I finally gave in and finished season 2 of 13 Reasons Why, against my better judgment. I was quite unimpressed with the first season and in no hurry to delve into the second one, and in the end, my misgivings were not without merit.
Oh Netflix, why you gotta do me wrong?
I’ve humored you and your ‘recommendations’. Some were even semi-decent. But it seems like I’m on a losing streak lately, to the point where I’m so hesitant about starting a new show or movie, I figure I’d just re-watch a sure thing (Breaking Bad binge, anyone?).
If you know me, you know I have a hard time connecting with characters that come off as aloof, cold and detatched. This becomes even harder when said characters’ motivations and circumstances are unfamiliar, or when their stories seem to be far outside the realm of my own experiences. Still, I can appreciate the artistic vision of their creators and enjoy the acting, direction and plot lines for what they are.
Such was the case with The Girlfriend Experience.
It’s no secret I’m not a huge fan of sci-fi – or anthology series, for that matter. But seeing as I was never a fan of the comic-book superhero genre either before bingeing on every Marvel show on Netflix, I figured I should give the ever-popular Black Mirror a shot, if only to see what all the fuss is about.
I’m sure the blogosphere is already full of in-depth analyses of the show’s latest season, but if you’re interested in a non-fan’s progression through the show’s four seasons, here goes: Keep Reading!
First there were the classic slasher films of the late 70’s-early 80’s. Then there were their countless sequels, and the novelty wore off, along with the invitable decline in quality.
For a while, Hollywood along with indie cinema seemed to go through a bit of a dry spell when it came to horror flicks: we got stellar psychological thrillers with toned down violence, but very few good, bona-fide slasher films, and those were mostly smaller productions labeled as b-movies.
If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know that I’m not exactly big on whatever we like to classify as nerd pop culture. I’ve never played a videogame (unless you count Tetris on my ancient Gameboy) and the last time I read a comic book was before the cold war ended – and even then my reading material mainly consisted of Mickey Mouse (or Archie at best). The only superhero movies I’ve actually watched are Nolan’s Batman trilogy, and I guess that says it all when it comes to my utter ignorance of the genre and the Marvel/DC extended cinematic universe.
Unless you count Jessica Jones, that is – which I honestly don’t. Superpowers aside, I enjoyed the Netflix show mostly because of the tone and actual storyline, and especially because a noir show about an alcoholic reluctant heroine and a villain who’s not two–dimensional isn’t something you come by every day. The superpowers, in this case, were merely a plot device, almost an afterthought, certainly no more than a means to an end. And that’s as much as my tolerance level would allow.
Enter the most recent Netflix addition to its collection of Marvel shows: the Punisher.
It’s no secret I’ve been slowly but surely becoming more and more disappointed in the direction The Walking Dead has taken over the past couple of seasons. I’m not the only one, either: AMC’s flagship show has lost half its audience since the terrible season 6 finale, and it doesn’t look like it’s making a comeback any time soon.
Actually, that’s quite the understatement: after the way the show wrapped up its 8th half-season, I’m willing to bet that plenty of forgiving – up till now – fans won’t be returning in February. And I count myself among them.
Oh man. This mid-season finale was a classic case of the passable TWD episode with a couple of cool scenes and plenty of infuriating details that just make you want to punch the entire writer room in the face.
Where do I start? Let’s take it from the top, I guess.