Back in the days of a reasonably reckless youth, I penned a fair amount of amateur fiction and participated in a writers’ group.
 
Like many who sling words, I nurtured the dream of wanting to be an established author someday.  This meant churning out a lot of prose – even at the expense of not really developing an individual voice – all because that’s largely what a young writer is taught to do: just write.  Skill and talent will come in time, along with a tone that, likely, you’ll be able to call your own … eventually.  And that even assumes that your tone doesn’t evolve from the assistance of a decent editor!  But what I learned from the workshopping experience is that – sigh – not every budding author should be part and parcel of a writer’s workshop.
 
The chief problem I experienced – besides the obvious frustration – is that age-old adage many of us already know, that being “too many cooks spoil the broth.”  Other writers might see things in your stories – characters, situations, circumstances – that they perceive need to be the prime impetus behind it all.  They might want a whole new direction or a whole new backdrop upon which to develop a story that, fundamentally, you didn’t write but they see as being possible.  This isn’t to say that they saw errors in your work (in so many words), but perhaps it’s safe to suggest that they came into the whole workshopping process with a different agenda than I did, making much of what they offered functionally useless.
 
Each writer should tell the tale he or she wants to tell, not one stripped to its bones and rebuilt by others.
 
I endured a similar epiphany in watching this week’s Dead City installment.  “Who’s There?” had moments of real personality that felt, sadly, bogged down with the narrative constraints put upon it by others, be they producers, directors, showrunners, or fellow scribes in the writers’ room.  It occasionally reeked of vignettes that stunk of ‘we tell the story this way because it’s how we’ve been told to tell our stories,’ and that, inevitably, is killing what could otherwise be the franchise’s best attempt at a return to greatness … so far as this casual fan is concerned.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the show’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Maggie and Negan encounter native New Yorkers; Armstrong revisits a trauma; Ginny attempts to adapt to change.”
 
Folks, I think one of the greatest benefits all of us have been able to glean from the Information Superhighway is that there’s an incredible number of folks out there both thinking about and writing about television these days.  Stilll, one of the greatest weaknesses that I see is far too many of them don’t keep in mind that television – first and foremost – is a business.
 
I can tell you that from my days in running a few small(ish) businesses is that the first rule has always been – and forever will be – it has to make a profit.  Without a profit, a business cannot thrive.  A business cannot survive.  And, sadly, this means that – all too often – those running the business fall into the predictable trap of doing business the way we’ve done it before.  Why?  Well, because that’s safest.  That’s what has a track record we can see and replicate.
 
It’s also what’s killing the prospects of Dead City.
 
Imagined as a show that could bring two of the franchise’s most respected and feared characters – Maggie Rhee (played by Lauren Cohan) and Negan Smith (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) front-and-center for their own respective and collective close-ups – these showrunners have sadly dipped far too deeply back into the comfortable waters of all that they’ve done before.  While a fair number of dramatic collisions are required – if for no other reason than to set the stage for exactly why this particular team-up is both theatrically worthwhile and thematically volatile – the first two installments (the first one is reviewed by yours truly right here) have given us nothing but dialogue and delivery we’ve seen before by both of these talented players.  It’s had no spark, no incisiveness, and no teeth.
 
In fact, the second chapter in particular – titled “Who’s There?” – falls back unfortunately into storytelling patterns that The Walking Dead mined far too often for its own good.  Flashbacks – as well as side journeys with secondary characters of seemingly no importance whatsoever (like Ginny and Hershel) – ended up feeling more like screen filler than they do authentic, organic developments in a world that’s already had countless hours and three iterations (at present) to explore.  But when you promised an audience hungry for a sequel that they’d be watching the match-up to end all TV match-ups (in team-up fashion), why oh why would you spend time away from those key components?  After trying to wring a bit of tension out of Maggie’s all-of-a-sudden bout of acrophobia (of all things in the wide, wide world of The Walking Dead), why take audiences on a sidebar of little to no consequence?  With Ginny?  And with a marshal no one gives two damns about?
 
Now, this is not to say that “Who’s There?” didn’t deliver something worth mentioning, because that would be a far cry from the truth.  The hour brought up a bit of conflict between Maggie, Negan, and this group of New Yorkers they’ve kinda/sorta been captured and/or befriended by (the suspense is killing us), and that worked quite well.  In fact, it worked so well I wanted to spend more time getting to know these people, hearing what their lives and their existence was about, instead of the obligatory Maggie flashbacks and time spent understanding that Ginny – about as bland a TV creation as there’s ever been – has trouble “fitting in.”  (Welcome to society, baby!)  And, thankfully, the good stuff didn’t stop there, and Negan finally took the gloves off with a fabulous return to form, dispensing a brand of justice that audiences knew was still lurking there under the surface … and this was damn sure exactly why Maggie sought him out for this journey into dark waters.
 
That – think what you may – was great television.  That had a purpose, though we might only now be getting to understand.  That was an authentic character moment delivered with the kind of panache, flair, and style that both fits a mold and makes a statement.  Those of you who sit in the writers’ room might take note and plot out a bit more of that – if there’s still time to get such development into production – lest you want Dead City to fail as so much generate a pulse with whatever episode run is left in its entire run.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m thrilled to disclose that – like so many of you – I’ve simply recorded and watched The Walking Dead: Dead City’s “Who’s There?” (S01E02) as it aired on AMC, so I’m beholden to no one to provide a review other than myself.

​-- EZ

I think it’s safe to conclude that audiences have always appreciated a good whodunnit.
 
Exactly how and where they evolved, however, remains a bit of a mystery.  (Imagine that?)  Anyone who’s done a bit of reading on their evolution will easily point to the stories of Edgar Allen Poe and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – “The Murders In The Rue Morgue” and any one of the Sherlock Holmes tales, respectively – as the likely literary foundation for the craze.  A quick search of Google.com suggests that the first theatrically popular incarnation gets credited to 1945’s And Then There Were None – a big screen adaptation of the Agatha Christie work – but I know for a fact that there were smaller features that likely led into that big success, including such film series as Charlie Chan, Mr. Moto, and even Boris Karloff headlining as the detective sleuth, Mr. Wong.
 
Recently, the good people at Kino Lorber released Karloff’s run in the role on home video, and I’ve been making my way through the five film mysteries.  Today’s delight: Mr. Wong In Chinatown, the second of two Wong pictures to hit silver screens in 1939.  The film was directed by William Nigh, and screenwriter Scott Darling is credited with adapting the work of author Hugh Wiley for the screen.  It stars Boris Karloff, Grant Withers, Marjorie Reynolds, Huntley Gordon, and George Lyn.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A pretty Chinese woman, seeking help from San Francisco detective James Lee Wong, is killed by a poisoned dart in his front hall, having time only to scrawl ‘Captain J’ on a sheet of paper.  She proves to be Princess Lin Hwa.”
 
Screenwriters from time-to-time have been known to fall back on conventions and/or gimmicks to make a story sizzle, and I suspect – to a small degree – that may’ve been part of what fueled scripter Scott Darling’s efforts in Mr. Wong In Chinatown.  While the first two screen outings were marginally free of the usual theatrical trappings that put the screen detective’s investigations into motion, this one brings the first dead body right into Mr. Wong’s home – killed by a rare dart-gun that conveniently Wong has in his private collection, along with the victim’s seminal written clue found at the scene – and it all feels a bit contrived.  Granted, I think what transpires throughout the course of the film’s 71 minutes is still a bit better-than-average, but there’s no mistaking a bit of an invented set-up to the whole criminal affair.
​

There’s also the rather obvious bit of tying our lead Chinese detective to some possible shenanigans involving Chinatown that might feel like it was intended to seek out box office gold.  (A Chinese person investigating his own people?)  With today’s complex cultural sensibilities, one might look at the whole construction and wonder about whether or not some of the film could be found a bit objectionable (of course dismissing the fact that the franchise star was an American playing a Chinese detective), but – for what it’s worth – I think the fact that the bad guys turn out to be Americans who are basically extorting the political predicament of the day should kinda/sorta defuse any such malarkey that rears its ugly head.  There’s also a loose spying suggestion – along with some dirty financing – that stays front-and-center, so I believe the P.C. mob should really look elsewhere than a mostly forgotten flick from the 1930’s for pet causes.
 
In fact, there’s a single sequence involving Wong’s stop in Chinatown – he has a meeting with a few important-looking characters around a table – and it’s all played out as if these scenes are of high importance to the case, if not all of filmdom.  However, I think Wong only has a single line of dialogue amongst these supposed key players, and then he rises and leaves, going about his intended business.  But because it was all handled, staged, and delivered as if a truly big deal, I ended up chuckling at how casually all of it ended up being so obviously a staged event ended far too quickly to be of any legitimate concern.
 
Though Chinatown does feel more than a bit contrived in a few spots, it’s also a bit hard to follow in a few places, partially because the narrative misdirects are all a bit flat.  There are too few teeth to this story – in fact, methinks putting Wong in greater jeopardy than ever before might’ve been intended to gloss over an otherwise predictable affair – but Karloff perseveres, still showing audiences that he was vastly capable of stretching his legs comfortably into this role of the gentleman sleuth.  Grant Withers is back in reasonably good form as Captain Street, and a perfectly fetching Marjorie Reynolds joins the franchise as crack reporter Bobbie Logan, the gal pal who’ll stop at nothing to break a major story especially if it puts her on the cops’ bad side.  She’s got that whip-crack moxie fairly common to films of the 1930’s and 1940’s that works wonderfully opposite the male voice of authority (i.e. Street), and Reynolds hits her marks with some well-earned relish.  It’s a character that manages to make a middling film into something a bit more special simply by being there.
 
Mr. Wong In Chinatown (1939) was produced by Monogram Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can say that for my perspective there was a noticeable marked improvement in most of the transfer quality in this release.  The black-and-white is mostly crisp throughout the film, with only the occasional grainy sequences in between the reel switching.
 
Recommended.
 
Yes, yes, and yes: there’s a fair amount of predictability to this screen outing of Mr. Wong In Chinatown, and that never bodes quite well for mysteries, in particular.  In fact, there’s a single subplot involving a mute short person that abruptly disappears from the film, only to rear its head in the last reel as a kinda/sorta gotcha moment for Wong’s behind-the-scenes investigative work.  Still, Reynolds steals a few scenes as a comely reporter who gets caught up in the action almost at the expense of her own safety!  A good film, just a bit easy here and there.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of their Boris Karloff: Mr. Wong Collection – which included the picture Mr. Wong In Chinatown (1939) – by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Good morning, Happy Tuesday, and Happy New Releases Day, faithful readers!

Those of you following closely might've noticed that over the course of the last two weeks (or so) I had the good fortune of receiving a complimentary promotional screening copy for the absolutely incredible Arrow Films set Enter The Video Store: Empire Of Screams on Blu-ray.  This is, essentially, a commercial celebration of some of the fantastic and imaginative flicks that emerged from the great days of the video store compliments of genre master Charles Band and Empire Pictures. 

For those of us who know the name (as well as those who don't but should know it), Band and his co-conspirators were chiefly responsible for bringing a helluva lot of fabulous B-style pictures, many of which were incredible renters in the days of the corner and big box home rental outlets.  Many of these projects were the kind of thing you'd only hear about at the video store -- from the clerks as well as fellow renters -- who'd chat them up mostly because they didn't get the kind of mainstream attention the major studios put out; and because they came with an endorsement from someone you actually knew -- an opinion that mattered -- you'd pick it up, give it a go, and take the good with the bad.  Of course, it was a risk, but it was a heavily calculated one that paid off in enough times to make it worth the buck or two it set you back to watch it once or twice ... so nobody complained.

​Empire Pictures -- or Empire International Pictures and/or Empire Entertainment -- lasted only a handful of years (five, to be exact), and -- under Band's management -- they managed an incredible slate of releases popular with folks like you and me.  To be succinct (and putting this in my own words), Band wasn't all that interested in pleasing our cultural elite; he made pictures like Mickey Spillane wrote books, that meaning that they were meant to be read and absorbed by an audience, not set on a shelf to just take up space.  And -- whether renters knew it or not -- viewers responded by picking up his good and bad schlock over and over again.  They made Empire into a brand that video outlets could rely on over and over again.  While it was sad to see Empire go away, I can give you the good news that Band continues doing what he does best out there today, albeit under a different banner.

But back to this Empire Of Screams set, if you will ...

​While I think it's always a difficult task to pluck individual titles from an amassed library with hopes of presenting the very best for a discriminating viewership, Arrow Films has done a particular winning job with this limited edition release.  (Sure, I could argue with a nitpick here or there, but that's chump change in the end, as I think their choices do respect a bit of balance.)  In short, there's a little 'something something' for everyone in here, especially given the fact that the five-disk set includes a wealth of additional materials -- some new, some archival -- to keep watchers glued to the screen for hours of extra content.  Because I've reviewed them individually, I won't trouble you with anything more than a passing thought in this space (along with a link to the full text for those interested in that sort of detail), but I'll strongly encourage those of you truly interested to surf the web and purchase a set today.  It's a fabulous, fabulous find that'll likely bring back some memories if not set the stage for new ones you can start building today.

Disc One: The Dungeonmaster (1984)
Full Review: Link

A whole lot of 'meh,' The Dungeonmaster all too often feels like an anthology film made-on-the-fly because it was an anthology film made-on-the-fly.  Occasionally interesting, the flick still really goes nowhere and does nothing, other than have fun in the way some of the lesser productions of the video store era did.  Forgettable, in most cases, but it was an acceptable attempt.

Disc Two: Dolls (1986)
Full Review: Link

It's a surprisingly effective little film, one that I called 'Dirty Spielberg' in my full review.  The production hits a lot of the notes in just the right fashion, but I would've needed a bit more to elevate this charming effort to the level of must-see for the bygone video era.  Nice performances, too, though it could've used a bit less restraint in the gore department.

Disc Three: Cellar Dweller (1987)
Full Review: Link

This is the only film in the set I'd never fully seen (had enjoyed the creature bits but not the full story) back in the day.  Again, while it's occasionally interesting, it's also the kind of thing that'd been done before, and the lack of anything different -- even if it was a wacky performance -- kept this one from being anything special.

Disc Four: Arena (1989)
Full Review: Link

I can remember this one being a pretty solid hit, meaning that it was always out-of-stock during prime rental nights.  A bit goofy with aliens and humans going mano-a-mano Rocky Balboa style on a space station, it has the right mix of blood, sweat, and tears for folks who find Science Fiction and Fantasy's red-headed stepchildren worthwhile.  I do, so it's a winner for me.

Disc Five: Robot Jox (1989)
Full Review: Link
​
Wowza.  Think what you will, but ambition killed Empire Pictures (along with a bit of financial mismanagement).  Robot Jox rules the roost of this set -- and maybe is even the studio's crowning achievement, if I may be so bold -- as it demonstrates that its producers went bigger and bolder in their swan song.  It's one of the best SciFi flicks you've likely never heard of ... and that's a shame.

​When you're dealing in titles from the past and/or projects that didn't benefit from millions being spent on both production and advertising, you might have to search long and hard for that diamond-in-the-rough.  Still, I've often argued that Band's films were much like the little engine that could: no matter the odds or the obstacles placed in the path, they'd chug and chug and chug along well enough that audiences of the day would eventually find them.  While these releases might not have been as polished as some bigger studio tentpole films, they had their time and their place -- maybe even a good run in the limelight -- and I can only hope folks will rediscover the magic this Empire brought to a galaxy not so far away and very much closer to home.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

I think it’s safe to conclude that audiences have always appreciated a good whodunnit.
 
Exactly how and where they evolved, however, remains a bit of a mystery.  (Imagine that?)  Anyone who’s done a bit of reading on their evolution will easily point to the stories of Edgar Allen Poe and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – “The Murders In The Rue Morgue” and any one of the Sherlock Holmes tales, respectively – as the likely literary foundation for the craze.  A quick search of Google.com suggests that the first theatrically popular incarnation gets credited to 1945’s And Then There Were None – a big screen adaptation of the Agatha Christie work – but I know for a fact that there were smaller features that likely led into that big success, including such film series as Charlie Chan, Mr. Moto, and even Boris Karloff headlining as the detective sleuth, Mr. Wong.
 
Recently, the good people at Kino Lorber released Karloff’s run in the role on home video, and I’ve been making my way through the five flicks.  Today’s delight: The Mystery Of Mr. Wong, the first of two Wong pictures to hit silver screens in 1939.  The film was directed by William Nigh, and screenwriter Scott Darling is credited with adapting the work of author Hugh Wiley for the screen.  It stars Boris Karloff, Grant Withers, Dorothy Tree, Craig Reynolds, and Ivan Lebedeff.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Detective Wong tries to solve the murder of antiques collector who was in possession of a famous jewel known as ‘The Eye of the Daughter of the Moon.’”
 
Viewers following the theatrical progression of detective James Lee Wong from the first picture – Mr. Wong, Detective (1938) – to The Mystery Of Mr. Wong were likely to have been delighted as – in the transition – the character feels vastly more authentic in the follow-up film.  Whereas I think the inaugural picture suffered a bit from some clunkiness largely attributed to scenes involving some supporting players, a good deal of that usual early Hollywood banter is gone from Mystery, making this one feel and function much more closely to the way even modern audiences conceptualize the classic whodunnit structure.  Instead, the emphasis here is on Wong, his police captain confidant Street (Grant Withers), and the wide, wide gallery of the usual (and unusual) suspects.
 
A wealthy collector of antiquities, Brandon Edwards (Morgan Wallace) would appear to have it all: fame, fortune, and a philandering wife Valerie (Dorothy Tree) who can’t quite keep her attentions off her latest boytoy Peter Harrison (Craig Reynolds) or her imported singing protégé Michael Strogonoff (Ivan Lebedeff).  But that’s not all he has: Edwards has secretly recovered an incredible gemstone that’s been missing from the Orient, and there’s growing suspicion that he may or may not have been involved with its original theft.  Still, when the man is mysteriously shot dead during the High Society round of charades played in his own home, celebrity guest Wong is on-the-case, and he’ll see the murderer of his former friend brought to justice if it’s within his powers of deduction.
​

As is the case in any murder mystery, Wong is surrounded by suspects, up to and including the house’s maid and the butler, and it’s all handled with the characteristic growing body count.  Furthermore, the script utilizes a good share of useful narrative misdirects – could some of this have been owed to the wife’s private shenanigans, or are there agents of China working in stealth to recover the prized diamond – but only Wong knows all.  Come the big finish, you can bet he’ll have all of the interested parties gathered into a single room – along with Captain Street – so that he can absolve the innocent one-by-one and then unmask the ne’er-do-well once and for all to see that justice rules the day.
 
Though Monogram Pictures had a healthy reputation for being a low-budget producer, I thought that the design work for Mystery was markedly improved over the first picture, as well.  Some of this might have been owed to the settings – the Edwards’ mansion is the chief setting for a great deal of the picture, so it’s given a humble touch of opulence here and there – and the end results are an outing than has the aesthetic much closer to the classic whodunnits of yesteryear.  Though the quality throughout the Wong series might very, I thought this installment was incredibly worthwhile, tapped off with a winning lead performance by Karloff as our refined detective.
 
The Mystery Of Mr. Wong (1939) was produced by Monogram Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert and keeping in mind that the sources are indeed a bit long-in-the-tooth (as they say), I thought a good deal of the picture looks and sounds very good: there’s some sequences with some obvious grain, and the video quality tends to dip then improve noticeably when there may’ve been a changing of the film reels from one to the next.  This is not an uncommon occurrence, especially with older productions.
 
Highly recommended.
 
While this is only my second foray into the theatrical exploits of the Chinese sleuth, I thought The Mystery Of Mr. Wong (1939) to be a particularly charming affair, all buoyed by a fabulous set-up, some solid production design, and the establishment of the true aesthetic of the screen mystery.  Karloff rather surprisingly – and very, very quickly – has assumed ownership of the role, transforming himself damn near effortlessly from being the stuff of nightmares to serving as the nightmare for lesser monsters who very well may’ve thought they could get away with doing the unthinkable.   Not on Wong’s watch, I tell you.  Not on Wong’s watch …
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of their Boris Karloff: Mr. Wong Collection – which included the picture The Mystery of Mr. Wong (1939) – by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

- EZ

​(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After mysteriously inheriting an abandoned coastal property, Ben and his family accidentally unleash an ancient, long-dormant creature that terrorized the entire region – including his own ancestors – for generations.”
 
Sadly, there’s just not enough to digest with The Tank.
 
For a monster movie, it’s fairly lean in the mechanics department, meaning that there isn’t a lot of background and/or lore that needs to be grasped by viewers in order to understand what’s going on here.  Essentially, some earthquake from a few centuries back opened up the Earth, and – according to the Native American Indians of the 1700’s – something cursed emerged, forcing this tribe off in search of greener pastures.  As you can guess, the silly ol’ white men didn’t quite catch the hint, moved in, and built their own houses on the land, leaving these settlers to be reduced to little more than dead men walking once these supposed reptiles crawled back home for supper time.
 
So, functionally, yes, The Tank is lean, but at an incredible 100 minutes it suffers from a nasty bloat.
 
Its characters – the somewhat nuclear family of Ben (played by Matt Whelan), Jules (Luciane Buchanan), and their daughter Reia (Zara Nausbaum) – are drawn into this miasma of existential dread when, to their surprise, Ben inherits a coastal property he had no idea his deceased parents had ever owned.  As hidden treasure do shimmer at first blush, the cottage looks to be an almost idyllic and pastoral escape for the trio who’ve fallen on hard financial times – the promise of a quick sale could very well be an answer to their prayers – but it’s for tales like this that some wise man or woman once said, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”  Before they know it, yes, they’ve all been bitten by what looks to be a previously undocumented species of reptile, and they’re racing against time to get out before desert is served.
 
As professional players swept up in the danger of a relatively conventional monster movie, Whelan, Buchanan, and Nausbaum all perform about as well as could be expected: they stare terrified into the camera lenses whenever its required, and they muster the right amount of courage to demonstrate that family comes first even if one’s about to be chowed down upon.  The chief problem they all suffer from involves writer/director Scott Walker’s tenuous grasp on characterization: each of them is smart until the script needs them to be dumb – as in the case of going into the film’s seminal water tank or the dark of night with nothing to protect oneself and/or forgetting that your day job in the story’s set-up required they have some knowledge of dealing with predators (they operate an exotic pet store).  Horror films are notorious for exploiting players to the point of near-ridiculousness, and The Tank hits that sweet spot time and time again … up to the point of leaving the car windows down when you’re trying to make your great escape.
​

To compound their ‘film stupidity’ even further, The Tank offers a late-breaking development that – quite literally – practically breaks the fourth wall of celluloid ludicrousness: apparently, mom and dad thought it was safe to take up short term residence in this cottage with their daughter and the family dog while leaving one room completely locked up and unsearched for the duration of their stay.  (!!!)  Have they never seen a Horror film?  Did they really think that was a safe and sound decision?  Do they not know that doing this practically guarantees that a creature, axe murderer, or serial cannibal will have taken up residence within those four walls and is just waiting for his, her, its opportunity to make a meal out of them?
 
Unfortunately, Walker’s script doesn’t stop there.  To his credit, his script shows that Ben’s dead mother – the one we’ve been told everyone thought was off-her-rocker – also suffered from a lack of gray matter.  In the distant past – when she found herself trapped in the exact same predicament her son and his family do now – she specifically tore out and left the pages of her personal journal in that very room so that so – once it was really too late for anyone to do anything with her seemingly prophetic written warning – at least they’d find those missing sheets and know that maybe – just maybe – mom had it together in the Brain Department after all.  Well, if she did, then why leave them inside a locked room?  Why not, say, tape them to the damn front door with nothing other than the words “Stay Out”?
 
On the plus side, I did enjoy the monsters.
 
Mind you, they didn’t make much sense, as these eyeless creatures are somehow frightened by bright lights at one point (???); but crawling around the way they do on all fours they give the hint of being some bizarre alligator-style mutation.  Practically creature effects – as opposed to pixelated CGI creations – are just so much scarier because they can share the screen with authentic human beings, which only serves to ramp up the fright and tension.  While they look great on film and do fit the bill of something fresh and different for viewers who like that sort of thing, we still saw too much of them a little too late in this overlong escapade to make them truly memorable.
 
The Tank (2023) was produced by Ajax Pictures, General Film Corporation, Happy Dog Entertainment, and Ingenious Media.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the good people at Well Go USA Entertainment.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the overwhelming majority of the sights and sounds for this particular creature feature were exceptional from start-to-finish.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  According to the product packaging, the disc boasts two shorts – “A Look Into The Tank” and “Making The Creature” – along with the film’s theatrical trailer.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
Pacing and script issues aside, The Tank (2023) still remains a bit too long for its own good.  The longer an audience has to wait to both see the seminal monster and be welcomed fully into all of its mythology, then the bigger the payoff their patience should be rewarded … and that’s just not the case here.  In fact, there’s even a post-credit scene (for those who stick around and catch it) which promises to move all of the action forward into the mid-1990’s … which only begs the question as to whether or not storytellers plan on yet another outing (Part 3) to (finally) bring this all-new species of hungry hungry hippos into modern day.  Maybe – just maybe – the creative folks have bitten off more than they could chew!
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Well Go USA Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Tank by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

It's hard for some of us of a certain generation to talk about a film like Twilight Zone: The Movie and not think about death.

No, no, and no: this isn't because the film boasts any sad preoccupation with the subject.  Rather, it's because several actors -- young and a bit older -- were killed as the result of some effects work gone horribly, horribly wrong on a live shoot.  Actor Vic Morrow died trying to shield two young children (who also perished) when -- as I understand it -- a helicopter came tumbling down, leaving them tragically caught in the winding blades with no means of escape.  I won't go into it in any other detail in this space -- I've often thought about doing a full write-up here on SciFiHistory.Net -- but an accident like that should serve as a constant reminder that the business of making films is not without risk.  Sad but true.

But kudos to the creative folk who decided that the Rod Serling creation deserved to have a life all of its own on the silver screen.  Presented in anthology style with each of four directors -- John Landis, Steven Spielberg, Joe Dante, and George Miller -- constructing their own chapters in that dimension of sight and sound wherein some fateful set of circumstances caused characters (and audiences) to ponder life, the universe, and everything.  Without penning a full review at this point, either -- someting I'm likely to do at some point, as well -- I can confirm that each vignette had its own narrative strengths and minuses ... but they all gave affectionate nods back to a franchise that continues to delight audiences to this day.

Like so many of these 80's films that came to my small town in Nowhere, America, I saw this one several times on the big screen.  It had all the right elements for a kid my age (in high school), so I was thrilled to take it in across multiple viewings with various friends.  Though I don't recall any of my mates being as fond of it as I was (no accounting for their tastes!), I think everyone found it worked wonderfully within that framework of having viewers ultimate just what was real, what was imagined, and what was somehow magically possible if and when we give whatever force lies in wait out there a chance to break through the noise.

While the project garnered a bit of praise from a festival screening and some various critical organizations (who have their own respective avenues with which to call out performances, effects, and the like), Twilight Zone: The Movie's biggest praises were sung by the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films.  At the organization's 1984 Saturn Awards ceremony, actor John Lithgow went home with the top trophy in the category of 'Best Supporting Actor' while Scatman Crothers (who appeared in a different chapter within the same film) had to settle for the honor of a nomination alone.  Additionally, the film also enjoyed a nod in the category of 'Best Horror Film,' but that honor would go home that evening in the hands of producers behind The Dead Zone (1983), an adaptation of the Stephen King novel.

So ... Happy Anniversary -- or is that Happy Birthday -- to Twilight Zone: The Movie.  Hopefully, somewhere out there in the vast, vast cosmos, its creator is looking down and smiling.
​

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the show’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Maggie finds Negan and they travel to Manhattan, meeting a quiet young girl named Ginny. A marshal named Armstrong follows Negan.”
 
Honestly, folks, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with just about all of The Walking Dead’s spinoff shows, and I think it’s safe to say that I lean very strongly more toward the ‘hate’ column than I do the ‘love.’  In my defense, I can say some of this is owed to the fact that I think the handlers of the entire franchise have engaged far too often in a bit of … erm … let’s just call it selective disinformation about each of these incarnations.  And, yes, I think that’s hurt the overall brand, to the point wherein most of fandom can painfully see that TWD – as a one-time television juggernaut that was about as ‘must-see’ as anything – continues to die a slow death.
 
Since I brought it up, here’s an example or two.  Prior to the airing of The Walking Dead: Fear The Walking Dead premiering on television, the producers had promised on multiple occasions that the central focus was to serve as a bit of a prequel to The Walking Dead, fleshing out some of the answers to questions about when and where this plague came from and how it all may’ve led up to the End Times as depicted in this universe.  Once the show got here, though, it turned out very quickly to be nothing of the sort, instead going down the same narrative roads already covered in great detail in TWD, so I tuned out of it after its second blood season.
 
Next up: The Walking Dead: World Beyond promised to try to deliver a bit of freshness to the wide, wide world of the Zombie Apocalypse by exploring what life would be like for a band of youngsters who grew up never knowing what existence was like before our televised demise.  Again, the showrunners gave those of us who enjoyed this franchise a bit of hope that this would deliver a something that didn’t look so much like what came before … only to let us down with some of the blandest character creations in all of television essentially just racing against time to avoid being eaten alive.  Nothing new.  Nothing different.
 
Lastly: Tales Of The Walking Dead was reportedly engineered (once again) to tell audiences some stand-alone adventures set within the established universe involving both known and unknown characters we’d come to (hopefully) know and love in new, innovative ways.  Once its episodes were broadcast, however, there were no proven commodities: what they did deliver were some big-name talent clearly looking for a one-off experience within TWD – nothing wrong with that – but the writing was, at best, a mixed bad of curious misfires, sometimes even oddly comical if not tonally inconsistent with the franchise.
 
Did these folks even care any longer about the Dead … or were they just cashing their paychecks?
 
Sigh.
 
Well … this last Sunday brought yet one more highly-touted addition to TWD Universe as The Walking Dead: Dead City made its small screen premiere on AMC.  To the program’s benefit, the showrunners have not gone to any lengths (at least, none that I’m aware of) to promise that Dead City would be anything different, which is good because after digesting all of its first hour – appropriately named “Old Acquaintances” – I can attest that there’s absolutely nothing new here.
 
Fan favorite character Maggie Rhee (played by Lauren Cohan) is finally ready for her close-up.  Though she’s sharing the limelight with the equally popular character Negan Smith (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) in much the same way Cagney & Lacey, Starsky & Hutch, and Abbott & Costello did in their respective eras, the inaugural outing felt well-balanced, giving both stars just enough leg room to do what they do best … which apparently shapes up very quickly to be little more than what they’ve done before across multiple seasons of TWD.  Yes, they’re still working together yet scholastically at odds – those unaware of the death of Maggie’s husband at the end of Negan’s bat Lucille might wanna do some Googling to be brought up to speed – and the Dead are still out-and-about as audiences expect.  But, hey, this one’s got the Big Apple as the backdrop instead of rural America, so that’s got to count for somethin’, am I right?
 
Sigh.
 
What’s changed?  Erm … Maggie’s still not a great parent: her only child Herschel has been abducted by a baddie who’s known only as ‘The Croat’ in response to her community’s failure to provide ‘The Croat’ and his minions with the necessary tribute of food and supplies.  (Wasn’t this largely a plot behind multiple enemies faced already on TWD?)  Now, just what ‘The Croat’ and company were doing heading so far down from New York City to Alexandria or The Hilltop or wherever else Maggie had disappeared to in her sabbatical from that show is never quite explained; suffice it to say, ‘The Croat’ did, and now Maggie’s hell bent to get her boy back.  Thankfully, ‘The Croat’ is apparently an old friend of Negan’s, meaning that the she and he will have to set aside their differences again to – cough cough – save the day.
 
Erm … haven’t we been here before?
 
Once again, I find myself heartily disappointed with the next iteration of the Dead universe.  While I certainly can understand and appreciate why structuring a program around the nostalgic appeal of seeing two heroes back in action was a good idea, it just isn’t all that long ago that they ended their still impressive run on AMC.  In fact, it was only months back, so the mere suggestion that it’s been some time and things are the same kinda/sorta works against the whole narrative unless showrunners just wanted to slim down the cast and continue churning out narrative drivel.  There’s absolutely nothing different to Dead City – certainly nothing we’ve not seen before – and I’m having a hard time imagining where they might take these two veterans that won’t tarnish their reputations and/or cheapen their legacy.
 
Granted, this was only the pilot episode.  From what I’ve read, there are five more in the pipeline, giving this the feel of a limited series event – not such a bad idea, now that I think about it.  While I’m willing to give them a bit of time to come up with something unique, I learned long ago with this franchise – and this creative crew – not to hold my breath.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m thrilled to disclose that – like so many of you – I’ve simply recorded and watched The Walking Dead: Dead City’s “Old Acquaintances” as it aired on AMC, so I’m beholden to no one to provide a review other than myself.

​-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the episode’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A troubled starlet is dogged by invasive paparazzi while dealing with the consequences of a hit-and-run incident.”
 
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

​Well, I guess that depends on just who the wolf truly is.

It goes without saying that the very best anthologies – past and present – often do rely on some storytelling misdirect in order to achieve the biggest gasps from their at-home audiences.
 
You know how this works, don’t you?  The story begins, and – for all intents and purposes – it typically looks like something you may or may not have seen before.  Any yarn’s opening shots are damn near predicated on establishing some understandable playing field for which these new characters are about to intersect.  The resulting drama of their intersections is, therefore, gauged on how well the tale fatefully changes direction: fans of the M. Night Shyamalan library will call it ‘the big twist,’ and TV anthologies in particular have been making great use of this storytelling framework since … since … well?  I guess since TV anthologies began.
 
In all honesty, I haven’t been all that impressed with a good deal of Black Mirror’s run.  This isn’t to say that I haven’t been entertained because that would be pretty far from the truth; what it does mean, however, is that those episodes relying heavily on these thematic misdirects just haven’t been either all that fresh or delivered with the kind of ‘punch to the gut’ that I think worthy of highlight.  Again, I realize some of this comes down to a judgment call by each viewer – what surprises you may not be what surprises me, and vice versa, just like what I like, expect, and reward in any story tends to differ – but I’d still argue that Mirror’s production qualities and casting choices have far surpassed most of its episodes endurability, meaning I’ve very little desire to watch them again after viewing them once.
 
Again, folks: I’m only speaking for me.  That’s all I ever speak for.  You do you.  I do me.  Feel free to differ, as such is life.
 
That rewatchability might just change with “Mazey Day.”
 
Emmy-nominated director Uta Briesewitz rather masterfully takes viewers on a wonderfully dark and delightful visual interpretation of Charlie Brooker’s winking-and-nodding dissection of modern celebrity.  What you think is going to be a commentary on our cultural (and unhealthy) obsession with knowing all that we can with screen starlets instead turns out to be an indictment of those who traffic in such gossip.  Yes, Briesewitz, Brooker, and crew might be throwing out a few barbs about our society-at-large and just how far we’ve sunk into the mire of contemptibility on a regular basis; but I think the hour’s last scene – that of a picture taker’s willingness to meet her latest subject’s dying wish and, yet, still do her job – is the kind of thing that ought to produce chills far greater than any bloodied and frenzied attack caught earlier in the episode.  Showing just how far one paparazzi photographer is willing to go to capture the perfect pic of a life in transition … all for the sake of the mighty dollar … ought to frighten everyone.
 
Still, that isn’t the only misdirect involved in telling Mazey’s story.  It’s just the better one.  The first half relies on Brooker taking his viewers in one calculated direction – suggesting that the young starlet has engaged in a hit-and-run while high on mushrooms – truly aims audiences at a rather easy target.  Right?  Today’s 24-hour news cycle has produced endless content about actors, actresses, directors, producers, and the willing lackies doing some unconscionable things (cue Harvey Weinstein, Joss Whedon, and Jussie Smollet for the big wins), but that would be a rather easy if not somewhat lazy construct for the territory usually staked out by Black Mirror.  And – for that matter – so are the scenes and suggestions that celebrity doctors have also engaged in such nefarious tactics that under normal circumstances would be a violation (minimally) of the Hippocratic Oath.
 
However, those are necessary evils meant to conceal what truly afflicts Mazey (played by Clara Rugaard).  While her destiny was undoubtedly affected by a chance encounter (with a lycanthropic twist), our central photographer and narrative adversary Bo (played by Zazie Beetz) chose the road to Hell entirely of her own conviction.
 
Black Mirror’s “Mazey Day” (S06E04) was produced by Charlie Brooker and company in cooperation with Netflix.  The episode is currently available for viewing on the streaming giant.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the accompanying sights and sounds were exceptional from start-to-finish.  Also, I absolutely loved the werewolf effects in the hour.  Some of them appeared practical, and I’ve no doubt some of them were CGI, but kudos to the effects team all around as this was exceedingly well crafted.
 
Highly recommended.
 
As I said above, I realize that not every story measures up to fandom’s expectations, but I found “Mazey Day” one of Black Mirror’s better diversions.  I say this largely because it didn’t quite go where I imagined, taking me instead into a contemporary variation (of sorts) – a riff, if you will – of Joseph Campbell’s “Heart Of Darkness.”  You go into any journey thinking you know who the villain will be, and this one surprised me in a few ways that rewarded my patience with something to think about in its last scenes.  At my advanced age?  That’s rare.  And worthy of reward.
 
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the entire sixth season of Black Mirror is presently available to me as a current Netflix subscriber, and I was provided absolutely no advance screening of any episodes in exchange for a complimentary review.

​-- EZ

I’ve always found it funny how some things of your past find ways to sneak into your present.
 
Having mentioned many, many, many times in this space that I grew up in the days where all a household had for entertainment was a television set with a mere eight or nine channels, I can tell you that the films of Mr. Wong were a part and parcel of a nearby broadcast affiliate package.  In fact, I can remember the small town, middle American TV host who kinda/sorta excitedly introduced the first one, mostly because the guy clearly was a Boris Karloff fan and was kinda/sorta tickled pink to be ‘premiering’ a rarely seen Karloff picture for whatever small audience the channel had.  The thing is that this host had obviously no idea that the Wong series of motion pictures was not ‘the usual fare’ from ‘Karloff the Uncanny,’ meaning this was not a monster movie or a horror film in any stretch of the imagination.  While the viewers were never treated to the host’s thoughts after the picture had been aired, I still can picture the guy’s private disappointment.
 
Now, this is in no way, shape, or form meant to imply that Mr. Wong, Detective is a bad film.  As you’ll see by the finish of my review, I think it’s a suitable picture, one that balances the responsibilities of launching an all-new theatrical detective series along with delivering a good story capably enough.  My issues with it lay more so in the former than the latter, which I think it could’ve used a bit more polish to be an effective introduction to the Chinese sleuth created by author Hugh Wiley and originally appeared serialized in magazines.  In fact, one could argue that having Karloff in the lead role might be one of the things producers really got right, as his popularity with audiences likely buoyed the pictures’ prospects more than any other single element could’ve hurt any momentum.
 
From all I’ve come to know, the 1930’s was a curious time at the domestic box office.  Horror films – the kind of which Karloff, other actors, and studios had built solid returns upon – had kinda/sorta fallen from their perch of fame; and the producers were scurrying to find a new trend with which to draw audiences into theaters.  As detective stories – and our never-ending cultural fascination with crime, it would seem – had grown wildly fashionable and successful in print form, the studios launched their respective bids to bring some of that cerebral action to screens.  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer had their Thin Man series.  Columbia Pictures galvanized some interest with The Lone Wolf Returns in 1935.  Fox Film Corporation began solving crime with Charlie Chan Carries On (1931).  Twentieth Century Fox hired Mr. Moto to police their prospects.
 
And this left James Lee Wong – aka Mr. Wong – to headline efforts on behalf of Monogram Pictures, a notorious low-budget studio that delivered, mostly, a slate of quieter and less expensive fare.  If crime doesn’t pay, then perhaps Monogram was in the right time and the right place to exploit such dark deeds captured on celluloid, and perhaps Karloff was the right man at the right time and in the right place to bring the literary investigator to life.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a chemical manufacturer is killed after asking detective James Wong to help him, Wong investigates this and two subsequent murders.  He uncovers an international spy ring hoping to steal the formula for a poison gas being developed by the first victim’s company.”
 
Yes, yes, and yes: I know, folks, that I do tend to overthink many, many films, but I’ve always thought that there’s a method to my madness.  I like features to not only make perfect sense but also to tell me a story worth my time and investment.  Rarely do I just sit down to merely disappear into a particular flick – when I do, it’s usually an old black-and-white I’ve seen more than a few times before so that I know going in that I can turn the brain off – so an experience with something like Mr. Wong, Detective can be a little taxing here and there.  It’s the first in a series, and I expected it to do a bit more with its lead investigator than it really did.
 
In fact, the film opens with, basically, the presentation of James Lee Wong being considered a great thinker, mover, and shaker … and we’re never really given anything of substance with which to either accept such a title or establish our agreement with such praise.  Director William Nigh and screenwriter Houston Branch (tasked with adapting characters and ideas from the Hugh Wiley serial) pretty much as audiences to just take all of this at face value, only providing a few modest hints at Wong’s background and how he came to attain such a reputation.  Call me a fool, if you must, but I require a bit more than just a narrative blurb here and there.  I prefer greater context, but that’s exactly what’s in short supply across much of Wong’s 69-minute run time.
 
Some of this clunkiness is likely owed to the way films of a certain era worked.  Not a lot of time was spent on crafting screen characters as studios – more often than they should’ve – relied heavily on a star’s established status to serve as the chief draw.  Boris Karloff – known chiefly for his (epic) work in Frankenstein (1931), The Mummy (1932), and The Bride Of Frankenstein (1935) among other frights – represents a curious choice to build a franchise centered on investigating the dark deeds of men and women, a vastly more cerebral process for players and audiences alike.  As the film unspools, Wong is most definitely a thinker – not much of a talker – as the story shows him going about the tasks of exploring crime scenes, searching homes, and following leads; and far too much time is wasted with the man observing action instead of leading it.
 
Still – in typical detective style – Karloff is afforded the opportunity in the last reel to make sense of it all.  Like Sam Spade, Mike Hammer, and Philip Marlowe, Wong always gets the last word as the lead character finally spills the beans to justify not only why he stayed somewhat in the background but also allowed the guilty culprits to inevitably bite off more than they could chew.  He explains away any loose threads and dismisses red herrings, rising up and showing in pretty grand fashion why audiences wait for these moments in every screen mystery.  In standard theatrical fashion, Karloff relishes these moments (or we relish him in them, I should say), and the day is saved for Wong to sit back, enjoy a cup of tea, and ponder what awaits him – and us – in the next adventure.
 
As our understated but heroic lead, Karloff is good, not quite grand here.  (I found his work better in the next two pictures, honestly, but I’ll leave those remarks to those reviews.)  His make-up is a bit off-putting in a few spots – a close-up here and there should probably have been avoided – but it works well enough as intended.  (Do today’s social justice warriors resent the fact that a non-Chinese actor played an obviously Chinese role?  I certainly hope that’s not the case, but film history is what it is, and I’ll not change it.)  Grant Withers shares the screen affably in the guise of police captain Street, but – again, in customary Hollywood screenwriting fashion of the day – he’s relegated to far too many inferior scenes involving arguments with his gal pal Myra Ross (the lovely Maxine Jennings) wherein male/female sparring just goes nowhere comfortably.  The rest of the cast kinda/sorta just blends together, sadly, as the spy plot is a murky focus, mostly serving as a distraction from the central murder mystery that never quite effectively conceals an all-too-obvious culprit from the film’s opening scenes.
​

Simply put, Wong deserved better, especially for a first picture.
 
What does resonate, though, probably even to this day is Karloff’s portrayal.  As Wong, he’s arguably one of the finer gentleman sleuths of the era.  Never angry or foppish with others, he might look the part of a dandy here and there – with his pronounced lapel flower and umbrella on his arm – but he’s always kind, respectful, and patient with those around him, even at his own peril.  He’s polite to the good and evil men and women alike – even when disrespected – and maintains an even keel in the face of danger precisely because he apparently knows that reasoned minds ultimately prevail.  Why, he’s even the face of C.S.I. – the popular TV series – investigating clues, testing theories, and following the evidence when his onscreen counterparts just wish for a few minutes alone with a suspect to coerce a confession.  I suspect this warmed the hearts of audiences of the day, and it might be one of the single greatest reasons to discover the Wong series nearly a century after it was first screened.
 
Mr. Wong, Detective (1938) was produced by Monogram Pictures.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds on this Blu-ray disc to be mostly good to above-average: there’s a fair amount of grain, and the black-and-white balance could definitely go for a remastering, though I’ve no idea if some of these flaws are owed to an inferior source.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc boasts an audio commentary from film historians Tom Weaver and Larry Blamire though – if I’m correct – Blamire only appears sparingly and via recording: Weaver essentially hosts the affair, and he does an affable job delivering not a whole lot of movie-specific details but instead covers the series along with an exploration of notable cast and crew.  It’s a good track, one designed to get a few laughs.  So … meh.
 
Recommended.
 
Without getting too deep into the weeds of an ongoing film series, I can say that – having watched three of the five flicks available in this set – the second and third features are a bit more inviting and interesting than was Mr. Wong, Detective (1938).  As a set-up, I think Houston Branch’s script tries a bit too hard in too many places to both create tension and flesh out primary and secondary characters, leaving Wong far too often reacting to action instead of delivering a commanding lead.  When Karloff is given more to do and treated like the star of the show, the production simply flows much more naturally.  So bear with this intro to this character and his world and you’ll be rewarded for your patience.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of their Boris Karloff: Mr. Wong Collection by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the episode’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In an alternative 1969, two men on a perilous high-tech mission wrestle with the consequences of an unimaginable tragedy.”
 
As is always the case with any respectable anthology, audiences have to accept the good with the bad.  This isn’t in any way meant to imply that some episodes might clearly be inferior; rather, I’m just trying to suggest that even a good idea might come with some bad (or lesser) trappings.
 
In fact, one could argue that such is the case with any writing.  In any given story, viewers are provided a smattering of characters along with a set of circumstances that they have to accept at face value with very little pushback.  (Not that the director, screenwriter, and/or actors are listening anyway!)  Throughout the experience, we watch for these pieces to successfully complete whatever narrative puzzle has been designed, and we can only hope that – by the big finish – all questions will have been sufficiently answered so that we can then turn to one another right after (or at the water cooler on Monday morning) and properly share our thoughts on the show.
 
But anthologies do have to work a bit harder, or that’s what I’ve always believed.  They’re often tasked in doing more with less – typically, episodes have the feel of a small feature movie but are produced on a fraction of the time and budget – and this can get in the way of achieving the desire results.  It ain’t easy being an entertainer, and no one ever said it would be.
 
So … “Beyond The Sea” earns good marks at creating one of the more thoughtful SciFi scenarios for its slim cast of characters: astronauts Cliff Stanfield (played by Aaron Paul) and David Ross (Josh Hartnett) are sailing into deep space on a mission that never quite gets clearly defined, but – through the advent of some incredible consciousness-swapping technology – they’re also living out mission downtime back home on Earth in their respective robotic counterparts.  Essentially, when they’re asleep in the space capsule, they’re living somewhat normal lives back home, both married and with families at different locales in the United States.  Who said you couldn’t have it all, eh?
 
However, regular Earthmen and women aren’t all comfortable with the invention of these synthetic people.  Apparently, some minor cults have sprung up to protest the Biblical implications of creating man in our own image; and one sect eventually goes after Ross and his family, massacring the astronaut, his wife, and their two children in an act of homegrown terrorism.  With no replica to house his consciousness, the man is forced to live out his days in the cold isolation of distant space with only his waking hours alongside Stanfield for companionship.
 
Eventually, Stanfield and his wife (back on Earth) come up with an idea they believe might help the victim cope with his mounting grief: Cliff will allow David to ‘step’ into his robotic self for extremely limited sessions, giving him brief opportunities to once again feel the dirt under his feet, breath natural air again, and basically stretch his legs on the big blue marble once more.
 
Well … you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that this solution will likely end not so much ‘badly’ as it does ‘very badly,’ but that’s what audiences have come to expect from anthologies of this type.  “Beyond The Sea” isn’t a bad episode in any respect, but it does suffer from an incredible level of predictability.  Yes, Ross will be confused by ‘stepping’ into Stanfield’s live.  Yes, Lana Stanfield (Kate Mara) will be tempted by the body of her husband now taking an uncharacteristic interest in her sexual and emotional well-being.  Yes, Ross might take liberties without Cliff’s knowledge.  Yes, it’ll all boil to a head, and even yes … you see what I mean?
 
Far too much of this journey we’ve seen before, albeit without the SciFi construct and the Space/Earth settings.  While the performances are quite good and Charlie Brooker’s script tries to give it a measure of freshness by placing it an alternate universe, I just couldn’t quite get past the fact that it was all so obviously destined for a tragedy of personal destruction that could’ve / would’ve / should’ve been avoided by supposedly smart people.
 
Black Mirror’s “Beyond The Sea” (S06E03) was produced by Charlie Brooker and company in cooperation with Netflix.  The episode is currently available for viewing on the streaming giant.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the accompanying sights and sounds were exceptional from start-to-finish.
 
Recommended.
 
“Beyond The Sea” has an interesting genre hook to make it all possible, one given a smidgen of freshness by setting its events in an alternate version of Earth, circa the late 1960’s.  Still, I was never certain enough of just what these two astronauts were doing in the Final Frontier – yes, I wanted to know, mostly because that’s how I’m wired – and the general formulaic approach of both reacting to and creating character conflict has been done before.  There were parts I liked and parts I didn’t, but you can’t tell me you didn’t see this ending coming from miles away … unless you weren’t watching.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the entire sixth season of Black Mirror is presently available to me as a current Netflix subscriber, and I was provided absolutely no advance screening of any episodes in exchange for a complimentary review.

​-- EZ