GCFF Review: The Garden of Words

The Gold Coast Film Festival and Madman pulled off a coup this year by securing the world premiere of Makoto Shinkai's latest anime film, The Garden of Words, with Shinkai himself in attendance for a Q+A. Today's screening was the first public one anywhere in the world: it doesn't open in Japan for another month. I don't know if this is a first for anime in Australia, but it's certainly rare enough that local fans seized this wonderful opportunity and packed out the session.

Shinkai has followed his fantasy epic Children Who Chase Lost Voices (which screened at Reel Anime last year) with a smaller story set in contemporary Japan that only runs for 43 minutes. While drawing in a public garden in the middle of the city, 15-year-old Takao meets a mysterious older woman, Yukino. Over the course of the rainy season, they bond over their shared love of the rain and the escape that the garden provides, unsure how or whether they should meet beyond their sanctuary.

The Garden of Words is another visually sumptuous film from Shinkai, who depicts both urban Japan and the natural wonders of the garden with a level of detail that is rare even for anime features. From dicing onions to the precise movement of rainfall as it becomes a downpour, the skill of Shinkai and his team in translating small moments into vibrant animation is astounding. Each shot can be basked in, particularly those of tiny instances of natural beauty, which are peppered throughout. Even the more mundane sights of the city are portrayed just as vividly. More than any other anime, it makes me feel like I've visited a Japanese city.

By taking pains to immerse viewers in its worlds rather than rush them through a narrative, anime regularly demonstrates the intoxicating power of animation to capture our world and present it back to us as something new and surprising. The painstaking effort of Shinkai's team to recreate seemingly inconsequential moments and images registers even if we don't realise it, enabling us to be awed at the simplest features of our surroundings, the craft in depicting it reminding us of its complex wonders. This is one of animation's chief joys, and Shinkai makes it a priority.

But like Children Who Chase Lost Voices, the ravishing visuals in The Garden of Words are not quite backed up by the story and characterisation. An adult-teenager relationship will likely face social opposition, raising questions about relative maturity and the potential for exploitation. However, the film chooses not to tackle any of these issues (Shinkai explained to us that he opted not to make the film too heavy). Granted, romantic stories routinely choose not to deal with gritty realities, and that's fine. Charming, idealised, sweet relationships are wonderful to experience on film, and anime excels at them.

But by choosing a more controversial pairing and a tone of understated psychological and social credibility, Shinkai shouldn't be aiming to present a gentle, risk-free courtship more appropriate to Studio Ghibli. Instead, he has an opportunity to explore the complex issues that arise from a sincere bond that is nonetheless judged skeptically by society at large, and the additional complications that could have been layered into a feature-length film would have made the story more daring and psychologically rich. The natural beauty and the chaste nature of Taoko and Yukino's bond could have remained intact, but the film would have felt truer to itself. Alternatively, Shinkai could have presented a more conventional teenage or adult relationship in the stunning environment he has created and freed himself from a narrative that is fundamentally harder to explore and resolve. Ultimately, The Garden of Words feels like it couldn't quite bring itself to be a Satoshi Kon movie.

Some details of the character's backgrounds aren't clear enough either, and the script's hesitation in fully exploring Taoko and Yukino's attitudes makes the climactic outburst feel jarring and unearned. It's an easy, sentimental resolution to a story that demanded more moral ambiguity to be credible and satisfying. The film is certainly ambiguous, but in a muddled rather than understated way.

But despite not exploring that relationship to the extent that it deserved, The Garden of Words is otherwise a triumph of serene observation and quiet beauty. The craft of this film and its meditative power simply must be experienced. Shinkai has mastered that side of his art, from his choice of moments to the technical skill needed to realise them. I just hope that his next script is also fully realised, because that film could be transcendent.

Hannibal: Apéritif

Bryan Fuller developing a prequel TV series about Hannibal Lecter made no sense when it was first announced. With the warm and delightful Wonderfalls and Pushing Daisies, Fuller has cultivated a reputation for original, innovative projects, even if they didn't last long. And networks continued to want to be in business with him, so why would he turn to a played-out anti-hero for his next project? Surely it would drown in Anthony Hopkins comparisons, network interference, and prequel-itis.

But Fuller deserved the benefit of the doubt, and based on this first episode, he's earned it. Not only has he turned the prequel conceit into a new paradigm for the Lecter character to be examined in a fresh light, he's addressing this dark material with sensitivity and intelligence. Despite some graphic imagery, Hannibal is more horrified by its violence than similar shows and emphasises the devastating toll that it takes on survivors and even the investigator.

Heroes? Reviving cancelled TV shows is already getting off-track

So it seems MSN wants to clamber on the bandwagon of uncancelling TV shows. Using the XBox platform, they're looking to get into the original programming game by putting long-dead TV shows back into production in some form, following Netflix's revival of Arrested Development and the Kickstarter-funded Veronica Mars movie.

But what show are they looking at bringing back? Only what's considered one of the ugliest missed opportunities in genre TV of the last decade: Heroes.

REVIEW: Side by Side

ABC may be getting a little glossy these days, but they're are also programming some seriously cool, unexpected stuff. I'm often pleased and sometimes even shocked by what I stumble upon on iView. For instance, I discovered that Side by Side aired last week in the 'Sunday Arts Up Late' slot. This documentary was only playing American film festivals last year, and it's already on ABC. Great effort, guys.

Side by Side is a documentary about the transition from celluloid to digital in filmmaking, and the debate that divides the professional community about whether we are ultimately gaining or losing by the advent of digital production. I had assumed the film would focus solely on the shooting with film versus digital cameras, but it actually covers every aspect of filmmaking that can or has been digitised, including visual effects, editing, colour timing, and archiving. Writer/director Chris Kenneally has gathered together the disparate issues that film fans have been reading about in all corners of the media for the last decade or two and made a definitive summary and analysis of the implications of digital, while never coming down firmly on either side.

The unexpected star power behind the film is Keanu Reeves, who co-produced, narrates, and conducted the interviews. Undoubtedly due to his connections, the production interviewed a murderer's row of Hollywood directors, including James Cameron, George Lucas, Steven Soderbergh, David Fincher, Christopher Nolan, Martin Scorsese, David Lynch, Robert Rodriguez, and the Wachowskis. But a whole host of cinematographers, editors, producers, executives, and other digital professionals are also interviewed: Walter Murch, Wally Pfister, Vilmos Zsigmond, Vittorio Storaro, Tom Rothman, Dennis Muren, Lena Dunham, Greta Gerwig, and more.

A documentary about filming technologies might arguably only appeal to ardent film buffs, and many may feel the film is not for them. But Kenneally turns this into an absorbing tale of a seismic shift in entertainment that is affecting how we make cinema and who can do so. It also addresses how our viewing habits are being transformed by the digital revolution, and makes the good point that young people today didn't grow up with the cinema being the sole, sacrosanct space for spectacle and wonder. For them, the cinema has always just been one option, and an increasingly expensive one, and that shift in perception may bleed into the art that they go on to generate.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of the film is seeing Reeves engage and banter with movie professionals. As an insider himself, he elicits some wonderful candour from his subjects, but it's always well-reasoned. Well, it sounds that way. One of the key questions about the film/digital debate is just how much celluloid loyalists are entrenched in tradition and whether they are too preoccupied with digital's relative shortcomings to appreciate its strengths. Given the many advantages that we are told digital offers, such as watching footage immediately on set rather than the next day and having greater physical freedom than ever before, the argument that film merely looks better certainly seems reactionary. But many of the comparative benefits of each format are likely highly technical and not appropriate for a documentary like this, so what in the story are we missing? Why exactly does celluloid look a certain way, and are there intricate features of both its look and means of production that digital cannot yet emulate?

Perhaps that's one of the reasons Side by Side doesn't come down firmly on digital's side, because for most viewers it's an armchair conclusion made without genuine expertise. It's tempting to say that digital is now superior thanks to the features we as viewers and consumers can understand, but what about those features we can't? A documentary like this can contextualise these technologies and explain to us why they matter, but it inevitably can't enable us to fully grasp the implications that film professionals are grappling with in their day-to-day work.

That proviso aside, Side by Side still teaches us a great deal and sweeps us up in the excitement and vague terror of this revolution thanks to reports from the frontlines from director heavyweights down to effects technicians and colour timers. Whenever I next read about digital production, I'm going to be more informed and engaged, which is most welcome since this is an essential debate that every film buff needs to follow.

BIFF Review: Heaven's Gate

Margaret Pomeranz made me wait to see Heaven's Gate, and I'm glad she did.

Before I saw her review of the film's last re-release in 2004, all I knew of Heaven's Gate was its ghastly reputation. Considered one of the biggest critical and commercial flops of all time, the neo-western derailed director Michael Cimino's career after the Oscar-winning highs of 1978's The Deer Hunter. Going hugely over-budget during a troubled production, Heaven's Gate finally arrived in cinemas in 1980 as damaged goods, and the reaction was toxic. Cimino was blasted for his hubris and the film contributed to the downfall of its studio, United Artists.

Debate raged about the story behind the film but scant attention was paid to its content, and what reactions there were portrayed the film as incompetent, self-indulgent hackery. With so many dire portents of a production gone wrong, it was no doubt hard to judge the film divorced from that maelstrom.

After a short run in cinemas, it was withdrawn and Cimino cut over an hour from the film for its next release, but it made little difference. Rarely has a film failed so spectacularly. Heaven's Gate was made during Hollywood's 1970s auteur-driven period, so wondrous things were no doubt expected from Cimino when armed with such a huge budget. Instead, the film helped bring about the end of that period and studios began taking tighter control. Just as Star Wars contributed three years earlier to the highly corporate Hollywood of today, so did Heaven's Gate. [More after the jump.]

The X-Files might actually be coming to Blu-ray

This is weird timing: a speculation I made last weekend looks to have unexpectedly come to pass. In my post about the first season Blu-ray release of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I discussed how the success and viability of that project may lead to Blu-ray releases for other shows that were shot on film but edited on videotape. Out of all shows from the 1980s and 1990s that were produced this way, I named The X-Files as a candidate for the next wave of shows rebuilt for HD. I wasn’t terribly optimistic though.

What a difference a day (or two) makes. The Digital Bits reported on Tuesday that they’ve heard Fox have decided to remaster The X-Files for Blu-ray and may have already started work. Although this was in their “Rumour Mill” column, The Digital Bits is so well connected that while they tag anything not yet officially announced as rumour, their sources are so impeccable that it’s almost certainly going to happen. If it doesn’t, it’s because the studio changed their mind or something stopped them, not because it was never true. The Digital Bits were the first to report that CBS were remastering The Next Generation, and a few months later the official announcement appeared.

So we can start getting excited about this as a near certainty, and what an unexpected development it is. There’s been a lot of talk about the long-term viability of Blu-ray as a commercial format. Some cite that it hasn’t been taken up as rapidly as DVD, or assume that the parallel rise of online streaming options will inevitably put the nail in the disc’s coffin. But this ignores the fact that an increasing proportion of units sold of a title are on Blu-ray rather than DVD, and often the majority. Plus, the required online infrastructure to stream 1080p high definition to huge numbers of customers is not even imminent in America, let alone a smaller country like Australia. For a reliable, pristine HD experience, Blu-ray still can’t be topped. [More after the jump]

Braving the savagely compromised theatrical cut of Clive Barker's Nightbreed

Clive Barker's 1990 film Nightbreed has long been a cult favourite of horror fans, and their enthusiasm has been amped up in the last year with grass-roots screenings of the new Cabal Cut. This rough assembly, using rediscovered VHS workprints and the theatrical DVD, reportedly presents a vastly improved film that hews much closer to Barker's original vision, which was ravaged by cuts and reshoots for its theatrical release only to be a critical and commercial failure.

Based on Barker's own novel, Cabal, Nightbreed is the story of Boone (Craig Sheffer), a man plagued by violent dreams only to be told by his therapist, Decker (David Cronenberg!), that he has actually committed serial murders in real life. Horrified, Boone flees and seeks out Midian, a community of monsters and mutants who live beneath a necropolis north of Calgary, convinced he belongs with them after having strange visions of their city. I could explain more but there are twists and turns that are best left a surprise. Well, they are when reading the book, but the theatrical cut hardly does them justice. But we'll get to the specifics later. Just learning that the true version of the film was lost out there somewhere piqued my interest. [More after the jump.]

Why Star Trek: The Next Generation’s first season is surprisingly good, and what its restoration may mean for other classic shows

When a friend is telling you about a long-running show they love, you’re inevitably going to hear something like “it takes a while to get really good” or “the first season kinda sucks”. We seem unable to resist pointing out a show’s relative shortcomings even when we adore it. Perhaps we’re afraid of seeming to lack critical thinking, or we try to ensure that our recommendation will hold water if the person initially finds the show a chore.

That’s understandable, and useful in the latter case: there’s no point sending someone to a set of episodes that do indeed kinda suck when they will genuinely benefit from persisting through them. The unfortunate consequence is that these provisos get thrown around so often, particularly online, that they become immutable facts rather than possible reactions.

So these facts state that the last two seasons of The X-Files are indisputably awful, and Twin Peaks went down the toilet, without question, once Laura Palmer’s killer was revealed. These statements often have a sound basis, particularly if the problems were generated by production hurdles. However, what were clearly bumps in the road for each show have since been transformed into the nails in their coffin. The vehemence or ambivalence of a few outspoken viewers and critics has become the dominant narrative.

The upside of this is that viewers who then approach those installments cautiously may be pleasantly surprised. “Hey, Robert Patrick puts a lot of energy back into this show,” they might say. “Wait, the Windom Earle story is quite creepy and cool, and this finale is spectacular,” they will hopefully rave in shock. And in some cases the quality is so high, or at least not nearly as bad as its reputation suggests, that the show might seem like a revelation.

Such discoveries are rare, but the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation comes close. Yes, it’s as uneven and occasionally cheesy as the dominant narrative has long insisted. However, I was expecting each episode to be a poorly conceived, awkwardly acted, horribly dated test of my endurance. [More after the jump.]

Disney buys Lucasfilm - how weirdly exciting

A hand grenade got lobbed into geek culture today, with the announcement that Disney is paying $4 billion to buy Lucasfilm, and therefore the Star Wars franchise. What's truly significant is that Lucas has surrendered control of the franchise and new blood will be allowed to make their mark on it, beginning with Star Wars Episode VII in 2015, which will be the first in a new trilogy that's been rumoured and discussed for over two decades.

I'm not a huge Star Wars fan. Much as I've wanted it to, Lucas's universe has never got under my skin the way that Star Trek has. Part of the problem may be that most of my experience with the films comes from the post-Special Edition time when the franchise began to lose its lustre. Its enduring quality became the subject of intense debate rather than a universal truth. Because I didn't grow up with the films as perfect, unsullied feats of imagination, they may not have had a chance to gain a firm foothold.

So I'm surprised that this news has got me so excited. For one thing, to cheer the acquisition of one massive company by an even more massive company feels like the worst capitulation to the dominance of art by commerce; since this deal is all about wringing more money out of Star Wars, why should we be happy?

Two reasons. Firstly, George Lucas has finally surrendered control and can no longer veto decisions that fans are clamouring for. He has seemingly been weary of big-budget filmmaking and Star Wars itself almost since he began working on the prequels, which may explain how joyless they feel. Despite this, he accepted no help with the writing and direction of the films except for Jonathan Hales's assistance on Episode II, and that film didn't exactly sport an Irvin Kershner-style fresh voice. And once the prequels were over, we were firmly told that Lucas would make no more Star Wars films, with the implication that no-one else would get to either.

Of course, the prequel-hating fanbase, whose numbers are legion, were hardly optimistic about a new film coming from Lucas himself anyway. Being burned three times is bad enough. Stronger work was being done by others on the various Clone Wars cartoons, proof (if any was needed) that other voices could still make Star Wars sing. Imagine if top filmmakers were allowed a crack at a Star Wars feature film?

That appears to be what will now happen. Long-time Lucas and Spielberg producer Kathleen Kennedy now heads Lucasfilm and will develop the new trilogy with writers. Lucas will serve as creative consultant and is writing the treatments, but there's no guarantee that strict fidelity to them will be required. How contractually obliged Disney is to involve Lucas or use his ideas is naturally unknown at this point, but it's hard to believe that they would pay so much money and still be expected to indulge the creative mind that, by its owner's admission, is exhausted.

Although Star Wars is a powerful enough brand and any movie will make a ton of money and sell a bunch of tickets and merchandise to kids, Disney are surely aware of how poorly received the prequels were by adult fans, who weren't exactly a niche contributor to even those films' box office grosses. Resuscitating the brand will partly involve restoring its creative reputation, so hopefully Disney will pay a lot more attention to scripting and bring in multiple writers and other creatives to really hone this thing.

Granted, that would go against prevailing Hollywood practice where the script really isn't a big issue for massive tentpole films. However, hopefully Disney also recalls that the Marvel films that have done so well for them have, more often than not, had pretty decent scripts, particularly The Avengers. Good writing does matter and can lead to greater success, particularly for a franchise as delicate as Star Wars.

But the very existence of the movies may be problematic, and too many may dilute the brand, particularly if they fail to reach the heights so many demand. We're accustomed to films being cultural events; despite the diminishing creative returns of the prequels, each one somehow still managed to seem important.

Yet Disney are alluding to not only a new trilogy, but further films beyond that. Yes there's a huge history and future history to explore, as the massive expanded universe attests. But do we really want to get to a point where a Star Wars film tumbles off a production line on schedule, making a mint but never a dent? Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, anyone?

The second reason we should be happy about this is that we may finally get the theatrical versions of the original trilogy on Blu-ray, and otherwise available for the world to see for posterity. While I can almost imagine that Lucas perversely made their continued suppression a condition of sale, I again don't see Disney putting up with that. If he's willing to hand the entire legacy over to another company, presumably it's occurred to him that he'll have to suck it up and let the world see the original versions if that's what Disney decides is best.

And why wouldn't they? It would equal a ton more home video revenue, and would constitute one of the most significant home video releases ever due to the pent-up demand. Granted, it's hard to measure just how widespread the desire for the original editions truly is. Presumably kids don't care, but even the most casual of older viewers resent seeing Hayden Christiansen at the end of Jedi. It's another example of alienating consumers that Disney presumably doesn't see any benefit in persisting with. And having multiple versions of a film to offer equals multiple products, and what home video company would turn that down?

However, they would have to work with Fox to release such a package. Fox hold the distribution rights to A New Hope in perpetuity, and to the other five films until 2020. The former must aggravate Disney immensely, because it's hard to imagine Fox ever giving it up unless there ends up being so little value to only having a grip on one Star Wars film post-2020 that they will sell the rights for a fortune. But Disney would likely want a Blu-ray release in 2014-15 in time for the story's continuation with Episode VII, and surely Fox would appreciate the profits they'd make in working with Disney on such a release.

I expect that co-distribution would be essential, because Fox would be releasing films containing characters owned by Disney, so they really can't do anything without the Mouse. Now we just have to hope that there are enough surviving materials to restore. That said, I doubt Lucas has let them go to rot, despite his declarations that they will never be seen again. It's just not prudent to neglect such key assets.

I've mentioned a bunch of unknown factors and several misgivings, so why does this still excite me? Naivete and being a sucker for punishment may explain it, but I can't help but be optimistic about a great filmmaker miraculously restoring the joy and wonder of the Star Wars universe again. I've never been terribly compelled to explore its expanded universe, but I'm still tantalised by the prospect of a superbly-made cinematic Star Wars adventure. And for the first time since May 1999, we have reason to expect that one is possible again, and it's only three years away. I may just have to dust off my DVDs and remind myself of the appeal of this world, Greedo shooting first be damned (for now).

BASIC TRAINING: Tokyo Story (1953)

In which I muse on classic films I've just watched but really should have seen ages ago, in whatever order seems to make sense at the time.

I hadn't heard of Yasujiro Ozu until my second year of university, when I took one of my all-time favourite subjects: 'Film Movements and Genres'. Each week we would focus on a different movement or genre (appropriately enough) or a national cinema. In the week on Japanese cinema we watched Kurosawa's Rashomon, whom I was already familiar with, and Ozu's Ohayo (Good Morning). The low-key but relentlessly charming domestic comedy blew me away, particularly that it was made in 1959. Ozu's straightforward shooting style didn't date the film at all, and its everyday concerns were not period-specific. The biggest impact was in how serene and peaceful Ozu's world was. Like Studio Ghibli, Ozu presents a Japan that invites you in to relax and contemplate the gentle issues it raises. Ohayo, at least, is also sweetly funny, as two boys stage a speech strike to force their parents to buy a television set.

Ever since, I've wanted to see more Ozu and I have no idea why it's taken me this long. I knew that Tokyo Story was Ozu's most significant film. Most of the fuss around Sight and Sound's latest ten-yearly poll of critics' top ten films was that Vertigo took the top spot from Citizen Kane. Yet Tokyo Story was up there at number 3, beating better known films like 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Searchers, and it's been in the top ten for the last two decades. Its ardent admirers include Roger Ebert, Paul Schrader, and Wim Wenders. So how does it stack up?

Handsomely. I wasn't as gobsmacked as when I finally saw Citizen Kane, but that this elegant, melancholy film isn't aiming for that. The serenity and domestic beauty of Ohayo is here again, but there is less comedy. A retired couple from a coastal town visit their adult children in Tokyo, but beneath the meticulous good manners Japanese society demands, the children are clearly too preoccupied with the details of their own lives to show much interest or regard for their parents. Only the widow of their dead son shows them kindness, and the couple show a remarkable tolerance for the poor behaviour they endure, philosophically accepting it as inevitable. The film doesn't favour one generation over another, however. The couple are less concerned with their children's attitudes than their professional success, lamenting that their son is merely a neighbourhood doctor rather than, presumably, a surgeon or some other high flyer.

Ozu stands at great remove from the film, merely presenting these characters and their subtle interactions to us rather than making a damning indictment. The characters' wistful acceptance of their situation seems to extend to Ozu himself; I'd be curious to read more on his attitudes to Japanese society.

That said, the film's concerns are universal. Like Ohayo, this film is strikingly contemporary, if in relevance rather than visual quality this time. The dominant theme of children too busy to embrace their elders is terribly applicable to today now that life has sped up and we have so much to occupy and demand our time and attention. Ozu never gives the sense that the children are bad or hateful; their responsibilities and interests have merely made them forget to be respectful and appreciative of those who came before. How the climax of the film compounds this is terribly sad, but hardly surprising.

Again, I'm so struck by how peaceful Ozu's films are. Watching them feels like meditation, as the precise focus on detail and movement is so powerfully centring. That Ozu largely shoots low to the ground and only moves the camera once in the entire film is no doubt a key reason why. But his themes are profound as well, and I'm determined to not let more years lapse before I enter his world again.

MOVIE REVIEW: Prometheus

So it's finally here. Prometheus is in cinemas, but letting a ton of fans down hard. I'd hoped they were wrong and just had their expectations too high, but I must admit that I had a small amount of trepidation all along. I didn't want to admit to it, but could the power of Alien be replicated in today's industry? Could Ridley Scott recapture that magic, or at least deliver a quality film?

Sadly, the answer is no on all counts. Prometheus is a beautiful moron of a film, squandering gorgeous production values on an ambitious but dimwitted and undisciplined screenplay. A few elements entice, but beyond that, it's a failure.

That's my spoiler-free assessment, but to discuss why the film doesn't work, I need to get spoilery. The full, ruin-the-movie-for-you review is under the cut if you've seen the film or don't care about a plot that will likely piss you off.

Revisiting The Avengers

I didn't review The Avengers the first time I saw it for reasons that escape me, but having now seen it a second time I find there's still plenty to say. My second viewing not only held up but confirmed the film's strengths for me, whereas some blockbusters resolutely do not (Avatar, for instance). Much has been said about what Joss Whedon achieved with this film, and it's largely correct. It's not a film that touches your soul, and I don't even think it's going to be a touchstone film for future budding filmmakers like Star Wars or Raiders. Instead, what's so impressive is that it exemplifies exactly what blockbuster filmmaking should always be, but so rarely is. If we have to pay around $20 per 3D ticket for a film, we deserve quality escapism like this.

Opining on the Star Trek sequel villain rumour

Don't worry, all spoilers are under the cut. The rumour may turn out to be bogus, but I can understand why you'd want to be careful. I wish I didn't know this, but I stumbled across it and cursed the sky. Now I might as well muse on it.

Analysis is perhaps premature, but there's a ring of truth to this that warrants discussion. Regardless, the instinctive reaction to this rumour from Trek fans and observers is telling in the assumptions it provokes.

So don't click through if you want to remain unspoiled for now.

Revolution: the next intriguing genre show to quite possibly disappoint you

That's the kind of cynical, kneejerk comment that gets Hollywood types mad at fickle fan commentators, I know. To unequivocally assume that a forthcoming show will suck would be grossly unfair, I know, but so many genre shows have promised the world and delivered sheer monotony over the last few years. Caution is not only warranted, it's mandatory. Yet being a genre TV buff, I can't help but be intrigued by each SF-ish new pilot that gets greenlit to series. What if it sneaks up on us just as Lost and Battlestar Galactica did?

The first to raise that question this year is Revolution, created by Supernatural's Eric Kripke and produced by serial show developer JJ Abrams with a pilot directed by Iron Man's Jon Favreau. It's the first NBC drama to earn a series order, and the premise is timely and has potential: it's set in a post-apocalyptic America where all energy has ceased to exist, which means no cars or any other form of technology. I assume that 'energy' is a lazy shorthand for a more specific phenomenon, because all energy disappearing would presumably cause the universe to end rather than just force middle-class people to wash their clothes by hand.

Hollywood to Joss Whedon: "Shut up and take my money!"

At least, that's what he can likely expect to hear over the next week from powerful studio types. The Avengers has exceeded all expectations and looks set to beat Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 all-time US opening weekend record of $169 million. And not by just a few million. The current estimate is $185 million, and it was $175 earlier today, so Deadline reports that even $200 million is possible. The Avengers being the first to reach that milestone is fitting after Spider-Man was the first to crack $100 million ten years ago this weekend.

Disney's marketing juggernaut and the groundwork laid by the previous Marvel Studios films naturally played a huge part in the initial success of The Avengers, but Whedon deserves a lot of the credit too. By delivering a smart, crowd-pleasing, immensely satisfying film, he garnered near unanimous critical praise. Strong word-of-mouth could also circle the globe due to the early release of the film in nearly every international territory, so American fans were no doubt ready to gnaw their own arm off to get to the movie. If The Avengers was awful, it would still have made a bucket, but not this much.

And if The Avengers doesn't experience a significant drop in its second weekend, that in particular will be down to Whedon. Consequently, he will have executives beating down his door with an offer for every major project they have in development or a chance to make one of his own. He delivered a film that people are telling their friends they loved and that also warrants re-watchability, and that's an asset to any major movie campaign. Tempting as it is to say that Hollywood doesn't care if a movie's good, a good movie combined with savvy marketing is more fruitful than just savvy marketing.

If The Avengers breaks a second record and becomes the first film to score over $100 million in its second weekend--which, if it does pass $200 million this weekend, will only require it to drop less than 50%, which is entirely feasible--then Whedon will be the hottest of properties.

And that's just the domestic box office. The total international take so far is $575 million, only around $40 million shy of what Iron Man 2--the top Marvel Studios grosser to date--earned internationally in its entire run. Any concern that audiences might be tiring of superhero films or the Marvel Studios characters has been soundly trounced.

I'm eager to see it a second time myself, not because the plot was hard to follow or the film is rich with hidden meaning, but because it's packed with so much detail and so many witty lines that I couldn't possibly pick everything up the first time. And The Avengers is the rare film that works better with a crowd. When I saw it, Whedon had the audience in the palm of his hand. It was thrilling to be a part of and I'd like to do that again.

He's already alluded in new interviews to what he might do next, and he's staying decidedly low-key. His personally-financed, out-of-the-blue contemporary production of Much Ado About Nothing, starring numerous Whedon alumni, is in post-production. A Dr Horrible sequel is in the planning stages. A long-gestating web series with Warren Ellis called Wastelanders--reportedly a darker and more intense project than is typical of Whedon--is back in his sights now that Avengers is done. He has avoided mentioning bringing any passion projects to fruition with his new cachet, except to say that he would rather pursue his own characters after working for two years in Marvel's sandbox.

No problem though - he could still snag a huge budget if he wants to. He could take the Christopher Nolan route and make a non-franchise pet project in between superhero installments (Whedon will surely be asked back for an Avengers sequel, but then Marvel can be unpredictable in retaining their talent). Nolan's Dark Knight success got Inception made, so how might Whedon capitalise? The notion of him focusing solely on small web projects seems far-fetched, but then I'd applaud an unconventional response to immense financial success.

Whichever medium he chooses for his next major project, the key factor is that Whedon is in a far more privileged position than he was following the underperformance of Serenity and the cancellation of Dollhouse. He can lay the foundation here for the rest of his career, and he's not going to let that opportunity slip by. Watching how one of pop culture's most distinctive talents chooses to take advantage of it will be fascinating.

Oh, and pity Tim Burton's Dark Shadows next weekend. Especially if it subverts all expectations and is actually decent. And suddenly The Dark Knight Rises is looking a teensy bit like an underdog, shockingly enough...

Reviewing Kids on the Slope and discovering anime on Crunchyroll

My last venture into streaming anime didn't go so well, when the underwhelming Un-Go left me questioning how much anime was out there for someone like me. By that I mean: a picky anime fan who needs a certain degree of ambition or poignancy for a show to hook me. Several I've seen over the last year or two have had the right ingredients but never cohered. They felt lazy. While I was initially thrilled by the numerous legal streaming options available locally through Madman and Siren, the reality was that very little of it appealed to me.

But watching the first episode of Kids on the Slope on Crunchyroll has invigorated my optimism about the medium, particularly because I had no idea that the site could make so many major shows available outside of the US. It's quite the goldmine.

Can (and should) Netflix save dead TV shows?

Ever since Netflix won the bidding war for new episodes of Arrested Development, the online streaming giant has become a beacon of hope for TV fans left mourning cherished shows. This was compounded when Netflix was widely reported to be considering whether to pick up Fox's family dinosaur drama Terra Nova and ABC's found-footage mystery The River following their likely cancellation earlier this year. Even though those deals didn't eventuate, they suggest that Arrested wasn't a one-off. Perhaps Netflix may change the game by continuing to rescue shows that broadcast networks no longer deemed profitable, even years after they ended.

The excitement is understandable, because when American shows get cancelled, they invariably stay that way. British channels will happily bring back shows years or decades after canning them, but in the US, dead means dead unless you're an animated sitcom. Networks are generally too prideful to reverse their decisions or to eat the scraps of their rivals unless they happen to be owned by the same company that produces the show (hence the rescue of Scrubs and Medium).

But Netflix apparently has no such reservations. They're even willing to take meetings about picking up poorly reviewed shows that hardly have a groundswell of viewer support. There was no palpable desire to bring back Terra Nova or The River, yet Netflix still considered doing so. If even they were candidates, what else might be?

Because their entire TV catalogue comprises old material from broadcast and cable networks, there's no sense in Netflix being precious about picking up where networks left off. While they are also producing original shows (House of Cards, Lilyhammer, Hemlock Grove) that invite comparisons with those on pay cable, Netflix could find a valuable niche in rescuing shows whose existing episodes have done well for them. They could circumvent the perception that they are buying reheated leftovers because they are merely buying more of an acquired product that has proven to be a worthwhile investment.

Trailer Watch: The Dark Knight Rises, Tron Uprising

A viral campaign that sent fans into the streets tracking down clues has led to the early unveiling of the third and final trailer for The Dark Knight Rises, and it's pretty glorious.

That Nolan can credibly offer such a grand, spine-tingling trailer for a superhero flick is a testament to how The Dark Knight changed our perception of what the genre was capable of. Some may watch this and find it pretentious and high-falutin', and I can't entirely dispute that, especially with a final gag that significantly undermines the mythic tone. But whatever your stance on superhero films, you must admit it's refreshing that big-budget blockbusters that are intelligent, operatic, and stirring can still squeeze through the Hollywood sausage factory on occasion. This is a beautiful and evocative trailer.

Fox says Prometheus will not be compromised for a lower rating

Is Twentieth Century Fox actually starting to care about the quality and ambition of its movies? First Matthew Vaughn is allowed to make a period X-Men movie with a strong script and an excellent cast. Then Rise of the Planet of the Apes is allowed to be a sophisticated and worthy film rather than a shameless prequel. And now Prometheus will be rated R if it has to be, despite the increased revenue that a PG-13 rating would bring.

FINISHING SCHOOL: Luther Series 1

In which I muse on a wide variety of DVDs from my absurd personal backlog as I complete them.

Once The Wire finally became a critical hit in the UK late in its run, the local TV industry snapping up its British stars Dominic West and Idris Elba for local work was inevitable. West has since starred in several BBC productions including the recent The Hour, and Elba has his own cop show, Luther.

Cop shows need a twist or a distinctive aesthetic to rise above formula after decades of precedent, and Luther opts for the former. Elba plays Detective Chief Inspector John Luther, a livewire, angry police officer willing to bend the rules to get the bad guy. He also has a contentious relationship with his ex-wife (Indira Varma). So far, so Vic Mackey.

The twist comes in the alliance Luther forms with a sociopathic killer whose guilt he knows of but can't prove. He knows he should have nothing to do with her, but keeps returning to her for a weird form of solace. Meanwhile, she makes her power known to his ex-wife and her boyfriend, playing with them out of an unexpected loyalty and devotion to Luther.

Threading through the stand-alone episodes, this storyline gives Luther some thematic meat. His connection to her occasionally feels contrived - he tells her it has to stop one time too many - but this more intimate take on police corruption is more refreshing than yet more evidence-planting and death threats.

Nonetheless, for the first few episodes Elba seems wasted because the material typically doesn't rise to the high standard he sets. The script is also too in love with the Luther character, with the supporting characters seemingly there only to discuss how entrancingly volatile he is. Before long, you get sick of hearing his name. A great cast is also poorly served, with Steven Mackintosh and Saskia Reeves saddled with background detective roles and Paul McGann merely the bland Ex-Wife's New Man.

The last two episodes then subvert that entirely. The characters themselves become the case, and certain members of the cast become crucial and are given much more to play. The preceding episodes could have established their interiority so the shift wasn't so blunt, but the acting is so strong it almost doesn't matter. The events that precipitate this thrilling storyline aren't novel, but the twist discussed earlier again gives it some juice.

Because the show eschewed a distinctive aesthetic, the almost operatic emotions on display in these final episodes can be jarring and may seem woefully overblown. But Luther has gradually revealed itself to be more theatrical than televisual, with Shakespearean flaws and tropes sending characters spiralling as unpicked threads rapidly unravel. If you watch Luther on these terms and don't hold it to account for its lack of 'realism', you'll have a grand time with it.

Like Sherlock, it also sets up a pretty damn good cliffhanger that makes me rue that I just missed the first episode of series 2 on ABC iView. Luther isn't the rich, complex work we might expect for Elba after The Wire, but what could ever live up to the standard set by that show? Also easy to forget is that despite Elba's naturally grand presence, his Wire character Stringer Bell was stoic and contained, not like Luther at all. So Elba is in fact stretching - he just plays an angry, explosive guy exceptionally well, and he makes Luther a pretty absorbing few hours even if it's not revolutionary.