Disney plays it safe with Raya - but it's a good game

The first thing people seem to ask in reviews of Disney's latest animated film, Raya and the Last Dragon, is "Is it worth paying extra for?". The deal is that if you pay for "premier access" to the film, you can watch it now on Disney + (providing you have a subscription, that is). If, however, you wait until June, all you need is the Disney + subscription in order to watch it for free as part of the package. The US price for premier access is 30 dollars: here in Sweden, it's 250 Swedish crowns, which is about the same, and approximately what you pay in Sweden for two cinema tickets (admittedly expensive ones, probably with 3D thrown in). So, yes, it's pricey, but from our point of view not that pricey.

As you can guess, I paid, feeling a right mug for not being able to wait for the "free" release. But - somewhat to my surprise - to me it ended up being worth it. After the film, I didn't feel like I'd wasted my money. Instead I thought "Yeah, this was good, and I needed it now". So yes, providing you're not short of cash, and providing you love Disney films, I'd say it's worth paying extra.

That's not to say I thought the film was perfect. Though it was better than I expected from some of the trailers, it didn't live up to my most fervid hopes. The positives first: this film felt like there was a lot of thought and feeling put into it. Frozen 2 and Wreck-It Ralph 2 - Ralph Breaks the Internet seem very lazy in comparison. Whereas the world of the enchanted forest in Frozen 2 felt incoherent and cobbled together ("giants are cool, that water horse thingy is cool, Samis-or-something-like-them are cool, a fire lizard isn't really a thing in Scandinavian folklore but who cares"), the world of the five kingdoms that used to be Kumandra hangs together and is really quite fascinating. Hopefully the films gains enough of a following to spark a spinoff animated TV series like, for instance, Tangled and Big Hero 6, because these settings have a lot of potential for further adventures. 

The animation is gorgeous. The story is effective. The message isn't only the old one of "we should overcome our prejudices and get along with each other blah blah" but delves a little deeper into the matter of trust - it makes a case for daring to trust your fellow men, while also acknowledging that it isn't always a good idea. I can get behind that. The side characters are charming (I was not wholly convinced by the over-capable "con baby", but she has an important plot function) and the comic relief the dragon Sisu provided didn't grate on me. Also, she had some real insight to contribute, which was nice.

On the flip side, I didn't care that much about Raya, the heroine. In fairness, she is given a plausible motivation and isn't just "kick-ass". Her goal is to reassemble the Dragon Gem, a magic artefact which was broken six years before in a tussle between the five tribes, releasing an age-old menacing force called the Druun in the process, which turns people - including Raya's father - into stone. The good news is that if the Druun can be defeated, everyone turned into stone will come back to life. Raya partly blames herself for the catastrophe, because she trusted a girl from a different tribe who betrayed her, so it's understandable she's glum and hard to come close to, but it also makes her less fun to be around than, say, Rapunzel.

Once she's teamed up with Sisu, Raya only has to get all the pieces of the broken gem, but that's easier said than done. Each enemy tribe/land - Tail, Talon, Spine and Fang (the lands are named after a river in the shape of a dragon - Raya is from Heart) - have a piece of it and guard it fiercely. In each place Raya goes, she and Sisu more or less inadvertently pick up a companion: a business-savvy young boy, the aforementioned baby and her band of trained thieving monkeys and a fearsome warrior with a soft heart. They have all lost their families to the Druun. I appreciated that there wasn't any time wasted with Raya feeling bad about having had prejudices against Tail, Talon and Spine people - she and the side cast just got on with bonding without much fuss. Then they come to Fang, and things become a little more complicated.

I've slid back into mainly positives, so let me come to my major gripe: the new formula for Disney animated films has, regrettably, stuck, and each time it's reiterated it gets harder to get out of. This means, firstly, that there's no romance. Disney's line when it comes to animated films is not so much politically correct as politically safe. They do not want to offend anyone. By setting their film in an East-Asian fantasy world, they've got the diversity thing sorted. (Though mark my words, people will try to be offended nevertheless and find something they can call "disrespectful" - good luck with that.) By making Raya - and her antagonist Namaari - women with warrior skills, Disney can beat the "girl power" drum a bit. Raya isn't allowed a male love interest, because it would (or so Disney thinks) annoy feminists to see her go weak at the knees over some man. And she can't fall for Namaari either, because that would be too bold (there were apparently people who boycotted Onward because a female side character made a passing reference to her girlfriend). Honestly, why aren't Disney heroines allowed any love lives anymore? (Except in the case of Anna and Kristoff, and let's face it - was he a pushover in Frozen 2 or what?) This is supposed to be escapism!

And finally, the new Disney formula means that there is no interesting villain. I'm not sure why it would be so contentious to reintroduce a Disney villain in the classic mould. Is it because if he's a man and too elegant and silky, some bright spark will think he's "queer-coded"? (This has actually happened with Scar and Jafar - Jafar's bid for Jasmine and the deleted scene where Scar hits on Nala notwithstanding.) But maybe I shouldn't see political motives behind every corner. For whatever reason, the whole concept of the Druun is almost an affront to a villain-loving heart. I mean, a mindless, soulless, faceless force, taking the form of vaguely animal-shaped ominous clouds? Are they kidding?

Raya and the Last Dragon is a very good film. In a way, it's a return to form for Disney animation. But I can't help thinking that Disney sets itself rather narrow parameters within which to work the company magic. The Dream Factory isn't out of the woods yet.

Who cares about the post-apocalypse? Gimme a love triangle

I very nearly didn't read The Second Sleep by Robert Harris at all. Once I started, I nearly gave up at the 100-page mark, but decided to continue for just a bit longer. And it's a good thing I did, because it's thereabouts this book turns into a really good read with the Harris trademarks of gripping writing and colourful side characters (the hero is seldom the main attraction in Harris books).

Seeing as I've mostly had good experiences with Harris's novels, with the odd exception - I hugely enjoyed the Cicero trilogy Imperium, Lustrum and Dictator, was gripped by An Officer and a Spy and had a good time with The Ghost, Conclave and Archangel, though the latter was pretty silly - one could wonder why I was so reluctant to try The Second Sleep. The answer is mainly its genre, or sub-genre rather: the Post-Apocalyptic Tale. Novels (and films/TV series) of this type usually contain two of my least favourite things in fiction: extreme bleakness and moralising. Readable though Harris is, he hasn't been above lecturing in the past, so I had grave misgivings.

The Post-Apocalyptic Tale usually sets out to do two things: one, to show you how dark the future could be if we're unlucky, and two, to tell you in a cautionary-tale-way how the world could risk ending up in that state. There are PATs that are more interested in how human beings act in times of extreme crisis and how far we are prepared to go for survival, but although that's better than pontificating about how The Evil Of Mankind will lead us to dire straits, it's still not really my kind of thing. As for causes for the catastrophe, it's usually greed, or hubris (i.e. scientists getting carried away), or a combination of both. Mad scientists come up with, say, grade A Artificial Intelligence, unscrupulous (of course) corporations find unethical ways to market it, and wham: it's the rise of the machines. Oh, and sometimes we get an anti-war message worked in somewhere.

The Second Sleep does put a somewhat different spin on the PAT from the start. The beginning of the novel reads as if it's set in the Middle Ages, with maybe a puzzling early-modern touch or two. Christopher Fairfax, the hero, is a cleric sent out to the middle of nowhere by his bishop in order to conduct the funeral service for a reclusive parish priest who has died in what appears to be a tragic accident. At the dead priest's house, Fairfax finds proof of the "heresy" of diving too deep into the past. Father Lacy turns out to have been an "antiquarian". Only, the artefacts he uncovered - including an iPhone - are clearly from our age.

Look, I'm sorry if this is a spoiler, but the revelation takes place on page 29, so it's not that much of a rug pull. Besides, you will probably already have heard (if not, you have now) that the novel isn't an ordinary Medieval Mystery. I didn't find the conceit that fascinating - why would the post-apocalyptic world take on a Medieval pattern when most of the knowledge of the "real" Middle Ages has been lost for centuries? - but it does enable Harris to write an almost-historical novel without having to bother about involuntary anachronisms. Still, the problem remained that I wasn't too fussed about finding out what had happened to our modern world. Props to Harris for not setting the book in a too-bleak future; after a long period of misery, things settled down, and people are poor but they get by. However, the mystery set up - how did we get from iPhones to this? - looked all too much like the excuse for a lecture on our modern ways.

The thing about Harris's novels, though, is that it's seldom the grand solution to a mystery that makes them enjoyable: the end revelations are often something of an anti-climax. It's the hero's journey towards finding answers that is thrilling, especially if he meets interesting characters along the way. In this instance, the Quest for the Truth proves to be a bigger MacGuffin than ever. What makes the plot pick up pace is instead Fairfax getting mixed up with the local gentry - well, sort of. While digging for clues about Father Lacy's death, he becomes friendly with the widowed and attractive Lady Durston who, while appearing very genteel, is actually a woman of modest background who has married into rank and (comparative, but diminishing) wealth. She is now reluctantly contemplating another marriage, to rough self-made man Captain Hancock who is a most insistent suitor. When Fairfax shows up as a third wheel, Hancock is none to pleased. Fairfax, on the other hand, though he's meant to be celibate (he's already had a hard time keeping his distance from the parsonage housekeeper's pretty niece), can't help thinking Hancock a very poor match for Lady Durston.

It's this love triangle that kept me interested, not the speculations about what happened to the "ancients" (us). What's more, when Lady Durston and Fairfax are obliged to confide in Hancock, he becomes a surprising ally, as he's all too eager to find out the secrets of the "ancients" and has zero problem with the "heresy" angle. From this moment on, the novel takes on the Captain's own energy and canters along at a cracking pace.

So though the beginning was slow and the novel felt like it fizzled out at the end, the middle was good enough to make it a pleasant read overall. Post-Apocalyptic Wisdom-wise, though... I don't know. Harris makes some neat points about how much of our modern-day stuff isn't built to last - one reason the Church got such an edge in his post-apocalyptic world was that the stone churches stood firm and became a refuge while modern office towers crumbled. The whole depiction of the Church, however, makes it hard to take Harris's vision of a possible future seriously. Why would it revert to its Medieval form with some early-modern add-ons? Why suddenly strive to be a power factor, and re-impose celibacy on its clergymen? It's not a very likely scenario. There are other movements in our modern-day society that I would have thought would be more obvious candidates to be depicted as enemies of progress and technology. I could easily imagine them being interested in keeping the kind of society Harris describes undeveloped for, as they believe, the greater good of mankind. But I guess wily bishops make more interesting villains.

In defence of the Star Wars sequels: The Rise of Skywalker

So. Sheev Palpatine? I would.

Let me explain. Not even the most ardent villain-lover would describe Emperor Palpatine as a dish. His disfigurement, a consequence of careless Force-lightning-throwing during his duel with Mace Windu, left him looking much like a figure you would encounter during a Ghost Train ride (and I hate Ghost Trains). There are, however, two perfectly reasonable explanations as to how he could have offspring which would then lead to his being Rey's grandpa:

1) Rey's dad could have been fathered when Palpatine was still merely Chancellor and had not yet acquired his Ghost Train look. During this time he looked like his actor Ian McDiarmid, i.e. cute. This should fit chronologically: Rey's father ought to be in the same generation as Luke and Leia. Just make him a year older than the pair who were born approximately at the same time as Palpatine fought Windu and became a scary-looking emperor. There, problem solved.

2) Even if Palpatine's son was conceived and born post-disfigurement: well, Palps was the Emperor of the freaking Galaxy! Sorry to burst anyone's bubble, but let's get real. Apart from the obvious gold-diggers, there are also plenty of women who find power itself a turn-on. I'll have to raise my hand here: though I'd like to claim that I mainly find worldly success attractive as an indication of a man's brain power, and quickly lose interest if a power broker turns out to be daft, I'd be more likely to fall for a brilliant emperor than a brilliant tramp. And if we're talking galaxy wielder, well, then, I'm sure a certain amount of creepy knobbliness in the face area could be overlooked. Mind you, Grand Moff Tarkin would still be preferable.

In the novelisation of The Rise of Skywalker (which I haven't read: there are limits to my nerdiness) they went with neither of the explanations above. Instead, Rey's father is supposed to be a non-identical clone of Palpatine. Honestly, of all the lame plot contrivances! Disney had obviously listened to fans who were grossed out by the idea that Palpatine's son could have been conceived the, er, natural way, but they hadn't picked up on the reluctant fascination that went with the grossed-out-ness. Before the novelisation came out (or became generally known), I enjoyed more than one YouTube video on the topic of who Rey's paternal grandmother might be. With the boring clone explanation, there is suddenly no such person.

This can serve as an example of one of the problems with The Rise of Skywalker. The film tried to please the fans, but didn't always get it right. I would argue, though, that it got more things right than fans would like to admit. On the site Rotten Tomatoes, it has a low critic score of 51% positive reviews, but an audience score of 86%. So why are most online comments you find elsewhere on the scathing side? If I'd hazard a guess, it would be this: The Rise of Skywalker contains a great deal of blatant fan service. Critics noticed and panned the film because of it. After that, a sort of Emperor's New Clothes effect in reverse happened: to like The Rise of Skywalker was considered a sign that you were dumb, an uncritical viewer who would approve of just about any junk as long as Lando Calrissian was in it. That's why it's become a bit embarrassing to "come out" as someone who enjoyed The Rise of Skywalker and Star Wars fans don't like to bring it up, much less praise it.

Well, I liked it. When I first saw it in the cinema, I was riveted throughout, and it's not exactly a short film. Yes, much of the storytelling is a bit of a mess. It's never explained how Palpatine can be back, albeit in a decaying body, when he was very dead indeed in The Return of the Jedi. There were plot threads that didn't lead anywere, like fellow Stormtrooper deserters who kind of bonded with Finn (including a potential love interest) and Poe's old flame from his criminal past. It looked as if Chewie had been killed, but then they chickened out and he was alive and well. It looked as if C3PO would lose his memory, but then he got most of it back. I can see why those who claim that "actions should have consequences" in fiction would bury their heads in their hands.

There's no denying that The Force Awakens was better, more streamlined and focused. But while there's no continuity to speak of between The Rise of Skywalker and The Last Jedi, especially when it comes to Rey's parentage - however you want to package it, the son of an Emperor can hardly be called "a nobody" even if he ran away and was in hiding - the idea of Rey as a Palpatine actually tracks in other ways throughout the trilogy. It explains why it was her Sith-like rage that made her a dangerous opponent to Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens. It explains why, while she was on the island with Luke in The Last Jedi and tried to tap into the Force, she immediately went to the Dark Side of the spectrum and got Luke sincerely worried. Critics have scoffed that having a powerful Force user in the family makes Rey another boring "Chosen One", born to be great rather than achieving greatness. I'd say the opposite: yes, Rey's Force sensitivity turns out to be inherited, but it comes from a very murky source, and it's up to her to make something good out of it.

I also thought the film managed to give Princess Leia a nice send-off, using old footage and the like of the late Carrie Fisher in a respectful way and refusing to go too far into CGI Uncanny Valley territory. It must have been tempting to write Leia out before the film even began, but The Rise of Skywalker didn't do that. On the subject of Kylo's parents, the scene between him and a vision of his dead father (not a Force ghost - Han didn't go in for that kind of thing - but most likely just a figment of the guilt-ridden Kylo's imagination) was really touching, with a nice implied call-back to the famous "I love you - I know" exchange in The Empire Strikes Back. On a less moving note, I enjoyed the way General Hux's rivalry with Kylo Ren played out. As for the kiss between Kylo/Ben and Rey - well, as I've said before, I thought they had great chemistry throughout, and after my previous comments on the comparative attractiveness of Imperial villains, it should come as no surprise that I find the Reylo ship entirely uncontroversial, practically vanilla in fact.

Besides, The Rise of Skywalker is fun. The banter between the protagonists isn't on the same level as in The Force Awakens, but it's entertaining enough. And for my part, I enjoyed seeing Lando again and a fleet of every Star Wars ship known to man in the finale. If that makes me a dumb fan, then so be it.

Ranking the Daniel Craig Bond films

Luckily, I got the complete James Bond box set I'd wished for as a Christmas present - so now I can reacquaint myself with all the old classics as well as the newer flicks, and get a few blog posts out of it all into the bargain. As I've already done a personal ranking of the Pierce Brosnan films, it seems natural to follow up with a post on the films starring his successor Daniel Craig.

I was surprised at how much my first impressions held firm. I've mentioned both once and twice that I don't really think Daniel Craig is suited for the role of Bond, and rewatching his films to date hasn't changed my opinion. I'm not saying he's a bad actor, or that he's not attractive in his own way. Ironically, I think he would have worked very well as a Bond villain with a bit of extra depth - the hard man who's more intelligent than you give him credit for. I enjoy his dry delivery, saying things like "that sounds perfectly lovely" when you know it's something he hates the very idea of. But apart from lacking suavity, he just isn't convincing enough as a lady killer. Bond should be so obviously, almost cheaply handsome that you understand how women are tempted to fall into bed with him after just a short acquaintance. In Casino Royale, the disgruntled wife of a small-time crook connects with Bond after he throws her one cheesy line. She sizes him up and apparently thinks: "OK, go for it". This reaction is much more believable with someone like Brosnan. Bond shouldn't be the dark chocolate that only true connoisseurs appreciate, he should be the tempting milk chocolate bar most of us are ready to grab and eat when we're hungry. And speaking of dark, Bond shouldn't be blond, surely?

My views on the films also stayed very much the same as when I first saw them. I expected to have underrated Casino Royale - seeing as it's so widely praised - and overrated Skyfall. But no. Consequently, my personal ranking remains more or less what it was, i.e.:

1 Skyfall This one ranks far, far above the rest. In fact, I'd say it's up there with Goldeneye. Craig is dry and likeable, the set pieces are stunning, the supporting cast amazing. We have a great villain with an understandable grudge against M, perfectly played by Javier Bardem. Judi Dench's M has a magnificent send-off, and the mother complex that Silva and Bond share in relation to her works well as a theme. Poor boys - M is a tough old bird and not noticeably motherly, so it's no wonder they're emotionally scarred. A solid foundation for future Bond films is laid by bringing in Ralph Fiennes as a traditionally enigmatic male M, Ben Whishaw as an endearingly nerdy Q and Naomie Harris as an attractive and capable Eve Moneypenny (I still say she should have been the original Moneypenny's niece or something, though). Other from introducing a new Miss Moneypenny as if we've never seen one before, this film almost entirely dispenses with the "reboot" idea. Bond is clearly not a rookie - there are even hints that he's starting to be past it - and he doesn't mooch around mourning Vesper Lynd. Speaking of Bond girls, there aren't that many in this one. There's the usual disposable one that gets killed by the villain, but not one he's still with when the credits roll. But it works, and there's a passably tense scene where Eve shaves him (I have seen even more erotically charged shaving scenes, though - well, one, at least).

2 Spectre I wonder if this film would be further down the list if I've watched the films in a different order, because it's certainly no Skyfall. But what with the ground work Skyfall pulled off and the renewed feeling of Bond-ness it brought, I was more favourably disposed towards the next instalment of the saga than I would otherwise had been. I've already discussed this film's shoddiness, and the plot details that bothered me last time I watched it are still an issue for me now, not least the lamentably weak motives of Christoph Waltz's Blofeld. Nevertheless, there are villains that are even less well served in the Bond franchise (we'll get to that). Waltz is still eminently watchable. I'm glad he's returning for the new film, albeit in what appears to be a smaller role with someone else as the head villain. It beats me why Blofeld was always recast for every film in the old days. (Charles Gray and Donald Pleasance were both great - but hardly the same guy!)

I can't say I found sulky blonde Madeleine Swann (her alias is the wittiest thing about her) to be much cop as a Bond girl, nor a convincing choice as someone the agent Truly Comes To Care For. Still, she is the daughter of a bad guy, at least - in fact, a bad guy highly involved in the much-talked-of Vesper Lynd's betrayal of Bond and later in her death. I'm not sure if I find the idea of Bond shacking up with Mr White's daughter sweet or vaguely troubling.

3 Casino Royale How on earth can this film be so well-regarded? I don't understand it. It's so boring. The "reboot" idea, which tries to sell us Daniel Craig as a rookie Bond who's only just starting out as a 00, doesn't work at all, is disrespectful towards the Bond legacy and makes no sense seeing as M is the same person as when Brosnan was Bond, and we're in modern times, not in the Cold War. In a strong field, Mads Mikkelsen is the ace villain actor who has the most to complain about when it comes to the bad guy he's been handed by the Bond people. I wonder if ex-Bond villain actors ever meet up and compare the rubbishness of their parts. In that game, Mikkelsen would certainly have the trump card: he could counter "my guy had a bullet in his brain", "my guy wanted to start World War Three to boost ratings" and "my guy killed his dad because he was nice to Bond" with "my guy had no personality traits whatsoever". Honestly, we learn absolutely nothing about Le Chiffre. A little smirking at the Casino table is all the fun Mikkelsen gets. As for Vesper Lynd, I don't know - Eva Green has allure, but I didn't really buy her and Craig as having a special connection. But the parcours chase at the start of the film wasn't bad - I liked that the guy Bond was chasing was evidently much better at skipping over roofs than him, so the agent had to struggle to keep up.

4 Quantum of Solace Does Quantum of Solace really rank below Casino Royale? It's a tough call, but I'd say Mikkelsen, even when playing a cipher (Ah - I see what they did there), and the glamorous Casino setting put Casino Royale marginally higher. One thing that can be said for Quantum of Solace, though, is that it's considerably shorter - it must in fact be one of the shortest Bond films, if not the shortest. Another thing that can be said for it is that Mathieu Amalric is memorably slimy as corporate villain Dominic Greene. And... that's it, really. The film doesn't feel as if it's really trying. Bond doesn't even get it off with his sultry main female sidekick. Gemma Arterton is sweet as Fields aka the girl who sleeps with Bond then gets killed, but she's only in a few scenes, and she should have had the bottle to own that her first name (as shown by the credits) is Strawberry.

With the exception of an Opera visit, which was suitably elegant, the settings weren't much to write home about. There seemed to be a lot of desert and rock scenes. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the film was cut and released in something of a hurry. Also, I was grateful to have seen Casino Royale so recently, otherwise it would have been really hard to follow this film, as it picks up exactly where Casino Royale left off and presumes we remember everything about it. In view of the fact that it was released two years after Casino Royale, this is not ideal. I'm all for continuity, but Bond films aren't episodes of a TV series.

That's it for Craig - I'll be curious to see how his last film, No Time to Die, will rank compared with the others. Somehow I don't think it will be a new Skyfall - but the villain looks (comparatively) promising. 

The Bear is back

Seeing as I complained a lot about The Bear and the Nightingale, the first part of Katherine Arden's Winternight trilogy, it's only fair to admit that I enjoyed the two other books in the trilogy a great deal. There's a story behind me having the first two books and therefore deciding to push on with part two, The Girl in the Tower, in spite of being doubtful after book number one. Originally, when on one of my London trips (how long ago it feels), I wanted to buy The Girl in the Tower. A kindly bookseller at Waterstones, Piccadilly then pointed out to me that this was actually the second part of a trilogy and went to a great deal of trouble to dig out the first part for me. I then didn't have the heart to say: "I'll just take that one, then, in case I don't like it", and ended up with both. So much for "soulless chain stores". Anyway, I was so agreeably surprised by The Girl in the Tower that I actually ordered the final book, The Winter of the Witch, and I wasn't disappointed.

The kindly bookseller wasn't wrong to press The Bear and the Nightingale on me. The books don't really work as standalone novels: they have to be read together, and in the right order. Part one is very much the weakest in my view, though. One reason I got into The Girl in the Tower as well as I did was that it seemed to take some pains to rectify what had annoyed me in The Bear and the Nightingale. For one thing, the heroine, Vasya, is acknowledged to be flawed, and her recklessness - admired by friend and foe alike in The Bear and the Nightingale - isn't always a good thing. Maybe I've just watched too many Frozen 2 reviews on YouTube, but people seem obsessed with "actions having consequences" nowadays, and when they don't - as in Frozen 2 - it's seen as bad writing. I don't know how I feel about this generally: I don't want the fiction I consume to be too much like cautionary tales and I lean towards narratives where characters can behave badly without it having any consequence whatsoever. But I have to admit, it was nice to see Vasya's wild-child behaviour met with some scepticism from her brother Sasha - a warrior monk and adviser to the Grand Prince of Moscow - and her sister Olga, who lives the traditional life of a nobleman's wife rejected by Vasya and has to make that work for herself and her family. Both siblings have to shield Vasya, who shows up in their life in the middle of a heroic adventure dressed as a boy. If she's found out, Olga risks disgrace for herself, her husband and her children, and Sasha risks losing the friendship and trust of Grand Prince Dmitrii, just when the Prince needs a sensible adviser the most. To make matters worse, Vasya dabbles in magic, too.

Not only is Vasya no longer fawned upon in The Girl in the Tower, her relationship with Morozko, the Winter King of this trilogy, is also revealed to be more complicated than she imagined. I never quite warmed to Morozko in The Bear and the Nightingale, which is a little strange, as I'm usually partial to Winter Kings, Frost Knights and the like. Perhaps it was partly due to folklorian differences. A beardless, black-curled Winter King with "intense blue eyes" as if he were Paul Newman? Come on. He needs to have a white beard and flowing white hair, surely? Mostly, though, it was because I didn't enjoy the awkwardly romantic scenes between Morozko and Vasya. Romances between fearsome immortal magical beings and mortal maidens can work, but in this instance it just felt embarrassing, and I thought less of Morozko for being sweet on Vasya. In The Girl in the Tower, however, it is revealed that though Morozko cares for Vasya in his way, he is also using her. This makes a lot of sense, otherwise his coming to her aid incessantly would become tiresome (it still is, especially the way she takes it for granted). Vasya is given a shake-up by contemplating the possibility that far from being the Winter King's One True Love, she may just be one in a string of silly girls who keep him alive and powerful by way of their pining. She rebels - only to realise that in doing so she has severely limited his ability to help her when she needs him.

Apart from not gushing over Vasya so much and throwing a much-needed spanner in the romantic works, The Girl in the Tower is an exciting story, more so than the slow-moving The Bear and the Nightingale. But there's one thing The Bear and the Nightingale has that The Girl in the Tower doesn't have - and that's the Bear. He's the Winter King's wicked, one-eyed brother Medved who can raise the dead, and a fun villain. The bad guy of the The Girl in the Tower is perfectly all right - though the villain reveal doesn't come as a vast surprise - and I certainly approve of his chosen profession (mighty sorcerer). But the Bear was the best thing about the first book, and I was a bit disappointed when he didn't return in The Girl in The Tower, except in a brief dream vision. In book number three, though, he is back in full force.

The Winter of the Witch was my favourite in the trilogy, and this time around I had some time even for its flaws. I rather admired the way Arden didn't follow the standard advice on how a story should be constructed given by those in the know - because it's her story, hang it, and she'll do what she likes with it. The narrative culminates in a great battle against the Tatars - intimidating, I'm sure, but they seem small fry compared to the supernatural threats which have gone before. But the battle is important to Arden and to her characters, so it becomes the grand finale. The Bear turns out to live up to his promising villain beginnings with gusto - I didn't much care for the humour in the trilogy generally, but Medved's sarcasms always made me smile. His relationship with the tormented Father Konstantin, who finally changes from pathetic sap to an antagonist to be reckoned with, is far more fascinating than the Vasya-Morozko romance (though the way the rift is healed between these two makes their love story feel more earned and much more bearable). Then, there comes a perfect exit scene for the Bear, which has Vasya wondering whether she has done the right thing after all. Surely storytelling experts would say: "Yes! Stop there!". Arden doesn't: she hauls the Bear back into the narrative, with ever so slightly diminishing returns: he's still fun, though, so I'm not complaining.

Another storytelling decision, which would surely have creative-writing advisers and adherents to the "actions have consequences" school of thought tearing their hair, I can't fully reveal as it would be too much of a spoiler. I can say this much: there's a major, dramatic event in The Winter of the Witch, which has a profound impact on Vasya. We see her process it and come to terms with it. And then, right at the very end, Arden back-pedals completely. I wonder if she really meant to originally, or if somewhere along the way she thought "screw it, all this 'life goes on though bad things happen blah blah' is all very well, but I want to give my girl a break". From a storytelling perspective, it may not be ideal, but I understand why Arden did it and find it endearing. Also, readers who are more invested in Vasya than I ever managed to be will thank her for it.

In defence of the Star Wars sequels: The Last Jedi

All right. This one's going to be tricky. It was certainly easier defending The Force Awakens.

Not that I didn't enjoy The Last Jedi when I watched it in the cinema. In fact, when it first came out, I saw it mostly as a decent addition to the Star Wars saga that felt a little drawn out in the middle - I even mentioned in my blog that it was hard to find something to discuss about it. Yes, there were some non sequiturs. Yes, some scenes grated on me, but I thought that was mostly my own hang-ups. It came as a surprise to learn that the film was as controversial as it was.

My reaction when I found out, though, was not a burning wish to defend the film and point out what was good about it. In fact, there was something about the fan rage that did not displease me - because as it turns out, the things that had irritated me weren't just my hang-ups after all. So people didn't like to see charming fighter pilot Poe be put in his place by some pink-haired Admiral? Neither did I! So the fans weren't bowled over by Finn's potential love interest Rose and her grudge against the wealthy Casino players? Me neither - I hated her little "eat the rich" speech. And I certainly wasn't the only nerd to have my nose put out of joint by the abrupt resolution to the questions "Who is Snoke?" (doesn't matter - he's dead now) and "Who were Rey's parents?" (nobodies who abandoned her). All that pleasant fan theorising - for nothing!

I still enjoyed the film on rewatch, however, and though I believe it's my least favourite of the sequel films (even if objectively speaking it's probably better than The Rise of Skywalker),  I'd argue its good points overcome the bad ones - and the bad ones are, possibly, a bit over-hated.

Rian Johnson was the director and writer of The Last Jedi, whereas JJ Abrams was the man behind The Force Awakens. The transition was by no means seamless. There's really little to be said for the way that Rian Johnson clumsily cut off plot threads from The Force Awakens because, presumably, they didn't appeal to him and he wanted to do his own thing. A trilogy should work as a whole, and it's not ideal if a writer/director goes off on a tangent in film two. However, some of the new ideas Johnson brought to the table weren't half bad. It would have been interesting to see a third instalment which carried through the notion of Kylo Ren as the Big Bad, without any evil mastermind lording it over him. Even though, what with Kylo Ren being "drawn to the light" and all, it seemed a pretty good bet that he'd be redeemed, it wasn't a given - he did kill his dad. It's harder for the Head Villain to turn good than for his second in command, and what with Kylo Ren passing up two chances to be redeemed already, we would have been left in suspense about him in film three. Whereas as soon as Palpatine reappeared in The Rise of Skywalker, you could be fairly certain that Han's and Leia's boy would turn against him before the film was done.

Not being the greatest fan of the Jedi, I was also interested in the hints that Rey would break with the old beliefs and possibly create her own order, which might acknowledge shades of grey and the importance of a balance between light and dark elements of the Force. It was rather encouraging to see even Yoda's Force ghost admitting that the Jedi belonged to the past and it was time for something new. Those plot threads - Kylo Ren as his own boss and the future of Force users - may have been enough to build an intriguing third film on. That didn't happen, as JJ Abrams - back in the saddle for The Rise of Skywalker - disliked Johnson's ideas as much as Johnson disliked his. But that is a subject matter for another time.

As for Admiral Holdo lecturing Poe and Rose and Finn freeing space horses, partly to spite rich Casino players, well... It may be that viewers like me, who are averse to moral lessons, are reading a little too much into these plot developments. I doubt that the message of the Holdo storyline is really "macho man bad, pink-haired woman good". Rather, what you could take away from it is that gung-ho heroics aren't always the best strategy when fighting a war. This would perhaps have been made clearer if Admiral Holdo had been an old man, someone Poe could suspect of being "past his prime". Anyway, Holdo, though somewhat idiotic in keeping her plans a secret, isn't as self-righteous as all that. She later admits in a woman-to-woman chat with Leia that she likes Poe (and that's after he's tried to start a mutiny against her), and Leia agrees, so they understand where he's coming from. (Incidentally, I don't get why Holdo should be regarded as "queer-coded" - for all we know, pink hair may be all the rage in a galaxy far, far away.) 

As for Rose, yes, she does seem a bit like the sort of girl who thinks an anti-hunting rally is the ideal setting for a first date. But to be fair to her, she doesn't volunteer the cause of her resentment towards the Casino planet to which she and Finn head in an, as it turns out, pointless side quest. I actually thought it was neat that what she described as "the worst place in the galaxy" or some such turned out to be a super-luxurious planet instead of a crime-infested dump - just as we were expecting another hommage to the cantina scene in A New Hope. It's only when Finn presses her that she spills. At first watch, I thought she was one of the down-trodden masses from the Casino planet - that would have given her a genuine grudge. But no, she grew up on a planet oppressed by the First Order (honestly - how long has the First Order been around for?), and she doesn't like the Casino players because, being so rich, they must be arms dealers, and being arms dealers, they must help the First Order in their war effort. Yeah, follow that logic if you can. Where does Rose think her late sister got those bombs from with which she blew up a whole Star Destroyer, containing many First Order foot soldiers and a snarky Captain I rather warmed to? If you're in a war, you lose the moral high ground pretty fast, and you have no call to slag off your suppliers.

So poor Rose may not be social commentator of the year, but in other respects she's a harmless enough character, and it's not entirely her fault the sparks between her and Finn don't exactly fly. If you can swallow the boo-bad-arms-dealers outburst, there's fun to be had in her and Finn's side quest, even if it does turn out to be a dead end.

But the real highlights of the film are elsewhere, and involve Rey, Kylo Ren, and Luke Skywalker. A criticism I don't understand when it comes to The Last Jedi is that it "ruined Luke". How so? He's amazing. Mark Hamill has never been better in the part. Yes, he's now grouchy and disillusioned instead of the idealistic golden boy of the original trilogy, but that only makes him more interesting - and he's still a decent man at heart who comes through in the end. I loved the scenes between him and Rey, and between Rey and Kylo Ren when they commune via Force power. When Luke bursts in on them in full Prospero mode, you can see why he's worried. Honestly, those who claim that Rey's and Kylo's/Ben's kiss in The Rise of Skywalker "came out of nowhere" - how chemistry-blind can you get? What surprised me even on a first watch was that I found the talky and philosophical bits - when Luke tried to teach Rey what the Force was, and what it wasn't; when Rey discovered how drawn she was to the Dark Side etc. - engrossing, whereas the action bits were more likely to drag. I remember thinking "Are they ever going to reach that planet with the red sand from the trailer"?

The Last Jedi is great pretty much anytime Luke, Rey or Kylo Ren is around, and OK the rest of the time. But no, I did not see the point of the Porgs.

Pixar's Soul: Exceeding my expectations

All right, time to gush about Soul, Pixar's latest which aired on Disney + on Christmas Day. I'm aware that I'm in danger of overpraising this film as I didn't have any high hopes for it, and was bowled over when it turned out to be top-class Pixar stuff.

The trailers are to blame for my low expectations. They mostly showed clips from the "soul world", leading the viewer to think that Joe, the film's protagonist, would be a blue blob most of the time. The gags in the trailers showing him interacting with unborn soul 22 weren't very funny - I thought the joke about food going right through you was gross already when it appeared in Olaf's Frozen Adventure. Worst of all, we had a trailer where Joe had a whole would-be inspiring speech about making the most of your life by being brilliant and passionate and not wasting time on the daily grind - "what do you want to be known for?". A scene that really put me off was when what appeared to be an office worker suddenly exclaimed "What am I doing with my life?" and swept away his computer screens. The film's message seemed to be "Go live your dream! Fulfil your potential!". Nothing wrong with that, but we'd be in a fine state if everyone was off chasing their dreams and no-one deigned to touch everyday, unglamorous, not-overly-creative work that pays the rent. In my experience, even creative people are no worse off for getting a day job. Consequently, I felt grumpy towards the film before even having seen it.

When the film started out, it seemed as if my predictions would be fulfilled. Joe Gardner, a jazz-mad middle-aged guy, is earning his keep as a music teacher in a school in New York, but dreaming of a life as a jazz pianist. At the beginning of the film he is offered a steady, full-time job at the school, including a pension plan, but he's not happy about it. Then, thanks to a grateful former pupil, he's offered the chance of the gig of a lifetime, playing with the celebrated Dorothea Williams and her band. All he has to do is to turn up at seven the following day and be amazing. And then he falls down a manhole... The next thing he knows, his soul (the blue blob) finds itself on a moving stairway to The Great Beyond. While frantically trying to escape his fate, Joe instead ends up in The Great Before, where unborn souls are being prepared for their life on Earth.

Joe is given the task of mentoring 22, who doesn't want to go to Earth at all. She is missing the last ingredient in her personality: the "spark" that will make her prepared to face life. Like Joe, I assumed that the "spark" was more or less the soul's purpose for living and had to be some great talent or creative interest. Joe and 22 visit a place called "The Zone", where people in a creative flow are gliding around in a trance-like state. We also see "lost souls", stuck in an obsession, who have to be helped by a bunch of hippie souls. One of the lost souls is a hedge-fund manager, the guy with the computer screens from the trailer. Ooh, I see, so jazz pianist - good life choice, hedge-fund manager - bad life choice, eh? My hackles were rising.

But then there's a turn. The lead hippie soul tells Joe that the souls in The Zone aren't that different from the lost souls, and that it's dangerous to be stuck there for too long. Then, as Joe manages to get back to Earth with 22 in tow - owing to mishaps, she lands in his body and he in the body of a cat - it turns out that what makes her more and more happy with Earth life isn't some grand passion for jazz or similar but everyday occurrences and connections with other people. It becomes increasingly clear that the message of the film isn't that everyday life risks stifling your dreams but the very opposite: that dreaming is all very well, but pursuing one great goal can make you blind to the simple pleasures of everyday life.

This was a message it was so much easier to get behind. True, it's not exactly the first time one hears it - "stop and smell the roses" is one expression for it. But it's heartening and life-affirming; enjoying a slice of pizza (or similar - personally I'm not that into pizza) or walking down a busy street on a fine autumn day are things anyone can do. You don't have to be some sort of creative genius. Even talented people like Joe needn't feel that their life is pointless if they don't get their big break. There's a very Pixar-y epiphany scene where Joe looks back on his life and realises that it wasn't as dreary as he thought: it was full of sweet and enjoyable moments. With this insight, he is even ready to face The Great Beyond if need be. (I'm not going to give away if he has to.)

Though the soul realms were colourful and often imaginative - the "counselors" in charge are depicted as 2-D Picasso-like creatures, showing them to be embodiments of concepts that are abstract to the human mind, and unceremoniously called "Jerry" - I enjoyed the New York scenes the most, so it's a good thing the film finds its way back there. It's also a mercy that the body swap isn't permanent. Yes, there are some standard ingredients in this film which we've seen a hundred times - where the protagonists fall out, one of them is a jerk to the other and neither can be truly happy before a grovelling apology has been made etc. Also, having presumably gone through the self-absorption portal when I was in The Great Beyond, it didn't even occur to me before a YouTuber pointed it out that the film might not be the most child-friendly Pixar fare. But these are small gripes: to me, Soul is the best Pixar film we've had in quite a while. It doesn't quite beat Inside Out overall in my book, but message-wise, I preferred this one.