Au story - Oct 8

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so here's an AU story to cheer you up.

The transition zone between the high scree and the lower crags is quiet, wrapped in the deep blue hush of pre-dawn.

Down by the margin of a glacial meltwater pool, the mountain sheep move like ghosts. They do not care about the hour; they care only for the wind and the sharp edge of stone beneath their hooves. Every step is deliberate, silent—not a single pebble loosens or clatters down the slope.

The lowland leopard cares even less about the time. He has been trailing them for an hour, belly-low to the frost-rimed slate, using every shadow and fold of the rock as cover. When he surges forward, exploding from an overhang, his pounce is a blur of kinetic violence. The sheep scatter instantly, their sure-footed panic a sudden flurry of white rumps and flashing horns up the ravine.

Before the leopard can secure a flank or pin a lagging yearling, a heavy, long-tailed shape drops from a higher ledge.

It is the snow leopard—the ounce—, which had been silently shadowing the trespasser, down the mountain. With a heavy, thudding impact and a low, resonant hiss, the ounce intercepts, claiming a young ewe that stumbled in the scramble.

There is no prolonged fight, no roaring battle for dominance. Both cats know the cost of broken ribs on a vertical slope. With heavy breathing and ears pinned back in mutual disdain, they establish an immediate, pragmatic hierarchy. The ounce drags its prize further up the steep, jagged incline to a sheltered shelf of rock to feed out of the wind.

The leopard does not press the issue. He follows at a distance, padding up the slope with measured, sullen steps. He will wait. Once the ounce has torn its fill and retreated into the grey morning mist, the leopard will step in to take what remains. It is an uneasy truce carved into the stone—a fragile, cold coexistence where survival always outweighs pride.

The morning sun climbs higher over the arid expanse where the desert meets the scrubland, casting long, sharp shadows across the dry earth. A small family herd of domestic camels—long-limbed, thick-coated, and notoriously stubborn—has wandered far from the shelter of the low-lying human settlement. The air is still cool, and the desert flora, wrapped in prickles and tough fibers, offers a tempting morning harvest.

As the mud-brick walls and low roofs of the settlement fade behind a low ridge, the camels slow their pace. They spread out, their split upper lips deftly selecting the resilient desert shrubs while the sun climbs higher and the air begins to bake.

They are not alone on the plains.

Crouched in the meager shade of an acacia scrub, a coalition of young nomadic lions watches them. Recently separated from their pride, the young males are lean, inexperienced, and ravenously hungry. Spotting the wandering camel family, they misread docility for weakness.

The lions break cover, fanning out in a low, determined stalk. However, these are not panicky sheep or fragile gazelles. As the golden-maned shadows close the distance, the lead camel—a massive, broad-chested beast—stops chewing. It turns square to the threat, lowering its head, stamping its heavy-nailed feet into the dust with a hollow thud, and baring a formidable set of long, sharp teeth designed for crushing tough desert wood.

The young lions hesitate for a fraction of a second, but hunger and bravado override caution. They drop their shoulders, twitch their tail-tips, and prepare to spring.

Before the first cat can launch its pounce, the lead camel's throat expands. With a sharp, guttural retch, it abruptly hurls a massive, foul-smelling wad of half-digested stomach cud straight across the intervening gap. The projectile flies with surprising speed and force, striking the front-running lion squarely on the shoulder with a wet thwack that leaves the big cat reeling as if hit by a heavy stone.

The shock halts the charge instantly. The lions freeze, confused and unnerved by the chemical stench and the sheer audacity of the counter-attack.

That single heartbeat of hesitation is the entire margin required. From over the ridge comes the sharp cracking of staves and the urgent, high shouts of the human owners, who have tracked their wandering stock. The herdsmen fan out, waving heavy cloaks and hurling stones with practiced precision, backing their display with the fierce, protective authority of keepers defending their livelihood.

For the young, recently independent lions, the calculus shifts. Outnumbered, disoriented by the foul-tasting missile, and facing shouting bipeds with weapons, their thin veneer of courage evaporates. With a low, frustrated huff, they wheel around and bound away through the brush, melting back into the heat haze.

As the sun bakes the dry plains into a shimmering glare, the tension drains from the landscape. The camels resume their steady, rhythmic chewing, turning unbothered back toward the distant walls of the settlement, flanked by their watchful human companions.

The sun beats down with a heavy, shimmering glare, baking the desert floor until the air dances above the sand. Out on the open dunes, the heat is palpable, driving even the resilient young lions to seek whatever meager shade they can find. They press their lean bodies into the hollows beneath low, sun-baked dunes and sparse, wiry bushes, their tawny coats dissolving into the pale earth.

Yet, hunger and restless curiosity are hard to sleep off.

One of the young males lifts his head, his amber eyes catching a flicker of movement through the pale stalks of a desert shrub. A long, undulating tail—distinctly banded with dark, rhythmic stripes—is switching slowly among the vegetation.

Convinced it is an easy meal or an animal foolishly cornered, the lions rise silently from the sand, fanning out in a loose, opportunistic semicircle. They creep forward, shoulders low, ready to pounce on whatever is hiding in the brush.

At the very first brush of a paw against the twigs, the owner of the tail whirls around with surprising, explosive speed.

It is a massive desert monitor lizard—an ancient, armored titan of the sands, stretching nearly as long as a big cat from snout to whip-like tail, though riding low and flat to the ground.

Before the startled lions can close the distance, the monitor rears up slightly, flattening its massive body and inflating its muscular throat into a dark, pulsing balloon. It opens its jaws wide, unleashing a fierce, guttering hiss that sounds like escaping steam, while its forked tongue darts rapidly in and out to taste the air.

For the inexperienced young lions, who have never faced an aggressive reptile of this magnitude, the sudden display is entirely disorienting. The sheer alien posture, the hissing armor, and the intimidating size make them balk mid-stride. They pull back, ears flicking in uncertainty.

That single moment of hesitation is all the monitor needs. With a sudden burst of powerful, splayed limbs, the giant lizard whips around and bolts for a deep rocky crevice between the dunes, kicking up a spray of sand as it vanishes into safety.

Left behind in the glaring midday heat, the young lions stare after it, shaking their heads in bewildered frustration as the blistering desert wind sweeps across the empty sand.

Frustrated and still burning with hunger, the young lions do not give up easily. They push past the rocky hollow where the monitor vanished, their eyes scanning the hot sand for any sign of movement.

A sudden, sharp rustle in the dry scrub draws their attention. A long, sleek shape glides through the dust—the ancient, hooded sovereign of the sands.

It is a massive desert cobra. The queen of serpents coils instantly, lifting the front third of her body high into the air with terrifying grace. She flares her broad hood, exposing the stark, ominous patterns on the back of her neck, and emits a steady, low-pitched hiss that vibrates through the hot air.

The lions freeze. Even these inexperienced youths know the danger; they recognize the unmistakable posture of venomous death.

Instead of blundering forward, a deadly coordination takes over. The bolder of the two lions steps directly into the cobra's field of vision, stamping his paws, shaking his mane, and feinting forward to draw every ounce of the serpent's lethal focus. The cobra tracks him, her hood swaying, waiting for a chance to strike.

While the queen is locked on the front-facing threat, the second lion moves like a phantom. Stepping on silent, cushioned pads, he circles completely around the rear of the coil.

With a sudden, explosive contraction of muscle, the flanking lion delivers a massive, lightning-fast swipe with a heavy paw, its curved claws fully extended. The force of the blow strikes the snake off-balance, crushing her spine before she can pivot.

The brief, tense drama of the dunes ends in the dust. As the sun climbs relentlessly toward the blinding zenith of noon, baking the desert floor into an oven, the two young hunters finally claim their hard-won, meager meal—a grim reminder that out here, every meal is paid for in risk and strategy.

The sun hangs motionless at the zenith, casting a blinding, white-hot glare across the crags and slopes. The desert air is stifling, and most of the mountain life has vanished into deep, cool rock clefts to wait out the worst of the heat. Only the hardy mountain partridges peck steadily among the sun-baked stones, scratching for seeds.

From the meager shade of a granite slab, the lowland leopard watches them. His belly is still heavy from the ewe he shared earlier, and the punishing weight of the midday heat drains all ambition. A chase right now would be a waste of precious calories, especially with the odds of a successful ambush crippled by the blistering air. He stays put, content to let the birds pass.

High above, a sharp, metallic piping shatters the silence. A pair of crimson-winged wallcreepers flash across the rock face, their alarm calls echoing off the cliffs.

The partridges freeze, and then scatter instantly.

Looking up, the source of the alarm becomes clear: a snow leopard and her half-grown kitten are picking their way down the steep slope, stepping carefully over the hot scree. As the mother and her cub descend toward the winding stream below, the perspective broadens—far down in the valley, shimmering through the heat haze, the low mud walls of the human settlement and the camel corral stand exposed against the dust.

The sun slowly begins its agonizing descent, the harsh glare softening just a fraction into a heavy, brassy afternoon. Yet, the thirst of the high mountains is unrelenting. The ounce and her kitten need water.

A short distance behind them, the leopard rises from his shelter, shaking dust from his spotted coat. He, too, is parched. Keeping a careful, respectful distance from the heavier mother, he trails behind them down the mountain path, all thoughts of rivalry suspended under the oppressive weight of the day, as both predators make their quiet way toward the stream flowing down the mountainside.

The stream cuts through a sheltered mountain copse where silvery-leafed sycamores cluster thickly along the banks, casting deep, cool shade across the earth as the afternoon finally begins to cool.

The leopard is entirely in his element here. Freed from the glaring, open rock faces, he slips among the trunks, nose to the ground, checking the invisible bulletin board of the woods. So far, the scent markers tell a familiar, grating story: the stale, musky footprint of hyenas trailing up from the lowlands, and the heavy, lingering odor of the nomadic lions that pushed too far from the plains earlier in the day. The leopard wrinkles his nose in disdain; he cares nothing for the lions' passing, and neither does the female ounce, who has ventured unusually far down the mountain slope, away from the high alpine crags that form her traditional stronghold.

For now, the copse is wrapped in a quiet, humid hush. The only movement comes from the damp leaf litter underfoot, where emerald-green frogs leap away from the approaching paws, vanishing beneath the silvery, fallen sycamore leaves and into the shallows. Nearby, freshwater crayfish and armored crabs scuttle sideways between rounded pebbles, disappearing into dark crevices beneath the bank.

The adult cats ignore the scuttling micro-life, their focus entirely fixed on the clear, cold water of the stream. Nevertheless, the snow leopard kitten, full of restless energy now that the heat is breaking, swats playfully at the water, trying in vain to pin a darting crayfish. Every clumsy lunge misses, sending up tiny splashes of crystal spray.

Overhead, the fierce brass of the afternoon softens into long amber rays. The day begins to give way to the long-awaited evening at last, bringing a cool breath of mountain air down through the sycamore boughs.

As the long evening shadows stretch across the foothills, the oppressive heat of the day finally breaks, and the landscape begins to stir with nocturnal life.

From the rough shelter of a boulder field, a small pack of striped hyenas—leaner, shaggier, and more solitary than their massive spotted cousins of the open plains—stretches and wakes. True scavengers of the rough terrain rather than crushing apex bone-crushers, they lift their muzzles to the cooling air and break into a chaotic, wailing cacophony of giggles, yaps, and low whoops, broadcasting their awakening to the entire valley. Across the slopes, distant rival hyena families answer the call. Within minutes, the rocky foothills vibrate with the echoing din, a rolling chorus that marks the shift from day to night.

The sudden uproar is too much for the large cats. The leopard, having quenched his thirst, turns away from the stream and slips silently up a steep, rocky spine toward the middle elevations. A short distance away, the female ounce nudges her playful kitten, and the two ghosts of the mountain melt upward into the gathering dusk. The day is ending, and the true hunting hours are approaching; neither predator wants a noisy clan of scavengers tailing their moves or giving away their position.

Down in the valley, the human settlement secures its perimeter as twilight deepens. The villagers lock the heavy wooden gates of the camel corral, ensuring their livestock are safely penned away from the shifting dangers of the nocturnal wilderness.

Yet, deep in the scrub-fringed lowlands, a different power acknowledges the noise. Unbothered by the hyenas' chorus, the young nomadic lions lift their heavy heads. A deep, chest-rattling roar tears through the cooling air, shaking the brush and rolling across the darkening plains. They are here, holding their ground, and as the stars emerge over the vast landscape, it is entirely uncertain whose territory this will truly be tomorrow.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the desert air plunges from sweltering heat to a biting chill. High above, the snow leopards are entirely at home in the freezing mountain air, while the adaptable lowland leopards handle the thermal shift with ease. Neither cat has any desire to venture down onto the dark plains, especially with the lingering roars of the young nomadic lions still echoing in the distance.

On the open plains, twilight belongs to the wild asses. As dusk settles, the herd emerges to graze, relying on sharp senses and constant vigilance. While some feed on the sparse grasses, others stand sentinel, scanning the gathering shadows. Unlike the domestic camels tucked safely behind human fences, these wild equids have no refuge except their own speed and caution, knowing the fading light brings maximum danger.

The young nomadic lions know this, too. Moving with ghost-like stealth, they abandon their roars and stalk through the tall grass in absolute silence.

Then, the stillness shatters. A sudden, thunderous roar erupts directly behind the herd, terrifying the wild asses into a chaotic, multi-directional stampede. Before the dust can settle, one of the lions explodes from the gloom, smashing into a fleeing adult equid and dragging it violently to the earth. The struggle is fierce, but short.

The second lion races over to join his coalition partner. The desert cobra from earlier was a mere snack; now, they finally have a substantial, blood-warm meal to sink their teeth into.

They barely have time to tear into the flesh. A truncated, sharp cry from another wild ass echoes across the dark flats, and suddenly, the night-lights up with glowing points of reflected amber and green.

It is a ring of hungry spectators: the striped hyenas and giant monitor lizards, drawn by the smell of fresh meat. Worse than the scavengers are the new pairs of eyes catching the starlight from the ridge. The local, resident pride lions—the heavy-maned rulers of these traditional plains—have arrived, and neither the scavengers nor the young, trespassing nomads expected them to cross paths quite so soon.

The night folds over the vast, rugged landscape, blanketing the peaks and the plains in a deep, cool stillness. High above, on silent, leathery wings, bats weave through the pale moonlight to snatch frantic moths from the air, only to find themselves shadowed by the noiseless, sweeping descent of hunting owls.

Farther up, where the jagged crags bite into the stars, the mountain is quiet save for the soft scrape of padded paws. The snow leopards and their lowland leopard cousins move like smoke through the high forests and steep, rocky terraces. They keep their distance, reading the invisible language of scent-marks left on stone and bark—a silent, mutual agreement that keeps the peace for now.

Down on the dry plains, however, silence is impossible. Here, the social machinery of the cats takes over. The young nomadic interlopers and the heavy, entrenched resident pride face off in the dark. Low, vibrating growls and chest-deep moans roll across the grass as both sides’ posture, testing strength and resolve in an escalating game of territorial gambling. The hierarchy of the lowlands is being hammered out in real-time, and the question of who truly rules the plains remains fiercely contested.

As for the other great cats of this world—the stealthy jungle jaguars pacing beneath the canopy and the solitary tigers prowling the deep northern taiga—their stories wait in the shadows, ready for another night.

What do you think? Comments are welcome!

'Stuart...' take 2 - Sep 25

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks. As soon as I published my opinions on ‘Stuart…’ people began to, err, point out that this was before the S1 finale was published, and that I was wrong. I admit. I was wrong. ‘Stuart…’ isn’t about the multiverse, it is… what is it about?

The show does begin as a show about multiverse – the original Stuart finds the show’s main Stuart (and Bert) and gives her the Interferator (Whatever) for him to go and fix the universe. (An alt-Raj number 1 gives further exposition). They are joined by Denise, Stuart’s estranged ex, and Kripke, who is the dictator in the post-apocalyptic, vaguely Mad-Max-based universe, where the quartet resides. Since Stuart is incompetent, and the other three – mostly too, the foursome begins to travel the multiverse… that is it. That is the whole premise. No fixing, especially intentional one is done. The quartet is just running around, looking for something/someone or other… and if they brought any particular knowhow from their universe, it is quickly forgotten and never mentioned again. Pause.

In fact, in one of the episodes, the ‘main’ Stuart-Denise-Bert-Kripke team meets their variants – an all-scientist team – and aside from their get-up/clothing/etc., the two groups are interchangeable. The original Stuart just as well could have used AI or whatever to clone himself and the other three, and let them lose all over the multiverse – and maybe he did. We do not know. The show’s format has extra-short episodes, impossible for plot development, but wait! We do get it! Pause.

In the episode 1x09, we get to see a Flash fight Mr. Freeze. This is a sharp break away from the rest of S1, where we just saw a bunch of OC crap, and nothing more. I wonder did DC pay to have its’ characters appear on ‘Stuart…’ or were they paid to have this happen. Either way, what happened – happened, and then we got to the season finale, where we learned about the Adversary – we saw neither hide nor hair nor evidence of their activity throughout the S1 – and the team SDBK got trapped/released/stuck/etc. in ‘the real life’, by breaking through the fourth wall. What next?

If ‘Stuart…’ was done correctly and the audiences learned to feel something for the new main 4, then the S1 finale would’ve moved ‘Stuart…’ fully out of the sitcom territory, and into something else. Sci-fi drama, maybe. Instead, there’s nothing, just the epiphany that we are apparently done with the multiverse – the team SDBK appears to be vanquished for the moment – and are doing something more in line with MCU WandaVision, perhaps… or something else entirely.

Again, if ‘Stuart…’ S1 built itself correctly to the S1 finale, we would be honestly worried as to how the universe will fare now that Stuart is unable to fix it for real, but the show did not. Stuart – and his team – have neither done any fixing, and in fact might have caused some of their own damage, as when they moved ‘military Penny’ into a new universe and made her a ‘centaur Penny’ – but we never see the fallout. ‘Stuart’ created at least 6 new universes, but we spent very, very little time in each one, and it’s hard to feel anything for them. In addition, again, we know by now that the original Stuart sent many teams SDBK into the multiverse, and they are interchangeable. This team SDBK is out. Switch onto the next one! We might never know the difference! However ‘Stuart…’ is getting a S2 regardless! Eventually! Did I mention that the real life sucks? Well, ‘Stuart fails to fix the universe’ is certainly doing, and will be doing, its bit to make it even more depressing! Hurrah!

Well, this is it for now. See you all soon!

'Stuart' and 'Steps' - Sep 24

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so let us talk about… what? The movies, lately, are something else – I’d my fill with Nolan’s Odyssey and Tom Holland’s Spider-Man for the moment – and the TV shows… the ‘Lanterns’ are an attempt to combine high-flung space sci-fi adventures and multicolored magic rings with ‘down and dirty’ detective work, and the result is something that seems to be satisfying no one in particular – people are watching it because it still beats real life – a low bar – and then there’s Stuart. He is failing to fix the universe, you see. Que the laugh track. Pause.

Let us start again. TBBT had its problems. It started as a sitcom, as the next version of ‘Friends’, but if ‘Friends’ were able to pull the plug and quit gracefully, TBBT didn’t, but turned into a sitcom version of a soap opera, since the regular cast allowed to achieve this through sheer size – 7+ people is a lot. Yet, nothing lasts forever, and so even TBBT ended. Hurrah!

…Well, of course not – this is real life. It sucks. TBBT branched off into ‘Young Sheldon’, (YS), which was supposed to be about the childhood of Sheldon from TBBT…but it quickly evolved into something else. The ‘adult’ Sheldon from TBBT fluctuated between a socially maladjusted and selfish man (who came to his senses with the help of not so much his friends as that of a good woman – i.e. Amy) and some sort of an autistic/’special needs’ character, (but TBBT quickly pulled the plug on this, thank you). Put otherwise, whatever the TBBT Sheldon is, conventional he is not, and not necessarily in a good way, either.

Meanwhile, what about the Sheldon in YS? Oh, he has the same problems… and he was dealing with them, and learning how to deal with them, and self-improving/improving with the help of others at a rate that the TBBT Sheldon never did. Put otherwise, if the two characters were the same one, a young and an adult version of the same Sheldon, then the adult Sheldon would never be either an entitled jerk, (if he’s conventionally sane), or a socially disturbed semi-victim (if he is not). No, he would be an ordinary person with an extraordinary IQ… i.e. not someone starred in a sitcom, but that is also important – YS was not really a sitcom, it was a family drama, delivered with a healthy dose of humor, but plenty of other emotions too. It was good, possibly better than TBBT – but it ended.

So, up came ‘The First Marriage of Georgie and Mandy’, designated to be about the first marriage of Georgie, the elder brother of Sheldon and Missy (his twin sister), to Mandy. The twist here is that Mandy is the older one – she is in her 30s, while Georgie is only in his 20s, but they are going to work it out, you will see!

…Since this is only their first marriage, clearly things won’t go as planned…but Georgie is given the ‘young Sheldon’ treatment here – he is already learning from his mistakes, making a divorce unlikely, so… welcome to the multiverse?

Ah yes, dear ole Stuart. He, his girlfriend Denise, best friend Bert, and worst enemy Kripke are travelling the multiverse, failing to fix it. Pause. In reality, they do not appear to be trying to fix anything at all – they are just lugging their huge dimension-jumping machine around the various dimensions, and that is it. Oh, sometimes they play coy by allegedly trying to find Leonard, Sheldon, or Howard, but no luck, and there is no one else that can fix it – just kidding. The original Stuart told his dimensional clones and their friends – at one point it is revealed that their multiverse is full of Stuart-Denise-Bert-Kripke teams that just run around doing diddlysquat – that only Leonard and friends can help them, and this is what they are trying to do. Given that the collective IQ of an average Stuart-Denise-Bert-Kripke team is about as high as a room temperature on a warm September day, this is not surprising. In addition, if a Stuart-Denise-Bert-Kripke (SDBK) would ask someone else for help, their collective stupidity would just create a bigger mess, as they would ask the completely wrong/inappropriate person entirely. Fun.

…Apparently, someone else thought so too for real, and now Stuart will fail to fix the universe for a second season, whenever that will air. It also means that the team SDBK will survive the S1 finale, so that is that for this intrigue. Frankly, when the bleeping Sonic Prime cartoon series (or whatever its’ name was), makes a better multiverse series than you, you really should take a pause and think it over.

In addition, speaking of the cartoons? Let us get back to ‘Steps’. We talked about it before – it is supposed to be a Netflix animated movie where the stepsisters are not wicked at all, but are quite nice to Cinderella. Well, for better or for worse we don’t see them interacting with Cinderella at all in the trailer people, but what we do see is that the movie won’t make them villains at all – a new character named Priscilla will be. In other words, this is less of a subversion, and more of a flat-out remake; it is going to be an original movie, put simply, and given that the same people who gave us K-POP Demon Hunters are making it, it just might work.

Or, it might not. Real life sucks, remember? But, for now, this is it. See you all soon!

SM: BND

 

Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks. So, let us talk about SM: BND instead.

I watched it. I liked it. I… feel that there is something too much, or not enough, in it.

Let us expand. In Nolan’s ‘Odyssey’ we got to see an almost 3-hour-long film about Odysseus and his entourage – namely his wife Penelope, his son Telemachus, his nemesis Antinous, and his therapist, Calypso. Everyone else was an episodic character, including Athena, and some characters, like Odysseus’s parents, who played important parts in the original epic, are absent entirely.

Conversely, SM: BND is a pageant of Marvel characters, as Tom Holland’s Spider-Man films are since the very first movie, (remember it?). Here we see the friendly neighborhood you-know-who deal with the Scorpion, the Hulk, DODC, and the Hand ninjas controlled by the new Jean Grey, while dealing with his increased loneliness from Ned and MJ. Pause.

Right, this is a good point to start. In SM3, Peter parted with Ned and MJ on a tearful, powerful note. Here we see him still single, but still hanging around Ned and MJ even as they are becoming different people who have no attachment to him, no connection. So why is he not moving on?

Well, for one thing, I suspect that Tom and Zendaya are in love, and they do make more money as a package than separately. Oh, they appeared separately in all sort of films… just not Marvel ones, and so Sony/MCU did not intend to buck the trend, especially a successful one. Pause.

In the SP4 finale, we learn that PP is going into space… and without MJ and/or Ned, so there is that. Maybe PP is moving on, and outwards. After all, MCU never likes making aromantic movies, so, who knows? Maybe PP can find happiness without MJ after all.

…Given that Tom and Zendaya are in love and a successful team and Zendaya comes across as the one in charge here, I am not so sure. What else?

Jean Grey is introduced to MCU in a bright new way, since it is a ‘brand new day’. Since the upcoming Doomsday film is bringing the X-Men back as a group, this raises questions as to what happened to the other Jeans. Hey, we had several SM, Lokis, and few other characters – why not several Jeans at once? Sophie Turner might be willing to make a toehold for herself in MCU, eh?

The plot itself… it works, obviously, as do the visuals. This is important, as a plot, is well, important, and so’s the delivery. ‘Stuart fails to save the universe’, for example, has a decent plot and delivery, and… that is it. Right now, the support is highish, but people are still cautious about committing to it, it looks like.

‘Surviving Earth’, on the other hand… it was a beautiful mess whose supporters lost interest midway through. The episodes feel out of order; the season-long ode to motherhood was something else; and I really want to talk about it some other time.

For now, let us just accept that SM: BND is a good film, but not unlike Nolan’s ‘Odyssey’, it has its flaws and doubtful moments and move on. Real life sucks, eh?

However, for now, this is it. See you all soon!

Wild Zone - July 23

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, but it does not stop Mr. Nolan from making an epic of a movie – but we talked about it the last time. Right now, though, I want to talk about Mr. Riordan’s franchise instead.

No, I mean yes, the 3^rd season of PJO is coming in November 2026, but so far, Disney+ and Mr. Riordan are keeping their mouths shut about what will change there from the book, so it is too early to tell as to what will happen there. What I want to mention here is ‘the wild zone’ – the latest project of the Riordan Man! Pause.

Here, I somewhat just wanted to go and rant about him, just because he turned his name and brand into an enormous moneymaking machine, but what is the point? He turned the Riordan name and brand into an enormous moneymaking machine, after all. He is a success! There are dozens of books, audiobooks, and comics claiming him as their author-

-and they are sitting on shelves, or just being sidelined otherwise. ‘Rick Riordan Presents’ has umbrella’d at least a dozen different authors under its brand, but… that is dying down too. Fewer novels are released under RRP umbrella, or are they?

Well, I have no idea – does the fact that Mr. Riordan is being a co-author more and more often lately counts? The two books dealing with Will and Nico, aka ‘The Sun and the Star’ and ‘The Court of the Dead’ are co-authored visibly, and ‘The Court’, in particular, was re-setting the Roman aspect of the PJ narrative quite subtly – but still re-setting. ‘The Wild Zone’ is being set up in the same vein, most likely. What next?

Well, the first book of the series is released at the end of September 2026, but there are still no particular details – though this time, Mr. Riordan is writing the first book with Ms. Jo Whittemore – or is it Annabelle Oh? Well, regardless of her trying to reinvent herself to become more politically correct and sellable, she is a woman of many hats – she wrote everything from fantasy to humorous contemporary, so she should have no problem in co-writing a YA/children’s fantasy novel with Mr. Riordan. It will probably be a success, who knows? Mr. Riordan will certainly make money from it.

…And all he had to do was to sell his soul (hopefully, metaphorically) to Disney. Real life feels especially sucky sometimes.

However, this is it for now. See you all soon!

Nolan's Odyssey - July 21

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks… and, apparently, Mr. Nolan feels the same way; he might be able to buy my immediate family, our expanded family, and me many, many times over, but his Odyssey-2026? Is still depressing as Tartarus.

Where to begin? The issue of controversy and Nolan pushing a progressive agenda forth in his film. Here is the thing: he does not. Oh, of course, he has minorities in his movie, both racial (Zendaya and Lupita Nyongo’o), and sexual (Elliot Page), but they are episodic characters; they come and go and while they help move the movie forward, ‘help’ is the key word: they aren’t on screen all that much, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. The actors behind the four main characters – Odysseus, Penelope, Telemachus, and Antinous – are all WASPs rather than POCs, but no one seems to mind too much. Next?

Right, Nolan supposedly using Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey as his choice for the source. I read excerpts of her translation of the epic in question, and there is no more political progressive agenda than there is in Nolan’s Odyssey movie. My opinions on Natalie Haynes and her books are not very flattering, I am afraid, but if you read her books, especially the non-fiction, (such as ‘Pandora’s Jar’ and ‘Divine Might’) you quickly realize that she does push forth political progressive agenda. The question here is whether she is a latecomer who is trying to compensate with a neophyte’s zeal for being late, or if she doesn’t believe in it at all, but is just trying – and succeeding - to make money from this political progressivism instead. From Emily Wilson’s Odyssey you do not get this vibe at all; it is ‘just’ a translation/adaption of the classic – nothing more.

Oh, sure, people will argue about the details of Wilson’s translations, but this type of argument attracts only a particular group of people; for the majority, her translation is acceptable – and so’s Nolan’s film. Just like Wilson’s translations, his adaptation changes the details of Homer’s epic, but keeps the main narrative the same. Right?

No. Some plot elements are outright removed, like Aeolus and the bag of winds, or Odysseus’s own parents, who play important roles in the epic. Other elements are conflated – like Calypso, the lotus-eaters, and the Phaeacians. The third are just simplified, like Polyphemus (Nolan’s movie does not name him), or Circe. All of those changes make Nolan’s Odyssey into something else… something not unlike MCU’s ‘Thor’ or DCEU’s ‘Batman’ franchises, just kind of, sort of, less tied to a particular franchise – much less tied…

Then there is the movie’s conclusion. Not only some suitors survived, but also Odysseus and Penelope leave in self-exile. There is a remnant of an apocrypha for Odysseus had to wander even more, till he found a place that didn’t know what an oar was, and so he buried his oar and went home at last, but it’s an apocrypha for several reasons, including ones where both Odysseus and Penelope are ambitious and power-greedy people on top of whatever else they are. Odysseus is coming home; Penelope is waiting for him; but Ithaca, its’ throne, are a part of the Odyssey as well. In Nolan’s film it is rather downplayed, again – Nolan sought to modernize the Odyssey, supposedly, and what did we get?

Well, in part we already answered this – a movie not unlike those made by MCU/DCEU, but also a movie where music sometimes overwhelms the dialogue, and so it’s hard to figure out who’s saying what – but it’s not important, you know the general details and plot beforehand, and everything else can be figured out without words. The plot of Nolan’s Odyssey is quite simple. The plot and the reasoning of Nolan’s Odyssey are secondary to the emotions. The acting, the visuals, the music, they all assault the senses, and the actors’, um, acting, deals the rest. Nolan’s Odyssey is an impressive movie… and as depressing as Tartarus; the only other piece of mass media that had as much angst is… MCU’s Zombies’ mini-series, seriously! In both this show and Nolan’s Odyssey, whenever possible, wherever possible, the worst choice was enacted, and the senses, the emotions, rather than the mind, were affected. MCU’s Zombies attempted to re-introduce Riri ‘Iron Heart’ Williams, after her own show failed; this attempt did not deliver either, and so, Riri does not seem to appear in the Avengers: Doomsday trailer. However, that is another story…

In this one, Nolan’s Odyssey works, but it works because it is a one-time – there is no sequel, no threesome between Odysseus, Penelope, and Calypso, for example. Once the characters and the movie are done, they are done, and we can move on.

Real life sucks. Nolan, apparently, agrees, even though he is famous and rich. I have to admit – I did not see this coming. Ah well, see you all soon!

New Story - July 14

 Obligatory disclaimer: real life sucks, so here is a story based on TBBT instead.

1.

…Watching Leonard going to the altar, where Priya is waiting for him, Penny expects her to burst into flames for some reason. Naturally, this does not happen, so Penny just pours herself another glass. She pauses. Should she drink so much? Isn’t she at a wedding? Did she drink so much? Does she love her booze so much? She looks around and realizes that she has no idea whom those people are, and why is she here – aside from the free booze, so she freely imbibes it and enjoys the buzz. She loves her booze.

“Penny. Penny. Penny.” It is Sheldon. Sheldon Cooper. Penny knows Sheldon. Sheldon is real. “I know that you’re hurting, but you shouldn’t drink so much-“

Is Sheldon for real? Penny drinks because booze is her only love; she jabs her long, pointed fingernail at Sheldon and the rubber doll deflates from the puncture, collapsing at Penny’s feet with a shriek and a stink of rubber. Penny blinks and looks around. No one noticed this; all are watching the bride and the groom.

Penny crumples the deflated rubber doll and throws it into a garbage bin, closing the lid. So much for Sheldon. He was real, a real doll, but it is time for Penny to move on.

Penny rides away to her apartment, unnoticed by anyone else.

 

2.

People across the hall are arguing. Penny’s head is hurting from the booze again. What are they arguing about? One man – Howard – is yelling at the other – Raj – that Raj does not love this Lakshmi woman, he is a free man, and Raj is yelling back that is none of Howard’s business, precisely, and then Raj’s sister joins the conversation…

Penny blinks and thinks that she is so happy that she is happy with – what? She looks at her bottle collection and thinks that either it should be bigger or there should not be one at all or that she is confused…

There is someone else in her apartment. Penny blinks and turns to face them. “Hi!” says a young woman her age. “I’m Lakshmi. Your ad said that you need a roommate-?”

“Yes please!” Penny asks nicely and does her best to win Lakshmi over without sounding too desperate.

Somehow it works. Lakshmi stays.

 

3.

Penny and Lakshmi are holding hands and giggling. Penny is so happy! In addition, sober! She is sober by default, of course, but she does not care. Her life is going places as her career takes off beyond bartender and waiter – into managerial position.

Some random thought about acting tries to flick across her mind, when who should sit next to them, but Farrah ‘call me Amy’ Fowler and her partner, What’s-Her-Name (it’s either Bernadette or Tubbo, and Penny just doesn’t care).

“…And so, lasses, we agreed,” Farrah Fowler says in that grand manner of hers. “Lakshmi and Bernadette will get pregnant first and Penelope with me – the next time!”

Penny opens her mouth to comment, when her brain realizes that it all makes perfect sense and so she agrees. She is so happy to have both a partner and friends! Squee!

 

4.

It’s Penelope ‘call me Penny’ (no one does) and Lakshmi, Farrah ‘call me Amy’ (no one does) and Bernadette ‘don’t call me Tubby’ (everyone does), and Priya and Leonard as a designated straight couple and they’re all talking about something or other, their mouths are making noises, their ears are hearing noises, everyone is buzzed, and Lakshmi is pregnant, and Bernadette is pregnant, and Priya is pregnant, and they’re talking about something or other, and-

There is a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Penelope says airily, and bestrides like a colossus that she is to the door before Priya can.

The door opens. “Hi,” the man says on the other side. “I’m Stuart. I’m looking for Sheldon?”

Penelope blinks. “Excuse me?” The funny man does not make any sense. “Who are you looking for? Never mind, they are not there. Good-bye.” She closes the door.

The knocking continues.

Penelope and the others ignore it.

The knocking intensifies.

Penelope and the others still ignore the knocking.

The knocking becomes so loud that it cannot be ignored.

Penelope opens the door before anyone can stop her. She opens the door and she stands in their backyard looking up a tree where a bunch of woodpeckers is knocking on the tree trunk and other birds are waiting for scraps. It is annoying, but it is life.

“Problem?” someone asks; Penelope just points at the scene. “Just Stuart and his flock,” she elaborates and blinks. “Stuart is the local bird, not the tree.”

“No, the tree is Sheldon,” Lakshmi agrees.

A disposed deflated rubber doll comes to mind, but Penelope does not know what to think about it, and so she forgets.

The tree has a shapely trunk, anyhow.

 

5.

Penelope is lying on her bed, listening to her family sleep. The snores are musical, (in a manner of speaking), the noises outside – the cicadas and the crickets – also. The stars are twinkling, the suburbs are quiet, and Penelope is content.

The Fowlers’ house is to the left, the Hofstadters’ is to the right, and the sky is up above. Penelope tries to remember California rather than this place, and fails.

Or rather, she does succeed, for this, after all, is California – their California.

End

Comments? Criticisms?