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Dennis Burger

Review: Everything Everywhere All at Once

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Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)

review | Everything Everywhere All at Once

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Both zany and thought-provoking, this Michelle Yeoh vehicle somehow manages to be about everything, everywhere without taking on too much

by Dennis Burger
June 16, 2022

Perhaps the most troubling thing about modern popular culture—especially as it pertains to genre fiction—is that metaphors have lost all meaning. Our totems have lost their functional connections with the things they’re supposed to symbolize and have taken on disproportionate importance on their own. The trappings have come to be the entire point. 

Fantasy fiction isn’t about where we’ve come from and what we’ve lost along the way—not anymore, anyway. It’s about dragons and hot chicks with pointy ears in impractical armor. Star Wars as a franchise isn’t about emergence into adulthood and a postmodernist twist on early Jungian notions of the father complex anymore, nor is it a thinly veiled critique of American imperialism, as it once was; it’s about laser-swords and space wizards and big walking weapons of war. And when it tries to be anything more than that, the loudest but least significant contingent of its fanbase makes headlines with their toxicity. 

The seasoning has become our substance, the dessert our main course, and we’re paying a price for that, culturally speaking. And I say that as someone who really, really likes dessert. 

If you want to understand anything about Everything Everywhere All at Once before diving in, it’s that it seems to be an outright rejection of all of the above. To point that out does run the risk of painting the film in a misleading light because it unfairly places it within the tradition of genre fiction. And when you get right down to it, Everything Everywhere doesn’t really belong to any particular genre—or so I thought on my first of four viewings in the span of 24 hours. 

Sometime during my second viewing, I decided it’s actually a mashup of every genre—although mashup isn’t quite the word I’m looking for, as it connotes a sort of haphazard cribbing of the most superficially popular aspect of genres like science-fiction, fantasy, kung-fu, comedy, surrealism, drama, wuxia, and absurdism, with no real attempt at meaningful synthesis. Instead, writer/directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, collectively known as “Daniels,” seem far more interested in borrowing the most resonant and meaningful aspects of these genres and assembling them into a new whole such that each distinctive element reinforces the other on some deeper level.

But none of that really matters, because in my third viewing I realized that to really understand it, you have to come to terms with the fact that it is every genre and no genre simultaneously. There’s never been a film like it and there never will be again, because any imitation would sully the intent. 

Of course, that’s not to say no one will try. I imagine we’ll see all sorts of lazy attempts at putting Camus, Douglas Hofstadter, Kafka, Daniel Dennet, the Shaw Brothers, and the Wachowskis (before their work became self-parody) into a big boiling pot and stirring it all with a Grant Morrison-shaped ladle with a Salvador Dali-inspired handle. But ultimately, any such attempt at imitation will be derivative, and derivative is certainly the one thing Everything Everywhere is not, despite the numerous traditions from which it borrows. 

Here is perhaps the weirdest thing about the film, though: Despite being a work of legitimate cultural significance, with a message that will still be sending shockwaves through my brain years from now, it is also incredibly accessible and wildly entertaining, not to mention slap-happily zany. 

Superficially, it’s a story about a Chinese-American laundromat owner (Michelle Yeoh) who’s unknowingly on the verge of being served divorce papers by her husband (Ke Huy Quan, aka Short Round from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) and who has nearly alienated her daughter (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s Stephanie Hsu) past the point of reconciliation. 

During an IRS audit, she gets dragged into an adventure in which the fates of all realities are imperiled and she is the key to saving them all—including alternate universes in which she is a boulder, in which she is sort of Michelle Yeoh, in which humans evolved useless sausage appendages instead of fingers, and in which Randy Newman did the music for Ratatouille and also voiced Remy (except in this case Remy is an animatronic racoon and not a CGI rat), to name just a few. 

It’s easy to read all that and think you know exactly what sort of film this is. Whatever you’re imagining, you’re wrong. This is not the Hero’s Journey, it’s not The Matrix or the MCU, and it’s not quite the film being sold by the trailer, either.

My first viewing, I thought I had settled on an interpretation of the story as sort of grappling with the anxiety of living in the modern world, where we all feel stretched too thin and are all simply cogs in the machine of bureaucracy, with no real agency. The second time around, it struck me more as a meditation on libertarian free will, and a question about whether different lived experiences would fundamentally change who we are as individuals. 

The third time through, it seemed obvious the film is a juxtaposition of a mother and daughter, both at turning points in their lives. One has to contend with the near-limitless and crippling well of possibilities her life could be; the other is forced to reflect on all the choices she could have made but didn’t and contend with what could have been. And the more I think about it, the more I realize the film is all of those things and more. It kinda is about everything, everywhere, all at once. 

It if isn’t clear by now, this one is a keeper, so in one sense I’m glad I have it on Kaleidescape. It’s a distinctively weird-looking film, captured as it was in the ArriRaw format in a mix of 2.8K and 3.4K resolutions and finished in a 4K intermediate, but perhaps more importantly shot through a variety of idiosyncratic lenses, including vintage Todd-AO anamorphics. 

It’s not the sort of so-razor-sharp-I-can-see-every-pore perfection that delights enthusiasts, but it’s such a deliciously textural, colorful, and high-contrast image that you’ll still want to watch it on the best screen in the house. Kaleidescape’s UHD HDR10 image is practically indistinguishable from the iTunes version (viewed via the Apple TV+ app on a Roku Ultra), aside from the first few frames of the A24 logo while the stream is buffering up to full resolution. But that’s not a knock against Kaleidescape, because there’s simply no room for improvement over Apple’s encoding of the film, no matter how many extra bits you throw at it. Both are A+ presentations.

You may be wondering why I purchased the film on iTunes if I already had it on Kaleidescape. It wasn’t purely for the sake of visual comparison. The one thing iTunes has over any other provider in the digital domain is the audio commentary by Daniels, which I couldn’t resist listening to in my fourth viewing. Thankfully it doesn’t impose too much in terms of interpretation, instead digging into anecdotes about the production and post-production, including the fact that the incredible visual effects (500-ish shots in total) were created by a team of five who learned how to do effects by watching After Effects tutorials online. 

It’s a real shame Kaleidescape wasn’t given access to the commentary, because the home video release isn’t a complete package without it. To be fair, though, Kaleidescape does have the full-bandwidth Dolby TrueHD version of the Atmos soundtrack, which is as perfect a blend of the sublime and the ridiculous as everything else about Everything Everywhere. Seriously, your subwoofers will need smelling salts after the closing credits roll, but it isn’t about spectacle or high-impact sound purely for the sake of high-impact sound; it’s about tying the whole chaotic and meditative audiovisual and narrative experience together into one mind-blowing whole. 

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 |  It doesn’t offer the so-razor-sharp-I-can-see-every-pore perfection that delights enthusiasts but the image is so deliciously textural, colorful, and high-contrast that you’ll still want to watch this movie on the best screen in the house

SOUND | The Atmos soundtrack is a perfect a blend of the sublime and the ridiculous that will have you giving your subwoofers smelling salts after the closing credits roll

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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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Demo Scenes: Avengers: Endgame

Avengers: Endgame

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The film’s finale isn’t just a great action scene but a demo-worthy showcase of the benefits of HDR

by Dennis Burger
August 2, 2019

“Avengers Assemble”
(Chapter 16 | 2:16:02–2:19:42)

Martin Mull (or maybe it was Frank Zappa?) once opined that talking about music is like dancing about architecture. Trying to convey the benefits of high dynamic range video can feel a little like that, given that most web browsers don’t support HDR by default, and still images just can’t do it justice. So those of us who champion this video innovation in written form are often reduced to hyperbolic-sounding statements that still don’t effectively get the point across. It’s brighter! It’s darker! It’s billions of colors! 

Want to see for yourself the difference HDR can truly make? Fire up your Kaleidescape, download the 4K HDR version of Avengers: Endgame, and cue up the climactic moments of the big final battle when (spoiler alert, in case it wasn’t already obvious) the heroes who fell in Infinity War return from non-existence and are magically teleported by Doctor Strange onto the battlefield alongside Captain America, Thor, and Iron Man. On Kaleidescape, it’s the scene named “Avengers Assemble,” for obvious reasons. If you’re watching via some other platform, you can skip to the timestamp listed above.

But don’t press that Play button just yet. Before you watch the scene in 4K HDR, check out the same sequence in the HD version. It’s epic, to be sure, even in Blu-ray quality. The battlefield feels immense. The shadows that hang over the sundered pile of rubble where Avengers HQ once stood are deep and inky. The layer of grime and streaks of blood marring Cap’s face are tangible and perfectly textured. Once you’ve soaked in all of that and gotten a good reminder of what state-of-the-art home video looked like barely more than three years ago, switch over to the 4K HDR version and prepare to have your hair blown back. 

There isn’t much of a difference in terms of resolution, given that Endgame was sourced from a 2K digital intermediate. And yet, the enhanced contrast HDR brings with it makes every shot feel crisper, more detailed, dimensional, and lifelike. (That is, as lifelike as a scene can look when it involves a bunch of grown folks running around in armored pajamas fighting a big purple space fascist.)

This isn’t just an academic study in video specs, though. What makes the HDR presentation of Endgame work so well—in this scene, in particular—is that it genuinely enhances the passion and poignancy of these moments. The portals Doctor Strange opens aren’t merely razzle-dazzle circles floating in the darkness, as they are in high-definition and standard dynamic range—they’re blinding rips in the spacetime continuum. The sun hanging over the horizon isn’t simply a yellow-white spot on your screen—it’s a stunning light source that pierces the darkness of the battlefield, and indeed of your room. 

These brilliant spots of light dancing through the darkness actually have a physiological effect, dilating your pupils a bit and tickling your wince reflex—though not pushing it to the point of discomfort. And given that you’re genuinely, physically engaged with the imagery, you can’t help but be drawn more deeply into it. You’re not merely a passive observer of this shield-throwing, lightning-calling, web-spinning battle for the fate of the universe—you’re more invested in the action because all of those photons pouring off of your screen literally invoke an involuntary biological response, yanking you into the heightened reality of it all. At that point, you’re not just watching a movie, you’re having an experience—one that simply wouldn’t be possible without HDR.

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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How to Cram for Infinity War in as Few Films as Possible

w to Cram for "Infinity War" in as Few Films as Possible

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Disney+ Needs to Break Its Own Rules
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Prepping for Infinity War shouldn’t require wading back through the whole MCU—here are 6 films that will take you straight to the head of the line 

by Dennis Burger
April 24, 2018

Like many of you, I’m sure, I already have my tickets to see Avengers: Infinity War this weekend. Unlike most of you, I hope, I won’t be using those tickets. A nasty abscess and a brief flirtation with sepsis have nipped those plans right in the bud. But oddly enough, this unintentional timeout has given me a chance to do something I probably wouldn’t have had time for otherwise: Actually prepare myself for the movie.

Mind you, I don’t have time, nor the desire, to watch every Marvel Cinematic Universe film leading up to Infinity War. But it is the 19th in the series and the culmination of every one of the films before it, so the assumption is that you’ve seen most if not all of them at some point since their release. And I have; I simply need a refresher to get me in the right mental and emotional space heading into this monumental event film.

So, while my buddy Dave was sitting by my side in the hospital last night, patting my head and asking if he could have all my Hot Toys figures if this whole thing goes south, we brainstormed the lazy nerd’s essential viewing guide for heading into Infinity War. Good nerds that we are, we had rules, of course. 

First rule: Six films, max. Reason: So people can actually get this marathon done before this weekend. 

Rule B: We’re not worried about the location and particular powers of every Infinity Stone (the powerful gems, remnants of six singularities that pre-exist our universe, which have served as MacGuffins for many Marvel films to date and which give Infinity War its name). Reason: You’d literally have to watch nearly every Marvel movie to get that, which violates Rule One. Plus, you can just look up any number of YouTube videos about the Infinity Stones and catch up that way. 

Rule the Third: Try to include as many relevant characters as possible in as few films as possible without having to watch Avengers: Age of Ultron. Reason: Age of Ultron was just terrible. No, seriously, y’all—that was a bad movie.

Rule 4: This list has to work equally well for people who’ve seen all the films and people who haven’t. Reason: Because some people haven’t. 

So, with those rules in mind (and with a morphine drip in my arm, so take it for what you will), here’s my list of films that should serve as a quick refresher course in the overall state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe leading up to the events of Infinity War

Captain America: Winter Soldier. Nope, don’t you dare blame the morphine for this one. I realize Winter Solider is a fully terrestrial film with no hint of the cosmic or mystic sides of the MCU that are obviously going to be so important in the new film. But it’s essential viewing because it sets the stage for everything that happens to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes in the years that follow it. On top of that, it’s simply one of the best action movies ever made (and a pretty solid espionage flick at that), irrespective of its status as a Marvel movie. 

Winter Soldier is also an essential re-watch because Captain America: Civil War doesn’t make much sense without it, and Civil War is really the film that leaves the Avengers in the personal, emotional, and legal states they’re in heading into Infinity War. If you can’t quite figure out why Captain America looks like The Walking Dead’s Rick Grimes in the Infinity War trailer, this one has your essential reminders. Civil War also serves as Spider-Man’s introduction to the MCU, and he looks to play an incredibly important part in the new film. (For what it’s worth, you can watch Spider-Man: Homecoming on its own if you want. It’s a hoot and a half. But it’s not essential viewing for the purposes of Infinity War prep.)

Next up: Guardians of the Galaxy, a film high in the running for best pop-music soundtrack of all time, and also our best glimpse at who this big, bad villain named Thanos really is, what he wants, and what he’s willing to do to get it. What’s perhaps most interesting is that we learn less about Thanos from his actual screen time than we do by watching his favorite “daughters,” Nebula and Gamora, who play central roles in this one.

And you just have to follow that up with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Dave reached over to check my temperature when I threw this one out, because it’s not an obvious pick. It has less to do with Thanos and the Infinity Stones than its predecessor. But again, it goes back to learning about Thanos by proxy. The interactions between Nebula and Gamora in this film tell you a lot about who the Mad Titan is. Vol. 2 also sneaks in a lot of history about the cosmic side of the MCU that I have a sneaking suspicion will become way more relevant in this upcoming film. 

Of course, you also need a heaping helping of immersion in the mystic side of this universe, and for that we turn to Doctor Strange. I’ve seen more than a few headlines recently along the lines of “Why Doctor Strange is Important to Infinity War,” and I haven’t clicked on any of them. Because spoilers, duh. But I can tell you it’s a pretty safe bet the Time Stone featured so prominently in this film is at least one of the reasons Thanos’ sights are set on Earth in the new film. So, if nothing else, consider this (along with Guardians of the Galaxy) your essential primer on the power of Infinity Stones individually. It also has Rachel McAdams in it. Rawr. 

Last up, Thor: Ragnarok, the film that, as best I can tell, leads right into Infinity War. It also answers the important questions: Where the heck were Thor and Hulk during Civil War? And how are they gonna get back to Earth? Also, make doubly sure you stick around for the mid-credits scene. But seriously, you should already know that by now.

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: Avengers: Endgame

Avengers: Endgame

review | Avengers: Endgame

The first, long chapter of the MCU saga comes to satisfying close in this three-hour film, which also makes for a satisfying home viewing experience

by Dennis Burger
July 31, 2019

Avengers: Endgame comes to the screen with an incredible amount of baggage for any one film to carry. It has to serve as the emotional and narrative conclusion of 11 years’ and 21 films’ worth of Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) stories. It has to serve as the second half of a film released a year earlier. It also has to work as a self-contained narrative on its own terms—one that satisfies both hardcore fans who’ve seen all 21 of those previous Marvel movies numerous times as well as more casual moviegoers who may have seen some of them only once, if at all.

The fact that Endgame manages to check all of those boxes without crumbling under its own weight is a bit of a minor cinematic miracle. That it ends up being so much more than a mere obligatory box checker is a testament to the talents of the film’s directors (Joe and Anthony Russo) and writers (Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely).

To get into why, though, we need to dip our toes into spoiler territory, for both Endgame and 2018’s Infinity War, but I’ll try to keep things as vague as possible on both fronts, for the pair of you who’ve seen neither film. At the end of Infinity War, we were left in a weird place for a big, blockbuster superhero franchise. The villain had won. Half the population of the universe—and half of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes—had been “blipped” out of existence at the snap of a finger. Mind you, we live in a world where films are announced years in advance, and it didn’t take a savvy viewer to put two and two together and realize some of those dead heroes were only a film or two into a multi-film contract, which meant they would be coming back, somehow or another, by the end of this film.

Think about that weird conundrum for long and it quickly becomes apparent that Endgame ran the serious risk of not only narratively undermining Infinity War by undoing its deaths but also of emotionally undermining it so severely that the first part of this two-part story lost all impact for future viewings. I think the most dedicated Marvel fans amongst us all sort of went into Endgame knowing this would be the price we had to pay in order to see the resolution of this storyline.

Except that ends up not being the case at all. Instead of undermining Infinity War—narratively and emotionally—Endgame ends up enriching it, making it more interesting and impactful. If the thematic arc of Infinity War could be boiled down to coming to terms with defeat, Endgame at its core is a film about consequences. As with any good epic (in the Tolkien, not the Hollywood, sense of the word), Endgame is a film about the high cost of victory. So, rather than robbing Infinity War of emotional and narrative weight, this film piles an extra heaping helping of solemnity on its forebear and all the films that came before it. 

Once its end credits roll, what we the viewers are left with is not only a satisfying yet bittersweet conclusion to the rambling and seemingly disconnected narrative that began with 2008’s Iron Man, but also one that makes us reflect on everything that has happened to the MCU’s characters along the way. It even redeems some of the MCU’s weaker efforts, like 2013’s Thor: The Dark World, although perhaps only in retrospect. (And no, I’m not confident enough in this statement to actually suffer through that movie again to find out for sure.) 

But as I said, Endgame would be a wholly unsatisfying film if it were merely a massive nostalgia romp. I won’t recount the plot here, because if you’ve seen the movie you already know it, and if you haven’t, I would sound like I was having a stroke. But what makes the film work on its own terms is, in part, the economy of its storytelling. That may seem an ironic statement to make about a three-hour film, but the Russos, Markus, and McNeely have managed to craft an engrossing narrative that feels perfectly paced, because when the plot is simple and straightforward, they use that opportunity to ramp up the richness and diversity of the story’s themes. And by contrast, when the narrative gets more complex (as will happen when you’re playing around with comic-book quantum physics and the fabric of spacetime), they use simpler and more straightforward thematic underpinning to maintain a coherent through-line. 

The film also uses the luxury of its relatively long running time to give the characters a lot of room to breathe. Upon second viewing, I was taken aback by how much of it is devoted to people sitting around, simply talking to one another. It’s refreshing, and it’s exactly what was required to give these characters one last chance to grow, and express their growth, in shockingly adult ways. Coming out the other end of the film, I wonder if most viewers realize that only about half an hour of screen time is really dedicated to stereotypical blockbuster comic-book action scenes.

Unsurprisingly, it is those scenes that shine the brightest in Kaleidescape’s 4K/HDR presentation. And I mean that literally. This is some of the most effective use of HDR I’ve seen, especially in the big battle at the end, where stunning contrasts are used not merely for eye candy but to reinforce the emotions of the sequence. I watched this epic throw-down back-to-back in Blu-ray quality and 4K with HDR, and while it certainly got my nerd heart pumping in mere 1080p HD, I was literally moved to tears by the climactic turning point of the battle as it played out in high dynamic range. 

But if you’re just in it for the eye candy, the Kaleidescape transfer works on that front, too, even if the vivid and detailed presentation does at times make some of the special effects ever-so-slightly too obvious. Audio enthusiasts who’ve grumbled at Disney for their sometimes-lackluster audio mixes will also be delighted by the richness of the soundtrack and its effective use of bowel-loosening bass and the aggressiveness of the Dolby TrueHD Atmos track’s height channels. Truth be told, those effects were a little too distracting for my tastes and I preferred the included DTS-HD Master Audio 7.1 mix but it’s nice that both options are available. 

There is one other audio track that absolutely cannot be ignored, although you’ll only find it on the Blu-ray quality download (which is included with your 4K HDR purchase): The audio commentary by the Russos,  Markus, and McFeely. If you listened to their commentary for Infinity War, you know what you’re in for. If not, I’m jealous that you get to experience it for the first time. As with the previous film, their commentary is less a scene-by-scene breakdown of how the film was made and more a masterclass in storytelling, character development, and filmmaking, making it essential listening even if you typically skip commentaries.

It’s a shame that the rest of the extras don’t rise to the same level. Also included with the Blu-ray quality download is about an hour’s worth of bonus documentaries that you can mostly ignore, except for the eight-minute tribute to Stan Lee that was included after the film in its soft theatrical re-release back in June. You’ll also want to check out the last of the six deleted scenes (which, by the way, doesn’t include the excised clip that was tacked onto the aforementioned theatrical re-release). 

Hopefully, at some point Endgame will get a double-dip home video release whose bonus features dig a little deeper into the rich tapestry that is this film. Until then, though, this one is a must-own. 

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 |  Some of the most effective use of HDR ever, especially in the big battle at the end, where stunning contrasts are used not merely for eye candy but to reinforce the emotions of the sequence

SOUND | Anyone who’s grumbled about Disney’s sometimes lackluster audio mixes will be delighted by the richness of the Atmos soundtrack and its effective use of bowel-loosening bass and the aggressiveness of the height channel effects

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Disney Plus Needs to Break Its Own Rules

Disney+ Needs to Break Its Own Rules

Disney+ Needs to Break Its Own Rules

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Rolling shows out slowly over time makes sense for some series—but not for all

by Dennis Burger
May 13, 2021

Throughout March and April, Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier dominated the pop-culture conversation. You might have noticed that we at Cineluxe weren’t part of that conversation but that doesn’t have much to do with the series itself. It’s a fine show—far from Marvel’s best work but also far from its worst. The series deals with a lot of big ideas, and although it doesn’t give them all the thorough examination they deserve, it’s still a solid continuation of the Captain America films just without the benefit of Steve Rogers, who hung up the shield at the end of Avengers: Endgame. 

So, why the radio silence? Because a discussion of what did and didn’t work about The Falcon and the Winter Soldier would sort of miss the point. Anyone who tells you they could wrap their heads around the show before it was available to view in its entirety is lying. The biggest thing holding the series back was that it doesn’t hold up as weekly appointment television. 

I’ve riffed in the past, about how Disney+ represented something of a revival of “water cooler” TV—how its weekly release schedule gave new shows some breathing room and gave audiences an opportunity to discuss new episodes one at a time in chat rooms, message boards, and around the dinner table. 

That really worked to the advantage of the first two seasons of The Mandalorian, and it was practically baked into the premise of WandaVision. Of course, it wasn’t merely a creative decision to release those shows one episode at a time over the course of a couple of months, it was an act of necessity, given that neither’s season finale was finished cooking when the first episode hit the table.

Forget the reasons for this anti-binging release strategy, though. The fact is that it works—except when it doesn’t. And The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is the perfect example of how a “this is the way we do things” mentality and a dogged adherence to tradition (no matter how new that tradition may be) can hurt a property. 

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is, at the end of the day, a pretty good five-hour-plus movie. And given its length, it’s nice to have it broken up into six chapters so you can consume it at your own pace over the course of a night or two or an entire week—whichever fits your schedule. But given that it’s effectively one cinematic experience chopped into six roughly equal parts, doling it out over a month-and-a-half of real-world time reminded me of Bilbo Baggins’ famous quote from The Fellowship of the Ring: It feels thin . . . sort of stretched . . . like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.

When Disney+ launched, the weekly release schedules were part of its still-forming identity. At this point, though, its identity is pretty well established. It surpassed 100 million subscribers sometime last month. Soon enough, its subscriber base will eclipse Netflix (although I hesitate to predict when, since analysts keep moving the goalposts and Disney+ continues to defy their wildest expectations in terms of growth). 

At this point, you have to acknowledge that Disney+ is, if not the leader in streaming, at least a leader. Good leaders adapt, though. They have a good sense of what works and what doesn’t. And while the appointment-TV approach has certainly worked for most of the service’s properties so far, we now have at least one example of ever-Friday releases negatively impacting a show’s effectiveness. 

There was literally no good creative reason to tease out The Falcon and the Winter Soldier over the course of six weeks. Six days, maybe? That could have worked. And the entertainment-industry headlines would have written themselves: “Disney+ Brings Back the Mini-Series with Special Falcon & Winter Soldier Event.”  

Disney+ has broken nearly every rule of the streaming marketplace. Surely it can break this rule when it makes sense, even if the rule is its own.

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: Black Widow

Black Widow (2021)

review | Black Widow

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This empowered-female action film also takes on weighty issues of family and freedom

by Dennis Burger
July 9, 2021

If you’re clicking on a review of Black Widow right now, I can only assume you’re here in search of one more person’s opinion about whether it was worth the wait. The simple answer is is: Yes. If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna ramble on for a bit about why.

I’m normally not one to invest much energy in the horse-race discussion about movies like this. But in the case of Black Widow, it’s hard to ignore. It was supposed to come out last year but ended up being one of many casualties of the global pandemic. Meant to kick off Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it got beaten to that punch by WandaVision, Falcon & The Winter Soldier, and Loki. It’s probably the biggest Disney movie to date to be available via Premier Access, three months ahead of its free-to-view streaming release on October 6, 2021. 

But none of that really matters because none of it has any bearing on the quality of the movie. And yet, it’s a hard discussion to avoid.

Black Widow was always going to be a movie whose release was a little weird, temporally speaking. The bulk of the plot takes place between Captain America: Civil War (2016) and Avengers: Infinity War (2018) but it’s a story that couldn’t really be told until after Endgame (2019), not necessarily for narrative reasons but for emotional ones. To fully make sense of the character of Natalia Alianovna Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) in this story, you have to understand not only the redemption arc she’s been on since first introduced to the MCU in Iron Man 2 but you also have to know that she’s the type of person who would make the sacrifice she did in the last Avengers movie. 

All of that makes Black Widow a puzzle piece that you can only place in time, not merely space. But that’s sort of fitting for a character as complex as Natasha. I won’t bother to even begin to attempt to explain the plot. Doing so would make me sound ridiculous. It’s got a thousand tiny moving pieces and it plays a very dangerous game with them in that it all flirts with being just a little too much. I’m normally turned off by plots this complex. Give me a simple story any day of the week—but writing simple stories is difficult. 

Here’s the thing, though: The convolutions of the script don’t seem to be a product of laziness but of necessity. Story writers Jac Schaeffer (WandaVision) and Ned Benson (The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby), along with screenwriter Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok), seem to understand that this one had to do a lot of heavy lifting and cover a lot of ground. It also manages to pull off a trick few stories do successfully—it manages to be a critique of a thing while also being that thing itself. Black Widow is a comic-book action movie, yes, but it’s also a subversion of the genre, a sendup of its tropes, and a cheeky rumination on the dangers of idolizing these impossibly perfect characters. 

It only works because the writers understood three key things: 

Firstly, pacing: For every big action set piece (and there are plenty of them, with car chases that rival Baby Driver and fight sequences that are every bit as stupid and amazing as anything in the John Wick series), there’s at least as much time devoted to quieter, tenderer character moments. 

Secondly, tone: The movie deals with a lot of heavy material, from psychological manipulation to the exploitation of vulnerable women to Cold War hangover, but it always strikes the right balance between sincerity and levity. It knows when to take itself seriously and when not to. It’s heartbreaking one moment and legitimately hilarious the next. 

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly: It just knows what it’s about, and although it would take two hours to recount the narrative beat by beat, it’s easy to explain what it all means. Ultimately, Black Widow is about family—specifically that weird and contradictory set of emotions that comes from interacting with your family now that you’re an adult, that troubling realization that your parents were just cosplaying as adults for your entire childhood, and the baffling combination of rage and familiarity that only your relatives can drag out of you simultaneously. 

It’s also about freedom—not only the necessity thereof but also the cost and why that cost is worth paying. While playing around with that theme, the story also touches on notions of free will and animal instinct. But all of that really points back to freedom.

And that’s it. As many twists and turns as there are in the plot, all of them ultimately support the themes of family or freedom, or both. That’s what keeps Black Widow grounded throughout, keeping it from devolving into utter chaos.

Can I just say, though, that this is yet another blockbuster movie I’m so glad I didn’t have to suffer through in a packed cinema? Disney+’s presentation far surpasses the quality of any commercial cinema I could reasonably reach in a half-day’s drive, and I also got to enjoy it without suffering the distractions of an auditorium full of chatty extroverts and their rowdy kids. At home, I could give it my full attention and even take a tinkle break halfway through without being forced to choose between skipping an action sequence or a bit of character development.

The Dolby Vision presentation is taken from a 2K digital intermediate, as most MCU movies are, which was itself sourced from original footage captured in a mix of 4K, 6K, and 8K. Fine detail abounds, not merely in closeups but also in long shots (which many of the action sequences are—a welcome break from the claustrophobic framing of most high-octane movies these days). Colors are gorgeous and the high dynamic range is employed spectacularly.

There are a few very minor and very fleeting blemishes, but I’m not sure whether they’re a consequence of post-production, Disney+’s encoding, or the fact that I streamed it on Day One, simultaneously with millions of other people.  Evidence for the latter comes from the fact that, on my Roku Ultra, with my 250mbps internet connection, the stream didn’t switch from 1080p to 4K until about two-thirds of the way through the Marvel Studios logo that precedes the movie. Disney+ normally launches at 4K for me.

The evidence that these blemishes are baked into the master is circumstantial. During a shot very early on that takes place in a shadowy bathroom, there’s about a quarter second of very, very minor banding as the flat tiles of the environment give way to the shadows. But the very next shot is in the same environment with the same tonal variation, and there’s no banding. There’s also a long shot of Natasha’s trailer that exhibits a touch of moiré for a few frames. But a few minutes later there’s another shot of the exterior photographed from the same distance in roughly the same light, and there’s no moiré. 

So I can’t be sure if these momentary imperfections can be blamed on streaming or taxed servers or what. But thankfully they add up to no more than a cumulative second over the course of a 135-minute film. Otherwise, Black Widow looks stunning. 

It also sounds way, way better in my home than it would in any movie theater I’ve ever sat in. Mind you, the Dolby Atmos track seems to have been mixed for large auditoria, not home cinemas, so it can be a little too dynamic in spots. I also had to turn the volume on my preamp up to +3dB (with 0dB being cinema reference level) in order to unlock the full fidelity of the track, especially the bass. If you have a well-designed sound system, though, you’re in for a sonic treat. If, on the other hand, you’re trying to watch Black Widow with a soundbar as your only audio system—even a really good soundbar—you’re quickly going to discover what it feels like to pack ten pounds of you-know-what into a five-pound bag.

It remains to be seen, of course, whether Disney continues to support these day & date releases via Premier Access as Hollywood attempts to force a return to normal over the next year. All I can say is this: If I have the option to watch future Star Wars and Marvel movies—the only movies I really feel compelled to see Day One—in the comfort of my home, in quality this superior to even a good cineplex, for just $29.99? Sign me the heck up. I’ll never need to sully the bottom of my flip-flops with sticky popcorn grease ever again.

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 | Fine detail abounds in both closeups & long shots, colors are gorgeous, and the high dynamic range is employed spectacularly

SOUND | The Atmos track seems to have been mixed for movie theaters, not home theaters, so it can be a little too dynamic in spots, but if you have a well-designed sound system, you’re in for a sonic treat

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Review: The Northman

The Northman (2022)

review | The Northman

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Not the gore fest its reputation would lead you to expect, this turns out to be a hypnotic exploration of the intersection of history, myth, and reality

by Dennis Burger
June 8, 2022

I knew pretty much two things about Robert Eggers’ The Northman before digging in. I’d heard that it is perceived as a gruesomely violent film. I also knew that it’s yet another retelling of one of the most oft-told tales in Western culture, the legend of Amleth, told perhaps most comprehensively by Saxo Grammaticus in Gesta Danorum but reborn again and again through the ages as characters ranging from Shakespeare’s Hamlet to Disney’s Simba, the eponymous Lion King. 

Amleth is not the hook that drew me into this story, though. The archetype I’m here for is his father, King Aurvandill, also known as Ørvendil or, in Anglo Saxon, as Ēarendel, a name that will immediately grab the attention of any Tolkien fan. 

Almost none of this has any bearing on The Northman as a film. I bring it up merely to point out that there’s something resonant and archetypal about this story. There’s a reason it keeps getting told and retold, that its central characters inspire entirely different legendaria, that we’re drawn to it like flame, despite knowing that flame burns. 

And perhaps the best thing I can say about this stupefying work of cinema is that Eggers seems to get that. In crafting his own version of this well-trod tale of revenge—while attempting to return to Saxo as much as possible without erasing the impact and importance of future adaptations such as Shakespeare’s—the director/co-writer seems to understand that to truly convey why the impulses and emotions central to this story are so destructive, we must explore why they’re so seductive. 

It’s a neat trick to be able to pull that off without venturing too close to glorifying bloodshed at one extreme or moralizing from a modern perspective on the other, but Eggers and co-writer Sigurjón Birgir Sigurðsson (aka Sjón, aka Johnny Triumph of The Sugarcubes) have found a nice middle ground here largely by taking a show-don’t-tell approach to the storytelling. 

What they’re showing, though, is so utterly and delightfully weird that I can’t begin to imagine what the pitch meetings with the studio heads at Regency Enterprises must have been like. In one sense, you can’t help but get the impression The Northman is Eggers’ way of countering a lot of the ahistorical nonsense of The History Channel’s popular TV series Vikings. You can see onscreen the obsession with historically accurate (or at least not laughably inaccurate) attire, architecture, even hairstyles. Few meaningful liberties are taken with the material world in which the film is set.

On the other hand, not all of the film takes place in the realm of the material, or at least it seems not to. There’s an acknowledgement that so much of this story is based on legend, not real historical figures, and there also seems to be a concerted effort to incorporate the spiritual beliefs of the peoples portrayed as accurately and evocatively as possible. Passages of the film straddle the line between acid trip and fever dream, and it’s not always clear whether the fantastical elements are intended to be viewed as the dreams and visions of the characters or the actual reality of the story being told. Sometimes the distinction is evident, but not always. 

Perhaps what makes it difficult to tell at times whether we’re seeing the world as it supposedly is or purely as the characters imagine it is because The Northman is simultaneously one of the most theatrical films I’ve seen in ages and also one of the most cinematic. Those competing aesthetics create a sense of tension that permeates the work throughout. 

Sometimes the Dolby Atmos soundtrack comes off like something I would have heard while working at my local Shakespeare Festival, and others times it almost seems to be trying to recreate reality. At other times still, it goes places only a modern movie sound mix can go. In many instances, the UHD HDR10 transfer—taken from a 4K intermediate, itself taken from a Super 35 negative framed at 2:1—looks like a work of cinema from the 1980s, with backdrops that appear to be matte paintings and nocturnal exteriors that appear to have been shot day-for-night despite the fact that they weren’t. At other times, the cinematography by Jarin Blaschke looks as naturalistic and un-stylized as possible for a film shot on Kodak stock.

What I’m trying to convey is that The Northman isn’t a sort of straightforward blockbuster-looking movie. It’s a bit weird and organic and grungy and filmic. Blacks aren’t always rock-solid black, and often (though far from always) the finest of details are obscured by filters and fog and smoke and fine film grain. But it’s all so beautiful to behold, even if it’s not quite what most videophiles would consider home-cinema demo material. There’s so much texture to the image that it brings the environments and the people that inhabit them to life wonderfully. HDR doesn’t do much here except enhance shadow detail, but that hardly matters since the UHD resolution unlocks nuances in the imagery I have to imagine would be lost in HD.

And you could say much the same about the Atmos mix. It’s not interested in keeping the knob dialed to 11 on every speaker in your room. It’s ostentatious when it needs to be, and quiet when it needs to be. It may not be the title you cue up to show off your sound system, but it’s one that requires a well-engineered system to appreciate, given how dynamic it is. Just for kicks, I decided to watch some of the film through my TV’s built-in speakers and found it to be incomprehensible. 

As for the much-ballyhooed bloodshed—it may just be that this aspect of the film was all anyone wanted to discuss when it first debuted in cinemas, but I found the violence to be far less gruesome than it could have been, much less so than expected, at any rate. Only two or three shots could be legitimately accused of being gratuitous, and I think I would be on the defensive side of that debate. 

More often than not, the worst violence or gore happens just offscreen, or just a few fractions of a second after the scene cuts away. The carnage is more implicit than explicit—which is not to say that it isn’t felt. It surely is. But it never ventures into the exploitative territory of something like, say, the original RoboCop or the more recent Bone Tomahawk. 

If my thoughts here seem a bit scattershot, that’s a fair criticism. I’m still trying to sort out exactly what I think and feel about The Northman, although I’m aching to watch it again—not necessarily for the story, since it’s one we all know by heart, but rather the cinematography, the symbolism, the performances, the set design, the costumes, the score, the sound mix . . .  the sheer experience of it all. 

It’s a bummer the Kaleidescape release lacks so many of the bonus goodies found on the UHD Blu-ray—including an audio commentary, roughly 40 minutes’ worth of featurettes exploring the historical context of the film and its shooting locations, and deleted scenes—but such is the case for Universal releases on Kaleidescape. In the online domain, these supplements seem to be Apple exclusives.

Even without the bonus goodies, though, The Northman is a must-own if you think you can endure the occasional abstractions, the sometime stream-of-consciousness storytelling, and the infrequent sword to the face. I went into it thinking I knew what kind of film it would be and uncertain of whether I would like it. I came out the other side ever-so-slightly obsessed with this deliciously strange slice of cinema. 

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 |  HDR doesn’t do much here except enhance shadow detail but that hardly matters, since the UHD resolution unlocks nuances in the imagery that would be lost in HD

SOUND | This may not be the title you cue up to show off your sound system but the Atmos mix does require a well-engineered system to appreciate, given how dynamic it is

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The Mandalorian: More Than Just Star Wars

The Mandalorian (2020)

The Mandalorian | More Than Just Star Wars

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The first season of The Mandalorian is satisfying from start to finish, taking the franchise into intriguing new territory

by Dennis Burger
January 2, 2020

If you havent already seen Season One of The Mandalorian on Disney+, it stands to reason that youre simply not interested. You may even be sick of hearing about it altogether, given that its the only thing in 2019 that managed to out-meme that crazy woman from Real Housewives yelling at a cat eating salad.

Heres the thing, though: While much of the discussion about The Mandalorian has centered on its adorable baby-alien McGuffin or its ties to the larger Star Wars universe, or even on its everything-old-is-new-again weekly release schedule, there hasnt been an awful lot of talk about whether the series is actually good. Not as a Star Wars TV series. Not as a lore drop about one of the franchises most beloved and mysterious factions. Not even as a small plank in the bridge between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens, chronologically speaking. But as, you know, just a TV show, a thing that exists in and of itself, independent of the fanatical fanbase or larger mythology.

The last time I wrote about the series, five episodes into its eight-episode run, I withheld judgment on that matter. Now that were a few days past the first-season finale and Ive had a chance to watch the season again from front to back, I wanted to step back and take off my Star Wars scholar hat and discuss the show on its own terms (not an easy task, since I once defeated the president of the Star Wars Fan Club in a trivia contest and still have the prize to prove it).

The Mandalorian is the love child of Jon Favreau, a name you definitely know, and Dave Filoni, who may be unfamiliar if youre not a big Star Wars fan. In short, Filoni was half of the creative driving force behind The Clone Wars, one of the best TV series of the past 20 years, but also one of the most criminally underrated, likely due to the fact that it was animated. 

That aside, though, theres one massive difference between The Clone Wars and The Mandalorian: The former assumed you were deeply invested in Star Wars lore and wanted to know more; the latter seems more interested in disassembling the elements that made the original Star Wars trilogy such a cultural phenomenon and reassembling them into something new—something that both pays homage and reinvents. 

You dont have to know much about George Lucas’s space opera/fantasy to know that this means going back to the wells of both Akira Kurosawa and Sergio Leone, the former of which influenced the latter and both of which inspired Star Wars in very different ways. Since The Mandalorian isnt about a larger civilization-spanning conflict, Favreau and Filoni leave other influences—like The Dam Busters and Tora! Tora! Tora!—on the table and bring in some new inspiration, namely Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojimas epic Japanese comic-book serial Lone Wolf and Cub and the film adaptations it spawned. 

The beauty of Favreau and Filonis new pastiche is that you really dont need to know any of that to enjoy it. Nor do you have to know that the shows producers have eschewed CGI as much as possible by going back and developing new techniques for photographing and compositing spacecraft models that are very much inspired by the techniques of ILM circa 1976 to 1983. Without knowing any of that, you can just feel it. Theres this wonderful mix of the familiar and the foreign that drives this series.

The Mandalorian: More Than Just Star Wars

And thats true of everything, down to Ludwig Göranssons incredible score, which may be my favorite thing about The Mandalorian. Instead of aping John Williams’ iconic themes, as so many other composers have done when playing around in ancillary Star Wars projects, Göransson gives us something new that isnt really new at all. Squint at it from one direction and theres an undeniable Eastern influence to the tones, textures, and overall structure of the music. Step back and look at it from another angle and it could just as easily have accompanied any of the misadventures of the Man with No Name. 

As with Williams, Göransson also sprinkles in the flavor of Holst and the spice of Stravinsky from time to time, but—at the risk of sounding repetitive—its the way he combines these influences, along with his own unique aesthetic, that results in something new and compelling that still feels familiar, even if you cant quite put your finger on exactly why.

I hinted above that The Mandalorian doesnt attempt to bite off more than it can chew, namely in the way that it doesnt attempt to mash up every classic work of cinema or serial that inspired the original Star Wars, and thats as true thematically as it is narratively and stylistically. There really isnt much here by way of spiritual rumination. The mystical is treated as a mystery and doesnt play heavily into the meaning of the series. 

Then again, it can take a while to really figure out what fundamental ideas the show is attempting to play around with, in large part due to its very episodic structure. In crafting this season, Favreau and Filoni seem intent upon letting the writers and directors of each 33- to 49-minute episode create their own little narratives, reminiscent in ways of David Carradine’s Kung Fu from the mid-1970s, and it isnt until the very end that one episode really connects to the next and a larger story arc begins to congeal.  

Taken as a whole, its not difficult to see a very simple thematic through-line woven into this collection of eight largely disconnected episodes: A tale of principles, honor, cultural (or familial) baggage, and redemption—all themes that resonate within the larger Star Wars mythology but that work just fine on their own. 

Technically speaking, The Mandalorian is beautifully shot, and honestly looks even more cinematic than its $15-million-per-episode budget would lead you to suspect. There has been some controversy over the fact that the show doesnt make use of the expanded dynamic range or larger color gamut afforded by its Dolby Vision (or HDR10, depending on your device) presentation. Gleaming specular highlights are nowhere to be found, and the lower end of the value scale can be a bit flat. Im guessing this was largely an aesthetic choice, as it does give the show a somewhat classic” look, especially in comparison to other contemporary series that do make more obvious use of HDR. 

I hesitate to accuse Disney+ of being dishonest in presenting The Mandalorians non-HDR cinematography in an HDR container, though, and that mostly boils down to a little-discussed advantage of our new home video standards in the era of higher-efficiency, lower-bitrate streaming: The minimization of video artifacts. 

On a lark, I disabled the HDR capabilities of my Roku Ultra and spot-checked an early episode, just to see what differences might pop up. In terms of color purity, shadow detail, overall brightness, and so forth, any differences were hard to spot. But without the benefit of 10- (or 12-) bit color, large expanses of clear, pale sky were occasionally rendered like sun-bleached sticks of Fruit Stripe gum, with blatant banding stretching from one side of the screen to the other. Say what you 

The Mandalorian: More Than Just Star Wars

will about the seriesoverall flatcolor palette and lack of value extremes, but simply packing it in a Dolby Vision box does keep visual distractions of that sort to a bare minimum. 

As for the audio, youll definitely want to enjoy The Mandalorian on the best sound system you have access to. One evening, whilst hanging out at a friends house, someone floated the idea of watching the most recent episode, which I agreed to despite having just watched it the evening prior. I found it a lackluster experience mostly due to my buddys inexpensive soundbar. And it wasnt really the explosions or gunfire that left me wanting more (although the sound mix does them justice), it was the presentation of Göranssons aforementioned score. Theres a dynamic drive to his musical accompaniment, as well as a rich blend of timbres and textures, that simply demands to be heard by way of a well-calibrated, well-installed, full-range surround sound system. 

But should you give it a chance to shine in your home theater or media room even if you care little for George Lucas’s galaxy far, far away? I daresay yes. At its heart, The Mandalorian is a delightful bushidō/gunslinger mashup that nods at fans quite frequently, but also quite slyly, such that youre likely to be completely unaware of any allusions or references youll almost certainly miss if youre not a franchise devotee, at least once you get past the first ten minutes of the first episode (the only place where blatant fan service really rears its ugly head).

Taken as a whole, it definitely does stand on its own, despite its tenuous connections to the larger mythology, despite its heavy nods to works of classic cinema and television, and (perhaps most importantly) despite the fact that everyone else on your Facebook newsfeed wont stop memeing the hell out of the seriesmost heartfelt moments or most quotable dialogue.

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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