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Review: Extraordinary Attorney Woo

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Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022)

review | Extraordinary Attorney Woo

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This excellent South Korean series, currently on Netflix, uses a well-rounded character to shed light on some of the issues of autism 

by Frank Doris
January 18, 2023

Extraordinary Attorney Woo is a lawyer show—but it’s not a “lawyer” show. True, the main character, Woo Young-woo, is a lawyer. She works at a law firm, she handles cases, and a lot of the action takes place in a courtroom. But this is not a stereotypical “lawyer show” with the all-too-predicable clashing legal egos, soap opera, and contrived murder-mystery machinations. Rather, the series, which earned the highest ratings ever for South Korean TV network ENA, revolves around the unique and charming character of Woo Young-woo, who has autism. (The series is currently available on Netflix.)

She is shy and socially awkward yet brilliant, having graduated first in her class at Seoul National University. She is able to get a job as a rookie attorney at the prestigious Hanbada law firm as a result of . . . well, I don’t want to give it away as the circumstances of her employment become a key plot line throughout the season. Since she’s uncomfortable communicating with others—or even getting through a revolving door, as seen in a poignant yet hilarious opening-episode sequence—Woo is at first misunderstood, unwanted, and resented by her fellow employees. These include, among others, Kang Ki-young as Jung Myung-seok, Woo Young-woo’s boss, who at first wants nothing to do with her but gradually becomes her mentor; Baek Ji-won as Han Seon-young, the woman who heads Hanbada; and Kang Tae-oh as Jee Hun Ho, one of the first at Hanbada to befriend her.

Woo Young-woo soon proves her abilities as a lawyer, thanks to her remarkable intelligence and memory and her encyclopedic recall of laws and legal procedures. Her co-workers realize she’s a valuable asset to Hanbada—especially when her abilities start to help the firm win cases, often as a result of Woo’s unconventional approaches and flashes of insight, sometimes accompanied by visions of . . . whales. (It’s weird, and it works.) Not only is Woo masterful at recalling the most arcane aspects of law, her lack of or perhaps unwillingness to conform to the conventions of social interactions means she often speaks with blunt honesty, in direct opposition to the usual hypocrisies of people saying one thing and meaning another, or outright lying, something Woo is completely incapable of.

The plots are far from the usual conventional lawyer-show fare. In one episode, Woo and Hanbada defend a recent bride who has tripped on her wedding dress —which exposed herself and an embarrassing tattoo. Another involves a very funny rivalry between three brothers, two of whom have deceived the third into thinking he’s inherited a fortune only to find that he’s millions of won in debt. Some episode titles reflect the series’ often-unconventional flavor: “Mr. Salt, Mr. Pepper and Attorney Soy Sauce,” “Wild Card vs. Tactician,” “Holding Hands Can Wait.”

I can’t imagine anyone other than actress Park Eun-bin as Woo Young-woo. She is the character, conveying her personality with her at times puzzled, at times penetrating facial expressions, her strange and obsessive hand movements, the way she haltingly walks, and even her wardrobe of sweaters and clunky loafers with big heels. But Woo is far from one-dimensional. She dives into her new role at Hanbada at first with timidity, fear, and a lack of understanding about her role in the company and, literally, how she’s supposed to deal with her co-workers. Over the course of 16 episodes, we see her evolve, gaining confidence and understanding of how the world works. (A second season has been given the go-ahead.) At the same time, she remains stubborn in many of her character traits, especially when it comes to avoidance of eye contact, her ritual behaviors . . . and food, which is the subject of more than one very funny moment.

The rest of the supporting cast is marvelous. You feel like you’re watching a slice of real life, not an assemblage of actors. Everyone absolutely shines in their roles but I must single out Jeon Bae-soo as Woo Gwang-ho, Woo Young-woo’s single and beleaguered father; Joo Hyun-young as Dong Geu-ra-mi, Woo Young-woo’s best friend and one of the few to befriend and stand up for Woo when she was young; and Im Sung-jae as Kim Min-shik, proprietor of Woo and Mi’s favorite restaurant and meeting place.

Extraordinary Attorney Woo is filled with twists, whether it’s a case filled with unusual developments, the unfolding of Woo’s relationships with her fellow Hanbada employees as they begin to understand and respect each other, or the revelation of some quite unexpected romantic and familial relations. Again, I don’t want to give anything away other than to note that the series seamlessly combines drama with comedy and juxtaposes the undeniable charm of Woo with some very tense encounters with people who don’t understand or like her. In the end, you can’t help but feel affection for Woo Young-woo.

Extraordinary Attorney Woo is filmed with a light, sunny look, even in most of the interior shots. The sound is refreshingly clear and the dialogue easy to understand, unlike the sonic murk of so many series today. (I listened to the English soundtrack. It’s also available in the original Korean and with subtitles in various languages on Netflix.) The look, like the acting, contributes to the feel of eavesdropping on reality. The soundtrack is a combination of piano music and Asian pop, much of it composed by Noh Young Shim, and perfectly complements the show with its sometimes somber, sometimes lighthearted feel.

If the reason for this thought-provoking yet always delightful series is to break misconceptions and prejudices about people on the autism spectrum, Extraordinary Attorney Woo succeeds admirably. By making Woo Young-woo a likable and complex character, a person rather than a stereotype, the series enlightens us.

Frank Doris is the editor of Copper, an online audio and music magazine. He has more than 30 years of experience in public relations and marketing communications and has written for a number of publications including Copper, Cineluxe, Sound & Vision, CE Pro, The Absolute Sound, Home Theater Review, and others. He is also a professional guitarist and yes, played at CBGB back in the day.

PICTURE | The series is filmed with a light, sunny look, even in most of the interior shots, which contributes to the feeling of eavesdropping on reality

SOUND | The sound is refreshingly clear and the dialogue easy to understand, unlike the sonic murk of so many series today

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Review: Tales of the Jedi

Tales of the Jedi (2022)

review | Tales of the Jedi

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This Disney+ animated series proves you can still tell a family-friendly Star Wars tale that has real emotional depth

by Dennis Burger
October 27, 2022

For the better part of 15 years I’ve been begging anyone who would listen to give Dave Filoni’s brilliant animated series The Clone Wars the chance it deserves. But even the most devoted Star Wars fans in my life have largely written the series off, either due to the fact that it’s animated or that the first season is an uneven slog. No amount of pleading has convinced most of them that by the third season it starts to become some of the best television ever made. 

If nothing else, the new Tales of the Jedi lowers the barrier to entry into Filoni’s CG take on this beloved mythology, and if that’s all it accomplished it would be a stunning success. At just over 95 minutes split across six short films ranging from 12 to 19 minutes each, this anthology series is an easily digestible snapshot that demonstrates why the writer and executive producer is such a gifted storyteller.

But it’s actually much more than that. Breaking from the serialized storytelling tradition of The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch, and Rebels before it, Tales of the Jedi is a collection of parables focused more on tonal and thematic through-lines than narrative ones. It’s a study in contrasts, an exploration of right and wrong, dark and light, strength and weakness. It explores what happens when ideology comes into conflict with principles, when rhetoric doesn’t match reality, and how circumstances out of our control mold us as humans—but it also underlines our responsibility to avoid blaming circumstance. 

The visual style will be familiar to anyone who has followed Clone Wars and Bad Batch, but it’s a further evolution thereof. What started as an homage to Supermarionation in CGI form has grown into a style of its own. Dolby Vision is employed here to paint with light and shadow, almost as a sort of literal manifestation of the series’ emotional themes. But it’s never showy. 

Take the first episode, for example, which takes place in the small village where Ahsoka Tano (one of two characters at the center of these interwoven parables) was born. As her mother emerges from their hut, the HDR is used to force the viewer’s eye to react to the transition from interior to exterior at exactly the same time as the characters. It’s almost a form of forced empathy, and if it didn’t work it would be just a gimmick, but it works. 

I’m almost inclined to describe the imagery on the whole more in terms of cinematography than composition. There were a couple of times I found myself trying to figure out what lenses were used in certain shots, which is ridiculous, of course. The series was rendered, not shot. But it’s easy to forget that at times—not because the animation is or attempts to be hyper-realistic but rather because it’s consistent and artful enough to make you buy into this highly stylized reality. 

The Dolby Atmos mix functions similarly, not wowing you for the sake of wow but rather enhancing the environments and moods. Height-channel effects tend to be more ambient—at least as far as I noticed. At some point, I just stopped thinking about the sound mix altogether, which is how I like them.

I will say this about the sound, though: Composer Kevin Kiner returned to do the score for Tales of the Jedi but I found his music for this one almost unrecognizable. He has crafted a musical soundscape that somehow finds common ground with Vangelis and Philip Glass alike without aping the style of either. It’s frankly some of his best work to date. I keep saying that, I know, but he keeps getting better.

You’ll no doubt hear quite a bit about how Liam Neeson teamed up with his son, Micheál Richardson, to voice Qui-Gon Jinn at different stages in his life in the middle installments of this short series. You’ll also likely hear about Bryce Dallas Howard’s participation. I guess that’s the sort of thing marketing teams and PR companies focus on these days, but Tales of the Jedi doesn’t succeed or fail based on who voiced whom or which character secrets are revealed.

As I write this, Andor is in the middle of proving that you can craft an adult Star Wars story without pandering to Gen-X nostalgia or devolving into grimdark edginess. Tales of the Jedi proves you can still tell genuinely family-friendly stories in that galaxy far, far away, with rich emotional depth, deeply resonant themes, and without making every aspect of the story a callback to one that’s already been told.

Whether you’re seven or 77, whether you’ve seen every Star Wars cartoon ever made or you just barely know the difference between a lightsaber and landspeeder, there’s something here for you. And if this is what it takes to convince you to get off your butt and finally watch The Clone Wars, all the better.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE | Dolby Vision is employed to paint with light and shadow, almost as a sort of literal manifestation of the series’ emotional themes, but it’s never showy 

SOUND | The Atmos mix doesn’t wow you for the sake of wow but rather enhances the environments and moods, with the height-channel effects tending to be more ambient

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Review: Stranger Things 3

Stranger Things 3 (2019)

review | Stranger Things 3

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Season 3 goes for the gruesome, balancing the horror by taking the series’ first stab at zany

by Dennis Burger
July 8, 2019

Stranger Things 3 is such a tonal, structural, and narrative departure from what’s come before that it can take hardcore fans of the series (raises hand unapologetically) a few episodes to get into this year’s batch of eight episodes. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with the first couple episodes. In fact, the show’s creators—collectively known as the Duffer Brothers—demonstrate time and again their ability to lovingly mash up, remix, riff on, and reassemble 1980s pop culture in new and inventive ways. It’s simply that this time around, they’re being a little cheeky about it. 

There’s a poolside scene in the first episode, for example, in which they nab the Cars’ “Moving in Stereo” from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and it’s played in such a way that you can’t help but anticipate exactly what’s coming if you know that film. That anticipation is hilariously subverted, though, setting the stage for a new season that is, at times, something Stranger Things has never really been before: Zany.

Get a few episodes in to Stranger Things 3 and the reason for this starts to become clear. While leaning hard on all the influences that have made the show so beloved to date—Stephen King, Steven Spielberg, Robert Zemeckis, Richard Donner, Joe Dante, Tobe Hooper, Rob Reiner, and all the other giants of genre and coming-of-age fiction from that era—the Duffers also start to bring other, darker influences to the forefront, like early-’80s Sam Raimi and mid-80s David Cronenberg. As such, things can get a little more gruesome this time around.

To balance that, the creators introduce a lot more levity. They’ve mentioned Fletch as a big inspiration for Stranger Things 3, and indeed, elements of the Chevy Chase screwball comedy can be seen in the side-quest of Hopper (the show’s irritable chief of police) and Joyce (the mother of Mike, the unfortunate victim of Stranger Things and Stranger Things 2). 

Add to that some unlikely influences such as Spies Like Us and Red Dawn (the latter of which is ribbed more than revered here), and you’ve got a weird and wonderful pastiche that, on paper at least, seems like it would struggle to hold itself together. But hold together it does. Whether it’s tweaking mall culture, reliving the Cold War tensions between the U.S. and U.S.S.R, or once again bringing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign to life in the creepiest of ways, Stranger Things 3 succeeds primarily because it’s not merely a gimmicky nostalgia romp—it’s a legitimate love letter to a bygone era. 

As a result of that, some of its tropes may feel a little dated. The show isn’t interested in shades of grey: There are good guys and there are bad guys. And the bad guys are bad because they’re dirty commies hellbent on world destruction or something. Why are they hellbent on world destruction or something? Because they’re the bad guys. Duh. 

But none of the above matters so much as the show’s amazing cast, which features a few new additions this year. Cary Elwes positively chews the scenery as the corrupt mayor of Hawkins, Indiana, whose shady political dealings allowed for the construction of the Russian-financed mall that serves as a front for the nefarious Soviet experiment at the heart of this season. And Maya Hawke (daughter of Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke) absolutely shines as the misfit mall employee who helps crack the case at the heart of Stranger Things 3. But the original cast, including the impossibly talented Millie Bobby Brown, is still the emotional heart of the show, and it’s their relationships, their emotional ups and downs, their successes and failures that keep us coming back.

Another thing that makes Stranger Things 3 such a fun and effective followup to the first two is that, despite all of its shake-ups in terms of tone, structure, and inspiration, there’s an undeniable through-line in the look of the show. The aesthetic is, unsurprisingly, 1980s through and through, and while capturing that look doesn’t leave a lot of room for super-vivid imagery, the 4K presentation relies heavily on HDR to add depth and texture to the shadows. There’s some nice use of spectacular (though not really eye-reactive) highlights from time to time, but most of the dynamic range is reserved for the lower end of the value scale. As such, you’ll definitely benefit from watching on a display that can handle the distinction between black and oh-so-very-nearly black. 

The 5.1-channel soundtrack also deserves to be experienced on the highest-quality surround sound system possible. That shouldn’t be a surprise, given that Stranger Things 2 was the impetus behind Netflix’s new adaptive studio-quality sound technology. Still, it’s a little shocking just how effective—indeed, aggressive—the mix is this time around. I don’t think my subwoofer has gotten such a raucous workout since Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and the surround channels are pushed to their extremes in all the right places, especially in remixing the gloriously nostalgic soundtrack.

My only beef is that Netflix doesn’t give us any bonus features for Stranger Things 3. While another season of Beyond Stranger Things would have been ideal, any sort of extra goodies would have been appreciated. 

Thankfully, the show stands on its own as a binge-worthy romp, especially for those of us who grew up in the era being mythologized. And for what it’s worth, there’s one tiny extra worth mentioning: If you’re the type to hit the stop button as soon as the ending credits start rolling, be sure to stick around past the end of the final episode. There’s a mid-credits sequence that sets the stage for Stranger Things 4, which by all accounts will likely be the show’s swan song.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE | Capturing the look of the 1980s doesn’t leave a lot of room for super-vivid imagery, so the 4K presentation relies heavily on HDR to add depth and texture to the shadows 

SOUND | It’s a little shocking just how  aggressive the mix is this time around. The surround channels are pushed to their extremes in all the right places, especially in remixing the gloriously nostalgic soundtrack.

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Review: Star Wars: Andor

Star Wars: Andor (2022)

review | Star Wars: Andor

Light on action and the slowest of slow burns, this Star Wars series still satisfies by delivering a master class in tension and suspense

by Dennis Burger
September 22, 2022

Despite its name, Star Wars: Andor is not Star Wars. And that’s totally appropriate since the movie in which the title character debuted—Rogue One: A Star Wars Story—bore only the most superficial, what-had-happened-was connection to the mythology of the galaxy far, far away to begin with. 

Here’s the difference, though. Rogue One was a cobbled together, oh-so-edgy pile of inconsequential grimdark fluff pretending to be a grownup and gritty Star Wars movie. In fact, it was reportedly barely even a coherent narrative until screenwriter Tony Gilroy was brought in to turn the footage into something resembling a movie in postproduction. 

With Andor, though, Gilroy has been working on the show since 2019, before the first frame was shot. And so, while it isn’t quite Star Wars, the series is a fascinating political drama that combines the best elements of the writer’s work on the Bourne film series (minus the action), Michael Clayton (minus the lawyers), and the neo-noir thriller Nightcrawler, which Gilroy produced for his brother Dan, who wrote and directed the film and contributes some writing to Andor.

The only real cinematic inspiration I’ve seen referenced for Andor, though, is Stanley Kramer’s 1960 adaptation of Inherit the Wind. I don’t think you’d pick up on that just from watching the show since it doesn’t seem to be narrative inspiration nor really even thematic inspiration. But as with that film, this series is, so far, a masterclass in tension and suspense. It’s the slowest of slow burns I’ve seen onscreen in ages. And yet, due to its pacing and its legitimate human drama, it doesn’t feel laborious. Each of the three episodes released thus far runs from 38 to 43 minutes and curiously manages to feel like a really satisfying and brisk two hours apiece. Watching the show is a fascinating experiment in the weird liquidity of time and our perception thereof. There isn’t a single scene in the whole affair that isn’t simultaneously gripping and deliberately measured, restrained, anticipatory.

I don’t want to gloss over something out-the-norm in that last observation, though. Unlike previous shows that carried the Star Wars branding, Andor’s first three episodes were released by Disney+ simultaneously. And in retrospect, there’s a good reason for that. The show was originally conceived as a five-season run, each season of which would jump forward a year in Cassian Andor’s life leading up to the events of Rogue One. At some point, Gilroy decided that was all just too much, and compacted each season into a mini arc. Hence, as best I understand it, the three episodes so far represent a condensation of what was originally conceived as Season One in Gilroy’s 1,500-page bible for the series, and the 12 episodes of this first of two seasons will get us about halfway through that tome. 

The consequence of that is that even if Andor goes completely off the rails as Book of Boba Fett did, or starts off with a bang and settles into predictable middlingness as Obi-Wan Kenobi did, we already have a fully fleshed-out arc with a beginning, middle, and end here, and it’s honestly the best onscreen Star Wars we’ve gotten since the last few seasons of The Clone Wars, despite hardly being Star Wars at all. 

You can probably skip this one if you’re into the franchise for its space battles, blaster fights, lightsabers, and space wizards. I love all of that stuff but there’s none of it to be found here (except for one action set-piece in Episode Three where shots are fired, but that ends up being almost more of an environmental ballet than an O.K. Corral homage). 

You can probably also skip the show if you’re looking for home theater demo material. Andor is a very bruised-looking work, high on contrast and largely devoid of dynamic range. Its Dolby Vision encoding mostly serves to keep details from being lost in the shadows. It’s gorgeous but never eye-popping. There’s more texture here than detail, more tonal richness than gamut-stressing intensity. And while the Dolby Atmos mix is simultaneously expansive and enveloping when called for, it’s predominantly a talky affair. Most of the channels aside from the center are filled with falling rain and the haunting, moody, brilliant-but-subdued score by Nicholas Britell (The Big Short). 

It’s odd. I went into Andor feeling almost obliged to watch it, given how little interest I have in the film that inspired it and the character at its heart but how much devotion I have to this franchise nonetheless. Now I find myself eagerly awaiting the next episode in a way that exceeds my anticipation for the next season of The Mandalorian. But with this one, I’m not watching it because it’s Star Wars. I’m watching it because, at least so far, it’s simply damned good cinema in an episodic-TV package.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE | The Dolby Vision presentation mostly serves to keep details from being lost in the shadows. It’s gorgeous but never eye-popping. 

SOUND | While the Atmos mix is simultaneously expansive and enveloping when called for, it’s predominantly a talky affair

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Review: WandaVision

WandaVision (2021)

review | WandaVision

Marvel takes its fans to places they’ve never been before with this surrealist send-up of classic TV shows

by Dennis Burger
January 18, 2021

Since the 2014 release of Captain America: Winter Soldier, Marvel Studios has built up a stockpile of trust with superhero-movie fans by pretty consistently cranking out entertaining action romps that span the genre spectrum from intense ’70s-style espionage thrillers to intergalactic comedies to dramatic epics. With WandaVision, the studio is spending that trust on an offbeat experiment that will, in retrospect, be seen as either a massive success or an embarrassing failure. And two episodes into its nine-episode run, it’s nearly impossible to tell which of those outcomes is more likely. 

The Disney+ limited series represents a few firsts for Marvel. It’s their first episodic short-form production (earlier, tenuously connected TV shows like the pointless Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. were produced by Marvel Television, a separate subsidiary studio). It’s their first foray into the so-called Phase Four of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and reportedly serves as the first in a trilogy of connected stories that will continue in Jon Watts’ upcoming Spider-Man sequel and conclude with Sam Raimi’s Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. It’s also the first MCU product of any sort released since 2019’s Spider-Man: Far From Home. 

But perhaps most importantly, it’s the first time Marvel has placed anywhere near this much trust in the intelligence and patience of its audience. And I say that because anyone who tells you they fully understand what’s going on here either has insider information or they’re lying their asses off. 

WandaVision is, in one sense, a portrayal of the supposedly idyllic home life of Wanda Maximoff and the Vision, two star-crossed lovers whose first big-screen appearance was in the otherwise forgettable Avengers: Age of Ultron (one of the studio’s few truly bad movies post-Winter Soldier). The problem, of course, is that we saw the Vision die an awful death in 2018’s Avengers: Infinity War—first at the hands of Wanda herself then through some temporal trickery at the hands of Phase Three’s big bad, Thanos. 

So the fact that he’s seemingly alive and mostly well in WandaVision is our first clue something is amiss here. But it’s far from the last and hardly the biggest. A much more blatant clue that not all is as it seems is that the series is produced in the style of classic sitcoms, starting with a pitch-perfect homage to The Dick Van Dyke Show (Van Dyke himself was a consultant and influenced a number of creative decisions, including the choice to shoot with vintage lenses and lighting and to produce the first episode in front of a live studio audience), then bleeding into time-capsule recreations of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie and—if the series’ trailer is any indication—advancing forward in time as the story unfolds, paying loving homage to newer and newer half-hour TV shows until . . . 

Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Where is this all going? What’s the point of all this classic-TV homage? 

Fans of the comics that inspired the series—most notably the fantastic The Vision and the Scarlet Witch mini-series from the ’80s, the heartbreaking House of M from the early aughts, and the brilliant-but-batshit-insane Vision standalone series from 2015-2016—certainly have a clue as to what’s going on here. Or at least we think we do. 

From my perspective, it seems obvious that WandaVision is a story about what happens when someone with the ability to manipulate the very fabric of reality becomes so stricken with grief that she forms a new reality around her. And there are clues sprinkled throughout the first two episodes that this is what’s going on. Wanda, unable to process the horror of losing her one true love—indeed, of being forced to kill him herself—has snapped. Unable to cope with the real world, she creates her own world to occupy, a world whose picket fences and goofball antics are all informed by the classic sitcoms she saw in her youth. It’s important to remember that Wanda grew up in war-torn Eastern Europe and as such never had the idyllic suburban life she’s attempting to fabricate. So any sort of normal life is, for her, purely fantasy.

So it makes sense that when reality begins to intrude upon that fantasy, she rejects it, once again reforming the world around her into something she can once again cope with. We see this at one point when she simply exclaims, “No!” and literally rewinds the tape on her sitcom life, only to reshape it into something a little more colorful and a little more congruous with her unexpected pregnancy. 

It all sounds a little trite, but series creator/writer Jac Schaeffer and Episode 1 and 2 director Matt Shakman so fully and sincerely commit to the classic Dick Van Dyke Show/Bewitched/I Dream of Jeannie tone, style, presentation, and aesthetic for so much of the running time—without a hint of spoof or parody—that you can’t help but be drawn into it. When the series ventures more toward Twilight Zone territory, as it does when Wanda’s grasp on her faux reality begins to slip, it’s as disconcerting for the viewer as it is for the characters. 

Of course, that’s simply my take after two episodes. It’s entirely possible that MCU mastermind Kevin Feige has constructed a trap for us comic-book fans, leading us astray with red herrings before yanking the rug out from under our collective feet, leaving us exactly as disoriented as I would imagine most casual viewers are after having sat through the first two episodes of this weird experiment. Maybe this isn’t all Wanda’s delusion. Maybe she isn’t shaping reality around her. Maybe it’s—who knows?—aliens tinkering with her brain. Or maybe it’s a Truman Show sort of thing. 

All I can say for sure is that, two episodes in, I’m utterly intrigued by WandaVision and can’t wait for it all to unfold. My first inclination was to think that perhaps Disney+ should have broken with tradition and dumped all nine episodes into our laps at once. The more I think about, though, the more I realize the weeklong break between episodes is an absolute necessity, giving me time to re-watch, ponder, reflect, and discuss what’s happened thus far before diving into the next chapter in this slow-burn psychological mystery. 

Again, by the time all nine episodes are available, it could all end up being one big exercise in pseudo-intellectual gobbledygook, à la Tenet, or it could be one of the most brilliant TV series to come along in years, and the wait to find out which it is consumes me like an itch I just can’t quite reach. But for now, I find myself in a Schrödinger’s Cat superposition of fascination and skepticism. It’s difficult to imagine any corporate machine pulling off an act of truly artistic surrealism of the sort WandaVision seems to be. But at the same time, I have to acknowledge that they’re pulling it off so far. 

And that’s largely due to not only the success of the aesthetic and stylistic conceit but also the delightful performances across the board. You could easily splice stars Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany into old footage of classic TV shows and anyone who didn’t know the actors already wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Kathryn Hahn is also an absolute tour de force in the role of Agnes, the nosy next-door neighbor who definitely has a major part to play in this mystery. (Indeed, most comic-book fans will have likely figured out who she is by the end of the second episode, but I won’t spoil that surprise.)

But world-class acting alone isn’t enough to sustain a series that’s attempting to take as big a bite as this one is. So, more than anything, I hope WandaVision doesn’t end up choking. Because if the MCU is to remain interesting, it absolutely must keep taking artistic risks like this. 

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

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Review: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi (2022)

review | Obi-Wan Kenobi

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The early signs point to this Disney+ series being more substantial, and playing out better, than the misguided Boba Fett

by Dennis Burger
May 30, 2022

In my reviews of new Star Wars shows and movies in recent years, I’ve been relying on a metric I can no longer justify: Does this thing feel like Star Wars or not? That is no longer justifiable because it’s too subjective, but it can also turn on a dime. The Book of Boba Fett did a good job of feeling like it belonged to the larger Star Wars mythos with its first few episodes before devolving into, in my own words, “a bunch of middle-aged men playing with Star Wars action figures more so than any attempt at creating something compelling or comprehensible.”

Going forward, I’m more interested in whether new Star Wars properties make the Galaxy Far, Far Away feel larger or smaller (in addition, of course, to whether or not they’re good on their own merits). Consider the final episodes of Book of Boba. Everything got a little too connected. Fan-favorite characters were shoehorned into the action just because. Rogue One was guilty of this as well. Too many nostalgia bombs; too few excuses to care about any of what was going on based purely on the story at hand. In short, when Star Wars panders to its aging Gen-X fans, it starts to feel hollow.  

The good news about Obi-Wan Kenobi, the new limited series on Disney+, is that it makes the Star Wars Galaxy feel less like a playset and more like the mythological world it should. What’s interesting is that, perhaps more so than any new Star Wars property in the Disney era except for Rogue One, Obi-Wan had the most boundaries drawn around it from the get-go. 

The series was originally developed as a film to be directed by Stephen Daldry (Billy Elliot) and written by Hossein Amini (The Wings of the Dove) before being rejiggered into a limited series directed by Deborah Chow (who helmed some of the best episodes of The Mandalorian), with some adaptation and additional scripting by Joby Harold (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword) and Stuart Beattie (Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl). And throughout all stages of its development, it seems like the mandate from above was to function mostly as connective tissue between the original and prequel Star Wars trilogies. 

That required Ewan McGregor, now 51 years of age, to play Kenobi at the midpoint between where we saw him at the end of Episode III (32 playing 38) and where Sir Alec Guinness (58 playing 57) picked up the role decades before in Episode IV. Time is a weird soup, y’all, and it gets even weirder when discussing prequels and sequels and midquels and such.  

The point is, McGregor is technically too old now to be playing a 48-year-old Obi-Wan, but looks too young. And none of that matters once you get immersed in the experience of the show. That has something to do with the fact that, despite following the spirit of the law and delivering a new story that exists at the midpoint between two existing stories, Chow and Harold and the rest have proven that the line between Episodes III and IV isn’t as straight as we might have imagined. The most surprising thing about Obi-Wan Kenobi is that there are any surprises to be had at all, but there are. So much so that, in retrospect, the series’ trailer feels like one giant red herring. 

Thankfully, those surprises feel genuine, organic, the product of imagined history and genuine character interaction, not some cynical effort to pander to fans. Mind you, as I write this only two of the series’ six parts have aired and things could go kerflooey from here, as Boba clearly demonstrated. But so far, Kenobi is making all the right noises and almost none of the wrong ones.

Let’s deal with the not-so-great, because it’s a pretty short list. While Chow has done a great job of somehow creating a cinematic work that stylistically fits somewhere between the slick digital overproduction of Episode III and the down-and-dirty, low-budget grunge of Episode IV, there are still a few things I’m not quite adjusting to as yet. 

Some of the dialogue feels a little too natural—not quite stilted and pulpy enough. In other words, it doesn’t quite capture the “you can type this shit but you sure can’t say it” quality of Star Wars dialogue at its truest. Much of the delivery is a little too naturalistic, and when it isn’t, it’s more modern-theatrical than classic-B-movie-theatrical. 

The music, too, feels a little off. Even the new theme by John Williams is a bit generic and forgettable. It’s mixed well, with a solid Dolby Atmos soundtrack that works in service of the show without feeling the need to remind you of its channel count, and the sound effects are great. It’s just a shame that they couldn’t go a little funkier and weirder with the score.

The good? Pretty much everything else. The cinematography by Chung-hoon Chung (Last Night in Soho, Oldboy) is stunning, especially the composition and lighting. It does break from Star Wars tradition in that it doesn’t rely on quick cuts, wipes, dissolves, or anything of the sort. There’s also a subtlety to the movement of the camera I didn’t pick up on until a second watch-through. The framing moves with the deliberate pace of the show itself. And all of it looks amazing in Disney+’s Dolby Vision presentation—a bit dark but beautifully detailed, with highlights that feel more filmic than showy.

The biggest thing working in the show’s favor, though, is McGregor’s performance. It’s here where we can really see the benefits of the Volume (the microLED virtual sets employed first in The Mandalorian) as opposed to the wallpaper of green screens employed in the prequels, since you can see the environments surrounding Obi-Wan reflected in the actor’s eyes—both literally and metaphorically. Since McGregor isn’t being cut-and-pasted into this fantastical world but is rather immersed in it (albeit via screens), he has to imagine less. And that frees him up to engage more—with the world, with the characters around him, and with himself. There are character moments here that are utterly heartbreaking, and others that are genuinely thrilling.

That’s no mean feat given that we know the ultimate fates of nearly all the main characters involved. But the fact that Chow and company can make you forget what you already know—if even for a moment—is part of the magic of this show. The fact that Stuart Beattie, Hossein Amini, and Joby Harold were able to retcon some inconsistencies between trilogies without making them feel like retcons is another neat trick. (Seriously, there’s some subtle story manipulation here I don’t think will land with most viewers until the next time they watch A New Hope.) 

Now, here’s hoping they can keep this up for four more episodes. Because if this one belly-flops, it’s going to hurt. The off-the-rails disaster of Book of Boba is of little consequence because none of it really meant anything. Kenobi, on the other hand, means so much more. It’s Star Wars at its best—a morality tale wrapped up in a myth inside an action-adventure fantasy that pays homage to cinema of a bygone era (although it hurts my soul a little to know that films of the ‘90s and early 2000s count as classic cinema these days, but so be it). 

Perhaps the best thing I can say about it, though, is that I couldn’t in a million years even begin to guess where it’s going to go from here. And I thought I had it completely figured out from the first frame.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE |  Obi-Wan looks amazing in Disney+’s Dolby Vision presentation—a bit dark but beautifully detailed, with highlights that feel more filmic than showy

SOUND | The Atmos soundtrack is solid, working in service of the show without feeling the need to remind you of its channel count, and the sound effects are great

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Second Thoughts: The Book of Boba Fett

Second Thoughts: The Book of Boba Fett

Second Thoughts | The Book of Boba Fett

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Not only did this Disney+ series not live up to expectations but it devolved into grownups playing with action figures

by Dennis Burger
February 21, 2022

Rarely have I seen a series launch with so much potential and squander it so spectacularly as did The Book of Boba Fett. Reflecting on the show now that it has run its course, I still stand by my review of the first episode. It was a great slow-burn setup for what promised to be a fascinating character study and a rumination on how cultural forces shape the individual. 

But by the third episode, that promise was broken as the show devolved into a silly and chaotic biker-gang/cowboy/sci-fi mash-up action romp devoid of any real meaning or cohesion. And by the fifth of its seven episodes, it took a hard right turn and became the very thing I said it wasn’t in my review: The Mandalorian Season 2.5. 

Oddly, that episode was one of the best of the series, but only taken in isolation. Why it wasn’t simply the first episode of The Mandalorian Season Three is beyond me, as plopping it into the middle of this spinoff rendered the entire affair narratively and thematically incoherent. And things only get worse from there. By the seventh episode, The Book of Boba Fett came across as a bunch of middle-aged men playing with Star Wars action figures more so than any attempt at creating something compelling or comprehensible. And it became so bogged down by fan service that it’s nearly impossible to take it seriously. 

It’s borderline impossible to make any sense out of what this series is about, what we’re supposed to take from it, or how it in any way advances the post-Return of the Jedi storyline that continues to unfold on Disney+. Because, in the end, Boba Fett himself sort of meanders, and The Mandalorian’s storyline lazily reverts to the status quo ante, undoing all of the gripping character progression that happened in the second season of his own series. I honestly haven’t seen this concerted an effort to undo what came before since J.J. Abrams’ ham-fisted attempt at erasing The Last Jedi from existence with the hatchet-job whose name I will not utter here. 

If you’re a hardcore Star Wars fan, it’s a safe bet you’ve already slogged through this mess and my warning is too late. If, though, you’re a more casual fan who enjoyed The Mandalorian and want to stay abreast of what’s going on in that narrative thread, my recommendation would be to peruse the episode recaps on Wookieepedia and save yourself some time. None of it will make a lick of sense, but none of it made any sense in real-time, either.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

Why “Second Thoughts”?

Reviewing series is always a challenge. If you weigh in after everything’s wrapped up, you run the risk of being late to the party and offering up your insights when the world has already moved on to pastures new. Ideally, you want to go on the record early enough to give the reader a sense of whether they should commit to something for its duration—but then the show might blindside you in a big way, for the good or the bad. So we’re launching this department to give our writers a chance to offer some sometimes badly needed additional perspective when a series doesn’t turn out quite how they expected. 

ed.

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Review: Reacher

Reacher (2021)

review | Reacher

The successful book series spawns an even more successful Amazon Prime series, with Tom Cruise nowhere to be seen 

by John Sciacca
February 13, 2022

“My name is Jack Reacher. No middle name, no address. I’ve got a rule: People mess with me at their own risk.”
                                                                                                                   —Jack Reacher’s Rules

The name Reacher either immediately conjures up a pre-defined and fully formed image in your mind, or it means nothing. If you’re in the first group, then you’ve probably already devoured all eight episodes of Amazon Primes’s original series Reacher and might enjoy this review from one fan to another. If you’re in the second group . . . well, I envy you in a way. You have an incredible literary road ahead of you and a fantastic new series to kickstart your journey.

I first discovered Lee Child’s character Jack Reacher while visiting my wife’s family in Alabama. There were a couple of paperbacks lying around that my father-in-law had recently finished, so I picked one up and started reading. And that was it.

Since then, I’ve devoured all of  the Reacher novels, which currently number 27. And while they mostly follow a similar pattern—Reacher rolls/walks into a new town with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a few dollars in his pockets where he randomly stumbles across some trouble or injustice he’s compelled to settle, and in doing so he meets some strong, smart, attractive female he either needs to help or work with to resolve the issue before putting his folding toothbrush back in his pocket and heading on to the next place—they’re still great fun to read. Child keeps the language simple, the story interesting, the locales and characters varied, and the pace fast. 

What we learn early on—and hear continually throughout each novel—is that Reacher is a hulking, muscle-mountain of a man who’s never intimidated by anyone or anything. While he doesn’t go looking for fights per se he certainly doesn’t back away from them. Standing 6 foot 5 inches and weighing upwards of 250 pounds, in the novel Never Go Back, Child describes him as having “a six-pack like a cobbled city street, a chest like a suit of NFL armor, biceps like basketballs, and subcutaneous fat like a Kleenex tissue.” 

While Reacher is incredibly observant (“details matter”) and brilliant at deducing clues and connecting the dots from even the smallest lead à la Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, he solves most problems with his fists (or forehead—a brutal headbutt is one of his preferred attacks) or a gun (“Twelve-gauge lead shots settle most disputes at the first time of asking”). His hyper-tuned instincts and investigative skills have been honed and refined from his years leading the Army’s (fictional) 110th Special Investigations Unit (“You don’t mess with the special investigators”) where he solved some of the Army’s toughest cases, and now that he’s on his own, he prefers to just drift around wherever whim or the next bus or hitchhiked ride takes him. 

And coffee. Lots and lots of hot, black coffee. 

When I saw Amazon was going to have an original series about Jack Reacher, I was excited but a little apprehensive. After all, we’ve been down this road twice before with films starring Tom Cruise (Jack Reacher and Never Go Back). And while those films weren’t bad, 5-foot-whatever Cruise could just never be the physical monster Child has created and cemented in reader’s minds. (For the record, I always pictured Reacher as looking like a younger Dolph Lundgren.) Even with forced perspective and other camera tricks, Cruise was just never going to be convincing as Reacher. But when I saw that Child was serving as executive producer and a writer on the series (and actually has a brief cameo at the end of episode eight in the diner) and they cast Alan Ritchson (famous for playing Hawk on Titans and District 1 tribute Gloss in The Hunger Games: Catching Fire), I knew this had a shot to be the series I’d been hoping for. You can’t have a believable Reacher series without a believe actor in the lead, and Ritchson brings all the Reacher feels. Need more convincing the creators of this series understand and respect the character? You’ll recall the phrase, “Reacher said nothing,” throughout the books. Well, that he sits silent without saying a single word until about 7 minutes into the first episode. 

Season One covers the events from the first novel, Killing Floor, and opens with Reacher rolling into Margrave, Georgia on a whim to learn more about jazz musician Blind Blake. Shortly after arriving, he’s arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. As is the way with his life, things get personal and he gets entangled in the events—and bodies start piling up—so he decides to figure out what’s wrong with picturesque Margrave and its seemingly too-good-to-be-true benefactor Mr. Kliner (Currie Graham). While he figures things out and gets events sorted, he befriends Officer Roscoe Conklin (Willa Fitzgerald) and Captain Oscar Finlay (Malcolm Goodwin).

The story hews pretty closely to the book, though they’ve humanized Reacher a bit. In the books, no one typically lands a finger on him in a fight and pre-fight discussions usually go something like this:

“You’re about to get your ass kicked!”
“No. I’m just gonna break the hands of three drunk kids.” 
“There’s four of us.” 
“One of you has got to drive to the hospital.” 

In the series, fights are a little more two-sided, with Reacher taking his share of punches, kicks, and even knife wounds, though he always prevails. Another change is the addition of Frances Neagley (Maria Sten), an ex-member of the 110th who served under him and is one of the few recurring characters in the series. And while much of the books are told from Reacher’s point of view based on what he is thinking—and the lizard-brain instincts that help him act and survive—there are no voiceovers here. 

Also, be mindful of the TV-MA rating. (Amazon actually rates it 18+.) While I’d say the books are mostly PG-13, there’s some pretty strong language throughout the series, more than a fair bit of
violence, and a couple of brutal crime scenes, one involving, ummm, genital mutilation. 

Shot in the increasingly-popular-for-streaming aspect ratio of 2:1, Reacher walks a visual line between cinematic and made-for-TV. Resolution and clarity mostly shine in closeups, letting you appreciate the fine patterns, sharp lines, and details in Finlay’s variety of tweed jackets or vests, or the bulging muscles in Ritchson’s super-human arms. The lenses used often give a very “portrait mode” look to images, with characters in the foreground often in clear, sharp focus, with everything behind or around them blurred. 

Dark and night scenes are clear and have plenty of depth and shadow detail, but the color grade on exterior shots often has a kind of bronze cast. The contrast is often pushed, with clouds losing definition in favor of brightness. 

Sonically, the 5.1 Dolby Digital audio does a fine job of serving the mostly dialogue-driven story, letting you clearly understand what the characters are saying. The surrounds are brought into play for some ambient sounds as well for music, but it isn’t an overly dynamic mix. The series finale has the most traditional action with gun battles and explosions that offer a bit more sonic excitement and bring the subwoofer into play, but this isn’t a series designed to showcase your audio system’s capabilities. 

While clearly designed to appeal to the millions of existing Reacher fans, the interesting story and solid acting are enough to bring the unaffiliated into the fold. And after being released for just three days, Amazon announced Reacher will return for a second season, claiming it’s already one of their Top Five most-watched shows of all time and among its highest-rated original series, with subscribers giving it an average rating of 4.7 out of 5. For those who can’t wait for more Reacher until Season Two drops, Die Trying is the next book in the series. Enjoy. 

Probably the most experienced writer on custom installation in the industry, John Sciacca is co-owner of Custom Theater & Audio in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, & is known for his writing for such publications as Residential Systems and Sound & Vision. Follow him on Twitter at @SciaccaTweets and at johnsciacca.com.

PICTURE | Reacher walks a visual line between cinematic and made-for-TV. Details mostly shine in closeups, and dark scenes are clear with plenty of depth and shadow detail, but the color grade on exterior shots often has a bronze cast and the contrast is often pushed. 

SOUND | The 5.1 Dolby Digital audio does a fine job of serving the mostly dialogue-driven story, but this isn’t an overly dynamic mix, with the surrounds brought into play mostly for ambient sounds and music

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Review: The Book of Boba Fett

The Book of Boba Fett (2021)

review | The Book of Boba Fett

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Amazon Prime | All Watched Over by
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This new Disney+ series isn’t so much a sequel to The Mandalorian as it is an attempt to freshen up the Star Wars mythology

by Dennis Burger
December 30, 2021

Here’s what you need to know before dipping into The Book of Boba Fett, the first episode of which is now streaming on Disney+. First off, go back and watch the first two seasons of The Mandalorian if you haven’t already. Narratively, this new series by Jon Favreau follows pretty much straight on from that show and represents something of a fork in its narrative. But don’t confuse this with The Mandalorian Season 2.5. Favreau and team seem to be hellbent on keeping things from getting too stale, from falling into traps of the sort that snared fan-servicing but thematically hollow Star Wars offshoots like Rogue One. 

Favreau’s tale of an old bounty hunter stepping in and filling the void left by an old crime lord (namely, Jabba the Hutt) avoids the biggest sins of far too many stories set in the new and ever-expanding canon of Disney-era Star Wars in that it doesn’t make the Galaxy Far, Far Away feel like it could all fit within the walls of Pinewood Studios. He seems determined to make this universe feel larger, not smaller.

The first episode, directed by Robert Rodriguez, makes a lot of allusions to existing franchise mythology. But it doesn’t simply pull out Tusken Raiders, for example, and dangle them in front of you as if to say, “Hey, remember these weird donkey-braying mummy Bedouin you loved as a kid? Here’s a quick and cheap dopamine fix to buy us some goodwill for a bit.” The Book of Boba Fett borrows from the past when it needs to (from both established canon and the orphaned Legends series of books and comics) and charts a new path when it’s appropriate, striking exactly the right balance between nostalgia and novelty. 

None of this would work if Favreau didn’t fundamentally understand what makes Star Wars tick. And he proves again and again that he does indeed get it by breaking rules that seem almost sacrosanct and nonetheless getting away with it. That extends at times to even the structure of the story itself, which breaks from linear tradition and is all the better for it. If you’d informed me ahead of time that the bulk of this first episode would be told through a series of flashbacks, I would have replied, “That ain’t Star Wars!” And yet, somehow, magically, it is. 

That’s largely due to Favreau continuing to tinker with the franchise’s east-meets-west formula in interesting ways. He borrows liberally and unapologetically from so many of the classic films and TV shows that inspired the original films but he’s not mining the same veins over and over. Instead of The Man with No Name he pulls more from A Man Called Horse. Instead of Buck Rogers, he leans hard on the work of Ray Harryhausen. Instead of shogun we get . . . space ninjas?  Apparently, that’s a thing now? But again, it just works.

Even though the first episode is something of a narrative and thematic departure from The Mandalorian, there is understandably a lot of aesthetic and stylistic continuity. Like its forebear, The Book of Boba Fett is a pretty underlit show, and it seems to have been plopped into an HDR container mostly just to avoid the artifacts that still occasionally plague SDR streaming. You won’t spot many or any extremes of brightness here, although the expanded dynamic range does allow for a handful of incredibly low-lit scenes without any loss of depth or detail. And I didn’t spot a single instance of banding, moiré, or misplaced textures of the sort you can get when HEVC gets bit-starved.

The Dolby Atmos mix also follows the style of The Mandalorian, giving the environments and music room to breathe without being overbearing. Speaking of the music, Ludwig Göransson returns to deliver some themes and leitmotifs but the bulk of the score seems to have been composed and conducted by Joseph Shirley, who filled in some musical gaps in Season Two of Mando. Shirley’s work isn’t quite as funky or avant-garde as Göransson’s but it does fit the somewhat different mood of this series. 

With only one episode available out of a planned seven, it’s impossible to know if The Book of Boba Fett will live up to its potential once all is said and done. But it’s off to a heck of a good start.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE | You won’t spot many or any extremes of brightness here although HDR does allow for a handful of incredibly low-lit scenes without any loss of depth or detail.

SOUND | The Dolby Atmos mix follows the style of The Mandalorian, giving the environments and music room to breathe without being overbearing.

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