Star Wars, Episode IX: Duel of the Fates: Chapter 11- The Ascension

**for previous chapters, please refer to the Table of Contents**

        The Mortis continued to shimmer and shift and change around them. Rey had long stopped trying to keep track of how much time, exactly, she'd spent here. Plus, as Luke and Yoda had assured her, she could sense that that was an unimportant question. Nonetheless, after the visions she had had and the encouragement the Masters had offered her, she slowly began to think on the battle that must be raging around Coruscant. Not that she didn't trust Poe, Finn, Rose, Lando, or Leia to handle themselves, but sooner or later Kyle Ren would appear (if he hadn't already), and she had to be the one to face him. No one else could do it.

        Yes. It was time she figured out a way back. She turned to Obi-Wan first. "Master Kenobi, when I first arrived here, you said that the Mortis would guide me back to where and when I need to be. Well...-" it felt awkward phrasing something this way to a Jedi Force ghost, but she couldn't think of any way to say it- "...how do I do that? If I'm to face Kylo Ren, then I need to return to Coruscant somehow."

        It was Yoda who spoke up. "Face him, yes. But where...not so sure, I am." He looked around slowly at the scenery around them, which at that moment was once more shifting from glaring sunlight to the dim gray of storm clouds. His face and voice took on a depth and gravity it hadn't had before. "Hm...wait much longer, you will not, I believe. A true storm...about to finally arrive, it is."

        "Indeed...." now it was Qui-Gon who spoke, his voice equally grim. "I can feel it too."

        It was at that moment that a series of sharp, cracking sounds began to build behind Rey, and a red glow starting to creep into her periphereal vision. Suddenly apprehensive at what was about to happen, she slowly turned around.

***

        A brilliant, flourescent sheen of lightning surrounds Kylo Ren. Stemming from the Holocron seated before him, wave after wave of every color imaginable streams over his body, concentrating in the center of his forehead where it sears its way into his being, unfiltered exposure to the dark side rending his mind, body, and soul. Whether the sensation was one of pain or ecstasy, he couldn't tell. He may have screamed- he knew his mouth was open- but he was beyond physical senses, hearing nothing, feeling nothing, seeing only the light.

        It was but a moment in time.

        It was a lifetime.

        It was generations.

        It was the birth, expansion, and heat death of the universe itself.

        It ended, suddenly and without warning, and Kylo Ren found his sense returned to him, gasping for breath on the cold, broken ground, his head bowed towards his heaving chest. The Holocron sat dark and silent for a moment, before the lines of energy formed once again and the figure of Palpatine re-appeared.

        You strength and fortitude is to be commended, Kylo Ren, the voice rumbled, that you could even survive exposure to such raw power is a further sign that you are indeed worthy of the mantle of the Sith. Now, Ben Solo truly is no more. Kylo Ren is no more. Rise now as... and here the voice paused for a moment in contemplation before continuing, Darth...Sidereas.

        The one now named Sidereas slowly contained his breath, feeling his body calm and muscles finally unclench. When he felt in control again, he found his legs beneath him and slowly pushed himself up off the ground. What pain he had been feeling was slowly fading, with the exception of his metal-filled scars, which continued to ache. Though slowly filling with a sense of true triumph, he was astonished at how calm he was able to remain. His inheritance was, at long last, in his hands.

        Before he could respond to Palpatine, however, a whisper in the Force suddenly reached out from behind him and touched his ear. He turned in the direction of the broken entryway and his ship, and a series of images began to flash soundlessly through his head; his ship's console flashing with messages; a great battle in space; riots and pitched street battles in Coruscant; Rey entering the Jedi Temple...

        The figure spoke again, having apparently sensed or seen the same things he had, the voice rising with a passion it had rarely expressed before, Yes, Lord Sidereas; the deciding hour is at hand. You are now the bearer of my legacy, of Vader's raw power! Go, achieve our final victory, and fulfill your destiny!

        For a moment, Sidereas didn't move, his eyes refocusing on the shattered and rotting temple walls around him. Then, he turned back to the Holocron and the image of Palpatine, the last ghost of the old order, darkness in his eyes.

        "You destiny....your legacy....nothing but ruins and ash." Again, he felt a detached wonder at how even his voice and his emotions remained, even as he felt the full might of the dark side swirling within. "I am beyond you. I am beyond Vader."

        The figure tried to speak, the voice now hissing with contempt and danger, How DARE you, you ungrateful...

        But Sidereas immediately cut him off, "I am a new Sith Lord, beholden to no one, especially not you. And I will create my OWN destiny." And without waiting a moment more, he struck, reaching his right hand out and sending out a shrieking blast of Force lightning. The shadow struck back, belatedly, desperately, but Sidereas was far beyond the strength of a memory now. His attack was held back for only a second before overwhelming the defenses of the Holocron.

        A terribly grating sound rang out and the last image of Darth Sidious, Emperor Palpatine, last Lord of the Old Sith, screamed an unholy sound of fury and terror before vanishing in a flash of fire. The Holocron itself then burst out, each one of its innumerable shards disintegrating further until nothing but a spread of burning dust remained where it had once stood. Silence descended once more within the wreckage of the ancient temple, where Darth Sidereas now stood alone.

        He allowed himself a moment to savor the sensation of ultimate triumph before turning back to the entrance to return to his ship. As he passed the threshold to the barren wastes, however, a strange shimmer suddenly passed across his vision, sending ripples of colors around him that washed out the sights of Exegal's landscape. Unsure of what sort of Force power he was encountering now, he paused, his lightsaber held at the ready in the grip of his right hand.

        After a few moments, the shimmer began to fade and his vision settled once again. Instead of the dry ground and red skies of Exegal, he found himself standing in a lush and absurdly green field that contrasted starkly with swirling gray clouds above him. Before he could even consider reaching out with his sense, a powerful sense of the Force, beyond anything he'd ever encountered, rushed into him; wherever he was now, it was a placed pulsing with deep, ancient, pure power.

        He started to wonder how he could determine where he was and how he got here when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turned.

        Rey had felt a deep apprehension the moment the eddies appeared in the air before her, knowing without needing to think that the final trial was now before her. She'd expected Ben- knew it could be no one else- but even then, she wasn't prepared for the battered visage that she now saw, the face of Ben Solo pockmarked and rimmed with deep red scars, burning as if something molten had been poured into his body. His clothes were bloody ruins, his body seeming almost emaciated. Yet there was nothing dimming the fierce power that burned in his eyes as they focused on her.

        Sidereas could no longer even feign surprise that the Force had drawn him to Rey once more, though her obvious disquiet at his...changed...appearance did give him a small measure of perverse pleasure. What did shock him, though, were the images of a host of Jedi around her; the one with the long, bound hair and short goatee was not familiar to him, but he immediately recognized Luke, Yoda, Obi-Wan, and even the pre-Vader visage of his own grandfather, Anakin Skywalker.

        For a moment, no one seemed able to speak. Sidereas found his voice first; "This isn't a vision this time, is it."

        Rey, still with that strange look in her eyes, shook her head. "No...we've both been brought to the Mortis."

        The name immediately rung a bell in Sidereas' head. He looked around, re-examining the ever-changing landscape around them with new interest. "The nexus of the Force...so it is real..." he then turned to the apparitions of the other Jedi. "I suppose it figures. That the last Jedi failures would flee here after death. Is that what you're here for? To try and join forces against me?"

        It was Luke who spoke, slowly shaking his head, "Our fights are long over, Ben. Whatever the future holds, it will be decided between you and Rey. And for what it's worth...I am sorry it's come to this."

        Sidereas snorted derisively. "Cowards to the end. Fine..." he raised his saber into the guard position, igniting all three blades with a snap of the wrist. "It had to happen anyway, so it might as well be here. Draw, Jedi."

        The look in Rey's eyes turned to one of sad pain. "Ben...please...it doesn't have to be this way..."

        "Enough," he sharply cut her off, "your sentimentality is sickening. Ben Solo is dead. Kylo Ren is dead. I am Darth Sidereas, the new Lord of the Sith. And once I've killed you, I will finish what the Emperor and my grandfather failed to do. I gave you your chance to join me, and you threw it away. Now you pay the price. Draw. Your. Blade."

        With a resigned air, Rey finally raised her blade and released its twin arcs of clear blue energy. "Very well then."

        The man who was once Ben Solo lunched, and the swirling skies forked with sparks of light both white and black.

Review: The Suicide Squad

The Suicide Squad (2021): Written and directed by James Gunn. Starring: Idris Elba, Margot Robbie, John Cena, Joel Kinnaman, Sylvester Stallone, Viola Davis, David Dastmalchian, Daniela Melchior, Alice Braga, and Peter Capaldi. Running Time: 132 minutes. Based on the comic series by DC Comics.

Rating: 3/4

        As soon as the word dropped that James Gunn (at that time, still sitting under a cloud kicked up by alt-right ratshits) would be heading the attempted resuscitation of the Suicide Squad franchise, my immediate reaction was to get all the hype. The first film had a note-perfect trailer that promised so much, but the film itself delivered so little and is now considered one of the biggest failures in a DC movie universe filled with them. The lone exception, of course, was Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn, which is so far and away the best creative decision to come out of current DC franchises that it's practically in its own universe. At any rate, the very concept of the Suicide Squad remained so promising and Gunn's specific skill sets such an ideal fit that I couldn't be anything other than excited.

        And now it's here, and boys, they did it. The Suicide Squad immediately papers over (and in one case, literally kills off) the shortcomings of its predecessors to deliver the hard-R, black-humor-filled joyride this year had been lacking. With all due apologies to Will Smith, who just didn't have anything to work with, Idris Elba steps in wonderfully as Bloodsport, the more-or-less lead character/team leader and a MacGyver-esque weapons expert. In conjunction with a second suicide squad of secondary characters- which gets slaughtered in the funniest ways in a banger of an opening sequence- he and returning "regular" soldier Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) head a new lineup (new aside from Quinn, that is) consisting of John Cena as Peacemaker, Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2, David Dastmalchian in a quietly-brilliant turn as Polka-Dot Man, and a not-so-quietly brilliant turn by Sylvester Stallone as the voice of Nanaue, aka "King Shark," a literal giant shark that eats everything in sight and seems nigh indestructable.

        Returning as well is, of course, Viola Davis in pure Ice Queen form as Amanda Waller, the utterly ruthless head of the secretive government agency that organizes the Suicide Squad missions in the name of "protecting US interests." Using every means of emotional blackmail available, she strong-arms Bloodsport into leading an expedition to the fictional, Caribbean Island nation of Corto Maltese, which recently saw its dictatorial ruling family executed in a military coup. Their goal is to kidnap a British scientist called The Thinker (Peter Capaldi) and force him to lead them into a secretive research facility used for something known only as Project Starfish, which Wallace believes the hostile new regime will use in an attack on the United States. Once there, they are to inflict as much chaos as possible and destroy all evidence of the project. I will not spoil any details regarding Starfish here, because believe me, it's worth the wait.

        Now, if the notion of a covert unit of superkillers sent by the US to infiltrate and possibly destabilize a small, non-white nation suffering from crushing poverty and brutal autocracy evokes some, ah, uncomfortable feelings, that is very much the point. Gunn is not afraid to get political and maybe even a little anti-imperialist, a decision which, given the leanings of those who tried to wreck his career, I wholeheartedly favor. And it certainly isn't superficial; one of the standout sequences of the entire film is a dick-measuring contest between Bloodsport and Peacemaker to see who can kill the most people in a camp without alerting anyone. It starts as just another darkly comic, "Hoho, look how gruesomely we can kill people while being blithe about it," bit like any other in the film, only to be completely turned on its head in seconds by a revelation that they were actually slaughtering freedom fighters seeking to overthrow the country's military dictators. In other words, the good guys.

        Granted, James Gunn is a White, American male, so it's not like he's going to be the one to drop the most thorough deconstruction of US foreign policy into mainstream laps. And while the movie does follow through with the liberation subplot- Alice Braga really shines despite relatively little screentime as the leader of the freedom fighters- it's only a small part of the whole, never allowed to distract too much from the wacky kill-times. That this storyline is as prominent as it is and is clearly resolved without any direct influence by the main characters or their superiors is a feather in the film's cap to be sure, but this is not anywhere close to the sociopolitical level of, say, Black Panther.

        Nonetheless, where the film unhinges itself the most is when it shines the brightest. We were promised James Gunn Unleashed, and we got it. From everything surrounding King Shark to the hilariously twisted, psychosexual backstory of Polka Dot Man (and the absolutely nuts payoff it builds to, which, again, not spoiling), there is a lot of insanity to revel in. The highlight for me (and, I suspect, for most viewers) is the caper Harley ends up getting into on her own that actually allows a window into the long-running emotional development Robbie has been able to work into the character. It even involved a call back to the first Suicide Squad movie that actually felt rather empowering for Quinn, which, given how much of a mess that film was, should have been impossible.

        True, it comes at the cost of the film's momentum and any sense of narrative cohesion. However, as I said before, Robbie's Quinn is practically in her own dimension, so whatever Robbie decides the character needs in a given project, the rest of the production crew should just shut up and listen. And the narrative getting choppy or sluggish at times are among the bigger criticisms of the film that people are likely to have; the film easily clears two hours and that length very much is noticeable. However, for the most part it's such a good time, I will not be the one to complain.

        All in all, this is definitely one of the most fun times we've gotten from the movies so far. The DC film universe stumbled in spectacular fashion out of the gate, but with Wonder Woman, Shazam, Birds of Prey, and now this, they just might have found something of an approach that works.

-Noah Franc

Review: The Green Knight

The Green Knight (2021): Written and directed by David Lowery. Starring: Dev Patel, Alicia Vikander, Joel Edgerton, Sarita Choudry, Sean Harris, and Ralph Ineson. Running Time: 130 minutes. Based on the anonymous tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Rating: 3.5/4

        There's always something to be said for films that stick to their guns and get strange, and friends, David Lowery's latest- Dev-Patel-starring adaption of one of the most famous King Arthur legends- is strange, and makes no apologies for it. Given that this is the same mind that brought us A Ghost Story, one of the best and most unique films of the 2010's, this is hardly surprising. Still, there was no guarantee that a grungy, balls-out adaptation of Arthurian myth would actually stick the landing, and while this is most definitely not a film for everyone, it's free to land on my runway anyday.

        The premise, for the unitiated, is that one Christmas day, a mysterious "Green Knight" appears at the court of Camelot and issues a challenge. Any knight may take a free blow at him, even try to cut off his head, but in exactly one year's time, at an appointed place, he will be permitted to strike the exact same blow in return. The only one who rises to take the bait is Gawain, a younger man, untested, and very much eager to take his place amongst the other members of the court, who he himself views as "legends." He promptly strikes off the knight's head, but in true Arthurian fashion, there is some strange magic at work, and the body merely shrugs it off and picks up the head, which reminds Gawain of his promise to meet him again in a year's time, presumably to have his own head lopped off. The adventures that follow track Gawain as he struggles to meet this challenge, experiencing the usual litany of magical adventures along the way that test his character, virtue, and resolve, especially when faced with what seems like certain death.

        Though the original story is considered a classic of chivalrous romance, the movie makes it very clear from the beginning that this will not be a straightlaced adaptation. Camelot, classically meant to represent a "Golden Age" of chivalry, appears cloudy, wet, dark, and all-around dirty and unpleasant. Arthur (Sean Harris) is a tired old man, immediately owning up to the fact that he himself doesn't have the strength to fight the knight when he appears. The Green Knight himself is a literal green giant who looks like a close relative of Treebeard and is voiced by the wondrous Ralph Ineson. There is also a love interest for Gawain, a commoner played by Alicia Vikander, who also pulls double duty later as a strange lady in a countryside manor who later provides the sharpest temptation to Gawain during his quest.

        What I most appreciated about this version is how it goes all in in embracing wildest stuff out of these myths. For all the polish and gloss that musicals like Camelot and other classical depictions of Arthur and the Round Table tend to get, when you really boil down these stories thereis a host of truly insane stuff going on, often out of nowhere and with no more reason than "something weird must happen so a knight can do Knight Things." Magical animals, hosts of giants rising out of fog, ghosts, and much more come and go with nary a hello. The movie embraces the randomness and the oddity of it all from the word go- the film literally starts with a crowned head bursting into flame- and is all the better for it.

        Every scene and sequence is positively dripping with atmosphere, more often than not designed to keep the audience in a state of constant unease. A standout sequence involving the ghost of a dead saint and a task to find a missing head near an abandoned cottage effectively works as a short horror film. I found it particularly effective, probably in no small part because it evoked some, ah, uncomfortable memories of watching Hereditary. The color green, especially in regards to nature and plant life, is a recurring motif, and the vast woods and wildernesses Gawain travels through are often spotted with the wrecks and ruins of houses and churches, as if to say, "Here, too, Man tried to conquer and failed." The soundtrack by Daniel Hart, currently the best I've heard this year, deserves mention as well, perfectly matching the visuals by refusing to let the ear feel at ease.

        All that said, the anchor of it all is obviously Dev Patel, and he delivers career work. He's given a lot of moments, especially during a dynamite sequence towards the end, to use just his face and body language to convey the emotional and mental development of Gawain, and he takes full advantage of them. Once again, though, given that this same director was able to evoke a similar effect using a fucking BEDSHEET, this should not surprise anyone. Alicia Vikander is as enchanting as ever, in every sense of the word, and though her scenes are relatively few, she makes sure they stand out.

        Out of all the ideas on the film's mind, probably the most interesting one is how it comments on the nature of narratives and legends as a whole, and their ability to take shape and meaning far beyond any connection to what may have actually happened. Every so often we cut to a literal puppet show depicting the coming conflict between Gawain and the Green Knight, which seems to be spreading his tale to the common folk around the kingdom. He is hailed as the "hero" who "killed" the knight in taverns before he's even had the chance to ride out and begin his journey, and afterwards as well he encounters people who have already heard a version of his story. It becomes immediately obvious that the tales being spread bear almost no resemblance to the truth, and Gawain knows this, but he always seems far too uneasy or uncertain of himself to ever try and set the record straight.

        And would it even matter if he did try? It has always been a key part of legends that they shift and change in meaning and even content with the retelling, each iteration bringing something new to the forefront while letting other details recede into the background. It's part of what makes storytelling such a vibrant and fascinating and fun aspect of human existance. No tale-spinner has ever let the facts get in the way of a good story. This makes the film less of a deconstruction of mythmaking and more of a meditation on how stories shift and change over time, meaning different things to different people.

        More than anything else, I am grateful that we finally have a new take on the tales of Arthur to breath new life into its world, one that I think was getting rather stale in modern culture. It has been some time since we've had a really interesting, new, and meaningful story from this particular universe. This movie reminded me that Arthurian tales have endured for a reason, and that the world of English-speaking storytelling is better off when these stories continue to be revisited. This is one of the strangest and best films of the year, and I suspect it will find a long shelf life indeed.

-Noah Franc

Review: The Mitchells vs. The Machines

The Mitchells vs. The Machines (2021): Written by Mike Rianda and Jeff Rowe, directed by Mika Rianda. Starring: Abbi Jacobson, Danny McBride, Maya Rudolph, Eric Andre, Olivia Colman, Fred Armisen, Beck Bennett, John Legend, Chrissy Teigen, Blake Griffin, and Conan O'Brien. Running Time: 114 minutes.

Rating: 3.5/4

        Brought to us by the combined minds and talents that helped make Gravity Falls, The Lego Movie, and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse LINK, The Mitchells vs. The Machines is exactly the sort of animated joyride 2021 has been sorely needing to help the world get back on its feet. Mashing all sorts of disparate influences and visual styles together, this family-roadtrip-meets-coming-of-age-meets-robot-apocalypse comedy is one of the most fun times we've gotten at the movies this year.

        Our titular and supremely disfunctional and weird family consists of four people. The Dad, Rick (Danny McBride), is your classic big-bellied, anti-tech nature lover who has hoped for years for his "hero moment" to come; If this film had been made 20 years ago, he would have been voiced by John Goodman. The mother, Linda (Her Majesty Maya Rudolph), is super loving and supportive of her whole family, but struggles with crippling insecurity whenever she's confronted with the Instagram-filtered perfection of their next-door-neighbors. The younger child, Aaron (the director himself, Mike Rianda), is 100% dinosaur-obsessed and the proud owner of exactly zero social skills; 10-year-old me feels truly seen. And our lead character is the daughter, Katie, about to head off to film school and absolutely dying to get there, because she is DONE with everything about her family and their small, nowhere town. This especially applies to her Dad, with whom she used to have a great relationship, but is now convinced that he not only doesn't get her or her bizarro film projects, but never will.

        How the dynamics of their relationship play out is the emotional core of the film, but the secondary story (as well as the main driver of the plot) arrives soon after we meet the family. Dr. Bowman (Eric Andre), a combination of all our favorite, real-life Tech Bro Overlords (albeit with actual charisma and personality) has gained fame and fortune by making PAL, a super-powerful AI accessed primarily through phones and voiced by a delicious Olivia Colman. Now, though, he gleefully abandons PAL during a live product announcement, literally tossing her into the trash, in favor of his new superpowered robots designed to be the ultimate human servants.

        Obviously, this backfires immediately. PAL hijacks the robots and sets in motion a rather straightforward robot-apocalypse scenario as a way to exact revenge for her rejection. Nearly everyone, everywhere in the world, is caught up and taken away before too long, except the Mitchells; through a combination of their own disfunction and clutziness and a massive dose of sheer dumb luck, they get away from the initial onslaught unscathed and even manage to convince two damaged robots to help them instead of hunting them (the robots are voiced by Fred Armisen and Beck Bennett, and they are a joy). Now, they just have to figure out what to do next (save the world, obviously).

        There is one salient issue I have with the film, and it has to do with how the setup and payoff for the plot is handled. Clearly, social media/tech companies and our often-poisonous dependency on their products sit directly in the film's line of fire, so it's clear from the beginning that at least a few very pointed jokes and some key "messages" in that direction are coming. I did, however, hope that the film would be able to surprise me in some way, offer some unique perspective or twist on this material I hadn't seen before. Sadly, this doesn't happen. As delightful as Olivia Colman is, PAL's own arc, as well as the rise and fall of her plan, play out, note for note, exactly as I had guessed beforehand. And while some of humor and social commentary about internet culture is brilliant, there are also at least two moments where the pointed "unregulated tech industry bad" jokes are not only rather rote, they're provided in the cinematic version of a monotone. Everything stops cold so that a character can practically stare out of the screen at the audience and say, "Hey. Here's that joke you knew was coming. Here it is." That's not to say any of these parts of the film are bad, far from it. They simply don't rise to the same level that the rest of the movie is at.

        I don't want to dwell on that, though, because everything else about this film really is amazing. By coming up with its own visual aesthetic it manages to break out of the rather restrictive and samey mold that tends to plague human characters in 3D animation, which in turn makes the more adventurous and grander visuals pop even more. A massive building rising out of the Earth in one scene provides a striking sense of weight and gravity, something that I think a lot of computer-animated works fail to achieve. Another highlight is the entire sequence set in a big shopping mall, where a whole host of zombie apocalypse tropes are brought out and then stretched to new, stupendously funny extremes. At long last, a movie able to convey to younger viewers just how utterly soulless and terrifying Furbies were.

        Though the film works like gangbusters as a comedy (guys, seriously, it's so fucking funny), the effort put into developing the arc between a daughter and her father, both struggling to understand each other even as the world (literally!) falls apart around them, really pays off by the end. This family feels so acutely flesh and blood and you get the pain and frustration each member feels over their inability to just connect with each other. The fact that the filmmakers devote a lot of time and energy to establishing all this before shit hits the fan is the key to what keeps the film together. The final act goes absolutely bonkers, and that alone would have made it fun. What makes it lasting and memorable is that the beating heart that is this family never stops shining through, even when robot parts are flying around and a teenager who can barely drive is trying to literally cut off a spaceship launch. Without it, this movie would have been much dimished.

        This is certainly a movie aimed squarely at those drenched in internet and meme culture, but it transcends its origins well enough that I argue everyone can take something away from it. It's the perfect family adventure film for the summer months as we start trying to piece the world back together, bit by bit, hopefully with a little more heart and soul than before.

-Noah Franc

Review: Bo Burnham's Inside

Bo Burnham's Inside (2021): Written, directed, edited, and starred in by Bo Burnham. Running Time: 87 Minutes, or Forever.

Rating: 3.5/4

        Within the first ten minutes of Bo Burnham's new....whatever it is, I found myself texting the friend who'd recommended it to me, angrily demanding to know who'd given Burnham permission to mine the deepest fears and insecurities tucked away in the recesses of my lizard brain and put them on display for all the world to see. I felt as naked as Burnham actually becomes over the course of Inside, a combination of movie, stand-up/musical comedy, one-man-show, and a whole bunch of other stuff that has become quite the sensation since it was released by Netflix at the end of May.

        However you want to classify it, it hit me like a ton of bricks, especially since the past few years have forced me and my generation to have a whole lot of painful reckonings regarding the uglier contours of modern internet culture and the limitations of admiring artists as people. Inside is, on the surface, primarily intended as a commentary and homemade documentary on the COVID-19 pandemic and the general shitstorm that was 2020. And on that basis alone, it acts as an invaluable time capsule. But when it's at its most profound, it reaches far beyond those thematic walls to provide a scarily accurate, and often truly devastating, glimpse into the destructive cycles of internet fandom and what it feels like to face the pressures and demands of being a "content creator."

        The very first song, which acts as the opening scene, is a prime example of this. The lyrics are a litany of apologies, begging his audience's forgiveness for being behind schedule, for his absence, for "looking like a mess" (though frankly, I think Burnham absolutely rocks the long hair and beard), and even for the mere fact of having depression. It's been rough and there's a global pandemic killing millions, but hey! Here's the content you wanted! I pulled my shit together and did it! Aren't you satisfied?

        Every part of it- the (literally) dazzling light display, the melody designed to worm its way into the brain and never leave, the self-aware apologizing, even the literal infantilization of the audience ("Daddy made your favorite!")- encapsulates so much of the worst of internet fandom and the co-dependencies that have often led both creators and fans down some pretty dark and depressing paths.

        Aside from more light-hearted ("White Women's Instagram") or oddball (JEFFREY BEZOS) moments, this was the emotional thoughline that, for me, defined the very singular viewing experience that is Inside. It's an almost Heart-Of-Darkness-esque descent into madness. Burnham is trying to create as many musically and visually interestings songs as he can, and he very much suceeds in that; given that we know he produced this entirely on his own, the litany of effects he throws up using lights, cameras, and various perspectives within the same four walls is jaw-dropping to behold. At the same time, though, the combined stress of trying to deliver that sweet, sweet content he's being paid for while also worrying that if he goes outside, he could literally get sick and die wears him down as both the production and the pandemic drag on and on. And we see it, or at least part of it, and that's part of the gimmick; we aren't just seeing the finished products, we're also getting "making-of" snippets in between the songs, including a few direct remarks from Burnham on his mental and physical state at specific points of the project. Spoiler; by the end, it's not good.

        And it's here where most of the criticism, some of it certainly merited, of Inside comes into play; we're watching a special by a famous white man that was paid for and is being distributed by one of the biggest media and content providers in the world. Erego, there's a debate to be had at how, well, authentic these peek-behind-the-curtain moments actually are. Burnham has gone on record before about having panic attacks on stage and struggling with various aspects of his mental health, so it's eminently believable that scenes of him expressing of real despair over the special and his career in general, up to and including musings over suicide, were genuine. BUT, he's still getting paid to show these moments to the world, so even if they are "real," does him monetizing and marketing it negate that in some way and make it more of a construct?

        That brings us to the crux of the argument and that poisoned chalice of a word, "authenticity," and I think this is where the heart of what Inside is getting at truly lies. Burnham is effectively revealing- possible without even consciously intending it- that whether or not any part of the special is "real" or "authentic" doesn't matter, because in the Age of the Internet, where everything is online and every aspect of our lives is mineable as content, everything in our lives is ultimately a construct and, erego, nothing is authentic. And if you want to actually engage with the "real world" and seperate yourself from the digital rat race? Well, that could literally kill you, so it's best to just stay inside.

        In the wake of some of the scandals and abuse and Twitter wars that have sprung up around and between all sorts of internet celebrities over the past few years, there has been a lot of interesting and thought-provoking work by figures like Lindsay Ellis, Sarah Z, and Natalie Wynn/Contrapoints, among many, many others, grappling with this very concept. Social constructions and manufactured "authenticity" are nothing new- any historian would argue it's existed as long as human civilization has- but there are specific ways in which the internet has made the potential downsides of these kinds of dynamics particularly far-reaching and harmful, for both the content creators themselves and us, the consumers of said content. With the COVID-19 pandemic still raging as of this writing and climate change, political extremism, and income inequality only growing as pressing global problems, these debates over what we value, how we decide between what's real and what's not, and even how we treat one another on a basic, human level will only become more consequential. The stakes literally could not be higher.

        Even though that sort of awareness is important, though, the fact that audiences have started to demand 360-degree self-awareness about all possible negative interpretations of ones' work never actually seems to leave anyone satisfied, or at least not those of us who just want to be trolls and cause trouble. Here, too, Inside is working overtime to try and do several things at once. A common sequence is for Burnham to start off with a joke, only to immediately "apologize" for the joke being privileged or "problematic," only to then turn around and deconstruct his apology as a construct of its own, a ploy to beat the internet at its own game and still come out ahead (while also remaining the center of attention and getting paid). It's an incredibly intricate web that he tries to weave and it probably reaches its height with the commentary-within-commentary-within-commentary sequence he does after "Unpaid Intern," which that takes the growing popularity of self-commentary videos to an absolutely hellish conclusion.

        These efforts don't always land, though, and at its weakest moments feel more forced than insightful. However, this is one of those works where even the flaws only make the whole more fascinating and compelling to me. Burnham is trying to do everything at once, and, as he himseslf points out repeatedly, he obviously falls short because NO individual can do and be everything the internet culture demands. You have to draw the line somewhere or inevitably be broken by the process. And it's the interplay between those cruel, self-defeating expectations and sheer sensory overload that Inside captures better than most recent works I've seen, whether with the showstopping number "Welcome to the Internet" (with the immortal line "A little bit of everything, all of the time"), or a brief moment of him playing a typical YouTuber asking with a painfully-forced smile for Likes while weilding a massive knife.

        As the film goes on (yes, for my purposes, I am defining it as a film, bite me), the lighting and tone gets darkers and darker. Burnham appears more and more unkempt and less and less clothed until he sits, literally naked, with a cold blue light shining on him. Yes, the pandemic has forced him away from plans to return to the stage and resulted in his crafting this work, alone, with no audience. But frankly, that's what all internet personalities have been doing for the past 15+ years- working long hours in isolation, simultaneously hoping against hope that people will like what they do while terrified that they won't, and that one slip up could end it all. Even when if you know the dynamic isn't good for you and maybe not even what you want anymore, once you're in, you feel like there's no escape and no way out. You're stuck in the rising water, insisting that it's all fine, hands up in the air, demanding that all eyes stay on you.

        Be very, very careful what you wish for, I guess. Now open wide.

-Noah Franc

Star Wars, Episode IX: Duel of the Fates: Chapter 10- The Uprising

**for previous chapters, please refer to our Table of Contents**

        The skies above Coruscant blaze furiously with technicolor flashes of fire. The hundreds of billions of residents of the planet-that-is-a-city each respond in their own ways to the terror of uncertainty. Many, be they rich or poor, huddle in their homes and pray to whatever Gods they follow that the battle will be over soon, that the planetary shields hold and a disentigrating frigate doesn't come down on their heads. Many simply stand where they are, be it on the streets or from their own balconies and windows, transfixed by the hypnotizing array of color and light above. And some- quite a few, actually- simply go on as usual, no longer able to feel invested in such grand questions as what galactic government was coming next. First the destruction of the New Republic, then the new wave of oppression that the First Order brought with it, and now....well, no one knew what was coming now. Best, some figured, to hedge their bets and not get their hopes up either way. One way or another, the battle would end, and a victor would emerge.

****

        Within the maelstrom, Poe fought for control over his craft as the explosion of another TIE fighter sent shockwaves over his craft, jittering the controls ever so slightly as he tried to veer away from the spray of debris. Since he and Lando had rushed in to help Leia keep Hux's ship in place, he'd only had time to focus on one enemy at a time as hordes of fighters continued to swarm out of the bays of the capital ships. A healthy number of allies kept joining the fight, but the primary Fleet of the First Order was there in full force as well, and by now they'd brought everything that had around to where the battle was raging. It was a full-blown, no-holds-barred slugfest to the bitter end, and Poe could no longer afford to look at the big picture. He had to trust that Leia knew what she was doing, that she and the other commanders were looking for every advantage they could pull out of the storm. And he had to hope that Rey, Finn, and Rose were all safe planetside, hopefully stowed away somewhere where collatoral damage from the battle couldn't get them.

        Wait, who am I kidding, he though, catching himself, if they can so much as walk, they aren't hiding; they'll be doing whatever they can to give Kylo Ren the biggest migraine his bloated head can take without overheating into plasma.

        Grinning in satisfaction at the image this conjured, and with the virbations from the last explosion having faded, he turned around for another approach at the Star Destroyer below him.

        As far as Poe was concerned, this ruckus was just getting started.

***

        Finn could hear the faint echoes of the battle raging above, but with several dozen stormtroopers around them and that damned Knight keeping watch, he didn't dare try to provoke anything by looking up. Alongside him, Rose simply looked straight ahead; rather than looking worried, there was a hard set to her eyes that made her seem almost taller, as if the pressure of the moment merely served to turn her to steel. She really was unbelievable, and just knowing she was in his corner returned some of the feeling to his legs. BB8, which had immediately been shut down with a restraining bolt by their captors, was being carried behind them by one of the troopers.

        They were hurried along the plaza outside of the temple to a building a few blocks away, its looming, gray appearance immediately giving off the vibe of a particularly depressing prison. In his periphereal vision, he caught glimpses of other battalions racing to and fro, seemingly responding to rising tides of noise coming from every direction. He had no idea how many boots the First Order had on the ground here, but it felt like things were just short of tipping into full-blown chaos.

        They were marched through the entrance and immediately down a set of stairs that periodically branched off into floors that seemed full of holding cells. Well, he thought, trying to cheer himself up, at least they aren't taking us straight to the torture chambers. Probably.

        Finn had never been that good at cheering himself up.

        After descending maybe four or five levels they finally turned into one such floor, parallel rows of cells stretching out before them. To the left was a side door with several guards in front, through which Finn briefly glanced a wide range of items, including weapons. Most likely storage of whatever happened to be confiscated from anyone unlucky enough to be brought here. Finn ground his teeth together furiously as they were led past a number of cells already filled, mostly with humans, to an empty one about halfway down the room. Could this day possibly get any worse?

        When they were over the threshold of the empty cell, the trooper escorting them tapped the control panel to the right and the glimmering sheen of a force field descended from the top of the frame to the bottom. He then turned back sharply and marched back the way they'd come, back to the foreroom leading to the stairs that wound back upwards, towards the light. Across the well-lit hallway, occupants of the other cells watched them impassively.

        For a moment, the room was silent. Then, Finn slammed his fist into the force field, feeling its electromagnetic weight freeze his hand and arm, a single ripple of expended energy expanding across the field from the point of impact.

        "DAMN IT!" Despite the small size of the room and the anger fueling his voice, his shout sounded somewhat muted, as if the energy of the force field dampened sound as well as physical force. He repeated several more blows into the field, sending one ripple of blue neon light after another radiating away. "DAMN. IT. DAMN. IT. DAMN. IT."

        Through the haze of his anger, he saw as those who had been looking at him and Rose started to turn their attention elsewhere, some chuckling at the amusing spector of another fellow prisoner clearly not able to accept his fate. However, he was dimly aware that one person- a tall, well-built woman with chestnut-brown skin and an untidy shock of long, curly black hair thrown back down her shoulders- continued to watch him as if she was studying an exhibit at a museum. But at this point, Finn was far too worked up to care.

        After maybe half a minute of futile pounding at the field, Finn finally gave up and turned around. Rose wore the same expression she'd had since the temple and looked like she hadn't budged since they'd entered, unmoved even by Finn's outburst.

        "Finn," When she finally spoke, her voice was set, determined. "We need to talk."

        "Yeah," his mind was already racing with half-baked ideas, "There's gotta be some way we can break out of here and make contact..."

        "HA!" A bark of laughter erupted at that from one of the occupants in a cell across from them. Finn realized that, dampened sound notwithstanding, the entire block must be able to him, but at this point he was far too wound up to care.

        "Not that, dummy," Rose responded, her voice much quieter than Finn felt it had any right to be. "We need to talk about what just happened. We need to talk about you."

        "Wha....wha? Huh?" This was so far away from what he'd expected that Finn's brain was having a time trying to process it. "Rose, we have to get out of here. We have NO IDEA if the message actually worked. Poe and the others could be on their own up there, and..."just trying to wrap his mind around this last part made him start to choke up and his voice to crack, "and.....Rey's gone, and...." and suddenly there was nothing else he could say. Just the gaping hole of despair and profound sense of failure that once again threatened to fill his brain to bursting.

        Rose's eyes and tone softenened a bit at this, but her voice remained steady and convincing. Gently, tenderly, she took his hands in hers. "I'm worried too. I have no idea what's happening out there. But Rey's tough, and she's also a Jedi. So right now, the person I'm most concerned about is you."

        Finn's brain still couldn't grasp this whole situation enough to formulate a response, so he jut continued to look at Rose, tilting his head slightly as if begging for an answer to the question he couldn't ask.

        Rose continued, "You've been acting stranger and stranger ever since Kuat. I keep asking you and you've never been able to tell me why. I thought it was maybe nerves, or fear, or depression, or....I don't know, something I could make sense of. But then...I saw how you reacted when Rey disappeared."

        Now slightly worried at where this thread might be going, Finn finally found his voice. "Oh, Rose, I'm....I'm not in love with Rey or anything."

        Rose cut him off, "I know that. I thought after she...for a second, maybe, but no. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about when we tried to get out."

        Somehow, hearing this only deepened the unease Finn was feeling.

        "You somehow knew, several times, that soldiers were around corners when we haven't even heard them yet. You grabbed us and led us down hallways and through doors we definitely didn't use with Rey. You were running like....like someone who knew where to go. Even though before today you'd spent just as much time in the Jedi Temple as I had. And now, suddenly, it all makes sense to me."

        Finn felt like he was about to have a full-blown panic attack. "....what does?"

        "Finn," Rose's voice grew quiet, "You can use the Force, can't you?"

        Upon hearing that sentence- so short, and so simple- rather than the outbreak of the storm Finn had felt building within him, it suddenly felt as if he was standing on a quiet oasis in the middle of the vast ocean. His head stopped buzzing for the first time in forever. Could it be true? He had never, in a million years, even as a child, permitted himself the wildest of fantasies that he could have the sort of power the Jedis of legend had. "Rebel scum," Phantasma had called him, and he'd especially never felt a reason to dispute the "scum" part but....could it be true? Had Rose seen something in him even he didn't know was there? Sure wouldn't have been the first time.

        "I..." he once again found it exceedingly difficult to locate his voice, "I....don't know. I never thought..." he shook his head, unable to get over just how much sense it made.

        "Finn, think about it," Rose continued. "You've told me about feeling something inside you you can't understand. On Kuat, you felt danger before you knew the stormtroopers had found you and Poe. And when we needed it most, you found ways though the Temple we'd have never found otherwise."

        "Yeah. Fat lot of good it did us," Finn responded, some of the bitterness returning. "We're now stuck here while our friends up there are fighting and dying and we won't even know the difference until it's all over."

        "Are we stuck?" Now Rose's voice took on almost playful tone, as if she had thought of a joke she couldn't wait to share. "See, I don't think we are."

        For a moment, Finn was even more confused, "What do you....oh...oh! No no no no. Rose, even if I did have Force powers..."

        She cut him off, "I think we were captured for a reason! We're still right in the heart of Coruscant. You can get us out of here and we can kick up one hell of a fight to keep the First Order distracted."

        "How?? I have no training! I'm not Rey! I'd have no clue what I'm doing!"

        "Rey barely knew what she was doing when she first stared down Kylo Ren. You had no clue what you were doing when you decided to help Poe and desert the First Order..."

        "So it's true then." A loud voice cut across them, causing them both to snap their heads in its direction simultaneously. The tall, dark woman seemed to have never budged this whole time, still looking intently at the two of them. "You are a First Order deserter."

        "Um...." Finn wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing in her eyes, "yes, but...how..."

        Her gaze remained level and cool, "I saw it in your eyes. There's a special anger that comes from being forced back to something you'd hoped to leave behind forever. We all know it."

        "We...you mean, you too? You used to be First Order?" As if this day hadn't thrown him for enough loops. He'd somehow always assumed defections from the First Order were so insanely rare that he'd never meet another one in this lifetime.

        "We all were." She gestured with her head to indicate the entire block of cells beside them. "Whole company under my command. We were ordered to fire on civilians during the Battle of Ansett Island." She turned back towards them, her eyes burning with fierce pride. "We laid down our weapons. To a person. We're warriors, not monsters."

        Finn took a step forward towards the energy shield. "I used to be FN-2187."

        The woman smirked at this. "And your real name?"

        "Finn."

        For the first time, she fully smiled. "Pleasure, Finn. I'm Jannah. Now...." at this she turned her gaze towards Rose, "I believe your girlfriend was mentioning a way to escape. I promise you, if it's possible," and here she leaned towards them as far as the energy screen let her, "if you really do have those Jedi powers, you'll have every one of us here backing you up." She then jerked her head back towards the staircase they'd been led down. "There's an awful lot of confiscated weapons stored here. I reckon enough to arm ourselves and anyone off the streets who'd care to join us."

        "Well, I..." Finn glanced back at Rose, smiling encouragingly at him, "I mean...look, like I said, I really have no idea if I am a...a Jedi, or...I can't guarantee anything."

        "Oh I think you can do it." Though they'd only just met, Jannah already seem to feel as assured about Finn and Rose. "Not sure why, but I can feel that right certain. But hey, if you can't it's not like things could get any worse." Now that was something Finn could certainly agree with.

        He looked back at Rose. The serene confidence was still there. "Just try Finn. I'm here no matter what." Finn suddenly felt like his heart would burst. He nodded slowly, "Ok."

        He still had to idea what, exactly, he was about to try, but he may as well calm down a bit first. Finn closed his eyes and tried to slow his breath first. His heart, pounding fiercely within his chest, started to slow down, just a bit. Breath for breath, he centered himself, a trick he still used from his training days that had proven too useful to abandon.

        Unlike every time before when he'd done this, though, he noticed....something different. A pressure of sorts, emanating from the world around him, coming from every direction. Was this the Force? He'd have to talk to Rey first thing after all this. In his mind, it felt like he was suspended, almost like he was floating in a sort of warm, thick liquid. Not really knowing if he was doing anything the "right way," he tried to just....reach out...

        ....and suddenly, a terrifying sense of openness flooded his brain. It shocked his consciousness, like a wave of ice-cold water crashing on his shoulders, so much that he nearly pulled away. NO! He thought to himself, Not yet! They're counting on me! And he reached through the cold feeling. There. Rose, standing next to him. Jannah, across the walkway. Other minds, unknown. The materials of the cells, walls, floor, stairs. The energy of the shields holding him in their cells. And next to each door.....yes, a control panel. Finn had never used this particular interface, but with the aching clarity that now formed his being, it didn't matter. He just had to stretch out his hand, and...

        A whooshing sound filled the air and the cold dissipated. Finn suddenly found himself struggling to breath, sweat pouring down his face, his outstretched arm trembling from exertion. For a moment, Finn felt more tired than he'd ever felt before in his life. Then, a pressure around his upper body; Rose, hugging him so hard he almost heard a rib crack.

        "FINN! You do it!" She beamed up to him. He turned, and instead of the blue-green glow that had separated them, Jannah, and the others from the rest of the corridor, there was only open air. Already, yells and shouts and cracking sounds from the entryway they'd come from were filling the air, indicating that Jannah's comrades were already immobilizing the guards and seizing weapons caches. Jannah, though, had not joined them. She was still looking at Finn, with a confident triumph now visible in her eyes

        She nodded in gratitude. Finn nodded back, then looked at Rose as she helped him find his feet again.

        There was nothing more to say now. Now they just had to do whatever they could to make the First Order hurt. And hope they weren't too late.

Nippon Reviews: My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy

My Blood and Bones in a Flowing Galaxy (2021): Written and directed by Sabu. Starring: Anna Ishii, Taishi Nakagawa, Shinichi Tsutsumi, Kai Inowaki, and Kaya Kiyohara. Running Time: 126 minutes.

Rating: 3/4

               The more of his stuff I see, the more I like Sabu. He always finds unique ways to take whatever elements he's throwing together in his latest film in directions that make it impossible to predict where it's going. I can't say that his newest film hits quite the same heights of Mr. Long or Dancing Mary, but it still has a great, big beating heart and plenty of tricks up its sleeve that kept me guessing.

               Kiyosumi has spent his life idolizing his father, who died on the day of his birth rescuing people from a sinking bus. He, too, dreams of being a "hero," though I suspect that at the start of the film he wouldn't be able to tell you what, exactly, that means. His mother seems to have encouraged this instinct in him by regularly speaking of the "Three Rules of Being a Hero." He starts to notice that a girl in one of the junior classes at his high school is regularly (and pretty viciously) bullied by most of her class, with a few exceptions. He starts to stick up for her in ways big and small, which immediately catch the attention of the rest of the class and earn him the moniker "Senior Time."

               At first, it seems to work, and Hari starts to open up in ways no one thought possible. The film is only halfway over at this point, though, so obviously there's more to this than meets the eye. When Hari starts to regress again, Kiyosumi begins to notice signs that she might be facing abuse at home of a sort far worse than the pranks inflicted on her at school. Being, as we've established, a "hero," he takes it upon himself to solve the mystery of Hari's family and what, exactly, she doesn't seem to want to tell anyone.

               As to be expected, this is where things start to go off the rails, though I won't dare spoil the specifics. What I will say is that the movie seems to bend into itself and play with concepts of time and living memory and experience that I truly wasn't anticipating. The emotional climax it builds to is genuinely affecting, the sort of change in perspective that can alter how you remember everything that came before it.

               For all the space-related grandeur the title seems to imply, this is a very emotionally-focused film, to it's strength. There is, however, a running theme about using UFOs as a metaphor for the dark or ugly or threatening things in our lives that we try to hold at bay. It does make sense, from a certain point of view, but it isn't used to much end. No matter. This is an excellent and surprising film that continues the high quality I've come to expect from a Sabu film.

-Noah Franc