Showing posts with label Netflix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Netflix. Show all posts

Monday, 16 January 2017

Fortunately, A Series Of Unfortunate Events Is Anything But Unfortunate

The following contains some spoilers, a word which here means the revealing and discussing of certain plot points that could impact your viewing experience, for the A Series of Unfortunate Events Netflix series. It also contains some general overview spoilers for the book series the show is based on (which will be marked again when we get there).

If, like me, you were a kid who was incredibly sarcastic, an avid reader, and/or in love with the English language, you probably were a fan of A Series of Unfortunate Events, the 13-book series written by Daniel Handler under the pen name of Lemony Snicket. The books were aimed at kids, but the incredibly dry tone, dark and complex subject matter, sly wordplay and obscure references made for a unique literary experience that people of any age could enjoy. The tone and style of the books however makes adapting the series and all of it's nuances into non-literary forms quite the challenge, as the 2004 movie version starring Jim Carrey clearly shows. The movie was fine, but without the involvement of Handler (Who wrote the original script but was let go partway through the production.) it didn't come close to capturing what made the books so wonderful, especially since it was condensing multiple books into a 90-minute film.

Thankfully though, Netflix has turned out to be the perfect venue to bring the plight of the Baudelaire Orphans from page to screen, and Handler was very involved (Writing 5 of the 8 episodes) in helping Mark Hudis and Barry Sonnenfield (The original director of the movie version who was also fired during production) develop the show. The result is a show that feels just as whimsical and inventive as the books it was based on while expertly handling the dark text and heavy themes of the books in a way that feels very timely. It's also an adaption of the books that feels free to add, change, and expand on the source material, not settling for being a good adaption but striving to be a new and enhanced version of the story. It succeeds at that too for the most part. So let's break down the things that were fortunate and unfortunate (but mostly fortunate) about A Series of Unfortunate Events.

Fortunate: The Show Is Expertly Cast: A Series Of Unfortunate Events requires a collection of talented actors to bring justice to the larger-than-life characters and to make the breathtaking prose most of them spout sound believable and the show succeeds on both those counts. As the unlucky orphans at the center of the story, Malina Weissman's Violet and Louis Hyne's Klaus are likeable, sympathetic presences who believably come off as ordinary children with big vocabularies caught up in this sudden madness. They're a bit stilted in the early episodes but they grow more comfortable with the material as the season progresses and are more than capable of holding their own at the end. Presley Smith's Sunny is as good a baby actor as you could want and often steals the show with a well-timed look. K. Todd Freeman takes the ever bumbling, clueless Mr. Poe and makes him into a figure who you just can't hate, even though he's constantly screwing up when it comes to protecting the children in his charge. Joan Cusack, Aasif Mandvi, Alfre Woodard, Rhys Darby and more all shine as the various guardians and adults that the children meet along their journey, each putting their own spin on the material.

The standout performances though belong to Patrick Warburton and Neil Patrick Harris. As Lemony Snicket, Warburton is our reluctant guide through the story of the Baudelaire's, popping in and out throughout the show to explain things, lead us on tangents or just advise us to stop watching. Warburton's perfect for the role, keeping his naturally gruff voice but replacing it's normal joyful boisterousness with a world-weary sorrow. His Snicket is a broken man, burdened by the weight of the story he tells and the loss he's suffered and his presence adds to the atmosphere of the story immensely. Meanwhile Harris shines as Count Olaf in what is probably the most difficult role to play in the show. The tricky thing about Olaf is that he has to be a credible threat and a monster with zero redeeming qualities, but he also has to be vain, oafish and kind of goofy. It's a tricky line to walk (Jim Carrey's version was always a little too wacky for my tastes) and Harris nails it with aplomb. His Olaf is both awful and campy, scoring many of the show's best laughs with his disdainful delivery, even as you never question how frightening it'd be to have this man after you.

Fortunate: The World of the Show Is Realized Beautifully: The world A Series of Unfortunate Events takes place in can best be described as "Vaguely the mid-20th Century as imagined by Wes Anderson channeling his inner Tim Burton". It's a world of typewriters and trolleys, antique cars and landlines, secret codes and widely read newspapers. An occasional contemporary reference will sneak in every so often but there are no cellphones or computers in sight. It's a nostalgic, timeless fairy tale vision of a past long forgotten and the show brings it to life beautifully, making the world come alive even with a fairly gloomy, muted colour palette that follows the Baudelaire's everywhere they go. The locales that populate this world are just as inventive and Sonnenfield's influence is definitely felt. From Count Olaf's horrible abode that oozes filth and disrepair in every nook to Aunt Josephine's home perched halfway over a cliff to Mr. Poe's metallic banker's office to the many libraries the Baudelaire's encounter on their journey to the various secret passageways utilized by Lemony Snicket, everywhere we visit feels lived in and real. I can't remember the last time I kept stopping a show to take in the world around it.

Fortunate: The Show Nails Down The Tone And Feel Of The Books Perfectly: The tone of A Series of Unfortunate Events is incredibly cynical but darkly whimsical. The heavy themes and stories of innocent children in constant danger and peril would be hard to take if they were played totally straight but the books keep it's tongue firmly in cheek with a constant stream of sly dark humor, clever turns of phrase, ridiculous situations, and constant reminders that this is all terrible and we shouldn't be reading to keep things feeling fun, even with all the murder and cruelty. Translating that to screen is tricky because there's an extra layer of remove from the action in a book that you lose once you bring that action to life on screen making terrible things harder to swallow, but somehow the show manages to pull it off. From the always changing opening theme song warning you to look away (Doing the kind of content advisory the back of the books used to do) to the constant presence of Lemony Snicket gravely defining words and changing outfits to blend into his surrounding better to the love of language present in every scene (Something brought over from the books) and all the brilliant turns of phrases (There's just something so joyful about phrases like "official fire department" and "vigorously fixed destination"), the show manages to soften the horrible events with pure whimsy. And on the few times where the show drops the whimsy and dwells on the horribleness of an unexpected act of violence or the loss of another home, those moments hit all the harder.

Fortunate: The Show's Not Afraid To Stray From The Books: As most readers of the books will tell you, the early installments of ASOUE (The ones this season adapt) tend to be simpler and more repetitive than later installments. That's because the series wasn't approved for 13 installments until a few books in so the larger narrative arc of the books doesn't really start until book five (The Austere Academy). Now though, it's been a decade since the series wrapped up and the show is free to adapt the books in a way that better connects them to the overall narrative. This makes a season that could've been a bit of a snooze more purpose and gives both people who read the books and people who didn't a more cohesive viewing experience. It also allows for the show to do things that will delight and surprise book readers. From minor stuff like changing the context of things like the "Zombies in the Snow" film and The Anxious Clown to big stuff like a massive reworking of a lot of The Miserable Mill and an ongoing subplot involving mysterious characters played by Will Arnett and Cobie Smulders that had me scratching my head most of the season (We'll get to that in a couple sections), the show feels like a fresh version of a beloved story. The series also feels free to more often leave the perspective of the Baudelaire Orphans to show you some of the behind the scenes machinations and while this doesn't always work (The second episode devotes 5 minutes to a flashback that adds almost no new information and could've been done in half the time and the fourth has a chase scene that seems only there to give an Easter egg for book readers), when it does, it gives you the sense the Baudelaire's are players in something much bigger than they can imagine, adding a layer of resonance to their plight.

Unfortunate: The Show Can't Avoid The Repetitiveness of The Early Books: As much as the show deviates or plays with the structure of the first four books, for the most part it's hard for the show to break completely free of it's patterns (The exception being The Miserable Mill episodes which add in enough different elements to shake things up a bit). For the most part, even without reading the books you'll be able to guess when Count Olaf will show up, when he'll try to pull off his plan, when Lemony is going to walk in with an interjection of some kind, even when the Arnett/Smulders scenes or spy intrigue will pop up. The predictability isn't a major flaw or anything. It's baked into the structure of the books (even the later ones follow variations on the same basic plot) and into the structure of scripted television in general. It does put a bit of a damper on the plot momentum though.

Fortunate Yet Also Maybe Unfortunate: The Show Foregrounds The Mystery Early On But About That Mystery...: (This section contains vague general spoilers about where the mystery goes in the books, along with show spoilers so read at your own risk) As I mentioned above, the full narrative arc of the books isn't introduced until book five and the mystery doesn't kick into high gear until a couple books after that. Eventually the events of the earlier books are grandfathered in to be connected to the mystery. The show makes the choice to start laying down the groundwork for the mystery almost immediately, through the introduction of the mysterious spyglass (The spyglass motif is the one thing the show borrows from the movie version) and the introduction of Sara Canning's Jacqueline (Who might be a genderswapped version of Jacques, a key character in the books) and Luke Camilleri's Gustav (Who is never seen in the books). The show also works in a subplot about Mother (Cobie Smulders) and Father (Will Arnett), two characters heavily implied by context and editing to be the Baudelaire's parents as a mystery for the viewers (particularly book readers) to try to solve on their own. For the most part, the show utilizes the mystery well, using it to motivate the Baudelaire's throughout the series and give them more agency than they had in the early books where they passively went from one event to the next, but not making the mystery so prominent that it becomes more important than the Baudelaire's journey. It also throws plenty of bones to book readers who know where this is going by including some fun Easter eggs. Count Olaf offhandedly mentioning a missing sugar bowl? Excellent. The scene where Gustav is hit by a poison dart, says "The world is quiet here" and slips away into a reflecting pond? A treasure trove of book references. They're also nice because they don't lock out non-book readers at all, but rather give them something to discover once they have the full picture though.

The issue with putting more emphasis on the mystery though is that a major theme of A Series Of Unfortunate Events is that mysteries are kind of pointless and answers only lead to more questions that might never get solved. You get some answers over the course of the series and the Baudelaire's get more answers that we simply aren't privy to but a lot of things are left blatantly unsolved. That's part of the fun of the books, but it's also a point of contention for many fans who became invested in the mystery (It's like the kid's literature version of Lost). So fleshing out and developing the mystery is potentially going to be frustrating for many people down the road who are waiting for the answers the Baudelaire's are constantly promised. A lot of things are intentionally Red Herrings as well. The story of Mother and Father who turn out to be not the Baudelaire's parents but the parents of the Quagmire children is basically a take on a subplot from the later books involving the Snicket File, a document suggesting there was a survivor of the fire. As a fan of the book and how it subverts expectations, I was thrilled with how this subplot played out and how it sets up the formal introduction of the Quagmires for next season. However I know there are probably plenty of people who were frustrated with that development because of how the show basically goes out of it's way to trick you. So while the mystery can be a lot of fun, the show needs to be careful with how much they emphasize it as the seasons go on or at least how they manage viewer expectations. It's fine for now but it could make or break the show down the road.

Unfortunate Yet Also Fortunate: The Show Feels Suddenly Timely And Just Might Be What We Need Right Now: At it's core, beneath the layers of irony and the wordplay and the many references, A Series Of Unfortunate Events is about how to respond to evil and how to find a way to keep going in the face of unspeakable tragedy and unrelenting horror. It seems every person the Baudelaire's come across have a different way of dealing with the injustices of the world and none of them are perfect. Mr. Poe seems content to ignore or underplay the dangers and horror around him until it reveals itself right in front of him. His wife sensationalizes and monetizes it daily in her newspaper, not really caring about it. Uncle Monty stands on guard but fails to recognize who his enemy actually is until it's too late. Aunt Josephine hides in terror from anything that could hurt her, refusing to truly live. Charles quietly protests but always complies with his partner's tyranny. Phil is the ultimate optimist and refuses to waver from his sunny worldview. Jacquelyn, Gustav and their associates fight the good fight, but their methods are overly complicated, overly secretive and often ineffectual in preventing things from getting worse. Even our narrator struggles with responding to injustice. Lemony Snicket dutifully chronicles the story of the Baudelaire's, consuming the tragedy until it overwhelms him but unable to let go of the past.

This all resonates more strongly in January 2017 than it would have in most other years. 2016 was an unrelenting series of gut punches that are just now sinking in and taking effect. Death felt more rampant, basic social norms and human decency were overturned, fear won out over hope and unity at almost every turn and the institutions and people who were supposed to stop things from getting worse failed on every level. Many people seemed incapable or unwilling of noticing the looming danger around the corner. Plenty of clever and knowledgeable people made plenty of clever and knowledgeable arguments that failed to change minds or stop things from taking hold. Now there's a lot of uncertainty about what's going to happen and every day it feels like there's some new horror to react to or deal with. We like to think that everything will ultimately work out more or less and things will start to get better. A Series of Unfortunate Events argues that "that's not how the story goes". Evil can be thwarted and outran for a time but it'll always find it's way back and there might actually not be a way to stop it.

That doesn't mean you stop trying though. Buried deep within the incredibly bleak and cynical worldview that surrounds the story of Baudelaire orphans is something resembling hope, or at the very least, resilience. The Baudelaire's have lost everything and find themselves in a world that's cruel and dangerous, surrounded by secrets they have no idea how to unravel. Their talents and penchant for problem solving thwart the schemes of Count Olaf but he always gets away to scheme another day. Adults frequently condescend to them because they're children and any adult they try to put their trust in either disappears, gets killed or is ineffectual in helping them. As they move from one unfortunate event to the next trying to figure out what happened to them, they become increasingly disillusioned until they decide they can only count on each other. Despite all the adversity though and Snicket's insistence that this is a story of nothing but misery and woe, they aren't overcome by all that's happened to them. They survive and they go on and they don't stop fighting even when they want to. By relying on each other, they find strength in each other and that's ultimately enough to get them through to the next fight. It's not much but it's better than nothing and watching them face the evil of the world together can get downright inspiring. The sinister forces of the world may amass against them time and time again but through all the horror and the tragedy, they can't stamp out the children's light or their innate goodness and if the Baudelaire's can get through everything that comes their way so can we as long as we keep at it. There's not a perfect way to deal with tragedy and there's not a perfect way to deal with injustice, but there is a way forward and as long as we don't give up even when it seems hopeless and we keep pushing and searching for that way forward, we just might be able to find a brief respite from the storm. Even if it's just for a moment.

A Series Of Unfortunate Events is now streaming on Netflix. Definitely watch it!

Sunday, 1 January 2017

Import Gems: Borderline is The Office Meets Border Security

One of the cool things about Netflix is that it has quite the collection of terrific foreign shows that you've never heard of just waiting to be discovered. Import Gems is a new feature where I'll be highlighting some of these shows, all of which are available on Netflix (Or at least Netflix Canada) for your viewing pleasure. For the first installment, we'll be looking at Borderline, a British retroscripted mockumentary created by Chris Gau and Michael Orten-Toliver

When I fired up the first episode of Borderline on a whim the other night, I groaned a little when I realized it was a mockumentary show. Now I don't mind the mockumentary format- where everything is filmed "fly on the wall" documentary style with camera confessionals for the characters to express their thoughts- but it's pretty well-trodden territory at this point and it's hard to do something new with it. Add in that Borderline was a workplace comedy about people making the best at a mundane job (Here, airport border security at the fictitious Northend Regional Airport) with a boss no one respects and by midway through the first episode, I was ready to write the show off as a clone of "The Office", though I did think it was a fairly clever and funny clone. I kept watching though and quickly realized I wasn't giving Borderline enough credit. The elements (The format, the mundane job, the awkward boss, the wacky co-workers, the charming "normal" leads with the slow-burning flirtation, the slice-of-life plots) were nothing new but they kept developing and playing out in ways that I didn't expect, finding new life, nuance, and humour in old standbys. By the end of the second episode I was hooked, and when the 6-episode season ended I no longer thought of Borderline as just an Office clone. It was a lot more than that.

A lot of the charm of Borderline comes from how it's scripted. The show uses a technique called retroscripting, which is a form of improv where actors are given scene descriptions and make up their own dialogue as they move the story along. That gives the dialogue and most of the jokes a loose, natural feel that makes it seem like a genuine border security reality show, albeit a ridiculous one. It also allows the punchlines to genuinely sneak up on you. I was surprised by how often I was caught off-guard by a joke, even in scenes where I knew a joke was coming. The real impressive thing about the retroscripted approach though is that you would never know how much of it was improvised if you didn't look that up. Where a lesser comedy can be driven off the rails without a real script to serve as a backbone, Borderline feels controlled and focused throughout. Occasionally a joke won't mesh with the established narrative but the lines are so funny it's barely even noticeable.

Another benefit of the retroscripting approach is that without a full script to rely on, the actors have to look inward to create distinct characters full of depth and surprises. Chief Inspector Proctor (Jackie Clune) and Agents Tariq Mansoor (David Avery), Andy Church (Liz Kingsman), Clive Hassler (David Elms), and Grant Brodie (Jamie Michie) could feel like stock character types but they seem like real people with feelings and inner lives. Proctor is a boss that makes her employees feel uncomfortable and brings her personal problems to work, but Clune also gives her a lot of frustration and resentment about her life that deepens the character. Tariq and Andy are the Jim Halperts of the show, putting up with the insanity around them but Tariq is also an aspiring DJ who is constantly shocked by how much he doesn't hate his borderline job and Andy puts up with and partakes in the silliness but she's also an adult woman who knows exactly what she does and doesn't want, which pays off dividends throughout the season. Grant is introduced as the bigot of the team (He's unaware of what profiling is until he's informed he does it every day) but is shown trying to be aware of his prejudice and shows himself to be the heart of the group by the end of the season, and nervous, awkward Clive steals every scene he's in with his desperation to be part of the group. The improvised dialogue helps build a natural chemistry and sense of camaraderie within the ensemble that really resonates as the season goes on.

The strong character work and the loose feel of Borderline also work well with the storytelling of Borderline, which gets a lot of mileage out of it's podunk airport setting. From the first episode, which details the team getting a directive from head office to keep an eye for anything "Out Of the Ordinary" which seems an awful lot like racial profiling, the show isn't afraid to dive into every aspect of border security with sharp wit and a bit of insight. The show quickly establishes Northend as one of the smallest, least busy airports in the U.K., which helps keeps the stakes low, justifies a lot of the goofing off we see, and adds a sudden dramatic heft to a late-season episode where the airport gets it's first ever asylum seeker. Even when the plots are broad and sitcommy, like an episode where no one remembers Clive's birthday, Borderline is able to put a nice twist on it (Clive's birthday is partially forgotten because a beloved airport employee Tariq and Andy have no memory of has died, which gives the episode two stock plots that intertwine and pay off in interesting ways). The episodes all standalone but there is a nice subtle bit of serialization throughout the season which pays off nicely in the last couple episodes. Even the inevitable Will They/Won't They between Tariq and Andy is nicely handled. Their bond is played as less of an epic love story and more of a slowly growing flirtation that culminates in a way I wasn't expecting and was very pleased by.

Ultimately though the real secret weapon of Borderline is the very thing that made me apprehensive when I first started watching it: the mockumentary format, specifically the use of narration. Each episode of Borderline is held together by ongoing narration by Ralf Little setting up what we're about to watch or summarising the scene, adding authenticity to the faux-reality show we're watching. Initially I wasn't paying much attention to the narration, figuring it was superfluous until I began to realise there was often a significant disconnect between what was actually happening on screen and how the narration was contextualising it. The characters might be acting ridiculous but the narration frames their actions as totally normal and sometimes even commendable with little judgement on how they're acting (Which makes the times when it does judge comic highlights). In the second episode for example Grant detains an attractive woman for a bit so he can get to know her personally while the narration keeps praising him for how dedicated he is and what a thorough job he's doing with his interview (It does note when he gets her phone number at the end that. It's the classic mockumentary trope of a character's words being contradicted by their actions taken to new heights. Even when the narration is accurately describing the situation, it's done in a way that only heightens the absurdity, like when Mark Addy is detained for being what the narration calls "suspected of being on Game of Thrones". It's an ingenious way of ringing every possible drop of comedy from the scene and it breathes new life into the mockumentary format.

So yeah, on the surface Borderline is the kind of show you've seen many times before and there's nothing terribly new or innovative about it. If you stick with it though and pay attention to the remarkable acting and storytelling on display, you'll find yourself constantly delighted and surprised time and time again by how it makes use of it's familiar parts. Its simpleness is really a deception and it's a lot deeper and funnier than you might expect. It's a show that can be finished in a couple of hours but those couple of hours will stick with you long after you finish watching. It probably won't ever reach the popularity of The Office (both British and American) versions but if it did, it'd certainly be deserving of it.