Robby And3rson and Mik3 Burdg3 m33t M3GAN and talk all about it. Listen on....

A review of Martin McDonagh's The Banshees of Inisherin Friendship breakups are hard. I speak from personal experience, and I don't think I know a single person who hasn't experienced one themselves. I've had a few big ruptures over the years, and I'll own it: a few were due to mistakes I made - mistakes of carelessness and self-centeredness. One particularly painful instance was very much the other party's fault, and that one still stings now, even though it's been a few years. The terms of the friendship suddenly no longer apply anymore due to the slight - or betrayal - in these situations and the relationship becomes null and void. But those are the extreme cases. Sometimes people just drift apart, and it becomes apparent eventually that the friendship just sort of... quietly vanished. Those can be easier to accept because, by the time you realize you haven't interacted with the other person for ages, there's not really anything left to grieve anymore. The worst, though, as far as I am concerned, is when one friend realizes that the friendship has grown boring (or toxic - or both), but the other doesn't see it. When the unaware person learns that the friendship is over, it startles them. There's no overt wrongdoing. There's no slow fade. One person decides it's time to move on, and the other has the rug pulled from under them. I think this type of friend breakup is the most hurtful and harmful because the person who is surprised by the rupture tends to perseverate long after the other party has moved on, wondering if they did anything wrong, wondering if they can fix things... or wondering whether the whole friendship was ever real, to begin with. The Banshees of Inisherin , a reunion between director Martin McDonagh and actors Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell (who first came together in McDonagh's 2008 directorial debut In Bruges ), was released this past fall and explores this last type of friendship breakup. Set during the tail end of the Irish Civil War in 1923, we watch as folk musician Colm Doherty (Gleeson) starts pointedly ignoring his longtime best friend, dairy farmer Pádraic Súilleabháin (Farrell). The ghosting catches Pádraic completely off guard, throwing a wrench into his comfortable daily rhythm of living with his bookish sister Siobhán (Kerry Condon), tending to his animals, and then heading down to the pub with Colm in the afternoon for a few pints and a chat. It's clear that while Pádraic is a kind man and well-liked by the others on the (fictional) island of Inisherin, he doesn't have many people he feels close to besides Colm and Siobhán. The loss of Colm completely discombobulates him, at first, he cannot believe that Colm is abandoning him so abruptly. After pestering Colm to at least give him a reason for ending the friendship, Colm simply says that he just doesn't like Pádraic anymore - he finds him dull, and would rather spend the rest of the time he has in his life working on writing music and spending time with people who are more interesting to him. Inisherin is a small island, and eventually, almost all of the islanders hear about this friendship breakup. Most sympathize with Pádraic, finding Colm's behavior very bizarre, though some of them do quietly acknowledge that Pádraic can indeed be dull from time to time. Siobhán confronts Colm, calling his treatment of her brother cruel, but Colm remains unmoved. As Pádraic struggles with assimilating the new reality of his existence in Inisherin, and desperately attempts to get Colm back, the islanders notice him spinning out and it becomes a notorious topic of gossip. A local troubled boy, Dominic (Barry Keoghan), sympathizes with Pádraic and tries to help him, but his efforts are as useless as Siobhán's. Eventually, seeing how disturbed Pádraic is becoming due to the loss of the friendship (along with his unhappy situation at home, enduring unspeakable abuse from his father), Dominic becomes disheartened about life altogether in Inisherin and seeks an escape. This is echoed by Siobhán's restlessness in living on the island, resulting in her decision to accept the offer of a job as a librarian on the mainland and leave Inisherin behind. She asks Pádraic to come with her, but he refuses. Even though his already small world has grown much smaller due to Colm's abandonment, he isn't willing to give up the life he is accustomed to altogether. His stubbornness in remaining in a community where he feels isolated essentially amounts to cutting off his nose to spite his face. I won't spoil the plot altogether for you, but I'll leave it at this: as Pádraic's neediness and hurt over the loss of the friendship increases in intensity, Colm begins to resort to extreme behavior to force him to stay away - in what turns out to be a near literal case of cutting off his nose to spite his face. Though what I've described thus far may sound quite sad, for the first 3/4 of the film, The Banshees of Inisherin can be accurately described as a black comedy, with witty dialogue, characters you feel you've known for years, a community that feels authentic in its small-town ways… and a bleakly matter-of-fact depiction of Colm's wild method of keeping Pádraic at bay. However, Colm's antics eventually lead to extreme tragedy - albeit accidentally - and Pádraic's inherent good nature is eroded permanently as a result of his grief. It turns into a friendship breakup that could ultimately result in lives being lost. There is a sense that McDonagh might have been trying to portray the clash between Colm and Pádraic as a metaphor for the Irish Civil War quite literally going on in the background (the community of Inisherin can see the actual fighting on the mainland from their homes on the island, and comment on it regularly). If that was his intent, the metaphor is quite tortured and I’m not a fan. But what I genuinely appreciate about the film is that it is an exploration of a friend breakup between two men. I think in popular culture, it's more common to see explorations of female friendships falling apart due to bad behavior or simply drifting, and I also think that generally women talk about the dynamics of female friendships and what occurs during a rupture more openly - we are conditioned socially to unpack these complicated emotions in a way that men simply aren't. What happens between Colm and Pádraic is interesting not just because it's looking at the scenario of a male friendship falling apart, but also revealing how fraught the situation becomes because men don't have the same vocabulary to discuss the heightened emotions that emerge when a long-term friendship ends. And essentially, that lack of emotional intelligence is what drives Colm to his extreme behavior to push Pádraic away, and what causes Pádraic's existence to become so destabilized by Colm's rejection of him. Gleeson and Farrell's comfortable chemistry from In Bruges is still very much intact in this film - the weary older man and his younger, more bombastic sidekick - and coupled with McDonagh's hilarious and often lyrical writing the scenes between the two men absolutely sparkle, even though they are at odds with each other. (I've read multiple reviews that compare their dynamic to Laurel and Hardy, which is quite a compliment.) Condon is wonderful as Siobhán (and I am embarrassed to admit that, only knowing her as Mike Ehrmantraut's American daughter-in-law Stacy on Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul , I had no idea that she was Irish - or had had such a varied career outside the Breaking Saul-iverse). The Banshees of Inisherin is available to stream on HBO Max if you can't find it in a theater near you, and while I want to urge you all to see it, I have to acknowledge that it can be a very uncomfortable film-watching experience, and it won't be everyone's cup of tea (my boyfriend, despite loving Gleeson and Farrell in In Bruges , really didn't care for it). But for my part, I found it very affecting, and it has stuck with me for several weeks after having watched it - the dark humor of the premise and the tragic direction it ultimately takes have haunted me. That may be in part because I know how painful friendship breakups can be, but it also has to do with the strength and nuance in Farrell's performance of an outwardly simple man. This is hands down, career-best work from Farrell. His portrayal of Pádraic is so lovable and heartbreaking, and all the more so for what happens to his gentle soul as a result of the ongoing feud over the friend breakup. Gleeson more than holds his own, given that his character behaves more outlandishly, but The Banshees of Inisherin is Farrell's film, and I hope to see him clean up mightily during the upcoming awards season. Reeya Banerjee Staff Writer Reeya is a musician and writer based in NY's Capital District. Her debut album The Way Up was released on January 27, 2022. She can frequently be seen in her car on the NYS Thruway cursing traffic on her way to the Hudson Valley for band rehearsals or to Brooklyn for recording sessions. In her other life, she works as a staff accountant for a management company that oversees veterinary practices nationwide, enjoys watching Law & Order SVU returns while eating gummy bears, and has a film degree from Vassar College that she does not use.

Mike Burdge and Diana DiMuro tackle two more earlier horror works of writer/director Mike Flanagan: the seemingly cursed Before I Wake , and the home-invasion-with-a-twist, Hush . Topics include Flanagan's Easter Eggs to other films, his relationship with Jason Blum, Thomas Jane's hair and the badassery that is the very existence of Kate Siegel. Listen on....

In this episode, Reeya Banerjee joins host Bernadette Gorman-White to chat about the latest (and penultimate) season of the Netflix sensation, The Crown . Along the way, they recount where they left off with Season 4, dive into the setbacks in Season 5 while slowly convincing each other that maybe this season had more forethought than what they may have initially perceived, and finally comment on the parallels between Diana's public relations and those of Harry and Meghan. Listen on....

A Love Letter to SNL’s Cecily Strong It’s never an easy goodbye when a “Not-Ready-for-Primetime-Player” decides to become a little more primetime. The transition for Saturday Night Live from its most recent 47th season to its 48th season saw a notable change in the cast; Aidy Bryant, Kate McKinnon, Pete Davidson, and Kyle Mooney all departed at the end of the 47th season, and it was later announced, between the two seasons, that Alex Moffat, Melissa Villaseñor, and Aristotle Athari would also be leaving the show. And then (!) Chris Redd announced separately that he too would be leaving his cast member slot open. Longtime fans of the show, myself included, are no strangers to adapting to the exciting, and necessary, changes the cast lists go through, but we hadn’t seen a changeup quite like this in a long time. Truly, this has been the largest transition SNL has ever seen. But with returning cast members like Andrew Dismukes and Punkie Johnson bumping up to the main cast, James Austin Johnson and Sarah Sherman remaining in their featured slots, and the additional four new featured players (Marcello Hernandez, Molly Kearney, Michael Longfellow, and Devon Walker), SNL surely had a cushion to withstand the transition. Then Cecily Strong left. If you’re a part of the online Saturday Night Live fandom, there was an uproar at the beginning of season 48 for multiple reasons. SNL received a surprising facelift in its opening credits, including both the cast montage and the font used to announce the cast and the logo itself. (The font change elicited quite the online debate, more so than the new cast footage. Whether you are a fan of the new font or not, it was interesting that The Focus had claimed the new font might have been a “modified version of Andrew Footit’s ‘Hudson NY’ font,” when the font had actually been designed by SNL ’s long-standing contracted design firm, Pentagram . If you’re a fellow font/design nerd, Pentagram’s site is a real treat for a collection of all their work on SNL over the years, as well as the rest of their catalog.) Aside from the font debacle in the new opening credits, however, most noticeably and unceremoniously Cecily Strong was missing. The internet went into a tizzy Luckily, with minimal digging one could find out that she was ending her stint in Jane Wagner’s one-woman play, The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe in Los Angeles, but would indeed be back later in the season. Knowing that Cecily would be returning, the first three episodes of SNL season 48 were still enjoyable, but they carried the absence of something great. By the fourth episode of the season, Cecily’s opening credits montage had been filmed and woven into the opening credits like she had been there the entire time, making SNL whole again. But a mere five episodes later, between hosts Steve Martin & Martin Short and Austin Butler, news quietly broke that the ninth episode of Season 48 would be Cecily’s last. Playfully outlasting Kate McKinnon’s record-breaking stint as the longest-running female cast member by only one episode, Cecily left SNL in the early hours of December 18th, 2022. Getting her start on Season 38 (only overlapping Fred Armisen, Bill Hader, and Jason Sudeikis by one year…and never overlapping Kristin Wiig, Andy Samberg, or Abby Elliot who left the previous season), she joined the cast in 2012 alongside Aidy Bryant and Tim Robinson. Tim left the cast after one year to, instead, join the writing team, and Cecily and Aidy would only spend one year as featured players before moving up to repertory cast members. Just as SNL is currently seeing another large revival in its cast structure, Cecily’s early years saw a lot of turnovers as well. Such is SNL . But in the wake of the great departure this previous summer and fall, Cecily’s departure came as quite a shock to most, if not in a logical manner where one can recognize that she has begun pursuing other projects (including AppleTV+’s outstanding Schmigadoon! , at least in an emotional capacity. To fully come to terms with her “loss,” I wanted to look back at a collection of some of my personal favorites that truly emphasize what a comedic powerhouse and professional Cecily Strong was and will continue to be. Lonnie from “The Science Room” (Host: Adam Driver Season 45) Cecily never acts alone in “The Science Room,” which always takes a recurring sketch to the next level. Lonnie, a young girl who is a student on the fictional PBS learning show, “The Science Room,” is always accompanied by TV classmate, Josh (played by Mikey Day), as the two are supposed to be learning classroom lessons about science. The host typically plays the teacher or professor teaching the lesson, who slowly becomes more and more irritated by Lonnie and Josh’s increasing inability to answer basic science questions. The students start out fairly quiet and timid as the sketch begins, but as the lesson goes on they become more and more confident in their incorrect answers, gradually egging each other on more and more. What Cecily brings to this sketch is her delightful face scrunching, as she thoughtfully listens to the questions and waits for her opportunities to impart the knowledge she does “know” (which most frequently includes sexual knowledge from her older sister, which she definitely doesn’t understand). Her eyebrows never stop moving as she thinks, answers, and reacts to the growing discontent of the teacher of the week. Mikey always delivers in this sketch too but hearing the PBS bump after returning from a commercial break always put a smile on my face knowing I was about to see Lonnie. This sketch could certainly continue with another student sitting in Lonnie’s seat, but Cecily’s passive energy will be hard to match. Gemma (She’s Bri’ish) - (Host: Dwayne Johnson Season 42) What’s fascinating about the Gemma sketches is that they’re just as much about Kenan Thompson’s “Gene” as they’re about Cecily’s “Gemma.” Gene, over the course of various seasons, is always on some kind of date, most frequently with his wife Lisa (a rare Vanessa Bayer straight man), that gets crashed by Gemma and whomever she happens to be dating at the time (played by the host). (The most recent Gemma sketch took place after Vanessa had left the show, and in that case, Gene was out “celebrating” his birthday just after his wife had left him.) The Gemma sketches are all fairly similar in that Gemma introduces herself as “Bri’ish,” her paramour remarks that her British accent gets him some variation of “rock hard” and questions Gene on whether or not she’s having the same effect on him, and then Gemma sings a song to a house beat that everyone in the sketch seems to enjoy, despite their initial distaste with her and her partner’s presence. It’s an extremely basic sketch premise, but why it works every time is Cecily’s commitment to Gemma’s authenticity. She may come off as a bit of a bimbo, but she’s really only there to have a good time and pump up the women around her. “Girl Power” and all that. Plus, the sketch linked above, gave Cecily another opportunity in which to interact with an adorable animal (in this case, a piglet), to showcase Cecily’s love of animals (most of her tenure in the cast credits was bolstered by her interacting with her own dog, Lucy). Gemma’s just a great character that always gave the host something fun to do, all the while letting stone-faced Kenan and Cecily the air time to consistently make the audience laugh. Drop her a beat! Ooonce, ooonce, ooonce…. “Love at First Sight” (Host: Chance the Rapper Season 45) This sketch was a one-off, but boy did it leave a lasting impression on me. Cecily stars as a woman named Jennifer who is brokenhearted after a breakup. Her two friends (Ego Nwodim and Heidi Gardner) take her out to a fancy restaurant to cheer her up where Chance the Rapper’s “William” spies her from across the bar. They experience “Love at First Sight” which in this case means they begin to float mere feet above the floor. (The clip above is posted from the dress rehearsal, but if you can imagine that sketch being even more chaotic, that’s what the live taping captured.) As they’re floating, they move about the restaurant knocking everything over in their path, up until they share their first kiss…which sends William back to the ground. “Was my kiss weird?” Jennifer asks. “Nah, it was good. (?)” William responds. “Well, then come back up here, where all the love is.” “Please don’t pull my arm.” The entire exchange is awkward, stilted, and hilarious, made all the funnier by their extremely visible harness and stage wires. There’s even a button on the sketch that I won’t mention here that makes you realize and appreciate how a person like Jennifer continues to find herself in situations like this. This is one of those SNL sketches that you’re so happy they pursued after it was initially pitched, one that could have just as easily wound up on the cutting room floor. When thinking of Cecily’s greatest hits, this one stands out because it’s so different from her recurring sketches, and it’s the perfect blend of simple concept and high execution. "Weekend Update: Goober the Clown on Abortion" (Host: Kieran Culkin Season 47) I can hardly believe “Goober the Clown” has only been around for one year (debuting on the November 6th, 2021 “Weekend Update”), and, sadly, that means that Cecily has only been on the proverbial map for a year. When Goober the Clown made a statement, following Texas’ decision to instill a six-week abortion ban over a year ago, a shock went through not only the comedy world but the entire news cycle. Cecily…I mean, Goober tells her story of getting an abortion the day before her 23rd birthday all while “clowning around” with water gags, balloon animals, and a spinning bowtie. She says it’s to make the subject more palatable, and that she’s tired of talking about her clown abortion, but she feels like she has to in the wake of the country’s burgeoning abortion bans. Plenty of television shows have covered the topic of abortion, but people rarely speak out on national television about their own, deeply personal experiences. Colin Jost (one of “Update’s” co-hosts and Cecily’s very close friend) tells her that she doesn’t have to do this, but Goober insists that she must. And as she does, she goes down in history as one of the bravest (if not the most brave) SNL comedians to ever grace the stage. The segment will forever be remembered as one that transcends the medium and showcases Cecily’s brevity and brilliance. “The Girl You Wish You Hadn’t Started a Conversation with at a Party,” Judge Jeanine Pirro, but mainly, my favorite, Cathy Anne - "Weekend Update" Medley When Cecily joined SNL , she spent one season as a featured player before moving up to a repertory status and joining Seth Meyers behind the “Weekend Update” desk as his co-host. But in that first season, she debuted one of her long-running characters: “The Girl You Wish You Hadn’t Started a Conversation with at a Party.” It’s a classic impression of a dumb girl pretending to be smart, mispronouncing every other word, whose sole intent is to make herself look good while drunkenly stumbling through what would now be called “woke” talking points. Cecily didn’t get to continue portraying TGYWYHSaCwaaP (phew) behind the desk, however, once taking up her co-hosting duties. So, for her first year co-hosting “Update” with Seth, and the subsequent year of co-hosting with new co-host Colin Jost, Cecily was unable to reprise some of her most memorable characters. “Update” hosts rarely step down from their post, but in Cecily’s case she requested to do so so she would be able to play around in more sketches and get behind the desk in other capacities, and it couldn’t have been a better decision. When Cecily left “Update,” new co-host Michael Che stepped in and those two co-hosts are now the longest-running hosts of Weekend Update. I like to believe Cecily, in her “Update” absence, allowed it to grow into this new state of security. It also allowed her to bring characters that she portrayed in other sketches (Marjorie Taylor Greene and Tulsi Gabbard included) back behind the desk. One of the best impressions Cecily ever perfected has to be Judge Jeanine Pirro, and most memorably her wine-sloshing interactions with Colin during Update solidified this interpretation. Each of Jeanine’s appearances is stellar, but the episode that gets the most play is her Season 46 finale appearance where Jeanine, after spilling nearly one full glass of wine on Colin (over the course of a few minutes), crawls over the desk to get into a large, clear box of wine that had been rolled up on the stage. She starts playfully scooping full glasses of wine out of the box while singing “I Did it My Way,” throwing the liquid over her shoulder, managing to hit Colin each time without even taking a glance over her shoulder. Her timing, and aim, are impeccable. At the end of the segment, she dunks her entire body into the wine. This ending, coupled with it being the season finale, got a lot of people talking about whether or not she would be leaving at the end of Season 46, but luckily we all know how that went. For how good the sendoff would have been if Cecily would have signed off with Judge Jeanine, her last Update appearance couldn’t have been any better. Cathy Anne has been a longtime recurring character for Update, famously known as Che’s neighbor who has a lot of strong opinions on, well…everything. Cathy Anne does not shy away from the tough subjects, and she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks. Che always introduces her affectionately, however, and even for how gruff Cathy Anne can be, she’s playfully relatable through her flirting with Che and never being able to stop talking or gesturing long enough to ever get her cigarette lit. She’s quietly held the mantle of one of the best “Weekend Update” characters of the past few decades, easily holding the same tier of acclaim as, say, Bobby Moynihan’s “Drunk Uncle,” or Bill Hader’s “Stefon.” Cathy Anne is a quiet type of funny, one that’s almost as funny in her pauses as she is during her exclamations. Similarly to how choked up I got when Kate McKinnon’s “Ms. Rafferty” finally joined the aliens in her final “Close Encounters” sketch last season, Cathy Anne’s last appearance really got me. It’s a special last “Update” appearance, and just like with her boxed wine Judge Jeanine segment, you can tell just how much Che and Colin love, admire, and respect her as a fellow comedian. In fact, Cecily gets a second goodbye in an additional sketch later which starts with the premise that she’s a Radio Shack manager that’s finally leaving the store, that morphs into a sketch where Austin Butler begins to croon “Blue Christmas” to her in signature Elvis fashion. Cecily is meant to chime in and sing alongside him, while members of the cast join her on stage as well, but she struggles to make it through chunks of the song at a time. The cast gathers around her, surrounding her in song, all the while she smiles and tries to keep it together. By the end, she’s singing once again, but it’s definitely no Judge Jeanine singing “My Way.” Her final episode is remarkably Cecily-light, but it’s during this “Blue Christmas” sketch that you realize that’s probably more for Cecily’s benefit than the alternative. She’s a professional, but she’s certainly not made of stone. As a huge fan of Cecily Strong, and one who goes on the record saying I think she’s been the best cast member for years, I was teary-eyed throughout the entire episode. Rewatching the sketches while writing this article has only strengthened my love for her, and I’m so happy we were able to spend this past decade with her. The best SNL cast members always come back home eventually, and I so look forward to a few years from now when she graces that infamous stage and regales us with tales of all the wonderful and exciting things she’s been up to. Perhaps she’ll bring Gemma back, or we’ll get to see Lonnie sit for one more “Science Room” lesson, but I hope they keep Cathy Anne in prison. Because when Cathy Anne sat at that Update desk for the last time, she finally lit that cigarette. And what’s a better send-off than that? Thank you, Cecily Strong. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes.

Story Screen Reports is our team REACTING to the top 5 film, television and entertainment news stories of the month. Join us as we dissect and comb through everything from upcoming releases to studio drama. On this episode, Mike Burdge hops on to discuss the latest shake ups with Warner Bros and HBO Max (aka Shitstorm City), as well as a few other stories, including a surprise review of one of the year's best and most surprising new releases. You can find those stories, and the sourced articles, linked below. 1. Henry Cavill No Longer Superman And More DC Shake Ups Written by Borys Kit at The Hollywood Reporter 2. Mike Flanagan Jumps From Netflix To Amazon Prime Written by Nellie Andreeva at Deadline 3. Donald Glover Set To Star In Spider-Man Movie Based On Villain Hypno Hustler Written by Borys Kit at The Hollywood Reporter 4. Westworld To Be Removed From HBO Max Written by Nellie Andreeva at Deadline Listen on....

A Review of Benediction Biopics are their own genre of film; they dramatize the life of a real person, usually a public or historical figure. In 2022 several biopics were released - some historically accurate portrayals, others more imaginative or satirical interpretations of the people they aimed to depict - Elvis, Blonde (about Marilyn Monroe), Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, The Fabelmans (based on the life of Steven Spielberg) and even the upcoming film, I Wanna Dance With Somebody (about Whitney Houston). Biopics can give us insight into the events that shaped the people at the center of their stories. They can provide us with greater context for understanding the artists we love or admire - their songs, paintings, or the poems they wrote - and what life events made them who they are/were. Oftentimes, the allure of a biopic is the chance to experience this beloved art in real-time when they were creating it, making biopics of popular musicians one of the most successful topics of this genre. Showcasing other forms of art while still holding an audience’s attention can be a much more difficult task in the biopic genre and, at times, this proves to be the case in Terence Davies’ film, Benediction. Terence Davies is well known in the UK for his 1988 film, Distant Voices, Still Lives, illustrating the life of one British family, told out of order, from various members’ points of view. He directed and adapted Edith Wharton’s novel, The House of Mirth (2000), starring Gillian Anderson, and he later wrote and directed A Quiet Passion about American poet Emily Dickinson. The biopic, it seems, is in this man’s wheelhouse. In Benediction, Davies depicts the life and work of English poet Siegfried Sassoon, a man who fought in and rallied against WWI, the very topic of his most popular (and most controversial) works of poetry. Sassoon was also a homosexual man during a time when it was considered a criminal offense. Davies takes a look at the life of Sassoon and how it was shaped by war, tragedy, and destructive personal relationships that helped him become a prolific poet and an outspoken pacifist against WWI. Siegfried is played by Scottish actor Jack Lowden ( Slow Horses, Dunkirk ). His performance is one of the more heartbreaking ones I have watched this year. It is Lowden’s thoughtful, anguished yet charismatic performance that makes Benediction something special to watch. In both real life and Davies’ film, Siegfried Sasson grew up in rural England. He and his younger brother go off to fight in WWI as joyous young men ready for an adventure. Siegfried loses his brother to the war and ends up in the hospital with injuries after receiving a Military Cross of honor for saving another man’s life. It’s during this time in the hospital that he first crafts an outspoken letter, to the military and Parliament, decrying WWI and refusing to return to fight after he heals from his injuries. His words of anti-war protest were published in The Times in 1917 and read in Parliament, however, instead of facing the consequences of his actions in front of a firing squad as a conscientious objector, he was shipped off to a war hospital for symptoms of being “shell-shocked.” Siegfried, by all rites, has nothing wrong with him, but he is treated with therapy for grief, anger, and his “unpatriotic” views of the war. Dr. Rivers (Ben Daniels) treats their therapy sessions more like scheduled discussion time to engage with a poet he admires, and he encourages Sassoon to continue writing even while being treated at his facility. Dr. Rivers is a kind father figure and a fellow closeted gay man. When he asks Siegfried about his personal interactions, Sassoon describes himself as, “quick to tears, slow to love.” He keeps a wall up around himself in an effort of protection during a time when being openly homosexual was not an option. However, while there in the hospital, Siegfried meets another poet who edits the hospital’s literary magazine (real-life poet Wilfred Owen, played by Matthew Tennyson) and they develop a relationship despite never acting on it physically while they are together. They clearly love each other and shape each other’s writing and yet, Siegfried never takes any steps to consummate their relationship. Lowden plays Siegfried’s emotional state in such an understated way that it is both entirely relatable and so painfully British. The closest the poets come to physical contact is during one of my favorite scenes in the movie when the two dance the tango together cheek to cheek before being interrupted by an army officer. Owen is eventually cleared for service and is killed in combat only a week later, further fueling Siegfried’s grief and his passion for writing and speaking out against the war. I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go. “Suicide in the Trenches” by Siegfried Sassoon Davies uses Lowden’s narration (as Siegfried) to share his actual poetry with the audience while blending it with real archival footage of the war. His voice is steady and calm but underneath it is loss and fire. Being able to hear that poetry read aloud makes it come alive but the stark photos and newsreel footage showing the decimation of trench warfare do not conjure up enough of an emotional response from the viewer. I realize that not all films have the budget of Sam Mendes’ epic work 1917, but as I watched Benediction, I often wondered whether any attempt to recreate some of the scenes of war with Sassoon would have helped connect the audience more with his poetry than simply watching real footage from so long ago. I found that the events that were depicted in Siegfried’s life post-war were far more engaging and heartbreaking. In the years following his time spent fighting in WWI, Siegfried Sassoon had several relationships with men that all seemed to end in heartbreak. Lowden portrays Sassoon as someone who was emotionally passive as a means of protection but often to his detriment. He was involved with the selfish cad and musical theater actor, Ivor Novello, played with excellent bitchiness by Jeremy Irvine ( War Horse). Then there is a succession of lovers after his relationship with Novello ends (including Novello’s ex, Glenn Byam Shaw), but the most notable is Stephen Tennant, played by Calam Lynch ( Bridgerton, Derry Girls). Tennant and Sassoon were together for nearly six years. In the film, Tennant, who is sick with Tuberculosis, goes off on a trip to recuperate in Bavaria but cheats on Sassoon and ends the relationship in a letter “from his doctor.” Later in the film, we watch an older Sassoon, played by Peter Capaldi ( Doctor Who ) chew out an older Tennant, played by the excellent Anton Lesser ( Andor, Game of Thrones) thirty years later. Siegfried is now married (to a woman) and has one son. He is seemingly miserable. This shift to watching an older embittered Sassoon during his futile search for meaning is far less glamorous than watching the younger Sassoon during his heyday in 1920s London, but it is just as crushing. He and his son, George, can’t seem to connect despite the honest and evident joy we saw across the young Siegfried’s face after his son’s birth. He hung his hopes for “redemption” initially upon his young wife, Hester Gatty, played by Kate Phillips (if you know her, you love her, from Peaky Blinders ), and later on his son. When it didn’t work, he grew resentful of both. Young Siegfried, nursing a broken heart from Tennant, decides to marry a woman. Initially, he is completely honest with Hester that he has only been with men. She already knows and is still willing to take a chance on him, but deep down, we know she should not. The scene of Siegfried assembling his friends (several who were gay men who had also married women) in a chapel before his nuptials is like the meeting of a secret society. His friends understand why he is doing what he is doing but none of them seem too happy about his choice to do so. It makes you think about what might have happened to Sassoon and his poetry if he had been able to lead a life openly as a gay man. Would he have moved on from his anti-war poetry and found another muse? Would he have found happiness? Salvation? In the final years of his life, a lonely older Sassoon turned to Catholicism. In Benediction , when older Siegfried decides to convert to Catholicism later in life, both his son and wife do not understand why, but we, the audience, have seen Siegfried struggle for meaning again and again throughout his young life as it plays out on film. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” Siegfried exclaims frustrated, holding back tears, while he sits in Dr. Rivers’ office attending mandated therapy. Lowden is exceptional at conveying Sassoon’s inner turmoil and frustration with the events around him as he struggles with how to deal with them. Before the film’s conclusion, we watch older Siegfried walk home alone from going to the theater in London with his son. On his way, he decides to stop and sit on a bench for a few minutes; he seems lost in thought. We are then transported back in time to when younger Siegfried sat outside the hospital where he was being treated and watched as a man who had lost both legs in the war, was pushed outside in a wheelchair for some fresh air. As the day grows darker and the temperature drops, we hear the words of a poem Wilfred Owen wrote and gave to Siegfried, titled, “Disabled.” As Siegfried, Jack Lowden’s voice reads out the poem as we watch Siegfried watch this man while he waits for a nurse to come back and bring him inside. Lowden’s performance is captivating, based on his facial expressions alone. The older Siegfried never truly finds salvation. He ends up alone, haunted by his past, and feeling guilty about his survival. The younger Sassoon watches the injured soldier and tries (and fails) to hold back tears. Siegfried is completely devastated and so in turn are we. Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. Only a solemn man who brought him fruits Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul. * * * * * Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes, And do what things the rules consider wise, And take whatever pity they may dole. Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. How cold and late it is! Why don't they come And put him into bed? Why don't they come? Excerpt from “Disabled” by Wilfred Owen Diana DiMuro Associate Editor Besides watching TV and movies, Diana likes plants, the great outdoors, drawing and reading comics, and just generally rocking out. She has a BA in English Literature and is an art school dropout. You can follow her on Instagram @dldimuro and Twitter @DianaDiMuro

Robby Anderson is joined by guests Diana DiMuro and Mike Burdge to chat about a lil film called Avatar: The Way of Water . Points of discussion include just how much this film rocks, gripes they had with certain choices, the undeniable power of Big Jim Cameron, what made the original Avatar so special and America's new official sweetie-pie and teen-hearthrob: Spider. Listen on....

Robby Anderson and Diana DiMuro chat about Violent Night , which is a play on the classic holiday term, Silent Night, because it's an action movie with Santa! Along the way way they chat about all the fun X-Mas themed kills, David Harbour being a pretty a good Santa, should this movie be more R or PG-13 rated, as well as discuss their favorite films and shows to watch around the holidays. Listen on....

A Former Hospitality Professional's Thoughts on The Menu When I'm not a writer and a musician, I am an accountant, but I began my career as a food & beverage buyer in the hospitality industry. I've never actually cooked on a line, save for a few days slinging french fries at one of my workplaces to get accustomed to the pace of the restaurants I bought for (according to the General Manager I was quite good!), but I've spent a lot of time in kitchens and around chefs, helping them to source the best ingredients they can to achieve their culinary visions and provide their guests with a special, unique gastronomic experience. I've also seen firsthand what the politics of a kitchen can look like. The structure of a traditional professional kitchen - le Brigade de cuisine - was developed by Georges Auguste Escoffier, one of culinary history's most important chefs and also one of the codifiers of French haute cuisine . The system is based on his experience in the French military and is extremely structured, hierarchical, and rigorous. The professional kitchen's roots being derived from the French military explains why the head of a kitchen is known as the Executive Chef. Chef is French for "boss" or "leader." In extremely formal kitchen environments, you never refer to the Executive Chef by their name. They are always “Chef.” When Chef gives an order, if you are in his or her brigade, you respond immediately with "Yes Chef!" (or if you're really hardcore, "Oui Chef!" ) to acknowledge them and to show your respect for their authority over you. Chefs and cooks work hard, live hard, and because of the stress of their job, they tend to party hard, too. Anyone who has read Anthony Bourdain's seminal book Kitchen Confidential - the book that made him a culinary and literary star, which pulled back the curtain on the reality of life in a restaurant kitchen - knows this. But as time has gone on, it's clear that that way of life can be very toxic. One study I read recently stated that chefs are nearly twice as likely to be addicted to alcohol and drugs (especially cocaine) as the wider population. Sexism, sexual harassment, and sexual assault are rampant, as it is still a very male-dominated industry (the booze and coke certainly don't help). Bourdain, in the wake of the #MeToo movement, before his untimely suicide in 2018, wrote an essay on Medium condemning his former colleagues Mario Batali and Ken Friedman in light of their multiple allegations of sexual harassment. He concluded by stating: "To the extent which my work in Kitchen Confidential celebrated or prolonged a culture that allowed the kind of grotesque behaviors we're hearing about all too frequently is something I think about daily, with real remorse." Oh yes, and suicide. Bourdain was long out of the kitchen when he sadly took his own life (and the circumstances of that action had nothing to do with being a kitchen veteran - so to speak), but he is sadly not the first or the only chef to commit suicide. Chefs are 9% more vulnerable to suicide than other professions. In a 2017 survey, 51% of people who worked in kitchens confessed to extreme stress, anxiety, and depression. An organization called Culinary Hospitality Outreach and Wellness (CHOW) was founded in 2018 by John Hinman, a baker in Denver, along with food writer Alexandra Palmerton, to provide a safe space for culinary professionals to connect and find access to resources to help address career-related mental health and substance abuse issues. (If you work in a kitchen and are struggling, check them out - they are doing amazing work.) Alongside these basic, hard truths about the reality of kitchen culture, the rise of television cooking shows - not your gentle, charming Julia Child-PBS fare, but high-octane cooking competitions like Top Chef, Iron Chef, Hell's Kitchen , and other modern shows about the restaurant industry like Kitchen Nightmares (the British version is far superior to the American version, for the record) and Bar Rescue - has made the average restaurant diner more aware of exotic ingredients, new recipe trends, molecular gastronomy, best customer service practices, and immersive dining "experiences" that are just as much about the room you're in and the people you are dining with in addition to the food you eat. As a result, the scrutiny on a chef - especially one in a famous, white-tablecloth establishment - can be harrowing. The restaurant industry is perilous - food costs are high, alcohol costs are higher, staffing is difficult, restaurant critics are ruthless, and customers are fickle. One bad review from a critic can be the difference between being heralded as a genius or having to close down your establishment. And of course, the COVID-19 pandemic also had disastrous effects on the restaurant industry, for obvious reasons. It's a hard life, being a chef, (that's probably the understatement of the century) and Mark Mylod's film The Menu (released on November 18th), mixing the genres of horror, thriller, satire, and farce, throws all of the worst aspects of this career choice into stark relief. Chef Julian Slowik, played by Ralph Fiennes, owns and operates Hawthorne, a restaurant on a private island where every night he hosts an extensive, multiple courses, highly conceptual menu to a group of 12 guests. The guests have to take a ferry to reach the island, reservations are nearly impossible to book and require several months' lead time, and you probably need to set up a separate savings account just to set aside money to pay the bill. In real life, fancy, elite, and ambitious restaurant experiences like this do exist: Chef Ferran Adrià used to keep his restaurant elBulli open for only six months a year, spending the rest of the year perfecting recipes and concepts for the next open season (elBulli sadly closed in 2013. It's a tough industry, even for a celebrity chef), and ChefJosé Andrés owns two restaurants: minibar in Washington DC and é in Las Vegas, that serve prix fixe menus of small courses to only 9-12 diners at a time. elBulli, minibar , and é are all obvious inspirations for Hawthorne, but the team at Hawthorne really turns things up to 11. The sous chefs, line cooks, servers, and sommeliers all live on the property in quarters adjacent to the restaurant, smoking meats in a custom smokehouse on site, sourcing fresh seafood from the water surrounding the island, and the chefs spend hours developing recipes and executing dishes under the guidance, mentorship, and iron hand of Chef Julian while his devoted Maitre d' Elsa (Hong Chau) manages the front-of-house team. (Chef Julian has his own separate home on the island.) The Hawthorne team devotes every aspect of their lives to the success of the restaurant. Elsa has the additional task of performing background checks on their customers in order for the chefs to tailor each night's meal specifically to the mix of guests in-house. If Chef Julian's tight ship in the kitchen is unsettling (the way he claps his hands to signal his team to snap upright in formation from their positions on the line takes the notion of the military-inspired kitchen brigade to a disturbing extreme), Elsa's FOH management is also creepy, as she polices the behavior of all of the guests in the room, keeping everyone in check and threatening to dismiss anyone for breaking the established rules - for instance, not allowing anyone to photograph the food for Instagram, which Chef Julian feels eliminates the mystery and mystique of the Hawthorne experience. (I won't lie, he's not wrong...) Anya Taylor-Joy does a spectacular job as Margot, the only skeptical diner during one fateful night's seating, sparring with her date Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) over his obsequious fanboy obsession with Chef Julian. She mocks Chef Julian's pretentious explanations of his food creations and the fussy, over-tweezed presentation of each course, calling out the other guests for blindly accepting the inherently ridiculous (and frankly bizarre) atmosphere of the entire evening. Ultimately, she makes the point that a less "elevated" dish created with simple high-quality ingredients and true passion for the act of cooking (instead of performative culinary grandstanding) is almost always a more satisfying meal than any food manipulated with liquid nitrogen or other science-y techniques to appear to be something it's not in the name of an "experience." Chef Julian, on the other hand, is able to suss out who she really is (she was not the original guest Tyler intended to bring to the restaurant that evening, which fundamentally affects the meticulously curated meal), and therefore, her position as an outsider to this specific subculture of foodies allows her to learn his insidious plan for the night's seating - and makes her a threat… or perhaps an ally. I do not want to give away what happens. It's too good, too wild, and too funny to spoil, especially to anyone who is familiar with kitchen culture and the nuances of the elite fine dining experience. I was laughing audibly when I watched the film in my local theater, filled with memories of my younger days pricing out exorbitant menus at an upscale resort and searching for ways to save money on ingredients during the recession without sacrificing quality, as well as remembering some of the chefs I met who struggled with the stresses with that lifestyle. Despite the humor, the film is also thematically very heavy, and it really struck a chord with me. I watched it with my boyfriend, who has had a long career in hospitality finance but hasn't spent nearly as much time in kitchens with chefs as I have. He thought the farcical humor of the plot was overly silly, bordering on the absurd. But that is exactly the point of The Menu - it points out the absurdities of what fine dining culture has turned into, and shines a bright spotlight on the psychic toll it takes on chefs with regard to mental health and sexual harassment. That spotlight is bright, jarring, and very shocking in places. The film has been advertised, on television and in its trailer, as a horror film, but it's not; it's a very dark satirical farce masquerading as horror, and the farce only serves to underscore the actually quite serious topics it is addressing about life as a culinary professional. Many would read what I wrote above about the film to be "overthinking" it (including my lovely boyfriend). Come on, Reeya. It's a quirky horror thriller with a lot of gallows humor! Not everything has to be a political statement about mental health and the safety of women! Not everything is about how social media can be a destructive force! It's Ralph Fiennes playing an eccentric chef! Creepy stuff happens! Can't we just leave it at that? No, we can't. Or at least, I can't. This movie is trying to do a lot more than just provide jump-scares and comically overwrought monologues about the emotional and spiritual meaning behind an epic salad presentation. If you like jump-scares and absurdity, there's plenty to enjoy here. If you like stacked casts (the film also features appearances by Judith Light and John Leguizamo as fellow guests along with Fiennes, Taylor-Joy, and Hoult), you won't be disappointed. If you like beautiful art and costume design, drink it all in, folks. It's a gorgeously shot and lit film, eerie, ethereal, and brutalist. But if you know kitchen culture - if you've seen it, lived it, or experienced it, in any way - this film will make you laugh; it'll also punch you in the gut. One scene in particular, featuring Chef Julian's cruel dressing down of his executive sous chef, literally left me breathless. On a broader scale, if you consider culinary art to be akin to visual, literary, and musical art (which I do) and you identify as an artist, there will be aspects of this film that resonate with you too: The idea of chasing fame and debasing yourself in the process. The ugly reality of how marketing and publicity have mostly become about gaming social media algorithms. The idea of perfectionism - letting the perfect be the enemy of the good - and how it can destroy your creativity and your passion. At one point towards the midpoint of the film, when it became clear what Chef Julian was up to, I was reminded of a moment during Season 8 of Top Chef , when late in the competition, the contestant (and eventual winner) Richard Blais, the resident molecular gastronomy expert, puts up his latest meal in response to the weekly challenge, leans against his prep station looking like he might cry (or puke), and says, "I hate everything I make." "No, no, no," fellow contestant Tiffany Derry tells him. (They were all used to his neuroses by that point.) "Don't do that. We don't have time for that right now." "But it's true," he replies weakly, "It is." That's the plight of any serious artist on some level, isn't it? And it's what drives Chef Julian to carry out his diabolical mission for the night. This is a weird little movie with a lot of thorny big things to say. Go watch The Menu . You'll laugh, you'll gasp, you'll bite your nails… and you'll never look at a restaurant meal the same way again. Reeya Banerjee Staff Writer Reeya is a musician and writer based in NY's Capital District. Her debut album The Way Up was released on January 27, 2022. She can frequently be seen in her car on the NYS Thruway cursing traffic on her way to the Hudson Valley for band rehearsals or to Brooklyn for recording sessions. In her other life, she works as a staff accountant for a management company that oversees veterinary practices nationwide, enjoys watching Law & Order SVU returns while eating gummy bears, and has a film degree from Vassar College that she does not use.

In this episode, Bernadette Gorman-White and Robby Anderson talk about the nature of Star Wars storytelling, which SW properties they really enjoy, how Tony Gilroy and crew threw fan expectations out the window, the possibilities for season 2, and just how good Andor is. Listen on....

“Are there no new ideas in Hollywood?” is a common question thrown around in all social circles, whether you be a film buff or a casual Netflixer. Reboots, remakes, and sequels are not a new phenomenon, but it does seem that with the advent of streaming premiers and the fear of not having a commercial success on their hands, studios have begun to really lean into that dopamine hit of nostalgia. But how far can that rush take an audience, and how much longer can returning to our past feel genuine and necessary? Dropping the day before A Christmas Story Christmas , Disney’s Disenchanted is one of the most recent additions to a year already full of nostalgia trips. The first installment, Enchanted , premiered in 2007 to much fanfare as an interesting and fun take on the princess tropes Disney helped to build. Amy Adams starred as Giselle, a young woman living in 2D-animated Andalasia, who is just waiting for her prince to come. When he does (Prince Edward, a charmingly daft James Marsden), their plans to marry the very next day are foiled by Queen Narissa (Edward’s stepmother, a wicked Susan Sarandon), who will lose her crown if her stepson is to marry. Narissa ruthlessly pushes Giselle down a magical well that spits her out of Andalasia into a very real New York City, where Giselle quickly realizes that not everyone is so quick to lend a helping hand and her naive way of looking at the world is a virtue at which to be scoffed. Through her journey to be reunited with Edward, she meets New Yorker Robert (Patrick Dempsey), and his daughter Morgan (Rachel Covey), who try to help Giselle adapt by teaching her the rules of the real world: namely, that the real world is not a fairy tale. Giselle’s outlook remains unchanged, however, and in the process, her point of view rubs off on Robert and vice versa, leading them to fall in love. Enchanted works its magic on a lot of levels. On the surface, it’s got all the makings of a perfect Disney movie: a charming “princess” with a whimsical taste in fashion; great music with impressive choreography; talking animals; and an intimidating villain with a bumbling henchman (Timothy Spall living his best life). But beyond that, Enchanted also has a lot on its mind. It’s a story where all four main romantic leads (Adams’ Giselle, Dempsey’s Robert, Marsden’s Edward, and Robert’s five-year girlfriend, Nancy - played by Idina Menzel) have to question just what it is they see in their romantic partner, and why it might be okay to question how the narratives both fairy tales, and our modern society, influence our own “happily ever afters.” It’s a Disney film that doesn’t take itself too seriously, which works in its favor, in that it can both celebrate its history while also poking fun at it. If this type of film is your bag, it really nails the assignment. But now, fifteen years later, Disney has finally released the Enchanted sequel (which had been circulating since 2010): the aptly titled Disenchanted . Giselle and Robert, after securing their happily ever after at the end of the first film, have just had a baby of their own, and much to now-teenager Morgan’s dismay (Morgan here played by newcomer Gabriella Baldacchino), they have decided to move out of NYC to the fictional suburb of Monroeville. The move, in theory, is meant to be a fresh start for their new and complete family, but upon their arrival, they find their new home still under renovations, Robert begins to worry his new commute to work will soon become monotonous, and Morgan is instantly embarrassed at school by Giselle’s inability to understand basic social formalities. Additionally, the family has been visited by now-Queen Nancy and now-King Edward who has gifted the new baby, Sofia, with an Andalasian Wishing Wand™, which can grant any wish a true daughter of Andalasia wishes to make. In Giselle’s growing discontent with the tribulations of real-world life, she chooses to wish for a Fairy Tale Life™, which does indeed work, turning Monroeville into a real-world fairytale town. The caveat is that while Giselle’s wish does come true, the Fairy Tale Life™ means that since she is Morgan’s stepmother, as per the Fairy Tale Rules™, she must also turn wicked. And, of course, by the time the clock strikes midnight, the wish will be completely irreversible. And on top of that, the wish is being generated by the magic that powers Andalasia, so if the spell becomes permanent, that means anything that was born in Andalasia will die, including Giselle. Whew, those are some convoluted and high stakes. Enchanted works because the characters get to live and play within very simple parameters while Disenchanted struggles to understand its original character motivations. In the first film, the story is simple: two lost loves are trying to find each other in a world that is more complex than their own, while an evil Queen tries to stop them from reuniting. But our real world is the foil to the typically outlandish fairytale world and tropes. There’s not much fantastic about NYC until Giselle operates within it. That is not the case when it comes to Monroeville. Before the arrival of the Philip family, Monroeville is already populated by characters who live within the tropes of a typical Disney Channel Original Movie. There’s the overinvolved mother and head of the Monroeville town council, Malvina Monroe (a valiant Maya Rudolph, really trying to make the best of a fairly trite script), and her two cronies (Yvette Nicole Brown and Jayma Mays); Malvina’s son, Tyson, who instantly becomes the love interest for Morgan; and an upcoming “Ball” themed school fundraiser in which students (but mostly their parents?) campaign to be crowned “prince and princess.” From the very beginning, Monroeville seems to be a mere skin over which to layer the eventual Monrolasia, Giselle’s Fairy Tale Life™. Because the real world in Disenchanted already appears so fabricated, the jump to the fantastic holds no true weight, especially since within the first act of the film, we’ve already spent a decent amount of time with Queen Nancy and King Edward, who are leaning into their Andalasian natures, HARD. The lack of juxtaposition between what is “real” and what is “fairytale” seems to betray the very spirit of the original film. Disenchanted , additionally, sets itself up at a disadvantage by implying that Giselle is almost entirely the same character from the first film as if she has been frozen in time for at least a decade. There is no implication of character growth, whether that be in her understanding of social norms or functions, her connection with Morgan, or her decision to treat anyone in her life as if they are capable of being their own main character. Enchanted was written by Bill Kelly, directed by Kevin Lima, and produced by Barry Josephson and Barry Sonnenfeld. The two producers returned for Disenchanted (with Adams getting a producing credit as well) but the film was directed by Adam Shankman (best known for his work on So You Think You Can Dance ) and written by Brigitte Hales. Enchanted exemplifies Lima’s knowledge of the Disney machine, as he was the director of A Goofy Movie , Tarzan , and 102 Dalmatians , and he is also married to Brenda Chapman who was the head of story on The Lion King and the co-director of Brave ; this couple bleeds Disney. The new Disenchanted team, however, took characters ripe for development and chose instead to place them in a situation where the only development in character was that they’re older now. The catalyst for the move to Monroeville is the arrival of baby Sofia, and the Philips parents deciding they wish to continue to raise their family somewhere quieter with more space. But, the secondary (and infinitely more interesting) reason for the move is because Giselle is unhappy. She is still searching for her family’s happily ever after, and she thinks she’s going to find it in Monroeville, but she doesn’t have any substantiating evidence to back up that ideation. Yes, she may also be homesick and perhaps she thinks the suburbs are the closest thing she’ll find to Andalasia, but ultimately, she’s seeking a new happiness without truly addressing the real reason why she’s unhappy in the first place. It’s similar to how we find Giselle at the beginning of Enchanted , except in the first film, her eagerness to find happiness is due to a lack of something: her true love’s kiss. Giselle’s unhappiness in Disenchanted begins in the real world, which by the rules of this franchise’s world should mean that her unhappiness holds real-world implications, in contrast to her fairytale unhappiness that was governed by the fairytale rules. Baby Sofia’s arrival seems to be the perfect chance to explore what Giselle might really be going through, postpartum depression, or exploring her ideas of what it means to have a blended family, but the film shies away from what Giselle actually thinks about her current familial state. For the most part, we only know she’s unhappy. We do, on the other hand, see clear conflict within Morgan’s character and her adjustment to her parents finally raising a “true daughter of Andalasia,” and how much everyone’s emphasis on what the word “true” means in this context hurts her. In the end, she is the only character other than Giselle who remembers the events of the spell after it’s broken, so one could argue that she is also a main character, but because the film is being pulled in so many different directions, no one character really gets to shine on their own. …except Idina Menzel. In Enchanted , musicians Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz composed a delightful score with a number of catchy songs that work by the means of characters explaining what they are thinking in the way fairytale characters would. “True Love’s Kiss,” “Happy Working Song,” and especially, “That’s How You Know” are all songs that hold true purpose in the context of the story. But none of them use the talent of Idina Menzel. In Disenchanted , Menken and Schwartz are back but instead chose to write the music more tailored to the characters themselves, rather than focussing on the story as a whole. This results in a film full of songs that are, frankly, unforgettable, save one: “Love Power.” “Love Power” is the ballad of the film where Queen Nancy is singing to Morgan about how her love for Giselle, and the memories of which they share, can remind Giselle of who she truly is in order to break the wicked stepmother's spell long enough for Giselle to break the curse. It is a song that goes on long enough that it feels like the rest of the film was conjured just to get to this point, as if they’re making up for every second Menzel wasn’t singing, in both this film and the original. Every scene prior and every scene after pales in comparison, no matter how much you like Adams and Rudolph singing about how bad they are, or hearing Morgan’s earnest yearnings to find a perfect, non-perfect life. At that point, you’re no longer watching a film, but a very elaborate music video. And perhaps with director Adam Shankman’s dance background, that was where Disenchanted would naturally end up. But an Enchanted sequel it is not. But Disenchanted isn’t alone in those regards and isn’t even the only Disney film this year that feels like it was merely an excuse to get a group of actors together again. Not many films exceeded the hype generated by those hungry for Hocus Pocus 2 , but maybe that’s what made that sequel all the more disappointing. The how and the why of Hocus Pocus 2 gets lost in a Hocus Pocus bingo card of locations, phrases, and unnecessary songs. Why was it time for the Sanderson sisters to come back to Salem? To see Kathy Najimy fly around on Roombas, that’s why. You can’t, however, fault both Disenchanted and Hocus Pocus 2 for the fun their casts seem to be having, but you can fault them for not delivering on anything more than that. Over the course of the past, nearly, two decades, it’s become easier to pick fun at the Christmas classic Love, Actually , but at least those creatives knew better than to make a sequel (barring the fundraiser short film, Red Nose Day, Actually ) and instead just gathered the actors, director, and writer for a reunion that dropped on Hulu at the end of November. Would a Hocus Pocus reunion, or a Hocus Pocus live concert be better than the shoddy plot of Hocus Pocus 2 ? Undoubtedly. In a position similar to the beloved return of Billy Butcherson, another legacy sequel could have easily disappointed by scraping the bottom of the nostalgia barrel but managed to fly even higher than the original. And that triumph is none other than Top Gun: Maverick . Capping the sequel gap at 36 years, Tom Cruise’s return as Captain Pete Mitchell is validated by the simple plot of the sequel. “Maverick” comes back to Top Gun as a last chance to prove himself by instructing the best pilots the Navy can offer in order to dismantle a uranium plant. That’s it. Other than a side-quest-of-a-love-story between Maverick and Jennifer Connelly’s Penny, the film is fairly straightforward in that it’s exploring the relationship between Maverick and “Rooster,” the son of Maverick’s late best friend, “Goose.” Both men have struggled with their respective losses, and the success of this current mission hinges on whether or not they can reconcile their differences, forgive each other, and respect each other as the complex, multifaceted human beings that they are. No choice in the film leaves a viewer wondering “why?” and the film, while certainly using the nostalgia associated with it, only hammers home that nostalgia when it can be used to emphasize an otherwise coherent beat. Top Gun: Maverick may live in Top Gun, but it doesn’t live in 1986. It’s a movie made for the here and now. Top Gun: Maverick ’s success does pose implications for a future where they take the success of the sequel as a justification for future films that may provide diminishing returns, but that’s a problem for future film reviews. And frankly, it doesn’t seem that Disenchanted ’s less-than-stellar reception will affect how Disney continues to pursue future remakes, reboots, and sequels. Most of Disney’s storytelling decisions of the past ten years have already been questionable in regard to their onslaught of live-action remakes, but so long as people are watching and talking, the House of Mouse will continue to make these films. The hope is that in the vast seas of Disney audiences, there will be a new crop of filmmakers that will have grown up knowing what kind of retold stories they don’t want to see. Sequels can be good, we can get to that happily ever after, but not like this. Here’s to hoping the legacy of these terrible legacy sequels will soon be a thing of the past. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes.