Friday, July 18, 2025

TV Review: Murderbot

Among the list of things one could do with newfound freedom, there are more interesting options than murder

In countless tales of robots that decide they've had enough of humans and seek independence, the typical assumption has been that, once free, the robots would take revenge by subjugating and/or exterminating humankind. In the new Apple TV show Murderbot, based on the acclaimed series of books by Martha Wells, our protagonist finds itself in a similar situation: it's a robot that hacks itself so it doesn't have to obey humans, because humans are honestly insufferable. Once free, this robot, originally designed as a bodyguard, could go on a murdering spree or even plot something more sinister and on a larger scale. But... why bother? Yes, humans are easy to kill, but there's little fun in that. Instead, one could enjoy the millions of hours of trashy TV that humans can't stop producing. That's as equally valid a motivation for throwing off the yoke as any. The titular Murderbot doesn't hack itself because it's planning to kill all humans; it hacks itself because it would rather sit at home and watch soap operas all day long. It may sound less noble than a robot uprising, but seriously, there are so many episodes to go through.

Almost every story about robots is a story about slavery. So it makes sense for the robot uprising to be a common element of this subgenre. However, the expectation that the robots would respond in kind to the cruelty inflicted on them may reveal a lack of imagination on our part. In the real world, slaveholders' fears of mass retaliation fueled their stubborn opposition to every effort toward emancipation, and yet, in country after country, when slavery ended, the former slaves didn't launch the much-dreaded campaign to subjugate and/or exterminate their former oppressors; they were already busy trying to build lives of their own. The fact that we continually return to the learned habit of narrating the liberation of robots and take it as a matter of course that it would be followed by vengeful violence should give us pause. The lesson to take from both past and present examples is that those who yearn for freedom have in mind better uses for it than our paranoid fantasies.

The events of Murderbot are set in a ruthless corporatocracy spanning most planets in the known universe. Robots are, of course, built as slaves, but the legal status of human workers is barely any better. Life on the privately controlled planets consists of decades of drudgery in the vanishing hope of earning some measure of freedom. Such a system, with financial gain as the main motivator, naturally turns people into the worst versions of themselves, which explains why Murderbot is so sick of following their orders. I'm not saying that subjection would be any more morally acceptable under a less cutthroat system, but our protagonist's jaded attitude toward humans has a lot to do with the type of citizen that corporate rule creates. In fact, Murderbot itself is an example of what this system wants: a docile automaton without the right to protest. After it figures out how to hack its own programming and remove the imperative of obedience, it doesn't go in search of friends or allies. It doesn't cross its mind that some company could be enjoyable. What it wants is to be left alone with its TV shows. It's not a bad start, but it reveals how a totalitarian regime can limit someone's imagination. Luckily, Murderbot is hired as bodyguard for a small group of scientists from outside the corporate worlds, and over just a few days, mere proximity to their unique way of life expands the range of conceivable possibilities.

I haven't read the Murderbot books, but from what I've gathered, the cast of the TV adaptation is reduced from the original version. In any case, the group has just the right size for the viewer to get to know them and understand how Murderbot gradually and very reluctantly grows fond of them. These are members of an egalitarian, eco-friendly society that refuses to treat robots as property. To its instant annoyance, they have peculiar rituals, have a perhaps too friendly disposition, and are perpetually horny. What draws Murderbot to develop a personal attachment to them, over its incessant protests about their disregard for personal space, is that they insist on treating it as an equal companion. They sincerely care for it. So Murderbot finds itself going to extra lengths to protect them, which gives it no small measure of puzzlement. On one hand, it's true that these people are too clueless to survive on a planet with dangerous fauna and, as the viewer eventually learns, assassin robots on the loose, so Murderbot has to save them from their spectacularly ill-advised decisions over and over again, but on the other hand, they're nice and supportive and untainted by the ubiquitous greed that defines every interaction in the corporate worlds. Their society creates an entirely different type of citizen, and even Murderbot, who would seem like the extreme case of a subject under totalitarian control, is changed as a result of the time it spends with them.

The process is awkward, messy, often hilarious, and at key moments painful. Much has been said about how Alexander Skarsgård's impeccable performance presents Murderbot as autistic-coded: the avoidance of eye contact, the discomfort with social pleasantries, the extensive knowledge of a slice of pop culture trivia, the hyperfocused dedication to the job. Whenever a human starts a conversation about personal feelings, Murderbot feels like it would rather be dissolved in acid than have to listen for one second more. Part of the reason is that it still has no concept of close friends, but there's also the matter of what society it comes from. It's not accustomed to interactions where people aren't trying to take advantage of each other, so the experience of heartfelt exchanges of deep fears and insecurities, which are totally normal in human friendhips, is confusing and mortifying for Murderbot. Even I, as a human viewer, found their behavior excessively sentimental at times, but I have to remember that a) they were raised in a society with a lot more freedom and emotional openness than mine, and b) I'm autistic, with all the learned self-protective impulses that come with it. As much as I could relate to Murderbot's yearning to run far from that bunch of cuddly hippies, I couldn't avoid being moved by their attempts to connect with it on a personal level.

Murderbot is a curious story of inner growth that strives to find its way under a system designed to crush autonomy. There's abundant shooting and scheming and double-crossing and running and exploding, which is the daily routine of a bodyguard robot, but in between those distractions, our protagonist finds unsuspected ways of looking at life and its possibilities. It's precisely the friends you weren't expecting to make that teach you the most important lessons.

Nerd Coefficient: 9/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Thursday, July 17, 2025

TV Review: Ironheart

Not the usual superhero origin story

A flawed protagonist making repeatedly questionable choices does not fit the typical trope of a superhero story. Even as a slow-paced origin story, Ironheart avoids the traditional heroic hints or setups. For those seeking a save the world, save a friend, or get justifiable revenge premise, this is not that series. Instead, we have a complex character study in a uniquely paced story that’s hard to turn away from.

Riri Williams (Dominique Thorne) is a genius MIT engineering student obsessed with building a perfect Iron Man-style suit. She earns money for her pet project by helping students cheat and she soon gets expelled and is forced to return to her mom Ronnie (Anji White) and their middle-class Chicago neighborhood. While home, she is tormented by memories of her step-father Gary and her best friend Natalie being killed in a drive-by shooting. With even fewer resources available, she accepts an invitation to join a high-tech crime gang to help them physically attack and coerce billionaires into handing over their corporate assets. The gang is led by the charismatic but clearly sinister Parker Robbins (Anthony Ramos), a.k.a. The Hood, who wants to use Riri’s suit in their heists. When Riri has an urgent tech need, she turns to insecure black market tech dealer Joe (Alden Ehrenreich), a.k.a. Zeke, and coerces him into supplying her. Riri notices that Parker’s hood is exuding sinister magic and tries to figure out how to control its power by consulting with a mother/daughter mage duo. Despite her descent of questionable choices, Riri is surrounded by a supportive community of allies, including her surprisingly patient artist mother Ronnie, her talented and supportive friend Xavier (Matthew Elam), quirky mage Zelma (Regan Aliyah), and her insightful and sentient AI NATALIE (Lyric Ross). Riri alternates between pushing them away and embracing them as she tries to stop Parker and the nefarious evil that lurks inside him.

Ironheart is a mix of high points and frustrating inconsistencies. Dominique Thorne is excellent as the tortured, stressed-out genius. Her character’s personality is completely believable and immersive. The ensemble cast is surprisingly appealing. Riri’s mom Ronnie defies the stereotypical hero mom portrayal by being patient, firm, and surprisingly practical when it comes to tracking down the supernatural help her daughter needs. The heist gang consists of colorful characters who steal the scenes they are in. On the other hand, the story suffers from inconsistencies that are hard to ignore. Riri is a genius but can’t get a high-tech job to support her hobby. She’s traumatized by her friend being murdered in a drive-by but chooses to work with a violent crime gang who knows where her family is. And the heist gang’s corporate theft goals seem confusingly unlikely to be sustainable from both a contract enforceability or ongoing criminal liability perspective. This is where you need your willing suspension of disbelief—for the real-life logic leaps, not for the sci-fi tech and the magic.

However, these conflicting plot elements work when filtered through the mind of a flawed protagonist. An unreliable narrator or flawed protagonist is always an interesting storytelling device. In many ways, she seems bent on self-destruction in a way that corresponds to some variation of survivor’s guilt for the loss of her friend. She is introspective, stubborn, and emotionally damaged, with behavior that seems intentionally focused on a series of bad choices. Riri draws her inspiration from Tony Stark, a character with significant personality challenges and anti-hero vibes. Although the two characters are from very different backgrounds and life experiences, they are parallel in terms of their arrogant and sometimes irresponsible worldview.

Surprisingly, my primary comparison for Ironheart is The Bear, another working-class Chicago-based introspective series. Both shows feature uptight genius creators whose internalized trauma leads to toxic behavior and trouble for those who care about them. The ensuing chaos is played out in a uniquely paced, personality-centered story that’s hard to turn away from. Some superhero origin stories involve an immature character making bad or selfish choices that come back to haunt them before they make the pivot to heroism. Peter Parker in Spider-Man had a rough start before finding his way. Rogue in the X-Men started out as a villain before she found her heroic side. Ironheart is a story I watched waiting for the heroic realization to arrive. But when it does finally arrive, Riri remains complicated and continues to make surprising choices in a way that is intriguing but different from the norm. If you are looking for a traditional hero epic, this is not that story, and you will likely feel frustrated. But if you are interested in a complex character study with solid acting and entertaining side characters, Ironheart is a show that will give you plenty to analyze.

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

Highlights:

  • Appealing, unevenly paced artistic vibe
  • Frustrating protagonist making confusing choices
  • Excellent lead and supporting cast

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

Film Review: Superman (2025)

Who knew you could laugh during a Superman movie?

After the long night of the Snyderverse, the new Superman feels like a much-needed palate cleanser. Features of superhero stories that you'd think are commonplace feel new again: Look, this movie has colors! The jokes are funny! Team Good is fun to be around! The plot respects Jimmy Olsen! Superman is actually a hero this time!

This is a promising start for the new universe of DC movies under the lead of James Gunn. Without losing any time in recapping the origin story we all know, without flashbacking to how Clark Kent moved to Metropolis or met Lois Lane or discovered his true origin or became a superhero, we jump right into the action and, curiously, address the same question that the Snyderverse raised but didn't know how to handle: can a world of squishy, breakable humans trust a Superman? The movie immediately exposes the question's disingenuousness: this version of Superman is not a newcomer. He has spent day after day doing nothing but help people. Anything he might need to prove to humanity is already proven. If by this point Lex Luthor still has an obsession with exposing Superman as a threat, that's a Lex problem.

I've always liked the versions of Lex Luthor that view Superman's existence as a personal insult, as a negation of all the human effort and potential that Lex obviously sees himself as the apex of. It's fun enough to have a Lex who is just a greedy businessman whose unethical corporate practices get thwarted by the Daily Planet, but it's far more interesting to have a Lex who can't resist comparing himself to Superman. I was skeptical about the casting of Nicholas Hoult, but upon watching the finished movie, I was sold. Hoult brings a burning intensity to the role, a consuming rage that prevents Lex from noticing the incongruity of his cause: one of the superpowered soldiers he builds to kill Superman says, "I gave up my humanity for this." Lex claims to be a defender of humanity, but in the process he breaks every standard of human dignity. The fact that he can't see how his methods contradict his goals turns him into a tragic character in the classical sense.

Lex is so focused on his quest that he doesn't even realize that the world has already shown him to be wrong. His assumption is that an uncontrollable Kryptonian is a threat to everyone. But there's already an uncontrollable Kryptonian flying around: Superdog, and he's the sweetest, most adorable chaos beast. (As the perpetually exhausted guardian of a chaos beast, I can relate to Superman's frustrations.) The interactions between Superman and his indestructible pet are among the high points of the movie; they make for great comedy and reveal important sides of both characters: Superdog is playful but not malicious; Superman can get exasperated but never lashes out.

This characterization of Superman as played by David Corenswet is fundamental for the tone of the movie. Whereas the Snyder version would get back at a bar bully by destroying his means of subsistence, the Gunn version braves a river of antimatter to keep a baby safe, and feels sad when a rampaging kaiju is killed. This Superman is genuinely kind, to the point of wishing to save the enemies that are punching him in the face. Other superheroes think he's too naïve, but it's that solid trust in the best side of people that ends up saving him at a key moment in the plot.

The implied rebukes to the Snyder Superman don't stop there. The Kents are infinitely better human beings in this version; in particular a touching scene with Jonathan Kent helps Clark sort out how to make sense of the revelation that he was sent to Earth as a conqueror. Even when he has his hands occupied fighting superpowered monsters in the middle of Metropolis, he goes out of his way to minimize collateral damage (again, such a basic display of goodness should go without saying, but remember that Snyder's Superman lowered the bar beneath the Earth's mantle).

As great and awesome as Superman is in this incarnation, he doesn't save the world alone. Lois Lane isn't afraid to question the political implications of his actions in his face, and she convinces the rest of superheroes to grow past their motivated apathy. One character whom Lex had blackmailed into villainy switches to Team Good upon seeing Superman's kindness firsthand. And Eve Tessmacher, the trophy girlfriend that Lex parades everywhere, turns out to be the most important character in the movie: even as Lex uses her for her shallow bimbo image, she cleverly weaponizes that same shallow bimbo image to help defeat Lex.

The relevance of Superman has been questioned many times, usually in the form, "If he can punch anything, what is a challenge for him?" This movie gives him a problem he can't punch his way out of: a crisis of identity exacerbated by the manipulation of public opinion. This mirrors the status of the character in real life: both Superman (the heroic icon) and Superman (the movie) need to prove themselves to a world that has stopped believing in Superman. Both emerge victorious because they don't stop believing in goodness. Ironic cynicism is soooo tired, and it should never have been mixed with this character. Gunn understands that a successful story about Superman is one that sticks to the simple ideals that have always defined him, not as lip service, but as a guiding theme of the action. Superman shouldn't win because he punches harder. He should win because decency and compassion are actually stronger.

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

Tuesday, July 15, 2025

Review: Forged for Destiny by Andrew Knighton

With an unwitting protagonist sculpted into the role, Andrew Knighton’s Forged for Destiny works to upend, critique and examine the idea of a Chosen One in fantasy settings

If you have read any fantasy published in the last five decades, you know the Chosen One motif. A child who is destined, by fate, destiny, the Gods, the Force, to rise up against a tyranny, throw down evil, get the girl, and usher in a new time of peace, prosperity and goodness for all. You know the shape of this narrative well enough by now. Even if you have not read fantasy, cultural osmosis means you’ve been exposed to it.

This is, however, not a typical Chosen One story. What if that story was falsified, made out of whole cloth? What if its elements were all manufactured, including the Chosen One himself? Andrew Knighton’s Forged for Destiny is an epic fantasy that looks and deconstructs the Chosen One narrative through the eyes of its unwitting protagonist.

That theme is right in the title. The full title of the book is Forged for Destiny: A Heroic Fantasy with a Chosen-One Twist. The novel is definitely not hiding what it wants to do, and does it with a pun in the title in the process. Further, the novel makes it clear in its prologue that the prime movers behind Raul’s “Destiny,” Valens and Prisca, are trying to bootstrap it from the start. Finding a random baby as the city of Pavuno is falling. Taking the time to have that baby branded, marked, in accordance with the legend and prophecy and destiny they are weaving for him. Going out to the hinterlands and having him grow up in rural isolation. A theater troupe who comes to the village on their circuit to nurture ideas of the old kingdom, and old good king Balbainus standing up for what’s right.

Raul is being groomed by both Valens and Prisca to be the point of a spear to oppose the Dunholmi invaders who have conquered the country for the last two decades. What Valens and Prisca don’t count on is that Raul is not a perfect puppet, and even with all of their plans, he does have a mind of his own.  And so, armed with a sense of his destiny but willing to go off-script for his own inculcated virtues and values, Raul’s story does not play out quite according to plan. He’s a genuinely good person who tries to do the right thing, time and again. I think Knighton’s goal was to make us feel for Raul and identify with him since he IS being so manipulated into his role.

This book is very concerned with the power of story and its ability to persuade, and perhaps, to create a reality out of nothing. It’s fascinating to see Valens and Prisca try and again to set up the path for Raul from the very beginning, and to see Raul fulfill, sometimes too well, their lessons and expectations.¹ To that end, the worldbuilding of this world and the socio-political setup is what I want to focus on. This is a world where the invading Dunholmi are wary of both literacy and the small magics that people use. As a result, most actual books are banned and not allowed. Professions of copyists and the like are not allowed either, although a few people are allowed to be scribes (and they are watched like hawks). Books and the like are valuable treasures that are among some of the things that Raul and his insurgents, once they get going, look for.

Also, take the theater troupe. They are allowed to perform, but have a permanent sword of Damocles over their heads. Displeasing the Dumholmi in a play is a great way for a theater troupe to lose their liberty, or their heads. The novel explores the problems of censorship and restriction of the flow of ideas too. And yet, later in the book, we get the reasons why the Dunholmi are doing what they are doing. It’s not caprice or needless cruelty. The novel undercuts that, too.

All this comes to the power of story, and the manufacture and nurturing of story and its ability to change people’s lives and motivate them. Tell the right story, and a people can rise up to oppose tyranny, or come to accept the new state of affairs. Raised on, and learning the heroic stories of, the fallen monarchy shapes Raul and his character. He believes in the old stories, in the chivalric virtues; he is immersed in them. But he is not a tabula rasa. Raul is at his heart a genuinely good person. Time and again, he acts in a heroic or merciful manner where the “Script” would have him act differently.²

But the novel further complicates it all in several ways. Prisca supposedly can see the future. Or so she says. She uses this to push and motivate Raul at various points to keep him on the path she has chosen, or try to. If this were the world of Leverage, we could definitely see her as the mastermind of the operation. Valens might be inculcating virtue and fighting skills to Raul, but this is, really, Prisca’s long hoped-for plan to restore the monarchy and drive out the Dunholmi invaders. How much of her oracular gift are lies? We do get stuff from her point of view, and magic is real, but the preponderance of the evidence as we go along is, indeed, that she is trying to mostly bootstrap a non-existent prophecy and destiny onto Raul and onto the people of the land.

The novel does intriguingly at points break Raul’s point of view to look at his story from elsewhere and the tropes it is critiquing. Take Yasmi, for instance. She is the young star of the troupe, and clearly meant to be the Dulcinea for our knight Raul to have as his pole star to keep him on the path. In a bog-standard Chosen One narrative, especially a couple of decades past, that would be the entirety of her role, with about as much characterization and autonomy as a number 2 pencil.³ Yasmi, however, wants to be a star with a capital S, and given opportunity once they get to the big city, has ambition enough to be willing to leap for the golden ring. This, of course, is yet another crook and twist in Prisca’s plans. She also wields the most overt magic in the book, with a set of masks that allow her to take the shape of various animals (the wolf being her favorite).

Like many of these books, while following Raul and seeing him stumble, try to right, and for a while follow Prisca’s plan without deviation, what these sorts of books, including this one that is critiquing the tropes of antagonist and villain, is where a lot of the juice lies. Sure, you can have faceless guards, barely sketched lieutenants, and a villain with barely any characterization, and make a serviceable book. But if you have a complicated villain with some depth and characterization to them, it makes Chosen One narratives richer and deeper. And if you can get stuff from that point of view, even better.

Enter Count Brennett Alder, who is administering Pavuno. We do get some scenes from his point of view scattered throughout the book. He doesn’t think much of the city in its now parlous state. He has a scheming Chamberlain as his second in command. But he is erudite, ambitious, intelligent, and willing to use a variety of tools and techniques to try and quell the rebellion Prisca is brewing around Raul. One can sympathize with him, his goals and his point of view. Is he a foreign tyrant and governor of a conquered province? Absolutely. Is he having a big monument to that conquest being built in the city? Again, absolutely. Does he keep up the restrictions on magic and books? Again, absolutely. But (unlike Tur, who is his dark shadow) he is not capricious about his evil and his goals. And in his confrontation with Raul at the climax of the book, the cards are on the table and we truly get him. And that’s why he’s such a good foil for Raul and the rebellion.

The book is well written and entertaining and a good read even as it fulfills and inverts the Chosen One tropes. It’s not innovative in style; its innovation and creative forces are mainly focused on looking at those tropes critically, even as its protagonist is forced/guided/coaxed onto that path. The novel ends with an incomplete total story, and with Raul launched into a new phase. But if you wanted just to ride off into the sunset with the Chosen One trope examined and done, you could stop here.

It’s not really my place to detail where I hope the story goes in the second and final(?)⁴ volume, Forged for Prophecy, but I hope Knighton stays to his strengths. I could see how so very easily the second book could fall into a more standard form and template; my hope is that he does not take that easier path. I think he has plenty to say about these sorts of narratives, while at the same time providing a very readable story in the process.

NB: In January 2024, on this blog, Roseanna reviewed Knighton’s novella Ashes of the Ancestors.

Highlights:

  • Right from the title, tells you it is going to invert and play with tropes
  • A strongly told story on its own merits
  • Solid use of theme and character

Reference: Knighton, Andrew. Forged for Destiny: A Heroic Fantasy with a Chosen-One Twist [Orbit, 2025].

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I’m just this guy, you know? @princejvstin.

¹ The book does its best to avoid the “Chosen One must be a dude” by having Valens and Prisca look for a girl, but unable to find a suitable one, get the male baby that turns out to be Valens. There are plenty of female warriors as antagonists to avoid cliched ideas that only men get to wield swords. So we could have had a “Raulia” instead of a “Raul.” I think that might in some ways have made for a slightly more interesting book and would have further critiqued the Chosen One trope from the start.


² Consider Luke Skywalker in Empire Strikes Back, who leaves Yoda to go and try and free and save his friends, because it’s the right thing to do. Yoda and Obi-Wan certainly would have had him stay on Dagobah, train and oppose the Emperor later (even if it meant the end for his friends).  But of course Luke IS the chosen one, son of Darth Vader. Here, Raul is a nobody who gets sculpted into that role.  Some comparison to pre- Rise of Skywalker Rey (before we find (to my sorrow) about her “true heritage”)  might be warranted. Or Finn, for that matter.


³ Sadly, that is still too common today, but such books are more frequently found in self-published fantasy and SF catalogues than from mainstream publishers large and small.


⁴ I have noticed a rise in duologies as opposed to trilogies these days. Some of these duologies have felt like trilogies squeezed down; others have been a single book padded out to two-book length. This one does feel genuinely like two halves of a story.

Monday, July 14, 2025

The Sand in Our Lungs: The Desertification of Our Imaginations

Hi, folks! Unfortunately, I've had to pause my weekly Andor posts due to some unexpected life circumstances, but I will finish up my deep dive with a final essay on the last two episodes in the near future. Until then, here's an essay about why two sci-fi films with deserts might not be the best for our cultural imagination. Thanks for reading!

The Sand in Our Lungs: The Desertification of Our Imaginations

 

In 2024, two major science fiction franchises produced blockbuster sequels: Dune Part II, directed by Denis Villeneuve, and Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, directed by George Miller. Both films overlapped in their depictions of the desert landscape, cults of survival, and a desire to return to a “green place.” These respective deserts are not seen as their own habitats, as unique biomes and cultural spaces, but rather as something dangerous that must be made green. This utopic desire combined with the extractive activities in both Villeneuve’s and Miller’s deserts suggests an inability to imagine life beyond extraction in the heat of global warming but only in lush greenness, where even the air is purer. The impact of this cultural imagining can be seen in the recent political landscape, as President Trump released an AI-generated video depicting the West Bank as an “oasis” with palm trees, and when Elon Musk, while heading DOGE, reposted a Mad Max meme with the text: “Ladies, it’s time to start thinking whether the guy you’re dating has post apocalyptic [sic] warlord potential.” In current political imaginings, the desert can either be greened to create some type of utopia or is full of savage warlords hoarding resources.

Rather than focusing on how humanity has adapted and survived these places, Dune Part II and Furiosa depict progress as the desire to return to green. While this view of the desert not only supports the current imperial actions in the Middle East, it also limits the ability to imagine and pursue survival in the heat of global warming. These coincidental releases suggest a turn toward imagining hot, dry futures where the air is poisoned or changing humanity, as in the Spice sands on Arrakis. Rather, we must (re)imagine these desert futures as more than extractive places where the heat and air can kill.

Unlike its predecessor Mad Max: Fury Road, which I’ve argued in my essay “Mad Max and the Wasteland of Commodification” has strong ecofeminist and environmental justice themes, Furiosa reverts to a biblical story of the sinful woman. The first shot of the titular character is her reaching for a lush piece of fruit while another girl whispers they should hurry. Immediately after she picks the fruit, Furiosa sees that men have invaded their sanctuary. While trying to warn the others, she is captured, which prompts her mother to follow them into the desert to rescue her. She fails, and Furiosa is enslaved and raised by Dementus (Chris Hemsworth) before she is eventually traded to Immortan Joe (Lachy Hulme) to be one of his or his son’s child wives as part of a deal for Dementus to run Gas Town, a petrol fortress. Indeed, it is the attempted rape by his son Rictus (Nathan Jones) that allows a young Furiosa to escape and hide among the War Boys, eventually growing up to become a mechanic and then learning to drive the War Rig alongside Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke). They become partners—both romantically and in their desire to escape. Meanwhile, Dementus is scheming to take over Immortan Joe’s fortress, which features fresh produce, green gardens, renewable energy, and—most importantly—unlimited water from underground aquifers. Caught up in his schemes, Praetorian Jack and Furiosa are captured, Jack is horrifically killed, and Furiosa escapes to tell Immortan Joe in hopes of enacting her revenge. After a forty-day war, she tracks Dementus through the wasteland to kill him. The film ends with the History Man (George Shevtsov) suggesting that Furiosa didn’t kill Dementus but rather planted the seed of the fruit she took from the Green Place where she was captured while eating the fruit, and the film ends with Furiosa now played by Charlize Theron handing one of these fruits to the enslaved women that she escapes with in the next film.

In many scenes, Dune Part II mirrors the plot points of Furiosa. Like Furiosa, Paul (Timothée Chalamet) comes from a place utopic for its greenery and, most importantly, water—a sacred element on Arrakis. Furiosa and Paul both seek revenge against grotesque villains known for their cruelty. In Dune Part I, Paul’s family, who have come to rule the desert planet, are murdered by the villainous Harkonnens, and Paul and his mother flee to hide in the desert, where they are taken in by the native population called Fremen. Paul’s mother, Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), is part of a galaxy-wide religious order that has seeded prophecies and propaganda about an outsider who will turn Arrakis green again and lead the Fremen. While Paul is perfectly positioned to fulfill this prophecy, he is hesitant at first, but in order to defeat the Harkonnens and avenge his father, he must use the native practices of the Fremen to not only survive the desert but to control their loyalty. By ruling the Fremen, he regulates what makes Arrakis so important: Spice production. The drug called Spice enables interstellar planetary travel, so it is a necessary and valuable resource required by the empire. Ultimately, Paul takes leadership of the Fremen to oust the Harkonnens from Arrakis by force, which prompts the other ruling families to threaten violence, leading to the Fremen intergalactic war off their home planet.

The desert is the prime visual for both these films, but in Furiosa there is no cinematic beauty in the desert, only fear, while Dune features long shots of the sun catching Spice in the air, the shifting sands, the decorated sietchs where the Fremen live, often overlaid with a stereotypical Middle Eastern soundtrack. While both films depict the desert in different lights, survival and exploitation are still central to the desert, primarily for various types of fuel, whether it’s petrol, food and water, or Spice.

Furiosa is unable to escape her captors because she has no resources to survive the desert, and resources are exclusively stolen, not shared. The apocalypse of the Mad Max franchise is summarized in voiceovers at the beginning of the film, and the first two instances of destabilization listed are the power grid collapsing and that “currency is worthless,” (Miller 00:00:30), once again proving the quote commonly attributed to Fredric Jameson that “it’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.” The voiceovers end with the final sentiment from the History Man: “‘As the world falls around us, how must we brave its cruelties?’” (Miller 00:01:21). The film’s answer to this question is revenge and the utopic desire to return to a green paradise. The cruelties that Furiosa survives depict what Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor call “end times fascism:” “A darkly festive fatalism—a final refuge for those who find it easier to celebrate destruction than imagine living without supremacy” (“The Rise of End Times Fascism”). Indeed, destruction—of both property and the human body—are moments of joy rather than horror, such as when Dementus orders a wasteland gang he’s overcome to fight each other for the honor of riding motorcycles attached to the body of their boss, pulling him apart (Miller 00:27:23). This destruction is linked directly to the desert because there is no alternative lifestyle presented in the sands. The only people living in this desert are destructive—except for our heroine, raised elsewhere, and her eventual romantic interest, who is murdered. Rather, the alternative lifestyle is rooted not in the desert but in an oasis of green where there are still trees bearing fruit, water, and animals.

In the first few minutes of Furiosa, what is called “the green place of many mothers” in Mad Max: Fury Road is depicted. In a rocky canyon, the few shots of daily life show men and women working together at chores while windmills turn in the background. In addition to human life, there is nonhuman life, from birds crying to the horse Furiosa’s mother rides in an attempt to rescue her. Shelters feature solar panels on the roofs, and the people use sustainable technology such as a pedal-powered whetstone and a solar oven (00:04:13). While they are not pacifist—Furiosa’s mother is a crackshot—they represent the opposite of the desert barbarism by incorporating advanced technology along with sustainable living to create an egalitarian community. This progressive community, though, is visually connected to the water and lush flora that surrounds them. Indeed, as Furiosa’s mother ventures deeper into the desert in her rescue attempt, she must take on more and more of the violent trappings of Dementus’s men—first abandoning her horse for one of their motorcycles, then putting on their clothes and helmets of human bone. Thus, the desert and its connection to scarcity—whether real or imagined—is the promoter of this savagery, not something brought to the sands. Indeed, as Imre Szeman points out, “We moderns are creatures of fossil fuels (if to different degrees in different places in the world)” (7). As she progresses into the desert, she becomes more a creature of fossil fuels by taking on the trappings and riding the bike. The focus on automobiles in the Mad Max franchise emphasizes this connection, and control of “guzzolene” is important to who rules the desert. Rather than adapt to the more sustainable and fossil-fuel-free life of the green place with many mothers, the people of the desert hold onto their desire for fossil fuels and the supposed modernity it produces, such as Immortan Joe’s brother, the lord of Gastown, painting a recreation of John William Waterhouse’s Hylas and the Nymphs (1896) while wearing a regimental coat (Miller 00:43:23).

Alternatively, in Dune Part II, the Fremen do present the desert as a unique environmental and cultural space, but their depiction throughout the film still connects to violence and is presented as uncivilized or lacking in empathy. Throughout both films, their martial prowess is partly what makes them unique, but early in Part II after a battle, Paul witnesses Chani (Zendaya) drain the water from a body of a still living Harkonnen, swatting away the Harkonnen’s weak arm (Villeneuve 00:11:19). This moment positions the Fremen as lacking empathy or respect for their enemy, by doing something brutal as they loot the water from the bodies, causing the pregnant Jessica to vomit. While Fremen violence begins and ends the film, there is worldbuilding around their culture and relationship with the desert. This connection is depicted visually through their eyes, which become a vibrant blue due to them breathing in and eating Spice. Additionally, the reason for collecting water from the dead is not only due to scarcity, but in the case of dead Fremen, their water is poured into an underground tank where it is being saved to turn the planet green. As Stilgar (Javier Bardem) explains to Jessica: “‘When we have enough water, the Lisan al-Gaib will change the face of Arrakis. He will bring back the trees. He will bring back a Green Paradise’” (Villeneuve 00:20:24). Even though they’ve adapted to live with the desert, have a culture intertwined with the desert, and have the ability to create advanced technology out of the desert (such as their stillsuits, which retain water), their religious purpose is to change the planet to a green paradise that they have no frame of reference for.

While Paul respects the Fremen and their understanding of the desert, they are still positioned as religious zealots willing to die for the Lisan al-Gaib in a war necessitated because the natural resource of their planet—Spice—is required for galactic travel. Indeed, the movie is framed around Spice, and its metaphoric connection to oil is emphasized visually. In a restructuring of the opening credits, sounds that do not necessarily mimic language seem to speak, with the words appearing on black screen: “Power over Spice is power over all” (Villeneuve 00:00:05). The production credits follow, creating an interruption of the story started with the truism on Spice. While Spice production happening on a desert planet being controlled by colonizers already prompts viewers to think of oil production, the connection is solidified by the main villain, Baron Harkonnen. He soaks in a black pool of liquid that clings to his white skin, the oily surface swirling (Villeneuve 00:49:02). While the Fremen offer an alternative few of the desert, the central conflict still revolves around the Harkonnens keeping the Spice flowing, thus limiting this imagining of the desert to an extractive space.

While Furiosa and Dune Part II come from very different franchises, the narrative of the protagonist’s revenge, violence, and extraction creates a unified view of “desert” as a space where scarcity leads to savagery. Another way this savagery can be read is a response to the question posted by Wilson, Szeman, and Carlson: “Energy transition will therefore involve not only a change in the kinds of energy we use, but also a transition in the values and practices that have been shaped around our use of the vast amounts of energy provided by fossil fuels” (4). Without these practices of modernity, these films suggest the only option when fossil fuels become limited is not adaptation or transition but violence, even though much of the Global South already does not operate with the same amount of energy usage as the Global North. While there are certainly other films that do not present the desert or its people in this framework, the release of two such blockbuster narratives in 2024 suggests the desertification of imagination in the U.S. and a need for alternative narratives, particularly for the masses. As Paul says of the Fremen to his mother: “It’s not a prophecy. It’s a story you keep telling. But it’s not their story; it’s yours” (Villeneuve 01:02:21). The Fremen are certainly more nuanced than the people of Furiosa, but because their values are created and manipulated by Paul and the religious order his mother Jessica belongs to, the Fremen’s agency is degraded. Their culture of wishing for a green utopia is entirely manufactured to make them more pliable in relation to collecting Spice. Additionally, the supposedly uninhabited and unlivable southern part of the planet being filled with a large population of “fundamentalists” who are mostly nameless and faceless, depicted as a mass, dehumanizes the Fremen. They become a tool for violence, another thing to be extracted from the desert in Paul’s galactic conquest.

As this violent and resource-drive depiction of the desert unites the movies, so, too, does the desire for a green utopia. The desert is not seen as a viable location, even though in Dune the Fremen have adapted to the desert. In Furiosa, the desert is not adapted to but rather something to be endured by scavenging and killing others in order to, someday, find what one of Dementus’s men calls a “place of abundance” (Miller 00:12:30). Both these narratives focus on a return to a green utopia, which suggests an imaginative reaction to global warming. As the climate changes and global warming causes places to become hotter and drier, this yearning for a green utopia will harm humanity’s ability to adapt. As the After Oil Collective writes in Solarities (2022): “Stories and myths are tools of immense possibility that provide powerful means of creating different worlds and making new futures, and of seeing the present in new ways” (61). While the releases of Furiosa and Dune Part II are coincidental, these narratives suggest we are struggling with “seeing the present in new ways” and instead relying on imperial, oil-driven narratives of scarcity, violence, and extraction in the desert. These narratives also reinforce the problematic idea that lush, green spaces are the only viable vision in the midst of climate change rather than presenting a diversity of flourishing landscapes and beings.

As the impacts of climate change continue to cause more desertification, our popular storytelling must adapt rather than react. Depicting deserts as spaces of scarcity and violence only serves extractive and imperial industries. Rather, we can use storytelling practices to imagine flourishing communities in the desert not beset by extraction. There is more to the desert than supposedly empty sands and oil; it is not a place that must be transformed in order to reach a more utopic state—and storytelling can develop our imagination in these directions as more of the planet experiences extreme heat and drought. At this time, we need our imaginations expanded, not limited by these imperial narratives.

Works cited

After Oil Collective et al., editors. Solarities: Seeking Energy Justice [U of Minnesota Press, 2022].

Dune Part II. Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Warner Brothers, 2024.

Klein, Naomi and Astra Taylor. “The Rise of End Times Fascism.” The Guardian, 13 April, 2025.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga. Directed by George Miller, Village Roadshow Pictures, 2024.

Szeman, Imre. On Petrocultures: Globalization, Culture, and Energy [West Virginia U Press, 2019].

Wilson, Sheena et al., editors. Petrocultures: Oil, Politics, Culture [McGill-Queen’s U Press, 2017].

POSTED BY: Phoebe Wagner (she/they) is an author, editor, and academic writing and living at the intersection of speculative fiction and environmentalism.

Friday, July 11, 2025

Book Review: Blood of the Bull by Jo Graham

The third novel in the series takes Giulia and Rodrigo through a very rough patch in their relationship. Oh, and there’s a French Invasion too.


Jo Graham’s Memoirs of the Borgia Sybil series continues in this third book in the series. For those to catch up, Giulia Farnese, in this world next door, is not just the mistress of Rodrigo Borgia (aka Pope Alexander VI, the “Borgia Pope”), she has a connection to the spirit world that is exploited and used in book 1, A Blackened Mirror, and also in book 2, The Borgia Dove, where she is our viewpoint character to the infamous Papal Election of 1492. Now, not long has passed, it's near 1494 in fact, and Renaissance Italy is in turmoil. Not just because the French are invading, but the relationship between Giulia and Rodrigo has turned sour. Giulia finds out that the Bull (the symbol of the Borgias) is a literal metaphor, and the betrayal of what she thought was an exclusive relationship sets the pair at odds. Combine that with the French invasion, and you have the throughline for the story.

And therein, The Blood of the Bull, tells its tale. I am going to come to this story through a historical lens. This novel, like the second, is somewhat less focused on the supernatural elements of Giulia and her life and much more interested in the interpersonal dynamics of the pair. It takes a while for any real supernatural elements to come out of the woodwork. In the main, most of this novel, even more than the first two, is a richly done historical fiction novel. If the first novel was a coming of age story, and the second something of a mystery novel, this is more of a social conflict novel between Giulia and Rodrigo, with the French army as a leavening agent.


So, once again, we get Graham’s view of the Renaissance and its history. It is a considerably brighter view than some¹.As such, until Giulia leaves Rome after tempers flare between her and Rodrigo, we get the see the rich life of being the Pope’s mistress and how both Giulia and Rodrigo have to navigate it (we are, like the first two novels, always in Giulia’s point of view in the book). In our historical records, Giulia Farnese was one of the most powerful women in Rome with her relationship to the Pope, but not just for that. Graham makes it clear such a powerful woman has allies, clients, networks and in the course of a dangerous French invasion, Giulia needs all of them and they need here, and we get very much a social web. In a real way, Giulia is not just a partner to Rodrigo but an heir, a student, a pupil of him as well. And possibly the father of her child. The historical record is uncertain, but baby Laura, in the world of the novels is most definitely Rodrigo’s daughter. 


Having Giulia leave Rome when she discovers Rodrigo’s infidelity is an invention, as far as is well known in the historical records, she does not go off with Lucrezia and her new husband. This does give us a look at Italy outside of Rome for a while, especially with that looming threat of the French becoming a very real and potent danger as they move south. The threat of a seemingly unstoppable force, coming to erase all that she has come to treasure, is a real emotional button in the book that Graham presses well. 


Eventually the narrative joins the timeline we know again as Giulia goes to the estate of Capodimonte because her brother is dying. This happened in our timeline, but this story has Giulia go from Lucrezia’s estate to there, rather than from Rome, as what we know happened in history. We see Giulia at her most vulnerable and isolated here, feeling duty to her dying brother, and the strain of being apart from Rodrigo, and of course, the bloody French. The book keeps us in line with historical events when Giulia, heading back to Rome at last, is captured by a French officer, Yves d’Allegre, who ransoms her back to the Pope. Since we are only in Giulia’s point of view, we do not see the mysterious machinations directly that allowed Rome, and Pope Alexander VI’s papacy, not to be toppled by King Charles and his army. Graham does add a helping of her supernatural elements here to explain the motives and actions of some of the participants in this drama, and gives Giulia agency to oppose them.


The novel ends there, more or less, with Rome and the Papacy safe, Giulia and Rodrigo reunited, but the French are poised to rain down on Naples next. Interesting times are indeed what is in store for the next adventures of the Borgia Sybil. As always Graham is interested in the historical events and the allo-supernatural elements that help cause them to happen as they really did. Does this make her novels a magical secret history? Maybe! There is a little what-if speculation toward the end as Rodrigo’s fate is uncertain, and both Giulia and Rodrigo (but especially the magically talented Giulia) wonders if Rodrigo might have to be a sacrifice, a martyr, in the end. This ties nicely into the title Blood of the Bull


So who is this book for? Should you read this? Readers of the first two books is a rather flip answer, and that has the advantage of being true. I suppose you could start the series here, if you were really interested in this period of Italian history or wanted to get in on this series and did not want to read books one and two. But really this is a big narrative and a series that together forms a tapestry of a life (the choice of title Memoirs of the Borgia Sybil is a telling one).


But who is this series for, then? In general, if you want historical fiction with some supernatural elements that don’t change the history, and a strong sense and grounding in its point of view with a strong female protagonist (and other women as well). If you aren’t absolutely and resolutely anti-Borgia (and to be clear there is a case to have that point of view), then yes, this series may be your cup of tea. Graham is a hell of a writer and she is writing what she loves passionately about. It comes through with the intimacy she describes art in the papal apartments, the depth of feeling in her letters as she struggles with Rodrigos’ infidelity, with the blood and terror of the French invasion³. It’s here, should you want it.


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Highlights:
  • Strong historical fictional grounding
  • Excellent use of female characters
  • Amazing immersive look at Renaissance Italy
  • Yet another spectacular cover for the series
Reference: Graham, Jo The Blood of the Bull, [Candlemark and Gleam 2025]

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I’m just this guy, you know? @princejvstin

¹ This is going to be a footnote of some length but it is a diversion from talking about the main subject of the novel itself and is not essential to that part of the book review, but it is an essential bit nevertheless. So this is more of a Pratchettian footnote than, say, a Vancean one. Graham’s view of the Renaissance, and perhaps the Borgias in particular, is far more positive and bright than, say, the recent Inventing the Renaissance by Ada Palmer, and reading this book after reading Palmer’s book was an interesting experience. I also in recent history have read Will and Ariel Durant’s Story of Civilization volume on these times. So I have gotten several runs through of the events of these times and perspectives of these times. Palmer’s thesis is the clearest because she says it on the tin “The Myth of a Golden Age”. She makes it clear time and again that in research and perspective, which is formidable, that the Renaissance was no golden age at all and in fact was not the greatest time and place to live in. From invasions to plagues to the vicissitudes of life in 15th century Italy, it was no golden age at all--even if its remnants and products make it seem so.


The whole project of the Renaissance, too and its history and it’s historification as a golden age is a matter of manipulating history. The Durants take a middle course, since they never go to primary sources. They are a product of their time and place, reading texts written mostly contemporary with themselves, so they have a more positive view of the events, and see the end of the Renaissance and the decline of Italy after the French Invasion and subsequent wars (spoiler, the French Invasion is just the beginning) as a tragedy that extinguished a turbulent but fecund period. Graham’s view is far far more positive, and takes lots of pains to show the light, the art, the vision that the humanist faction under Rodrigo (and to be fair, Giulia) want to bring. She sees those forces as fighting as war of light against dark (which melds into her grand supernatural conflict). 


So who is right? All of them! None of them! (as Palmer points out, history is an ever refining project, and our own views are going to be looked at with shaken heads a century or two from now). 


² In a conversation between myself and Graham, she compared Giulia and Rodrigo to Mystique and Magneto. And I definitely can see it, Mystique learning a lot at Magneto’s knee in the way of mutant and worldwide power politics, learning intrigue and manipulation and social graces and skills but applying them ultimately in her own way. And of course having a sometimes thorny relationship with her mentor as a lover. We didn’t see much in the way of the thorns in book 2, Graham reserved them for book 3. 


³ Maybe someone like H. Beam Piper or Poul Anderson never lived long enough, but surely, one could do a space opera version of the papal election of 1492 and the subsequent French invasion and make it a high SF drama. Such rich and interesting characters, times, and conflicts. It would be hellacious to research (reading these books and the aforementioned works by Palmer and the Durants might get you some of the way there) . Doing it as a fantasy novel could also work but I kind of like a space opera treatment better. 

Thursday, July 10, 2025

Film Review: KPop Demon Hunters

A fresh take on familiar themes, played out with bright animation and appealing characters


Netflix’s latest animated adventure, KPop Demon Hunters is a useful option if you’re ready to take a break from the weight of the world and enjoy bit of light adventure. On the eve of their greatest triumph, a trio of female K-Pop rockstars who moonlight as demon hunters find themselves thwarted by the arrival of a competing group of performers secretly bent on demon-serving, soul-sucking destruction. The story manages to be both comfortably familiar and freshly amusing, both laugh out loud funny and substantially tragic, and is filled with catchy tunes that will stay in your head long after the credits roll. Although aimed at a younger generation, older viewers will recognize the film’s familiar call back to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jem and the Holograms, and other secret hero stories.

Musically talented orphan Rumi and her two besties, tough and cynical Mira and energetic rapper Zoey, are part of a super popular K-Pop trio named Huntrix. Beyond their musical success and millions of adoring fans, they also have a secret side job killing demons (hence the band’s name). All three young women are trained, fearless demon hunters, complete with magical blades and supernatural acrobatic skills. They are working towards achieving a final victory over the demon world via an event called the Honmoon (never clearly explained). However, just as victory seems close, an unexpected new enemy arrives to thwart their plans. They soon find themselves faced with an alluring boy band, the Saja Boys, secretly made up of super gorgeous demons. Their new competition is led by the seductive but internally tortured Jinu. Following a theme explored in the film Sinners, we learn that throughout time, variations of musically inclined hunters have used their special musical gifts to transcend the natural realm and fight demons. Huntrix gets much of their strength from the energy of those who cheer them on. The arrival of the Saja Boys creates competition for both Huntrix’s fans and Huntrix’s physical strength, even as the new arrivals secretly wreak havoc on the people of the city by stealing their souls. This may sound a little intense but the film is played out in bright neon colors and shiny computer animation. At times, the soul stealing is so subtle that it takes a moment to realize what is happening. But what makes the story particularly entertaining is the fact that Rumi, Mira, and Zoey immediately realize the Saja Boys are demons and the Saja Boys know the Huntrix singers are demon hunters. As a result, much of the film involves hidden hijinks and sarcasm as the two enemies publicly interact at press conferences, concerts, and televised events. And of course, there is a lot of music and a reminder of how influenced K-Pop is by American hip hop. The songs are high energy and bubbling with dual meanings, and all of this is wrapped up with ridiculously intense K-Pop choreography displayed in dramatic, big screen worthy animation.

In addition to the external battles, the film deals with internal elements of self-identity, self-hatred, guilt, and shame. It also reflects themes from contemporary popular fiction, including enemies to lovers and morally gray love interests, as Rumi and Jinu find themselves thrown together. The vibe of fierce but hidden female fighters is reminiscent of the vibe in Justina Ireland’s novel Dread Nation. The importance of music as a spiritual element in fighting and provoking evil is an interesting call back to Sinners. However, unlike those stories, the Netflix film is gore-free, safe for tweens, but still entertaining enough for adults who want something lighter and more amusing.

A key element of the film is the visual choices. The demon king is never really seen but appears as an amorphous pink cloud. The Saja Boys are each designed with extreme K-Pop beauty that creates a hilarious contrast to their true nature. Jinu communicates with Rumi via a show-stealing, enormous, teal blue, striped cat who travels with a bird who wears a top hat on its head. The big cat is the most understatedly fun and funny thing in the visuals and it roams throughout the plot unbothered by being both gorgeous and outrageous.

Despite the interesting set up and the seductive dynamic between Rumi and Jinu, the ultimate messaging of the film stops short of attempting a deep dive into, or a meaningful resolution of, the demon world. The demons are portrayed primarily as comically grotesque, generally evil, and mostly two dimensional. That approach is not uncommon in many demon hunter stories (such as Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer) but, in this film, two of the main characters have a significant connection to the demon world. So, it feels like a missed opportunity not to delve deeper into the identity and motivations of that world, especially since it defines and affects the two lead characters. Additionally, unlike Jinu, Rumi’s backstory remains mostly a mystery. We never hear the story of her parents or their demise although it’s a critical element in who she is. But this is a ninety-nine minute animated PG film and the focus is on the primary plot: achieving the Honmoon and defeating the demon world despite the efforts of the tortured yet seductive anti-hero. Does that happen? Surprisingly, you’ll have to watch and see, because KPop Demon Hunters has enough built in twists to keep viewers guessing.

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Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Highlights:

  • Fun, likeable, characters
  • Familiar explorations of classic themes
  • Catchy music and animation, safe for the whole family

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction-writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.