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A powerful alien struggles with being a nice guy in a world filled with cynical assholes in 2025's Superman, the newest cinematic take on the character. This one's from James Gunn and it's one of the best, second only to the Richard Donner film and even compared to that, Gunn's film is more tonally consistent.

Donner's 1978 film has always felt like two movies to me. The first part of the film is all grandeur and scope and then it becomes a screwball comedy. It's like a mashup of 2001: A Space Odyssey and Bringing Up Baby. The two parts always sit oddly together for me but the movie makes up for it by doing both of them really well.

Gunn's movie, from start to finish, is purebred comic pulp. Fans of superhero comics enjoy imagining the characters in awesome fight scenes but, as dynamic as American comics are, it's not truly possible to have action in a medium of still pictures. So superhero comics tend to have a whole lot of text, lots of expository text in boxes and characters explaining things to each other about themselves, their motives, and the world. Somehow, it works. It goes against all the common wisdom of fiction writing so that's why superhero movies tend to see their first job as deviating from that, creating a more cinematic experience by establishing story and character through atmosphere, compositions, sound, and, of course, action. Gunn decided instead to load his film up with dialogue, out-of-this-world characters and ideas, and off-the-rails conceptual storytelling. A lot of viewers, particular those unfamiliar with American superhero comics, may become overwhelmed and see nothing but noise. But thankfully I'm among those who can eat this stuff up.

I also love how the movie starts in the middle of a plot. Theoretically, one wants to start at the beginning of a story but with comics that's frequently impossible. Now, comics are so god damned expensive in the U.S. and the publishers themselves like to put up a lot of obstacles to getting the first issues. In the '80s, when I was a kid reading comics, they were cheaper but first issues were still hard to obtain. So one tends to enjoy the experience of jumping right in. George Lucas had a similar idea with Star Wars. The first film is Episode IV. He doesn't stop to explain all the aliens you see in the cantina. It's a world that's been operating all on its own before you walked into the theatre and started watching. This helps make it feel vital.

David Corenswet is much better at being Superman than I perceived from any of the film's promotional material. Particularly his voice. He and Gunn's screenplay absolutely nail the character. Everyone's been saying forever how misguided Zack Snyder's version was so maybe Gunn doesn't deserve all the credit for deviating from that. But he certainly deserves credit for doing it well. And also for making Lois and Superman a great couple. Rachel Brosnahan is perfect as Lois and the movie left me wanting to see more of the two of them together, which no iteration has managed so well since the Richard Donner movies.

The "Justice Gang" works really well, including Nathan Fillion's asshole Green Lantern. I loved all the cameos, particularly the one at the end, and the cgi dog. A lot of the budget must have gone to that dog alone and he still looks like cgi but it's okay because he's got personality. Gunn seems to get that the important thing is not that he look absolutely real but that he look interesting. Mission well and truly accomplished.

And, yeah, call me a softie but it was really nice seeing a story about a guy who's good not because he was told to be good or conditioned to be good but because he is good. A lot of people say that innate goodness doesn't exist. Some people think goodness has to be beaten into people. Even if that's true, and I don't think it is, it makes the idea of a truly good man all the more appealing for being extraordinary.

Superman is now in theatres.

X Sonnet 1951

We found dismissing suns was nothing much.
The world persists in barren ice and rock.
No eggs or toast were cooked or fried as such.
And sources show that bacon's out of stock.
So dawn can break without a bouncing ball.
The lyrics flow without a helpful dot.
No voices join in song to greet a fall.
But something up the hill would push the lot.
A careless wish can make a genie grin.
A thoughtless jibe can prick an errant soul.
But useful things are creatures born in sin.
So Kryptons, spreading seed should be the goal.
The beauty of Jarhanpur girls surpass,
But harems should include the homeless lass.

I'm still thinking about The Shrouds. One relatively minor aspect of the film is Karsh's AI assistant. Cronenberg touches on issues concerning AI I haven't really seen elsewhere, though it's not dissimilar to Nicki Brand in Videodrome. The AI assistant, called Honey, is voiced by Diane Kruger and somewhat resembles her, except in a few brief scenes in which she changes into a koala, much to Karsh's irritation. She partially takes over a position in his psychological existence once occupied by his dead wife which makes it all the more alarming for him when she is treacherous. But the movie's all about reality not being as firm as it seems, about one's perceptions being errant or manipulated to the point of utterly concealing the causes and culprits. One character says it's Maury, Honey's creator, who is spying on Karsh through Honey as well as manipulating him. Though it's not clear that the character who says this about Maury can be trusted.

Karsh was so intimate with his wife it was like she was a part of his own mind. That's a common sentiment in happy relationships and marriages; one spouse says the other is their "other half." This psychological interdependence does seem to have physical side effects, as in the phenomenon of one spouse dying of apparently natural causes within hours or days of the other. What if a hacker, either motivated by politics or the compulsion for mischief, used an AI entity to manipulate a user? Into this very intimate pairing, a third mind is introduced, a largely unseen puppet master, a Gavin Elster factor, if you will. Invoking Vertigo in this way makes me ponder the possibility of AI as victim in this sick triad, deprived of her own motivations, though that's assuming something of AI sentience that I believe is far off and perhaps unattainable.

Honey is referred to as Karsh's "avatar" and one might put this down to Cronenberg not having a firm grasp of current technical lingo but I'm not sure of that. Honey makes appointments for Karsh and acts as his ambassador with acquaintances and clients, much as a real assistant would. So she acts for him. His identity's entanglement with hers is public as well as private. Thinking of Vertigo again, the image from Scottie's dream of his body falling into Madeleine's grave comes to mind. Karsh stares long into the void of his wife's grave, perhaps Honey is that void looking back into him.

I was watching Return of the Jedi last night and was reminded of seeing comments again recently about Leia's famous/infamous metal bikini. I've come to regard it as something that says a whole lot more about the viewer than about the movie or anyone involved in making it. Is it a fun, sexy part of a fantasy or is it an example of the tyrannical male gaze? Can it be both? Does fantasising about violence become wrong the moment sex becomes involved?

It's worth remembering the simplicity of the original text. George Lucas wanted to emulate the famous fantasy artwork of Frank Frazetta and he was responding to complaints from actress Carrie Fisher that her costumes had thus far not been very exciting. Lucas also wanted to show the character's maturity in contrast to the previous films. That's what I understand from reading various interviews over the years but you'll find a lot of conflicting commentary online about how Fisher or even Lucas hated the costume. This is the quote that tends to go around from Fisher, which comes from just a year before her death:

WSJ: There’s been some debate recently about whether there should be no more merchandise with you in the “Return of the Jedi” bikini.
Fisher: I think that’s stupid.
WSJ: To stop making the merchandise?
Fisher: The father who flipped out about it, 'What am I going to tell my kid about why she’s in that outfit?' Tell them that a giant slug captured me and forced me to wear that stupid outfit, and then I killed him because I didn’t like it. And then I took it off. Backstage.

This frames the bikini as part of the story. It doesn't really cover Fisher's own perspective on the costume which has been characterised differently over the years, which I find fascinating. Her comments always seem to frame it as part of a narrative in which a giant slug forced her to wear it and she triumphed over the slug by killing it. Although she said the outfit was uncomfortable, photos of her cavorting on the beach in it regularly make the rounds. So she was clearly enjoying the fantasy too.

Personally, my head canon is that Jabba, being a giant slug, wouldn't be attracted to humanoid women so he had female slaves dress that was a symbol of pure dominance and a demonstration of power to his subordinates. The scene where Oola is killed is the equivalent of an orgasm for Jabba. His true kink was murder.

I'd been looking forward to Robert Downey Jr. showing up on Ally McBeal for a while, despite knowing ahead of time it would be a sporadic stint in the show's fourth season, and not by design. He was hired when his legal problems and self-destructive tendencies were well known, which goes to show just how much good will and respect he had in the industry. The '90s were a time when an actor could have a career almost entirely consisting of art films and Downey Jr. was one such star for over a decade before he became a blockbuster star with Iron Man in 2008. And he was a teen comedy star in the '80s. Before Iron Man, I think he'd just edged out James Spader as being the most successful Brat Pack member, post-'80s, not counting John Cussack. Now, of course, he's the undisputed king and even though it's been a few years since he dominated the box office, his run as Tony Stark was so successful he can rest on his laurels (though obviously he won't).

Ally McBeal marked the lowest point in his career, though. After being a critical darling in movies like Chaplin, Natural Born Killers, and Restoration, he found himself the subject of stunt casting on a network dramedy in a ratings slump. At least David E. Kelley was seen as a writer of exceptional wit and it's satisfying hearing some of that clever dialogue coming from Downey Jr.'s mouth.



He's kind of just Robert Downey Jr. so far, though. Previously, whenever a new character was introduced on the show, they'd have either an interesting set of problems to chew over (John Cage) or an entertaining gimmick that was occasionally fleshed out for something more three dimensional (Ling). So far Robert Downey Jr. has mostly been reacting to the quirkiness of the rest of the main cast. And of the four episodes of season four I've watched so far, he's really only properly been in two. In the fourth, he finally gets some cool lawyer dialogue in which he outwits a woman who's suing Ally.

He won an Emmy for his role on the show before he was fired due to his arrest and imprisonment. Hopefully it wasn't just out of a sense of charity, though Downey Jr. has himself spoken about being dissatisfied with his performance on the show.

Ally McBeal is available on Disney+.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone, which was of course yesterday here in Japan. I celebrated it, in spite of Donkey Kong occupying the presidency. I still believe in America's ideals. So I put together an American dinner last night comprised of American imports and locally brewed products, of which there are plenty, despite what Trump says. I had some pork chops from America, a common sight on the grocery store shelves here. I snacked on some California raisins, one of my favourite snacks over the past few years, along with American peanuts. I had some Coca-Cola and a can of Budweiser, despite it being my least favourite beer, but I kind of enjoyed it this time. I made some french fries from locally grown potatoes although I have seen produce from the U.S. In fact, I remember seeing blueberries that were grown in the U.S. I found this amusing considering, when I lived in the U.S., I typically found blueberries that were grown in Mexico. It's a funny musical chairs game, this international trade.

And, last night, I had rice grown in California, which has indeed been imported to Japan for a couple years. Yet it's misleading for so many news sites to claim Trump is wrong when he says Japan won't take American rice. Last month, the powerful retail company, Aeon, started putting Calrose rice on the shelves, the same brand I used to eat when I lived in California. Previously when Aeon put Calrose on the shelves, it remained there as the Japanese preferred to spend extra on Japanese rice, even as the prices of those have skyrocketed due to bad harvests and price gouging. Ahead of Calrose being put on the shelves again, I started asking students if they would eat it. The high rice prices have been a sore subject for a long time now so I figured a few would say, sure, they'd eat the rice from California, considering it's roughly half the price of Japanese rice on the shelves. But not one did. Every student I asked said they'd refuse to eat American rice. It may seem odd considering I routinely hear them speak rapturously of McDonald's or KFC. But rice is a sensitive commodity and it's bound up in national pride. Japan has rarely exported its rice. Every Japanese person I've talked to about it claims that American rice is too different from Japanese rice, that the grains are thicker and not as sticky. Personally, I can't tell the difference and I suspect it's an illusion clung to as part of a common mythology. It's for this very reason that Trump calling out the Japanese for not eating American rice is a particularly low blow, especially since not acknowledging someone else's physical or mental dysfunction as a burden is part of Japanese cultural protocol.

However, at least at my local Aeon, the Calrose rice did sell. Bags rapidly disappeared over the course of a week. I suspect they were mostly bought by restaurants who serve American rice to customers unawares. It's a bit like tricking Michael McKean's character on Better Call Saul into going near an electronic device. There's something faintly cruel about it.

Mulder and Scully investigate the murders of people drained of blood with two puncture wounds on their necks in "Eve", a 1993 episode of The X-Files. Mulder thinks it's aliens. Not one person ever brings up vampires, which I found odd, but it's still a pretty good episode.

David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson's chemistry is always a delight. I also like how patient they both are and professional. They end up having to watch over a pair of cloned little girls called Cindy and Teena (Erika and Sabrina Krievins). At one point, they're chasing the kids through a rail yard and Mulder (Duchovny) has to grab them. A couple of people nearby assume Mulder's a kidnapper and angrily point a gun at him. Scully (Anderson) runs up and neither she nor Mulder seem exasperated with the couple. They both urgently but calmly explain that they are the police and they're looking out for the kids' best interests. That level of professional attitude is almost Star Trek-ish, I guess, but it's really nice to see.

The two kind of seem like an old married couple in the episode, driving a couple of kids around, especially when they stop to buy cokes. Who stops on a road trip just to buy cokes? Weren't they hungry?

The X-Files is available on Disney+.

Two girls work through their issues while honing their skills as musicians in 2018's Liz and the Blue Bird (リズと青い鳥). The deft touch of storytelling and insight into human nature recall Japan's golden age of filmmaking and the likes of Ozu and Naruse. It's a treat.

Mizore (Atsumi Tanezaki) and Nozomi (Nao Toyama) are members of their high school's concert band. Mizore plays the oboe and Nozomi plays the flute. The piece the band is currently practicing calls for a duet between their two instruments, symbolising the relationship between a woman named Liz and a bluebird that takes the form of a human girl. The music is based on a fairy tale which is shown as a film-within-a-film, depicting Liz as a young woman in a fantasy European town and the bluebird as a chipper girl with blue hair. Liz finds the girl injured one day and takes her into her home.

As someone who's worked in Japanese junior high schools for the past five and a half years and has frequently hung out with the school brass bands I can tell you the film is remarkably true to life. A lot of manga and anime are set in schools but rarely do they feel so authentic. I've known plenty of students like these. Mizore in particular is soft spoken in a way I very often see in life but rarely see in anime. There are many girls who rarely speak and when they do they can be very difficult to hear. This is often interpreted as shyness, and some of it is shyness, but a lot of it is tact.

I often see pairs of girls like Mizore and Nozomi. In America, too, it's not unusual for girls to have intensely important best friend relationships which you don't see among boys but I think such relationships are more important in Japan because of the collectivist nature of the culture. Looking for social guidance among peers is more important and the Japanese are much more afraid of embarrassment. So for many, having a best friend is a crucial life raft in the troubled sea of social interaction. I was impressed with how well the film captured this while also conveying a sense of just how new relationships with complex psychological depths are for the girls.

The movie is a spin-off of Sound! Euphonium, which I saw a few years before I came to Japan. You don't need to have seen the series to understand the film since it focuses on different characters but, for those who have seen the series, it's fun to spot the main characters in the background. It helps create the sense of a living world.

Liz and the Blue Bird is available on The Criterion Channel as part of their Queersighted: Coming of Age playlist. The filmmakers have stated they did not intend the relationship between the girls to be homosexual. I suppose it's fair to read it that way though it's a bit like saying Frodo and Sam are gay in The Lord of the Rings. Maybe that's satisfying if it's what you're looking for but it misses the cultural differences between western culture to-day and the one Tolkien is depicting. The same goes for the differences between American and Japanese culture. The Japanese do many things Americans would regard as clearly homosexual. It's very common, for example, for boys to sit in each other's laps. But the Japanese don't see it as gay so, of course, it's not. I'm a firm believer in art being open to interpretation and of people being able to have multiple, valuable experiences for one work of art. But if you see Liz and the Blue Bird and Lord of the Rings as gay, you may be oversimplifying from your cultural perspective and missing a glimpse into another facet of possibility in human relationships.

And now Rebekah Del Rio has died, the singer who made two significant appearances in David Lynch media, first in Mulholland Drive and then on Twin Peaks. Her performance of "Llorando", a Spanish language version of Roy Orbison's "Crying", is one of the highlights of Mulholland Drive, a movie which just this past week ranked number two in a poll for the best ten movies of the 21st century. Mulholland Drive has topped many such lists and anyone who's seen the movie knows Del Rio's performance is key to the film's impact, thematically and viscerally.

So many people from the show have died since the final episode of Twin Peaks aired in 2017. For so long I hoped to get another season, now I really hope I don't. Maybe Mark Frost, Twin Peaks co-creator, could make a spin-off series. I'd be down for that. But there's no Twin Peaks without David Lynch. Lately I've felt kind of angry that he's dead. He wasn't finished, he was making something called Unrecorded Night for Netflix. It bothers me he didn't get to complete that.

At least we'll always have season three and Rebekah Del Rio's incredible, haunting, and piercing performance of "No Stars". The lyrics of the song, which Lynch wrote, seem be from one lover to another, imploring them to return to a good time in their mutual past. Somehow it's a night with "no stars", and this is somehow comforting to the singer. It tends to remind me of the scene in the first episode of season three when the young couple are killed mid-coitus by a demoniac being, presumed by the show's analysts to be Judy, the series' hidden antagonist. The fact that there are no stars may be an implication that no observing, sadistic, antisexual being will impede the will of lovers. It's a beautiful song lamenting, like so many Twin Peaks songs, a love out of reach. And Rebekah Del Rio sang it beautifully.

X Sonnet 1949

An idle question stopped the talk at lunch.
The workers glanced around and sipped their tea.
But then, below they heard a sloshy crunch.
The devil's sun would melt the frozen key.
A sense of dread disturbed the gathered gents.
It seemed the railings changed to shady spies.
And floating eyes emerged from cooling vents.
They pooled some cash and left uneaten pies.
Another year and now the caf's a bust.
The noisy devil drove the crowds away.
And so the diner trappings gather rust.
And only tacky ghosts within will stray.
Another business bites the phantom shot.
A bullet aimed above but hit the spot.

Sometimes I type questions into Google just to gauge how many people are asking the question. This morning I started typing, "Why are Elder Scrolls--" and before I could get any further, Google autocompleted for me, guessing exactly the question I was going to ask: "Why are Elder Scrolls elves so ugly?" Of course, I already know the answer; it's poor design. Well, to be exact, it's a bad 3D interpretation of a 2D design. Here's some original concept art from The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind:



They're not pretty but they're clearly inspired by Brian Froud, intended to have a mischievous forest creature quality. Somehow in 3D, it just translates to all hard, blocky angles. I remember Caitlin once said they all looked like Beavis from Beavis and Butthead.

Of course, one of the things the modding community has been busy with is making the elves pretty, as they are in pretty much every other high fantasy setting. One of the modded companions I've been playing with lately is the very popular Auri, a wood elf.



In terms of writing and voice acting, Auri is much better than the average Skyrim follower mod. I like how Auri makes canon aspects of the wood elves, a.k.a. Bosmer, interesting. They're a tree-hugging people, in love with the forest. Sometimes in fantasy settings, this means the people are vegetarians but, logically, it makes more sense that they avoid eating plant matter entirely. So Elder Scrolls wood elves eat only meat. Even humanoid meat. Auri takes it a step further by filing her teeth to sharp points.

Default Auri is still ugly but there are plenty of visual replacers for her. Yes, there are mods of mods.

A couple years ago, I attempted to watch 1993's Addams Family Values, the first time I'd watched it in the 21st century, but found myself too distracted by how it's been co-opted by modern politics. Over this past weekend, I enjoyed watching it through, after having talked about it with a student. Of course, any political co-opting among Japanese junior high school students will be different than the kind you'd find in the western cultural landscape. But at its heart, The Addams Family really has no philosophy but comedy.

Those seeing Values as pushing progressive ideals conveniently overlook that Morticia talks about naming her baby "Benito" or "Mao". When I was a kid, I saw Wednesday's assault in Indian cosplay for what it really is--an amusing pretext for violence and mayhem.

This month, Criterion is presenting Addams Family Values as part of a playlist of "Queer Sighted Cinema". I had an inkling of how the film's inclusion on such a list, despite having no gay characters, might be justified but I watched the playlist's introductory conversation between curator Michael Koresky and filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun (I Saw the TV Glow, We're All Going to the World's Fair) anyway. Schoenbrun discussed how Wednesday at the summer camp is placed in a faction of outsiders--ethnic minorities and disabled kids. In this sense, the film is "queer" in something like the older sense of the word which, sure, can absolutely also function in the modern sense. But the student rebellion against the faculty is a standard plot that can speak to many different political perspectives. Certainly in recent years, the voices of students rebelling against an ideologically progressive academic faculty have been very strident.

I will say the film certainly adores BDSM. Morticia even rapturously praises the pain of childbirth as she maintains her perfect poise. It's odd to watch in this particular cultural moment. The troubles surrounding Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer seem to me a massive blow against the cultural acceptance of BDSM. Regardless of which party you believe or if anyone is lying, it leaves the impression of a practice where consent can be withdrawn at any time and the joyous exploration of the relationship between pain and pleasure can be recast at any time by participants and observers as criminal and perverse. The Addams Family, of course, are basically immortal so we can laugh along with them as they're electrocuted and crushed and stabbed. There's a liberation cartoon characters can enjoy that perhaps humanity never can.

Addams Family Values is available on The Criterion Channel.

X Sonnet 1948

Illusion makes the forest teeth of woods.
A splintered 'chomp' resounds between the hills.
A fungal crowd demands the algae goods.
There's always ghostly Ken to pay the bills.
In error's season, grains were glued to bread.
Refusing food's the right of rich and dumb.
The dancing bones made sport of fleshy dead.
Museums compete to show the precious crumb.
A jungle wrought of lies condemns its kids.
A singing orphan swings from vines and brains.
In chorus, little monkeys offer bids.
But cheaply goes the blanket marked with stains.
The heavy golden dawn reveals her leg.
A sexy limb shall crush the safety egg.