be used to refer to the methods and environments that create wisdom within those going through education	sophopoeic
alethopoeia	‘the creation of truth’ – could be used to refer to how governmental and media institutions try to ‘create’ a ‘truth’ that may well be different from actual, objective truth (although perhaps this is a rather grim usage of such a grand word)	alethopoeic

No, the comma does not always go before the closing quote mark – Logical Punctuation

‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’

I’ve heard this a number of times over the last 7 years or so – mostly, but certainly not exclusively, from Americans.

And I had heard it in life before that too. I can’t remember exactly when I first heard it – I think it was possibly in secondary school, from one of my secondary school English teachers. But I do remember that when I first heard it, I immediately thought ‘That’s silly.’.

Consider the following sentence.

‘I think I like pears more than I like apples.’

Now let’s imagine that this is a line said by someone – a character in a novel, perhaps. Now, the ‘he said’ / ‘she said’ could be put at the end.

‘”I think I like pears more than I like apples.”, she said.’

Or we could split the sentence and put the ‘he said’ / ‘she said’ in the middle.

‘”I think”, she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.”‘

This illustrates the problem. That first comma in the line above – those who say ‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’ would have it go before the first closing double quote mark – immediately after the word ‘think’.

But I think this is ridiculous. That comma is not part of the original sentence – what this person is actually saying. It is not part of the ‘inner sentence’ – it is part of the ‘outer sentence’. For clarity, I’ve written the same text again below, but coloured the ‘inner sentence’ green and the ‘outer sentence’ blue.

‘”I think“, she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.“‘

The double quote marks are the demarcations between the inner and outer sentences. You can join together all of the separately-quoted parts of the inner sentence to get back the original thing being quoted.

If we were to follow the ‘The comma always goes before the closing quote mark.’ rule, however, we would have:

‘”I think,“ she said, “I like pears more than I like apples.“‘

This is clearly less elegant. The inner and outer sentence are now mixed together across the quote marks.

So I would say that the correct rule is: only that which is part of the quote goes within the quote marks.

Now sure, commas are for adding structure to written language – we do not speak them. (Well, they sort-of represent pauses in spoken language, but it’s not a hard-and-fast rule, and they’re better understood as making clauses easier to recognise in written text.) But that structure is still either of the inner sentence or the outer sentence, and putting a comma in the inner sentence when it’s actually part of the outer sentence can change the meaning.

I learned a while ago that my preferred style of using punctuation is called logical punctuation. And apparently the other style – the comma-before-the-quote-mark style – is known as typographer’s punctuation, or something like that. I’m not too sure about these names. ‘Logical punctuation’ is a bit grandiose, even if it is more logical, and I don’t know why typographers would be expected to be so slapdash in their approach to punctuation. But apparently these are terms that are used.

I’ve also seen it said that logical punctuation is the British style, and the other way is the American style. I’ve certainly heard Americans advocate for the comma-before-the-quote-marks style more often. I’ve heard Britons insist upon it too, though whether this is just because of the cultural backwash we get from America, I can’t say.

But regardless of what the best names for these styles are, and regardless of whether the Britons or the Americans use one style more, it is better to use logical punctuation.

The main argument I hear in favour of the American style is ‘It looks better.’. There’s just something about the lower punctuation mark followed by the higher one that looks better than the inverse. While aesthetics are very important in language, to some extent (only some) what you like is just what you get used to over time, and aesthetics should generally not be at the expense of function and semantics. (There are exceptions, of course, but generally.)

Some would say that my approach is perhaps the product of a mathematical mind. (I am a physicist by training.) You can certainly see the appeal of logical punctuation to a mathematical mind – logical punctuation perfectly mimics the way brackets work in mathematics. However, this is somewhere where the penetrating orderliness of mathematics should influence human language. Using logical punctuation allows you to avoid a great many problems that arise if you try to use the American style. The American style generally applies not just to commas, but to all punctuation. Consider the following sentence.

‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that?”‘

The typographer’s style advocates for putting that question mark before the closing double quote mark, as I’ve written it above. But is the question mark part of the inner sentence or the outer sentence? Or both? You can’t tell – but it changes the meaning. If the question mark is part of the inner sentence, the person being quoted is asking a question. If it’s not part of the inner sentence, the person being quoted is making a statement.

This is clearly a problem, and if you try to follow the American style for an entire book, you will run into variations of this problem over and over again – with no way to be both consistent and always unambiguous. (You might think the problem won’t come up very often, but it does – it comes up A LOT.)

Logical punctuation solves this easily. If the inner sentence is a statement, you write:

‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that.”?’

and if it’s a question, you write:

‘What did he say after “You’re not supposed to do that?”?’

Some people might find it visually clumsy to have all those punctuation marks bundled together like that. But again, the aesthetics you can adjust to if you just get used to it – but the semantic issues of the typographer’s style cannot be cleanly resolved.

I hope that logical punctuation becomes more popular. Britons seem to be split on it. But I think it’s an easy rule to remember: only that which is part of the quote goes in the quote marks.

The 1996-2012 Cultural Zenith, and the 2012-2024 Cultural Nadir

For a number of years now, I have claimed that in Britain there was a cultural high-point that ended at the end of 2012, and that ever since we have been in a cultural wasteland. In this post, I would like to prove it.

One of the early indicators I got of this was the decline in good fantasy and science fiction shows on the BBC. I remember in the late 2000s we had both Merlin and Doctor Who on television at the same time. Both of these shows were great – I remember being so excited for new episodes, and upon seeing each new episode me and my friends would spend hours and hours talking about them. We also had the BBC’s Robin Hood series (which was flawed – just as Merlin and Doctor Who were – but still great).

Robin Hood ended in 2009, and Merlin ended in 2012 (with a finale that rather frustratingly lacked closure). And the thing is, I don’t think I know of any good fantasy television shows that have been on the BBC since Merlin ended. Doctor Who has continued, of course, but it has steadily gotten worse, and is now completely unwatchable. A lot of people liked Matt Smith’s Doctor, but I started to notice the cracks from his very first episode. (That’s a niche joke there. (And that’s another niche joke there – one for the etymologists.)) Matt Smith took over in 2010, and by the end of 2012 the show had really deteriorated – whenever I rewatch those 2000s episodes of Doctor Who, I often don’t make it through all the Matt Smith ones.

So by the end of 2012, Robin Hood was gone, Merlin was gone, and Doctor Who was crumbling. From 2013 to 2015, the BBC gave us Atlantis – a show specifically designed to fill the gap left by Merlin, and created by many of the same people. But despite having some AMAZING actors – including Robert Emms, Sarah Parish, and Mark Addy (one of my all-time favourite actors) – it just wasn’t very good. It just wasn’t written very well.

Quite frankly, the BBC seemed to give up on fantasy and science fiction. It was as though they thought it was too hard to make – or they looked down on it as a genre, as a number of middle class, not-quite-as-intelligent-as-they-think-they-are people do.

Of course, we had Game of Thrones to keep us occupied, but even that seemed to fall to the post-2012 corruption in the end. The last two seasons of that – it is generally agreed – are quite flawed, and some would say even season six had quite a few issues. That takes us back to season five, which aired in 2015 – only 3 years after 2012.

Another early indicator I got was the decline in good comedy shows on the BBC – and on other British networks, actually. This decline has been much sharper. In the 2000s (including 2010), we had Little Britain, The Catherine Tate Show, That Mitchell and Webb Look, Come Fly With Me, The Armstrong and Miller Show, Harry and Paul, Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe, Newswipe with Charlie Brooker, Peep Show, Green Wing, The IT Crowd (apart from the special), Gavin and Stacey (again, ignoring the specials), The Office, Extras, and even Coupling. That is A LOT.

What’s more, back then, Live At The Apollo was actually good. (I haven’t watched any of Live At The Apollo in years – they just kept inviting people on who weren’t very funny.) Back then is also the golden era of Mock The Week. Mock The Week continued for many years afterwards, of course, but it always seemed to be struggling to survive.

The first two series of Miranda were also in the 2000s (again, including 2010). The third series and the specials for Miranda were nowhere near as good as the first two series – something strange happened there. The early series of Not Going Out were also in the 2000s. (That’s had some great later episodes, but the early ones, for the most part, are better.)

Would I Lie To You was started in the 2000s – and again, those early episodes were great. (I haven’t watched any of the recent stuff – it just felt like it was going on and on.) QI! That was great when Stephen Fry was hosting it – again, mostly in the 2000s. I’ve watched almost none of it since Sandi Toksvig took over – it’s just terribly boring. (And think, all of the famous moments from the show – the ones that get watched over and over again on YouTube – are from Fry’s era.)

And Have I Got News For You was better back then too. Brian Blessed’s first appearance – which I think is the all-time high-point of the show – was in 2008. Nowadays HIGNFY is just awful – I can’t watch it. It’s mostly not funny – there’s just the odd weak pun that at most elicits a thought of ‘That’s funny.’, but no actual laughter and not even a half-smile. It feels like they’re just going through the motions. Ian and Paul know that the BBC’s never going to cancel it, so they’re just going to sit there, occasionally making a witty remark, until they’re too old and frail to walk on set anymore.

And what else have we had since 2012 that’s been any good? I mean we’ve had all of the Philomena Cunk stuff (where it’s her own show) – that’s been good. We’ve had 8 Out Of 10 Cats Does Countdown – a lot of the early stuff from that was good, although it’s deteriorated. There was also, briefly, 10 O’Clock Live and Live At The Electric – but those were quite early on since 2012. Other than that, what has there been?

The main comedy show that the BBC seems to have been pushing since that time is, of all things … Mrs Brown’s Boys. Jesus Fucking Christ. That show is one of the worst shows to have ever been created. Fuck it, it’s one of the worst things to have ever been created. I could write out a lengthy argument as to why it’s so absolutely fucking awful, but the reality is if you don’t already know why it’s awful, there’s no helping you. It’s the exact thing that was parodied by Ricky Gervais’ Extras – which the BBC themselves had aired just a few years before – but apparently having that template of what not to do did not help them.

Mrs Brown’s Boys should never have made it to air in the first place, and yet it seems to have been the BBC’s flagship comedy show for several years now.

So when it comes to comedy, we really are living through an absolute dearth of it.

I think I have already demonstrated that 2012 marks a boundary point – lots of good things had already finished by that point, and there aren’t that many good things that have come about since. But actually, the very first sign I got that we were entering a cultural nadir happened just a few minutes past midnight on New Year’s Eve / New Year’s Day going from 2012 to 2013.

2012 had been a great year for Britain. We had hosted the Olympic Games – at which we had won an extraordinary number of medals, and the opening and closing ceremonies were some of the best we’ve seen since the turn of the millennium (though they still had quite a few flaws). It was also the year of Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee. Now, even though we got to see a Platinum Jubilee for Queen Elizabeth, the Diamond Jubilee was better – the Queen was able to do more for it, and the celebrations themselves were better. (I remember the barge.)

It felt like Britain was at its all-time peak. It felt like we could do anything. But I remember staying up ’til midnight on New Year’s Eve to watch the fireworks on television. (The fireworks have long since become tedious and obnoxious, but that’s a rant for another post.) Once the fireworks were over, the BBC played their new ident for 2013. ‘Love 2013’ it read. It was so underwhelming. I knew at that moment that we were about to start a decline.

So 2012 is the end-point of the zenith – when did it start? I put it in 1996. 1996 was the year that Pokémon came out. (Granted, Pokémon is not a British cultural creation, but we still had it here – and it was BIG. Everyone who is around my age remembers it from school – we all played the games, swapped the cards, and watched the movies. It had a profound cultural impact on my generation.) Also, the first Harry Potter book came out not long after – in 1997. And thus began the intense craze for Harry Potter. People who have grown up after that time could not possibly imagine what that was like. The obsession with and adoration for the Harry Potter books and films was like nothing we’ve seen ever since.

The first Harry Potter book came out in 1997, and the last Harry Potter film (with the films always lagging behind the books, of course) came out in 2011 – almost perfectly bookending my proposed era.

There has been nothing like Harry Potter in the years since – either in book form or movie form. Game of Thrones came close – and might well have gone down as one of the all-time great television series, had they not screwed up the ending. And of course, George R. R. Martin himself has not published any more of the book series (the last one being published in 2011 – making my point again). He is never going to finish that series. He’s had 13 years and he still hasn’t done the next one. He is never going to do it.

The 1996-2012 cultural zenith also includes the Lord Of The Rings movies, of course – which will be classics for many centuries. It even includes the Matrix films – which again were not a British cultural creation, but they still had a big impact here. (And of course, there are only three Matrix films.)

And my goodness it even includes the Star Wars Prequels. Some people don’t like the prequels, but their cultural impact cannot be denied. The number of iconic lines, characters, and pieces of music greatly outstrips the ‘sequel’ films that Disney made. I’ve long thought that you can tell how culturally impactful a movie is by how many memes it produces – and the prequels are used in memes every day.

And gosh, now that I think about it, this era mostly overlaps with Star Trek: Voyager. Again, a number of people don’t like Voyager, but I think it’s almost as good as The Next Generation, and certainly far, far superior to anything that’s been made in recent years.

And actually, that just shows how post-2012 has been characterised not just by an absence of good television shows and movies, but by a presence of bad ones. I’ve commented on this sort of thing many times, of course, but to list just some of the awful shows we’ve had post-2012 (and much of which is after about 2015/2016): Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Lower Decks (and I’m sure the other Star Trek stuff has probably been shit as well, but I haven’t seen it), the Star Wars ‘sequels’, the Han Solo film, the Kenobi Show, The Acolyte (and again, I’m sure lots of the other Disney Star Wars stuff has been shit too, but I haven’t seen it), all of Doctor Who since Jodie Whittaker took over, all of the Fantastic Beasts films, most of the MCU films since Endgame (a common observation), Amazon’s Rings of Power, The Matrix 4. I could go on but really what’s the point.

Of course, much of this can be attributed to the deterioration of Hollywood that’s been going on from about 2015 / 2016 (although the process started much earlier). There’s a lot to be said about the interplay between American and British culture, but I won’t say it in this post.

But what has caused this current cultural nadir? Well, thinking specifically about Britain, I think it is in part because of a deterioration at the BBC. I have long thought that the BBC has lacked the ability and the determination to make good fantasy, science fiction, and comedy. A game show, a quiz show, a travel show, a cookery show, a dancing show, a soap opera, a rerun – these things are not difficult to conceive of. Good science fiction requires true insight, and a willingness to do what no-one else is doing. The BBC has long seemed far too conformist for that.

I think there are other, nebulous reasons for this cultural nadir too. Britain is not doing as well as it was in the 2000s. It is a grimmer place. This is partly economic – our economic situation is worse than it was 12 years ago. (I will not defer to statistics here, but I think we all sense it.) Britons are less able to take chances on creative projects. The causes of our economic misfortune are manyfold.

When will this current nadir end? I don’t know. It could go on for a LONG time yet. I couldn’t say if we’re past the worst of it. I think I’d know it if I saw the beginning of the end, but perhaps not. But I do think the solution has remained the same throughout: bringing about a new cultural zenith requires extraordinary determination and discernment from talented creatives.

All that is left is to name these eras, but I can’t think of any good ones – yet.

For the sake of clarity, I have listed below many of the aforementioned television shows and books that belong to this pre-2012 zenith and post-2012 nadir. (There is, of course, a certain ‘fuzziness’ to these endpoints.)

The 1996-2012 Cultural Zenith

The Vicar of Dibley (1994-2007)
Star Trek: Voyager (1995-2001)
The Harry Potter Books (1997-2007)
The Men in Black Movies (1997-2012)
Pokémon Red and Blue (EU: 1999)
The Star Wars Prequels (1999-2005)
The Matrix Movies (1999-2003 – there is no fourth movie)
Coupling (2000-2004)
The Office (2001-2003)
The Harry Potter Movies (2001-2011)
The Lord Of The Rings Movies (2001-2003)
Shrek (2001)
Look Around You (2002-2005)
That Mitchell and Webb Sound (2003-2013)
Little Britain (2003-2004 – the first two series)
Peep Show (2003-2015)
QI (with Stephen Fry – 2003-2016)
The Catherine Tate Show (2004-2007)
Green Wing (2004-2007)
The Incredibles (2004)
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005)
Extras (2005-2007)
Doctor Who (before it became shit, 2005-2010 (-ish))
The Thick Of It (2005-2012)
Mock The Week (2005-2022 – its golden era was earlier on)
Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005-2008)
That Mitchell and Webb Look (2006-2010)
Hyperdrive (2006-2007)
The IT Crowd (2006-2013)
Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe (2006-2008)
Robin Hood (2006-2009)
Harry & Paul (2007-2012)
The Armstrong & Miller Show (2007-2010)
Gavin & Stacey (2007-2010, ignoring the specials)
Merlin (2008-2012)
Newswipe with Charlie Brooker (2009-2010)
Miranda (2009-2010 – first two series only)
Avatar (2009)
Come Fly With Me (2010)
Him & Her (2010-2013)
Twenty-Twelve (2011-2012)
10 O’Clock Live (2011-2013)
Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee (2012)
The London Olympic Games (2012)
Live At The Electric (2012-2014)

The Post-2012 Cultural Nadir

Mrs Brown’s Boys (2011-now)
Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)
Doctor Who (Whittaker and after – 2017-now)
The Mash Report (2017-2022)
Star Trek: Discovery (2017-2024)
Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)
Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018)
Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)
Aladdin (2019)
Captain Marvel (2019)
Star Trek: Picard (2020-2023)
Star Trek: Lower Decks (2020-2024)
Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett (2021-2022)
WandaVision (2021)
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)
Loki (2021-2023)
Thor: Love and Thunder (2022)
Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore (2022)
Star Wars: The Kenobi Show (2022)
She-Hulk (2022)
Amazon’s The Rings Of Power (2022-2024)
Star Wars: Ahsoka (2023)
Star Wars: The Acolyte (2024)
and more …

Autoparody – when something is its own parody

It used to be that a well-written parody of something was enough to ensure that that something was never done or made again. The parody would show just how ridiculous that something was, and out of fear of extraordinary humiliation, the doers or makers of that original something would never do or make it again in their lives.

That’s how I thought it would always be, but several years ago I noticed that the types of morons that parody was so useful for quelling developed an immunity to it. They would do or make something ridiculous, and then others would rightly ridicule them for it, but they would carry on doing or making that ridiculous thing regardless. I mean, this describes much of what Hollywood has done for the last 10 years.

And then came the next stage: autoparody – when something is so ridiculous and absurd that no parody made by someone else could possibly hope to demonstrate its ridiculousness and absurdity better than it can itself. Autoparody is when something adheres to the clichés of itself so well that it almost appears to show awareness on the part of the doer or maker of its absurdity, even though there is no self-awareness at whatsoever. It is when something becomes its own joke. It is a joke without a punchline, because the punchline is the setup. It is when something is a parody of itself.

To my shock and dismay, autoparodies are becoming very common. Most of them seem to be in the form of television shows made by the BBC, Netflix, and Disney.

Why I’m going back to B.C. / A.D.

When I first found out about B.C.E. / C.E. – standing for ‘Before the Common Era’ and ‘Common Era’ – which I think was towards the end of primary school or sometime during secondary school, I immediately found them compelling. I’d say for most of the time between 2006 and 2023, I used B.C.E. / C.E. exclusively instead of B.C. / A.D.. But now I’m going back.

You have to remember that Christianity in England was different in the late 90s and early 2000s. Nowadays, Christianity is absent from most parts of English life (if you’re an atheist like me) – a result, in part, of New Atheism (of which I was a small part). But 20-25 years ago it was much more present. More people were Christian, and they were more vocal about it – more willing to mention it in casual conversation; more willing to make their allegiance to it known.

I was an atheist from a very early age – possibly six, seven, eight years old. It was very obvious to me, early on, that there was no particular reason to believe in the existence of the Christian god over, say, the Greek gods. I recognised it straight away as mythology.

I also have a rebellious streak, and a great disdain for condescension and that kind of ‘kid-talk’ voice that bad primary school teachers do. The Christians I encountered in the late 90s and early 2000s were extremely condescending, and also quite bossy and expectant. So I found Christianity to not only be incorrect, but also detestable.

This is why I liked B.C.E. / C.E.. As an atheist, it seemed nonsensical to write an abbreviation meaning ‘Before Christ’ when I don’t believe that Jesus of Nazareth was Christ (i.e., the son of a god), or to write an abbreviation of ‘Anno Domini’, meaning ‘in the year of our Lord’, when I don’t believe that Jesus was or is Lord. I also disliked that our year-numbering system was connected to – what I saw as – a very annoying religion filled with quite annoying people.

B.C.E. / C.E., on the other hand, seemed perfectly clear and neutral – abstract even. ‘The Common Era’ – a term that seemed to make sense given that people right across the world used this numbering system – it really was the common era. I was also drawn to the symmetry of the abbreviations – both containing ‘C.E.’. It seems elegant. That’s the physicist / programmer in me – we are drawn to symmetry and the simplification it brings.

So for many years I consistently used B.C.E. / C.E. every time I needed to write it. But now I’m changing back.

There are several reasons for this. Primary among them is that I abhor the obscuration of history and the loss of tradition. I have always abhorred these things – from a very young age. This isn’t a new trait. (It is something that has long set me apart from a lot of the people on the political left, who generally see no value in tradition – be it national tradition or even local or personal tradition.) And the reality is, the B.C.E. / C.E. system uses the same numbers as the B.C. / A.D. system – numbers which, for centuries, were used to denote how many years had passed since the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. (Whether or not they are accurate is a different matter – that is the meaning they had for centuries.) If any young person, new to all of this, were to ask ‘Why are the year numbers the numbers that they are? Why is the current year 2024 and not 3748?’, you would have to explain that they are based on the number of years thought to have passed since the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. So changing the words doesn’t actually remove the meaning at all – the meaning is still there. All changing the words does is try to obscure the origin of the system – it just tries to obscure a historical fact. And I don’t like that.

Also, as time has gone on, I have gotten a greater and greater adoration for old things. I used to hate old buildings – including churches. They always stank of old building – and it’s quite an oppressive smell. This was true of churches, but also think of old pavilions on village cricket greens or football fields, or municipal libraries built in the 70s and fitted with scratchy, grey carpet tiles. Somehow they all smelled the same – of old. And they were cold – both in temperature and in lighting. I was thoroughly a modernist in this regard – I like super-modern buildings made out of shiny steel and huge glass windows.

But this was before I had really encountered the horrors of brutalism. Brutalism will make you rethink your entire attitude to modern buildings. And really, even the things that aren’t brutalist that have been built over the last 50-70 years or so are also, often, just horrid. They are ugly, stale, corporate, and bureaucratic.

Nowadays, when I go to a new town or city, the place I want to visit is the cathedral or the biggest church. They are by far the nicest-looking buildings, and the ones with the most history. I love wandering through the parts of them where all of the in-church graves and memorials are, and reading things that were carved into the wall hundreds of years ago. (It’s why Westminster Abbey is so much fun – I’d recommend to everyone to go there.)

I adore the things that have lasted for centuries – buildings, statues, artwork, and also conventions, such as B.C. / A.D.. These things connect you to the past – a past, and a society, in which all of your ancestors lived. By writing B.C. / A.D., you are participating in a system that thousands upon thousands of people have used before you. By using it, you are joining them in upholding an ancient tradition. You are passing on what was passed down to you.

And in the end, the literal meaning doesn’t really matter to me. Simply writing B.C. / A.D. – or even the full wording – has no chance of changing my mind about the existence of a supernatural being. Atheism (for me, at least) is not so flimsy.

(As an aside, I did previously wonder whether there was a technical reason to switch to B.C.E. / C.E. – that being the ‘blip’ caused by the switch between Old Style and New Style dates resulting from the change from the Julian Calendar to the Gregorian Calendar. The B.C. / A.D. system, being defined from a time 2024 years ago, could be used to refer to either an Old Style or a New Style date. The B.C.E. / C.E. system – I thought – was defined from now backwards, and thus could only ever refer to a New Style date. This would have made the Common Era system more mathematically rigorous. However, I later found that this wasn’t true – B.C.E. / C.E. is just a wholesale swap-out for B.C. / A.D., with no mathematical fix implied. What rubbish. If you’re going to make the change, at least fix the mathematics of it.)

B.C.E. / C.E. are cold – devoid of all meaning and richness. They are dreary – the kind of dreariness exhibited by brown glass windows, balding civil servants, and – worst of all places – business parks (a kind of dreariness that women in HR dream of inflicting upon their prisoner-employees).

So I’m going back to B.C. / A.D.. In fact I might quite often write out the full thing: before Christ and anno Domini. In fact in fact, I might go as far as to write out their full Latin and longer variants: ante Christum natum and anno Domini nostri Jesu Christi. After all, I do enjoy writing conventions that seem unusually lengthy and detailed.

Obsessed with dying on hills? You’re an orothanatomaniac.

I have noticed in the last two or three years that there are increasingly people who seem desperate to die on whatever (political, social, or moral) hill they see. Whatever issue or cause comes along, they immediately make it their entire personality – everything about them is devoted to it. They will spend hours and hours of their life fighting imagined mortal enemies online over their new cause. And then a few days or weeks later, another issue or cause – or even just vague concept – will come along, and that is now their new personality – the one thing in all of time that they must dedicate their life to.

It’s a phenomenon I see more on the political left than the political right.

I found I needed a word for such people: perhaps orothanatomaniac. Oro- is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘mountain’ or ‘hill’. Orography or orology is the study of mountains and their formation. Orogenesis is the process of mountain formation. An oronym is the name of a mountain.

Thanato- is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘death’. Thanatology is the study of death. And -mania is an English prefix of Greek origin meaning ‘madness’ or ‘obsession’. So orothanatomania is the obsession with dying on hills – in this case metaphorical ones. An orothanatomaniac is someone who exhibits this obsession.

Wicked Part 1 – Astonishingly mediocre – 6/10

You might think it odd that I went to see this movie – given that the Wicked musical is famously more popular with women than is typical for fantasy, and it’s not exactly hard fantasy either. But when it comes to movies, really I’m willing to give anything a shot if it’s sufficiently ambitious and if the basic idea is interesting.

It’s worth stating at the outset that this is a review of the movie as an isolate work. I have not seen the musical it’s based on or read the book that that in turn is based on. I detest changes from source material, and I’m sure if I knew of them and saw them I would mark the movie down for them, but here I am judging it as a movie on its own.

I have heard many great things about the musical over the years (though as I say, I have not seen it). On that basis, I was expecting this movie to be quite good. But then also, the lead-up to the release of this movie has been disastrous. The lead actress criticised a fan for making a version of the movie poster that looked more like the poster for the musical. And then we had the endless series of interviews where the two lead actresses just started crying. It was just pathetic and repulsive. On the basis of all of that, I was expecting this movie to be a complete disaster.

So I was expecting either something brilliant or something disastrous. What I wasn’t expecting was what it ultimately was: astonishingly mediocre.

I’ll start with the stuff that was actually quite good – because quite frankly that stuff is much easier to describe and so easy to get out of the way first. The costume design was excellent – quirky and novel, but just managed to avoid being cliché. The set design was also excellent – exactly what you’d expect but also filled with many new things along the same lines. That train looked amazing. (Although I think it’s more properly referred to just as a locomotive, as it didn’t pull a ‘train’ of carriages behind it.)

The casting was also excellent. Jeff Goldblum was made to play the Wizard of Oz. As he tends to do in every film nowadays he just played himself, but in this case it was absolutely ideal. Michelle Yeoh was brilliant – I’m a huge fan of Michelle Yeoh whatever she’s in. She’s a phenomenal actress – she can take even very boring, cliché lines and make them sound great (which she had to do several times in this film).

Cynthia Erivo was actually very competent. Despite her insufferable personality in real life, she was actually very skilled – never underplaying or overplaying the part (which it would have been easy to do with that part).

The real star of the show, however, was Ariana Grande. Now, I don’t think of Ariana Grande as an actress – I think of her as a singer. I understand that she did actually start out as an actress, but I nevertheless think of her as a singer, and my general assumption is that singers can’t act. (And in fairness to me, that assumption is grounded – a lot of them really can’t act.) But she absolutely stole the show in this film. On a technical level her acting was flawless – every expression was exactly right. She was able to do the Connie D’Amico trope perfectly. And she also had lots of funny moments.

Some might dislike the idea of the second-main character stealing the show, but it’s generally more possible for secondary characters to be able to do this than the primary character, because secondary characters can often have more extreme character traits and be funnier, whereas the main character has to be sufficiently neutral for the audience to be able to project themselves onto them.

Some of the core ideas of the film were very interesting too. (Some, but not all, as I shall get onto.) The basic idea of expanding the world of the Wizard of Oz I really like – I always like that sort of thing. I’m a huge fan of the ‘lost knowledge’ trope (that George R. R. Martin always did really well), and the Grimmerie is part of that. Stories about dictatorships are often fun too.

So there were a number of things to like about this film. In fact, this film was particularly unusual – usually what lets a film down is its peripherals – usually the core story is a good idea, but the film is let down by its casting, its acting, its dialogue, its visual effects, and so on (think about the Last Airbender film – fantastic source material to work from – a great core idea – but let down by all its peripherals – the casting, the acting, the dialogue, and so on). This film was the other way round. All of its peripherals were good – it was let down by its core.

The main story is just, in parts, very stupid. A girl is born with green skin. Her parents – especially her father (although it is implied that he is not actually her father) – despise her for it, even though this is a land where magic is known to exist, even though a demonstration of her raw magical ability occurs moments after birth (if I remember correctly), even though they made an entirely green city – suggesting, as it does, that there may be a connection between greenness and magical ability, and so greenness would be revered, not detested – and even though this is a land filled with people who are already different shades of brown and beige, and even though this is a land filled with talking animals.

When she’s a bit older, some local children mock her for being green, and then when she first goes to the university, the people around her are absolutely mortified at the sight of her (although they get over it extremely quickly – just watch them in the background of the shots). It’s all ‘woe betide me, no-one likes me because I’m green’, but it makes no sense – the world we are looking at is filled with far more odd and unusual things than a person with green skin. It does not make sense for these people to find it as odd as they do.

‘But that’s the whole point! It’s not supposed to be rational! Discrimination isn’t rational!’, I hear an annoying person scream at their computer screen. Yes, discrimination between individuals on the basis of something that has no effect on the situation under consideration is generally irrational – the point is that in order for a difference to seem significant enough for people to hate you for it, it must be quite a lot different to anything else those people have experienced. Being green in a land filled with people who already vastly exceed Hollywood’s diversity quotas, along with talking animals and magic, should not be all that notable. In other words, how do you notice one odd thing in a room filled with odd things? When everything’s odd, nothing is.

It gets even stupider because as the film goes on they morph this idea of ‘discriminating against a person with green skin’ into ‘people with green skin are ugly’. This isn’t the first film to throw out this idea – I can’t remember what the other one was, but I’ve definitely seen it before, and it was stupid there too. It’s just a fundamental misunderstanding of beauty and ugliness. Skin colour doesn’t actually affect beauty at all – and I mean that in the broadest possible sense. Blue skin, magenta skin, orange skin, gold skin, multicoloured skin – literally any colour can look good. What actually matters is bone structure – just the basic shape of your face, the size and position of your eyes, and so on – this is what actually affects beauty. (Skin tone and complexion also affects it, but that’s different from colour – the actual hue makes no difference.) We all know this. Of course we all know this. But here this film is pretending that if someone were green, everyone would think they were ugly. No they wouldn’t.

(As an interesting aside, there are actually real humans with blue skin. Some people take colloidal silver (which is not a good idea), and over time it turns their skin blue – look it up. These people are a curiosity – medical and experiential – but they are not hated.)

Elphaba goes to Shiz University to support her sister as she enrols. While there, however, she accidentally gives a display of her magical power, causing a lot of disruption. On seeing that she has true power, Madame Morrible decides to admit her to the university. Elphaba just accepts this – but this is weird – didn’t she have other plans? Didn’t she have somewhere else to go after this enrolment ceremony? She’s just offered a place on a multi-year residential course and she can start then and there? Doesn’t she have to tell anyone? It’s just weird. I suspect it’s a hang-over from the musical – in a musical it would be fine because musicals always have a degree of unrealness to them, but you can’t get away with that in a film.

The film then progresses into its high school section. This section might as well just be every high school drama ever put to film or television. It’s almost unbearably cliché. The popular girl doesn’t like the girl who’s different. The girl who’s different is nerdy, and she’s ugly because she’s nerdy, and she’s nerdy because she’s ugly – because Hollywood really thinks that nerdiness makes you ugly and vice versa. Eventually the popular girl feels guilty about the way she treats the unpopular girl and decides to treat her better (because god forbid a change of behaviour be based on rationality and not emotion). But of course, now that the popular girl likes the unpopular girl, the unpopular girl cannot be allowed to remain ugly – she must be given a makeover – because you can only truly transcend into the domain of popularity if you completely conform to it and change your appearance. It’s all about appreciating people’s differences – and the way they do that is by completely squashing those differences – you must be like all of the other popular girls. And THEN, on top of that, the makeover consists of taking off the unpopular girl’s glasses and letter her hair down, because in reality this ‘ugly’ girl was played by a very good looking actress and wasn’t ugly at all – glasses and tying your hair up do not, in fact, make you ugly. So the ‘ugly’ girl was not really ugly, she already conformed to the standards of the popular girls, but the need for this conformity had to be emphasised to the audience by having her have a ‘makeover’ anyway.

I mean, it’s just so stupid isn’t it? Almost every idea is undermined by the next idea that’s presented. It’s unbearably cliché – every single part of it was parodied by Family Guy over a decade ago. There’s no meaning to it – it’s just flawed cliché after flawed cliché. I think it would be fine if the film accepted itself for what it is, but it (and its core audience) seem to think that it’s making some deeply profound statement.

We then learn that the animals in this world are discriminated against – and over the course of the film this intensifies. This doesn’t really work because when animals can talk what really sets them apart from humans? In the real world, a goat and a cat seem roughly equally different to a human, because neither can talk, but if they could both talk, surely they’d seem as different to each other as either would to a human, because speech is no longer a defining factor between the three. In other words, how does this category of ‘animal’ exist in this world? It doesn’t matter so much for the kind of easy fantasy of the Wizard of Oz, but since the film makes a big fuss about it it’s worth mentioning.

Jonathan Bailey shows up. Now let’s none of us kid ourselves – we all know why Jonathan Bailey got this part. He got it because he was in Bridgerton. Now, I tried watching Bridgerton. It was shit. Truly and utterly shit. It’s what happens when an American author tries to write about the British aristocracy. Americans do not understand aristocracy or royalty. But it is popular with women who want to fantasise about the Regency Era but who don’t care about facts or historical accuracy. Jonathan Bailey is the object of desire in the show.

And he’s the object of desire in this film too. He’s there because he’s good looking. It’s interesting how a gay actor has been selected as the object of desire for heterosexual women. I could go on a rant about the trend of gay males being treated as pets for women in media (particularly in fiction), but that’s for another post. Bailey’s character is, quite frankly, largely irrelevant in this film. (This is just part one though – perhaps that changes in part two.)

Eventually Elphaba and Glinda go to the Emerald City. I really liked the story of these kind of ancient magical beings who once inhabited the land of Oz and created the Grimmerie. I also really like all of the hints of what it is actually like to live in Oz – which is in far greater turmoil than many would have our main characters believe. All of that was great, but it did really need more worldbuilding.

And then we get a semi-conclusion. I didn’t know before going to see the film that it was only going to be part one, but that’s fine.

All of these story issues really make the film fall flat. Some of them could easily have been resolved – particularly the worldbuilding stuff – that’s easy to fix. But some of them couldn’t have been. The core story between Elphaba and Glinda revolves around the ‘popular girl’ trope, and there’s nothing you can really do with that that doesn’t change the entire story.

On top of that – and most egregiously for a musical – the music was actually pretty shit. There was A LOT of autotune used for some of the singers – I could hear its distinctive tone all the time. But even worse, the music was, quite frankly, forgettable. You can tell how good the music of a film is by how many tunes you could hum when walking out of the cinema. I could only do two: Defying Gravity and Popular – but that’s because I already knew those two beforehand. The rest I can’t remember. Pathetic, for a musical.

And also rather sickening was the dancing. God the dancing was shit throughout. It was that typical ‘Yeaaahhh I’m dancing so hard because I’m so passionate and emotional and kewwwlll!’ style of dance that only Hollywood actors who are desperate for their big break can do. It’s a style of dance that only someone who thought the word ‘rockstar’ was aspirational would come up with. Utterly dreadful.

And you know the film that this one most reminded me of was High School Musical. It’s easy to see why this story is more popular with women: it’s a story about someone being accepted by a social group despite her differences, and winning an attractive male over the (ostensibly) more attractive female.

So overall: not great. Not outright shit either – there were some interesting and fun parts to it – but it was flat, and gave itself much more credit than it deserved.

I probably will watch it again at some point. I put it in the same category as a film like Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets – that wasn’t a good film – it had a huge number of core errors – but it had a few interesting ideas – particularly visual ideas – and I like to return to it every now and then.

So it’s a 6/10.

Deadpool 3 – Enjoyable, but flawed – 8/10

I would have liked to have reviewed this earlier, but this movie required a second viewing.

It was difficult to decide what to title this review. This movie is, in some ways, quite complex. It achieves some remarkable things with regards to the context in which it was made, but also has some crucial flaws that I think make it not quite as good as the first two movies in the series.

Where to begin. Well this movie masterfully handles the inclusion of the Deadpool franchise – and the X-Men franchise – into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. This is an aspect which it could have gotten very, very wrong – and I think with anyone other than Ryan Reynolds writing it, it would have gone very, very wrong.

This movie had many problems it had to solve. First, of course, was that the last time we saw Wolverine was in 2017’s Logan (seven years ago!). The general commentary around that movie was that it was going to be Hugh Jackman’s last performance of the character – I don’t know if that was an idea that came from Hugh Jackman himself, or whether the tone of the movie itself simply suggested it to everyone – but either way, that was the general understanding. And along with that also came the idea that this was the true end for the character. Logan was well and truly dead – his healing factor had finally given out. It was an extraordinary ability but it was not infinite. He was not coming back. (I found it a bit strange that everyone was willing to go along with this idea. It wasn’t as though the X-Men movies had handled timelines and do-overs perfectly up until that point. Timelines had been altered, people had come back, people had made unusual cameos – the studios had always just done whatever they wanted – that’s how it had been for years.)

This was what Deadpool 3 was facing as soon as they decided to include Wolverine. A lesser movie would have just avoided giving any explanation – it would have just included Wolverine and ignored any questions about timelines and settings and canon. This movie tackled it head-on – and that was the right way to do it.

The opening scene handles the questions that we the audience have. Surely Wolverine’s healing factor is infinite? Surely its slow-down was just a result of whatever that evil guy in Logan was doing with the water or something? Surely he’s actually alive? Surely Deadpool’s just got to dig him up?

Well he does, and no, he really is dead. A clever writing move – in writing it’s always extremely risky to bring a character back from the dead, as you undermine the ultimate stakes of any story. And how did Deadpool 3, therefore, get around this? By using the MCU’s new(-ish) multiverse to acquire an alternate Wolverine.

After Deadpool digs up Logan’s adamantium-coated skeleton, some people from the Time Variance Authority show up, and there’s a big fight. The Deadpool movies always start with a fight – which always includes lots of unusual and striking methods of attack, with plenty of gore, highlighted with slow motion.

Now, I was very sceptical when the TVA showed up. I do not think the TVA have been done very well at all. I did not watch the Loki television series. (Have there been two series’ of it so far? I don’t know.) Well – I watched the first episode and a quarter, or something – I can’t quite remember – but it was just dreadful and I couldn’t watch another second. I did not like the TVA in that and I haven’t liked them in anything I’ve seem them in.

I have said it many times before: time travel is difficult to get right as a writer – you have to be very careful about including it in a story. And even harder to get right is any kind of extra-temporal entity. Doctor Who has had problems with this in the past. The TVA seem to exist ‘outside’ of time, but the very fact that they can breathe and walk and talk at all shows that they themselves occupy a space-time. It might be a different space-time to our own, but they clearly occupy one. But then also the fact that they can and do interact with our own space-time shows that they are causally connected to it – they can take part in the events that they are supposedly ‘outside’ of temporal connection with. So to what extent are they really ‘outside’ of it at all. It just becomes meaningless – the TVA isn’t outside of time or outside of our reality at all – they are, unavoidably, inevitably, part of our timeline.

This is the kind of problem you run into when doing any kind of time-travel stuff in stories. Most writers are not mentally equipped to deal with the paradoxes of time travel – and it tends to show VERY quickly. The TVA come across as nothing special. They appear to be able to teleport, but they don’t seem to be able to do anything clever at all time-wise, despite ostensibly having the knowledge, means, and dimensional vantage point to do so.

In order to make something like the TVA work, they cannot merely be ‘quirky’, with some outdated, Arts décoratifs, brown-glass design choices. They must be unknowable. Any beings that are truly beyond time would have such a radically different experience of reality that we would struggle to understand them. Think of how in Interstellar the super-dimensional beings that make the tesseract towards the end never speak or communicate directly. We do not see them; we do not understand them – we only know of their existence through their actions. It doesn’t have to be taken to this extreme every time, but this is how you make something unknowable. They could have done this in the MCU, but they didn’t, and the result is that the TVA is plain and uninteresting. The TVA comes across as less powerful and less mysterious than SHIELD did.

So the moment I saw that the TVA was going to be included in this movie, I was sceptical. But actually, not only did this movie avoid some of the mistakes made with the TVA previously, it managed to repair the concept somewhat. And it did this by not over-using them. A few scenes later we meet Paradox – the movie’s second villain, or deuterantagonist. The fact that Paradox is not following the commands of the broader TVA, and working somewhat independently, allows for an explanation for the TVA’s apparent non-omnipotence. The TVA should be extremely powerful, but Paradox does not have many of the usual options available to him because he is trying not to draw attention to what he’s doing. Deadpool steals a device for travelling around the multiverse, and Paradox tries using a ‘time ripper’, but that’s it really. It sets the movie up for a standard ‘destroying the universe’ storyline with a little bit of multiversial travel to get another Logan. Beyond that the TVA’s just a bunch of kitch workers in a dreary super-dimensional office and their incapable henchmen. We don’t need to indulge the underwhelming ideas of Loki.

This is why I say that this movie achieves some remarkable things with regards to the context in which it is made. With just a few deft keystrokes, this movie has solved the problem of everyone expecting Logan to be truly dead, the problem of how the Deadpool stories can actually be included in the multiverse, and the problem of how to include the TVA (which they have to be to some extent), while also actually improving the TVA over their appearance in Loki. This movie manages to put one thread through several needles on its first try.

I’ve been going through this movie somewhat chronologically because it’s difficult to do anything else. The opening scenes – though clever, and solving many problems – do make one or two mistakes.

Something I found quite confusing on first watch-through, and which I still don’t understand now that I’ve seen it a second time, is how exactly the events of the first two Deadpool movies fit into the timelines and the multiverse. The second scene of the movie is the one between Deadpool and Happy Hogan. It’s a very funny scene – I’ll get to that in a moment – but we are told very explicitly that this is Earth 616 – i.e., ‘the Sacred Timeline’. This is the universe in which all of the events of the MCU before the multiverse split happened – it’s the one we know from the movies. But in the next scene we are told (very explicitly again) that we are looking at Earth 10005, and that it is six years later. So we’re in a different parallel universe, and it is this universe that the TVA pulls Deadpool from (and this universe that the TVA wants to destroy (I think – I’m pretty sure)).

So hang on, which universe did the events of Deadpool 1 & 2 occur in? The scene with Deadpool and Happy Hogan occurs in Earth 616 – does it also occur in Earth 10005? The text says ‘six years later’, implying it did (or that this is a pan-dimensional six years), and they reference it later – it’s given as the reason why Deadpool lost his motivation and split from Vanessa. If it happened in both, why show us it in a different universe? If the events of Deadpool 1 & 2 happened in both universes, then why even suggest that our Deadpool is not from the prime universe?

It’s not clear to me at all. Perhaps there’s an explanation out there on the internet, or perhaps it’s all clear if you watched Loki. I don’t know. This is something that should have been straightforward – either the Deadpool we know is from the prime universe or he isn’t.

This ties into another flaw in this movie – which I actually didn’t realise until after I’d finished watching the movie, even though it is quite obvious from the very first scene. It’s implied (obviously) that the Deadpool of this movie is the same as the Deadpool of movies 1 and 2. This movie also incorporates the events of Logan – Logan happens in the Deadpool universe. In Logan, Logan himself is old, as is Charles Xavier, but in Deadpool 2, when we’re in the X-Men mansion, we momentarily see the young X-Men cast. Charles is bald, so it’s after the events of X-Men: Apocalypse, but this means that between the events of Deadpool 2 and Deadpool 3, some 40+ years must have passed, which would not make sense given that none of Deadpool’s friends have aged.

So although Deadpool 3 managed to include itself into the MCU quite well – solving many problems along the way, it was not perfect. This is, in large part, a result of the mess made by other movies. It was always going to be hard to include the X-Men movies into the MCU, because the X-Men movies have a lot of inconsistencies like this. They simply were not as careful with the young-cast X-Men movies as they were with the MCU pre-Endgame.

Something this movie did incredibly well was weaving together all of the previously non-MCU movies into the MCU by the inclusion of characters from those movies. I mean, this was done really, really well – to the extent that this movie was an homage to 25 years of moviemaking. There are too many to list, but obviously having Chris Evans as the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four movie was a stroke of genius. It was a way to have Captain America in the movie without having Captain America in the movie. It was a brilliant twist when he said ‘Flame On!’. It was a nod through the fourth wall to the curious fact that, while Captain America and Fantastic Four were originally not part of the same cinematic universe, they were part of the same source material universe, and having the same actor in two different parts was ironic. It was also great seeing Chris Evans playing quite a different character from the rather earnest Captain America (which Chris Evans seemed to enjoy).

I was also thrilled to see the return of Azazel – though he wasn’t played by the original actor. I was also thrilled to see the return of Sabretooth and Pyro – both played by the original actors – I love that.

An absolute favourite was the return of Jennifer Garner as Elektra. For that alone I have given this movie an 8/10 instead of 7/10. 2005’s Elektra is an iconic movie for me, and I’m a huge fan of Garner’s version of Elektra – I was beyond thrilled that we got one more performance of the character here. (Personally, I’d quite like to see a whole new Elektra trilogy with Garner.)

Reynolds certainly knows what the fans like and want. It was amazing to see Henry Cavill for a short cameo as an alternate Wolverine. Few studio bosses would have had the awareness to do that. Nicepool was also a fantastic addition – Reynolds has the gift of knowing with extreme precision how a line or expression will come across, and that is why he’s able to create and play a character like Nicepool without it breaking the entire immersion.

Reynolds also knew what the fans wanted in terms of fights. We got two Deadpool vs. Wolverine fights – both of which were very creative – and we got a Deadpool and Wolverine team-up against the gang of different Deadpools (which had a perfect conclusion with no-one dying (except Nicepool) and the gang of Deadpools getting distracted by Peter).

Emma Corrin gave an outstanding performance as Cassandra Nova. That is not an easy character to play. Go too serious and the character becomes incomprehensible. Go not serious enough and the character doesn’t seem threatening. With a character like that, it’s not what powers she has that makes her threatening, nor is it how she uses them – it’s her own reaction to what she does with them that makes her come across as threatening.

The character of Paradox was a bit off. He was a very self-aware villain, somewhat over-the-top, and a bit camp. It made his motivation seem unserious. It was probably not helped by the fact that the protantagonist was introduced quite late in the movie.

I think one of the bigger flaws in this movie was it did not seem to fit with what we’ve seen of Wade and Vanessa in the previous two movies. In the first movie we were shown that Wade and Vanessa are very much made for each other. Vanessa dies near the start of the second movie, and the whole movie is about Wade’s sorrow – and then she comes back at the end. I just don’t believe that, after all of that, they would simply drift apart, as is shown at the start of this movie. Vanessa is almost entirely absent from this movie, which just doesn’t seem to make sense.

Something I also didn’t like in this movie was the ‘grotesque’. I have a very specific idea in my mind of what I think of as ‘grotesque’, and it’s often hard to convey, but I absolutely hate it. I would consider that ugly dog to be grotesque. Of course, the point of the dog was as a joke – that Deadpool would have an obsession with something so ugly. But it was still grotesque. I would also consider that flying skull version of Deadpool to be grotesque. I hated that too. It’s just repulsive – in a way that regular blood and gore isn’t. Were it not for these distorted forms, I might have given this movie a 9/10.

Above all, though, this movie is funny. This is possibly the funniest of the three Deadpool movies – the jokes are just packed in. Particularly funny is that second scene between Deadpool and Happy Hogan – an interview for Deadpool to join the Avengers with Jon Favreau – who plays Hogan – being one of the architects of the MCU. I suspect that scene was conceived of long before the rest of the story.

I think a third Deadpool movie would have been better if the franchise had not been included in the MCU – it could have focused much more on its existing characters like Vanessa, Negasonic, Yukio, Domino, Peter, and Dopinder. However, given that it was to be included, it did VERY well with the situation it had. It managed to neatly connect the X-Men franchise to the MCU, bring in Wolverine with a strong motivation (Wolverine as a character always seems to be best when he is filled with regret), solve some of the problems with the TVA, and be very funny. 8/10.

I’m going back to DVDs

Streaming is just so annoying now.

In the late 2000s and early 2010s I built up a large DVD collection. Well – it seems large to me, but I suppose compared to some collections it’s actually quite moderate. I don’t know the exact number, but I think it’s about 200 DVDs.

I was quite pleased with it, but by the mid 2010s it seemed quite pointless. Lots of what was in my collection was available on Netflix, and anything that wasn’t was likely an old-ish movie – 90s or early 2000s – and not something I was likely to rewatch that often. Also, I was running out of space. I have two shelves for DVDs – both of which have long been full, and I’ve just been stacking up the rest on top. It’s at risk of falling off the wall.

So I stopped adding to it. All was fine for a few years, but I’ve now decided to (mostly) abandon streaming for DVDs once more.

Streaming was fine when it was just Netflix. Now, though, in order to maintain access to the movies and television shows I like to watch, I have to have a subscription to Disney+ and Amazon Prime Video too, as well as buying some movies and shows through YouTube. When BritBox still existed I had to have a subscription to that too, and when Game of Thrones was on and still good I had to pay for NowTV (which was the shittest service I have ever encountered – I wasn’t so much watching a television show as enduring a PowerPoint presentation).

What’s even worse is that half the time I don’t even know where something’s going to be available. (I think most people get around this via their ‘smart TV’ – but I don’t have one – television for me is just something that’s open on a different browser tab.) And things come and go from different platforms. Something that I think is going to be available somewhere often turns out to no longer be.

And the most egregious sin of Netflix: when only the second movie of a trilogy is available. Why would I want to watch only the second movie of a set of three, Netflix? I will watch all three or none at all.

Streaming is now neither cheap nor convenient. (Add to that Hollywood’s burning desire to edit old movies and television shows to delete anything that doesn’t fit their latest extremist ideology and soon I’m paying a lot of money not to watch a heavily-censored movie.) DVDs nowadays seem to be very cheap (if you’re still on the old pre-Blu-ray ones as I am (yes I realise that makes me seem very old)), and they also allow for the wonderful surprise of rediscovering a movie you had otherwise forgotten about.

So I’m swapping back. Time to put up some more shelves.