What I've been reading, watching, hearing, etc.
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My wife last holiday season kindly gifted me with "Swallows and Amazons," the first of Arthur Ransome's charming adventure stories about the four Walker siblings and their friends the Blacketts, and this year she followed up with the second.
In this one, the kids are back at the unnamed lake where they spend their summers, sailing, camping and playing pirates, excited to get back to their hideaway on Wild Horse Island.
As in the first book, Ransome perfectly captures how kids "work" — how they think, act and interact, and imagine, superimposing their creative fictions over humdrum reality to make everything more interesting. He captures what childhood is like with such humor and charm. These books were published nearly 100 years old, but they are as funny and true as ever.
Just as amazingly, Ransome manages to keep your interest over the course of the book without manufacturing some outside menace to gin up excitement and drama. Here, he does it with a "shipwreck," a hidden cave, a hike through the fog and a plot to evade the Blackett's stern Great Aunt, who seemingly doesn't want anyone to have any fun.
I'm hoping that the Ransome books become a holiday tradition. There's no better escape than reading about these summer adventures of long a go when it's cold and dreary outdoors.
This stand-alone, throw-back tale, the first-ever Marvel Comic penned by DC mainstay Paul Levitz, and illustrated by the great Alan Davis, should've been much better than it is.
The problem, sadly, is with Levitz's script. which is unforgivably dull. He does a nice job, starting out, capturing the patter and feel of early Avengers comics by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Don Heck, but the action amounts to a troll stealing Thor's hammer and Kang the Conquerer standing around making a lot of empty threats.
The Avengers don't do any time traveling until the final pages, when they glimpse versions of themselves and other members of their super team but, even then, there's precious little action.
This story originally was published as a five-issue mini-series and I'm not sure I would've continued past the first issue if I'd read it in that format. Each of Levitz's issue-ending cliffhangers lands like a soft, fluffy pillow. There's no drama or threat to hook you.
Davis, on the other hand, is in fine form. His artwork and visual flow throughout the book is a pleasure to behold, and the book is worth a look for that alone.
I'm always up for self-contained superhero stories like this, and I'd love to see a sequel, but one with a much more engaging story to hang it all on.
I went into this one not expecting much other than a couple hours of holiday diversion, but ended up enjoying it quite a bit. Rather than spoil the magic of the original by picking apart and subjecting its elements to the cruel, ironic gaze of the present, "Wonka" instead relishes in what makes Road Dahl's sweet maker so fun.
In the lead role, Timothée Chalamet is sly, mysterious and charming — and a surprisingly good singer (yes, it's a musical). There also are fun performances by Olivia Coleman, Paterson Joseph, Rowan Atkinson and Matt Lucas as some of the not-so-scary baddies, and a scene-stealing Hugh Grant as an oompa loompa.
The film, which I somehow didn't know, was produced by the team behind the recent "Paddington" films, which I also enjoyed, and it has the same humor and humanity as those.
This excellent light satire targets the literary marketplace and notions of "Blackness" while exploding the self-deceptions common to us all.
I say "light" because the film treats its characters gently. Jeffrey Wright, as frustrated novelist Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, is silly, ridiculous, but real, and that humanity helps the film land its punches with more sting — we can relate to Monk and, as a result, see his flawed qualities within ourselves.
This smart, very funny film also incudes fine performances by the wonderful Issa Rae, Tracee Ellis Ross and Leslie Uggams.
I'm still puzzling over this very weird, very raunchy, Frankenstein-inspired, coming-of-age tale. That says something, since memories of most other movies tend to fizzle away within the trivia-saturated confines of my fuzzy brain.
I'm not certain what director Yorgos Lanthimos and his accomplices are trying to say, but they say it in such a unique way, and with such imaginative imagery, that their story is unforgettable. "Poor Thing" exists in its own world, unlike anything we've seen before.
There are points made here about the agency of women in a world, like ours, where men try to define, and even "create," their lives for them, but I think there's a lot more to discover here, too.
Emma Stone's performance is astounding. She brings Bella Baxter alive in ways that mad scientist Dr. Goodwin Baxter (played by an unhinged, yet tender, Willem DaFoe) could've never imagined. Mark Ruffalo and Ramy Yousef also are excellent as the baffled men in Bella's life.
Netflix's charting of the historical course of Britain's modern royals wrapped up its run in the same tacky/classy manner in which it started out.
The fact that this season covers a period so close to the one we're living in made it even more of a guilty pleasure. Some commentators wonder why we just can't let Lady Di rest in peace, and they make a good point. Yet, having started, and it's hard to stop watching now.
In my view, the writing and performances in the "The Crown" have been great throughout, and it was a pleasure to see previous Queens Claire Foy and Olivia Coleman join the older Elizabeth, played by Imelda Staunton, in flashbacks and fantasy sequences in the finale.
As a whole, "The Crown" provided a compelling commentary on post-war British events while make us feel sorry for a crew of eccentrics and malcontents born into privilege (and responsibility). Like many viewers, I suppose, I came away thinking that the monarchy is really weird. And, also, sort of impressive and cool.
The Beatles "Red" and "Blue" Albums: 2023 Editions
I've been playing these new versions of 1973's classic compilations a bunch and am enjoying them in this new form.
Not a straight remaster of the originals (that's already been done) these versions include remixes by Giles Martin, son of Beatles producer, George. Some of these remixes have shown up already on the Super Deluxe editions of Revolver, Sgt. Pepper, "The White Album," Let it Be and Abbey Road but there are plenty of new ones here, particularly on the Red album, which covers the band's output up through 1966.
Martin, on these new versions employs the same machine-learning tech developed by director Peter Jackson's team for "The Beatles: Get Back" documentary. The system is capable if identifying different voices and instruments and separating those elements into their own "tracks."
In Jackson's film, the tech was use to extract dialogue from music and background noise so we could hear it more clearly. Martin, meanwhile, has used it to "demix" recordings so he can remix the elements again. As a result, each part in a Beatles recording can be isolated — vocals, guitars, bass, even the individual parts of Ringo's drum kit: snare, toms, cymbals, etc. — and put back together.
As a result, the remixes bring us familiar tunes in stunning clarity. Turn up the volume, and you feel like you're standing next to John, Paul, George and Ringo doing their collective thing in the studio.
Too put it mildly, I'm a bit of a Beatlemanic. I'm an associate editor at Beatlefan mag and run a Fabs blog as a sister site to this one. And I'm a purist about the Beatles' original masters being "canon." But I also enjoy hearing the tunes in different ways, and these releases provide a wonderful opportunity to do that.
For the most part, I appreciate, and often very much enjoy, what Martin has done. The remixes of "We Can Work it Out" and "I Am the Walrus" stand out as a couple that I really, really like. But, for me, they'll never replace the mono and stereo versions the band originally released.
And that's what makes these new releases a little odd. Back in the 1970s, they served as an introduction to the Beatles' music for a new generation of fans (my generation, as it turns out). But I'm not so sure how I feel about these new versions playing that role.
Part of me — a weird, controlling, dictatorial part — thinks that newcomers should start with the original masters. The more rational part of me, however, thinks that anyone, listening to any of the Beatles recordings, can only be a good thing.
Two of my favorite jazz musicians, trumpeter Akinmusire and guitarist Bill Frisell, abetted by drummer Herlin Riley, come together on this gorgeous collection of original tunes.
The songs aren't merely vehicles for improvisation. The melodies are captivating and carefully structured, very much composed, yet open to the on-the-fly melodic and rhythmic contributions of the players.
The results are understated and quiet — perfect listening for a dark winter night.
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