October Streaming Round-Up

It’s finally October!  If it weren’t 84 degrees outside, you could be pulling out your fuzzy sweaters, your pumpkins, your spices, and your lattes, and cozy up to some scary movies on the sofa as the murderous rage that most people seem to suppress year round is let loose for a month and then packed away for 11 months of nothing but Christmas content.  But forget the heat, let’s talk about what to watch in October in addition to your regular horror movie marathons or whatever you’re watching. 

Now, I don’t know if I’ve made it known that I’m not a big fan of horror movies.  When they’re done right, I really appreciate how well they’re done. This modern crop of Blumhouse films and the like seem to be really dipping into the science fiction playbook of using genre fiction as analogy to real world issues and the human condition; which I really have liked, even though I’m not always enjoying the ride that I’m appreciating.  My threshold for a watchable horror movie is pretty high and very specific (I’m not really going to sit down and watch a slasher flick, I’m not into ghosties and the like unless Scooby-Doo is involved because I love dogs, and if you see me watching a torture porn movie, there’s a high likelihood that I’m being tortured myself), so take this list with that in mind.  

So here goes it.  A list of horror movies and shows to watch this Spooky Season, from someone who doesn’t like horror movies.  

Movies:

Get Out (available for rent)

I don’t think there’s much else I can say about this Oscar-winning piece of brilliant filmmaking.  Jordan Peele’s directorial debut is as ambitious as it is well-executed, resulting in a movie that’s layered, deep, deeply satisfying, and pretty much frame-perfect.  Beat by beat, scene by scene, Peele takes you along on a trip where something just is not right; you know it, the protagonist knows it, but it takes just the right amount of time before he can put his finger on it.  And when the curtain is pulled back and we see what it is, the payoff is absolutely fantastic.

What could be scarier than a couple trying to fix their marriage?

The One I Love (Showtime streaming)

This is one of those that I hesitate to list as a horror movie, because I’m not sure that it actually is.  I wouldn’t call it a thriller either, because I think “thriller” implies a certain amount of action and movement, and The One I Love is a film about two people on vacation trying to repair their marriage.  But The One I Love leverages a lot of horror film mechanics to put you in that something-isn’t-right-here-but-I’m-not-leaving-for-some-reason mode while never really hitting you the way a true horror movie does.  However, I found myself literally trembling with anticipation from scene to scene in this tightly crafted film which examines human nature, relationships, and uses our vacation selves as analogy for who we really are or really want to be.  It’s a beautiful film about the faces we put on from room to room with the added benefit of keeping your heart rate up. 

The Babadook (available for rent)

I hate this movie.  Seriously.  I can’t stand it.  Almost every minute of watching it was an agony of fear responses and physical pain.  Yes, that’s right—watching this movie caused me physical pain.  As part of the movie’s efforts to unsettle you, certain sounds are used throughout the film that were at such a frequency that caused me actual, measurable, physical pain.  This hasn’t affected anyone else I’ve met who has seen it, but I thought I’d put it out there.  But when this terrible movie watching experience was over, I was glad to have seen it, because this film is a masterful tale about guilt, resentment, and grief.  As unsettling, uncomfortable, and hair-raising as this film is, I would also describe it as beautiful, in a way.  I’ll also never watch it again because of the pain it caused me, but I’m glad I was able to sit through it at least once, because it’s worth it.  And since you’ll probably not have the same problem I did, I’d say jump in with both feet and get super creeped out with reckless abandon.  

The Invitation (Tubi)

Okay, so taking your new girlfriend to your ex-wife’s house for a dinner party already pretty much seems like a horror story as is, but from there, things get very, very uncomfortable.  The former couple, torn apart by the loss of their son, dealt with their grief in different ways.  And this is where The Invitation starts to shine as a horror film.  So much atmospheric dread that it drips from the air—much like The One I Love, the protagonists stick around for various reasons, including ones as simple and silly as social niceties.  The movie reminds me of that scene in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo where Stellan Skarsgård invites Daniel Craig in for a drink when Craig suspects him of monstrous crimes, but he assents anyway because he didn’t want to seem rude.  Of course, things end badly for Craig, just as this doomed dinner party goes awry.  The tension builds and builds to a terrifying crescendo that feels all-too-real to look away and not internalize the lessons of this tale.  It’s a film that unsuspectingly goes above and beyond.  

Dan Stevens is just too good in this movie

The Guest (Netflix)

File this one with The One I Love and The Invitation as another brilliant film that relies on building tension once you start to feel that something is amiss.  This is probably the least horror of all the films on this list, but there are real thrills to be had here.  The tale begins with the amazing and underrated Dan Stevens visiting his dead Army buddy’s family to fulfill a promise to look after them.  Stevens begins to insinuate himself into each family member’s life in a different way and things start to change for them.  Anyway, if you read that and you think you know how this movie is going to go, I promise you that you’re wrong.  Subverting expectations and shifting perspectives at every turn, The Guest is one of those you just have to experience.  

The Gift (available for rent)

I am an unashamed Jason Bateman fan.  A Batemaniac, if you will.  I loved him in Arrested Development, I loved him in Bad Words, in Horrible Bosses, in Game Night, and I loved to hate him in The Gift.  This creepy film about the past coming to haunt you in somewhat literal ways is one of his most compelling performances as the Jason Bateman you just don’t trust, but he’s outshined by the always underrated and always excellent Rebecca Hall and overachiever Joel Edgerton, who also directed this critically acclaimed film.  People lead more than one life, don’t they?  And sometimes other people pay for those past mistakes, unfortunately.  Joel Edgerton makes sure of that.  Watch this is if you’re ready to question if you really ever know anyone you think you know. 

Fear Street Trilogy (Netflix)

All the fear. Many of the streets. Occasional open shirts tucked into jeans.

This isn’t really a movie, not really.  It’s essentially a short series, six hours or so in length, but instead of being cut into 6-8 episodes of a TV show, it’s cut into three feature-length films that all tie together.  Individually, the Fear Street films can feel a bit too familiar, sometimes lazy, and often times overly cruel, but by the end of the third film, you see the thing holistically.  And once you step back from the puzzle pieces, you see the trilogy as one long story that really works well together.  When parted out, they can be a little underwhelming at times, especially the second film; the other two do a great job of subverting expectations and turning the tables on horror movie tropes, but the second is the one that feels most like an actual 80s horror flick, albeit with an obvious and unnecessary twist that I figured out almost immediately and had little to no impact on the story as a whole.  But if you can make it through the second film with an open mind for the third, I think horror film fans will be very satisfied.  

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (available for rent)

This horror-comedy of errors has all the markers of a cult classic; first of all, it has Alan Tudyk, which is always a huge plus in the pros column for me, and his compatriot Tyler Labine manages to keep up with him quite well.  Unfortunately for these two hillbillies, a group of preppie college students on vacation mistake them for brutal murderers and the hilarity—and death and destruction—ensues.  

TV Series:

Truth Seekers (Amazon Prime)

This gem of a show may only be getting the one season, but it’s one season well worth watching, even if knowing that we’ll never see a second hurts me the way that knowing we won’t get third seasons of Lodge 49 and The Tick hurts me.  That’s how special of a show this is.  Helmed by and starring Nick Frost, he flexes that Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz pedigree to team up with Simon Pegg once again and make a series that feels just perfect.  The right amount of horror which leaves you seriously spooked at times, blended with just the right amount of comedy to put you at ease, and enough warmth to seriously move you at times, Truth Seekers is a show that was cut down before its time and deserves a much longer run.  You got the feeling that this show was building to something truly special and it had something to say, but Amazon felt like we got enough.  Still, living with the emptiness that we will likely never see more is worth having seen the first season.  Like I said, I’m not a horror guy at all and I’ve watched this series 6 times from start to finish and I’m in the middle of a 7th rewatch.  If you only watch one thing from this list, this should be it.  

“Smile,” said the photographer. “Yeah,” they said, “that’s what it says on the van, innit?”

Stranger Things (Netflix)

If you don’t know about this streaming phenomenon by now, you must have been living under a rock.  To put it simply, boy goes missing, D&D friends try to find him, they can’t, he gets taken to a mirror world where everything is shitty, superpowered young girl kicks serious ass, regular powered slightly older girl also kicks serious ass.  Seriously, if you haven’t seen this yet, just give the first season three episodes and if you’re not begging for the fourth by the end of it, then it’s not for you.  

The Haunting of Bly Manor (Netflix)

This is a hard one to watch; Mike Flanagan doesn’t pull punches and Bly Manor was my first introduction to his style.  My brother insists that The Haunting of Hill House is equally as good as well, but I haven’t seen it yet, so I (and you) would have to take his word for it.  This miniseries features a lot of the same actors as Hill House and some are also in Midnight Mass, including the underrated Rahul Kohli, who shines in both series.  Horror has never appealed to me because I don’t feel the need to be any more scared than I am at any given time in general, but Bly Manor’s ability to move you emotionally is what makes this ghost story so much more than a ghost story.  I could name for you every actor and actress I felt performed wonderfully in this show about a nanny who unknowingly bites off more than she could ever hope to chew, but it would be faster to just send you to the show’s IMDB page, because they all do such a great job, it would be a disservice to leave anyone out.  I know I already mentioned Rahul Kohli, but the past is the past, we should leave it there.  

The Outsider (HBO)

The face of an innocent man, I’m sure.

Based on the Stephen King novel of the same name, The Outsider brings some genuine spooks and scares on top of a rather interesting mystery.  A young boy is brutally murdered—his killer’s DNA is all over the crime scene and multiple eyewitnesses place him at the scene of the crime.  But he also has an airtight alibi 70 miles away.  How can it be?  An interesting story held together by some incredibly strong performances by Ben Mendelsohn (also known as Director Krennic from Rogue One), Jeremy Bobb, Mare Winningham, and the always powerful Cynthia Erivo, this is a must watch for any horror fan, especially King fans (of which I am not, for the obvious reason).  HBO’s original series brings top drawer movie-style direction to this miniseries, which, again, feels more like a long-form film than a TV show at times (and can suffer an episode or two in the middle where the story begins to stagnate, but overall, it’s excellent), with excellent visuals, scoring, and sound.  Probably the most traditional horror story on this series list, which is why it surprised me that I liked it so much. Also, more Bateman! Batemaniacs rejoice!

Midnight Mass (Netflix)

A recent addition to Netflix’s original lineup, this is one more great series that acts as a long term movie from the minds behind The Haunting of Bly Manor and The Haunting of Hill House, particularly Mike Flanagan.  I don’t want to go too deeply into the story as this is still a new series, but while this isn’t as traditionally scary as some of the other series mentioned, Flanagan takes his brand of atmospheric horror and uses it to tackle religion, addiction, and redemption in ways that perhaps only the horror genre can.  Much like Get Out, Midnight Mass made me take a step back and re-evaluate my relationship with the horror genre and want to expand my repertoire of well-made horror films and series, especially if they can move me emotionally the way this (and many others on this list) was able to.  

Clarkson’s Farm (Amazon Prime)

Honestly, this remains the scariest television show of all time.  Do you have any idea of what goes on at a farm?  Because I do…now.  And when it’s Jeremy Clarkson leading the way, you have good reason to be concerned.  Seriously, this is just a bit, it’s a great show, albeit not very spooky at all.  Still, I highly recommend it.  

Look, I know I said this was a joke, but I’m from the city. I’d be dead on a farm within an hour.

Remembering Norm MacDonald

I love Norm MacDonald.  

Long before The Daily Show’s ill-fated Craig Kilborn stint and subsequent wildly successful Jon Stewart stint, there was SNL’s Weekend Update.  And, in my humble opinion, no one helmed the Weekend Update desk better than Norm MacDonald.  One of the things we like to do now is go back and pick apart the past, holding it to today’s standards, and I won’t ignore the fact that there were parts of Norm’s comedy that would be viewed as problematic today, but this isn’t one of those pieces.  I want to celebrate Norm’s life and his contribution to comedy.  But mostly, I want to share how Norm MacDonald’s comedy affected me.

Saturday Night Live hasn’t been great for as long as I can remember, but being allowed to stay up late and watch Norm’s Weekend Update was always a highlight of my childhood.  I probably shouldn’t have been watching and I probably didn’t understand half of what he said, but I was mesmerized.  When he got his own show opposite Laurie Metcalfe, I was on board immediately.  I loved that show then, though I have no idea how it would hold up if I were to watch it now (a topic I’ll be tackling with many titles in my Revisiting series), but I do know that whenever I’m playing poker with friends, I sit down, look at my cards, and say “I have an excellent egg”; I’m almost certain my brother will be the only one who understands the reference, but in an episode of Norm, Norm explained his perfect poker face system, in which he states “I have excellent cards”.  Through a series of mishaps I no longer remember, he ends up at what he thinks is an underground poker game, but turns out to be a game where you have to smash another person’s egg with your egg, without breaking your own.  So, with his foolproof system in place, “I have an excellent egg,” he says, and he goes on to play.  What could possibly go wrong, right?

Norm’s movies might be some of those that also don’t hold up, but I remember the trembling excitement I had when returning from the local Hollywood Video with a copy of Dirty Work to run through my dad’s new fancy DVD machine (though I’m through and through a city person now, the suburb in which I grew up was so small at the time, it didn’t have a Blockbuster until several years later).  Again, I couldn’t tell you if I’d like it if I watched the movie now, but I’m willing to bet I’d still get several laughs out of Norm’s glorious delivery.  I still can say “I’ve never seen so many dead hookers in my life” and elicit a response of “Lord knows I have” thanks to Norm’s creative revenge-for-hire business in Dirty Work (the sex workers in question weren’t actually dead).  Okay, so maybe only from my brother, but having a brother is great for that, you’ve got someone built-in who will get most of your references.  

Later on in life, Norm took a role that no one is talking about and that, still, boggles my mind as to how it happened.  I can’t imagine the conversation that went on to lead my favorite Norm MacDonald role.  But hey, let’s give it a shot anyway.  

Norm’s Agent: “Hey Norm, I’ve got a role I think you’d be great in.”

Norm: “Oh yeah? If this is another trick to get me into Gamblers Anonymous, I’m not falling for it this time.”

Norm’s Agent: “No, no, it’s nothing like that.  It’s voicing a cartoon, you won’t even need to wear pants.”

Norm: “You piqued my interest, sir, when you said I didn’t need to wear pants.  Do they want me to be the new voice of Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story 5?  Everyone’s pretty sick of that Tim Allen now.  Why doesn’t he go and do another long running sitcom that’s identical to one of his other sitcoms?”

Norm’s Agent: “No, it’s not Pixar.  It’s a show.  Where you solve mysteries, like Scooby Doo.”

Norm: “You want me to voice Scooby Doo?  Ruh roh.  Or is it Shaggy?  ‘Give me some Scooby snacks, fuckface’.  I’ll workshop that line.”

Norm’s Agent: “Well, not exactly.  It’s a show called Mike Tyson Mysteries.  You solve mysteries with the cartoon version of Mike Tyson.”

Norm (in disbelief): “Okay…”

Norm’s Agent: “You’ll be playing a man….who everyone will call ‘Pigeon’.”

Norm: “Why do they call him Pigeon, what is he, some sort of sexually-attracted-to-birds weirdo?”

Norm’s Agent:  “Well, not exactly.  He’s a man…who was turned into a pigeon…by his witch of an ex-wife.”

Norm: “I see.  At least I’ll be able to make fun of Mike Tyson.  Who’s impersonating his voice?”

Norm’s Agent: “Weeeellllllll, he’s voicing himself, so if you’re going to make fun of of him, I’d do it outside of punching or biting range.”

Norm: “I see.  Well, how much does it pay?”

Norm’s Agent: “They’ll meet your quote.”

Norm: “Then I’m in.  No pants, right?”

Norm’s Pigeon relaxes in Mike Tyson’s pool with a beer. He looks harmless, but he’s definitely carrying a gun in those feathers somewhere.

I could go on and talk about other flawless moments of Norm’s career, like Courtney Thorne Smith’s interview with Conan, but for me Mike Tyson Mysteries was nothing I’d seen before and Norm’s portrayal of Pigeon, a horny, crude, alcoholic, bitter, and unfiltered victim of witchcraft was absolutely perfect.  The show was (I assume was, I’m not sure it will go on without him) amazing and Norm’s performances were often the highlight of many, many episodes.  He was an integral part of that show and he made me laugh time and time again, just as he’d done throughout my life.

Norm MacDonald was one of those formative comedians for me—along with the likes of Dave Chappelle, Bill Murray, Chris Rock, Jon Stewart, Mitch Hedberg, Eddie Murphy, and Steven Wright—the comedians who taught me something about comedy itself.  They showed me the importance of making people laugh, the nobility of devoting your life to bringing smiles and laughter to people who may need it in ways you’ll never know.  Norm was one of the comedians that made me want to be a funnier person; someone who could brighten someone’s day with something clever or cut the ego with a sharp stroke of wit.  He was one of the people who made me believe in the power and strength of comedy, and from there I was able to see how the next generation took comedy and evolved it into literature (like Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s brilliant Fleabag or Bo Burnham’s excellent Inside).  I’m not saying we wouldn’t have experienced that without him, but I see an easy through-line from Norm and his contemporaries to the upper echelon of comedy we have now.  I often say the best comedy comes from a kernel of sadness, because that sadness is real.  But Norm was somehow the exception to that—he was real, but without the sadness.  He was just funny.  

I will sadly, deeply, and truly miss Norm MacDonald.  Poker face.  I have an excellent egg.  

The Blue-Haired Girl: The Heroes We Need Pt. 2

Confession time: I love children’s media.  Whether it’s nostalgic throwbacks from my own childhood like Pokémon or newer franchises like How to Train Your Dragon or Avatar: The Last Airbender, there’s something special about kids’ shows when they’re done well.  Admittedly, Pokémon is purely kids’ fare—there’s not much hidden depth to it, and it ultimately leaves you begging yourself not to think critically about it (the morality of using animals as warriors-for-hire, the strictly defined gender roles based on outdated stereotypes, how does everyone not smell all the time—they walk everywhere, practically live outdoors, and only make it to a place that presumably has a full bathroom every few episodes), but there are kids’ shows that are written with adults in mind and there are kids’ shows that are just done so well that they’re appropriate for all ages.  I’m not talking about sneaking in a cheeky reference here or there that adults will understand and kids will not (I call this Dreamworks Style), I’m talking about top to bottom storytelling that can thrill, delight, captivate, and teach anyone, of any age.  It’s about telling mature stories that both children and adults can relate to and enjoy. 

Hilda running along with her trusty deerfox Twig and a flock of woffs

Hilda is one of those shows.  Following the exploits of a young blue-haired girl of the same name who hails from the forest just outside the walled city of Trollberg, Hilda is an adventure show at its core.  From the opening sequence in the Hilda pilot, you can see that you’re in for expansive, fast moving haps and mishaps with Hilda and, eventually, her friends.  When we meet Hilda, she’s off into the forest with her trusty deerfox companion Twig, to explore, where she runs into an oddly shaped boulder after following a flock of woffs, which are large, balloon-like puppy animals with no legs and just a tail.  Ever the explorer, Hilda opens her trusty notebook to sketch the boulder, which she explains is a troll, turned to stone by the daylight.  Of course, as she would explain to Twig, during the day the trolls are harmless, yet the moment the sun goes down, the troll would rip both her and Twig to shreds and likely eat them.  And, as children tend to do, she loses track of time and darkness falls on her and Twig, triggering her failsafe—a bell tied to the troll’s nose.  A chase ensues, and when the troll finally catches up to her, he gestures for her help in removing the bell, which is causing him major distress.  After she does, the troll returns her sketchbook that she dropped in her haste and ambles off into the distance.  It was that interaction—one that started with fear and excitement and ended with a new understanding between very different creatures—that immediately clues you in to the fact that Hilda is a special show.

While the scenery of the show will shift quickly from being set primarily in the forest to primarily in the city of Trollberg, this scene sets you up with everything you’re going to need to know about what you’re in for with Hilda.  She’s a hero, but a different kind of hero.  As the lore unfolds, it becomes clear that some sort of conflict exists between trolls and humans, leading to fear and strife, but while Hilda’s initial response was that of fear, she was able to see the troll not as some scary monster, but just as some other being that has a right to exist, just as she does.  She has the one thing true heroes truly need—empathy.

Rarely does Hilda pack heat, but when she does, it’s a sword.

Ted Lasso uses his empathy and kindness to take on a cheerleader role in everyone’s life—he’s always in your corner, using his innate goodness as a shield for you, while simultaneously being your cut man to prop you up.  Hilda wields her empathy like a sword, finding the things in life she sees that are wrong and swinging at them from the shoulder, doing all that a little girl can to make the world a better place.  And luckily, in TV shows, a person actually can make a difference in the world, even if that person is a small child aged, by my estimate, 6-10 years old, so her efforts never feel pointless, useless, or futile, like so many efforts in real life actually can (I am very bad at estimating how old children are).  At every turn in the series, Hilda reminds you that there are two sides to every coin, three sides to every triangle, and twelve faces to every dodecahedron.  Constantly subverting expectations, Hilda leaves you comfortable with the unfamiliar and reveling in the mystery.  As her stories unfold in myriad different ways (more than just running from trolls, there are dragons, cloud spirits, water spirits, a man made of wood, called Wood Man, who does not respect boundaries at all, time travel, seafaring pirate ghosts, the rat king, nightmare demons, elves, witches, and giants, among other things), you’re never in for the same experience twice with Hilda, building a deep world for both you and Hilda to get lost in.  

Hilda straddles the line perfectly—she’s got a mind of her own and doesn’t hesitate to speak it (which often gets her in trouble), but she never comes across as whiny or entitled, but rather as a modern day knight for justice.  Especially when it comes to young characters, this can be a danger—characters who believe the world should be the way they believe it should just because they believe it.  Hilda never stamps her foot and throws a tantrum, she finds real solutions for the problems in her world; she is always willing to put the work in to show that she’s right, rather than just insist that she is and demand that other people see it her way.  Hilda sends a message, and that message is to challenge the things that harm people, to question the world around when it tells you things you know to be untrue, and to be open and curious when confronted with the unknown.  Hilda is a role model for people of any age.  If more people in the world were like Hilda, the world would be a vastly better place.  I think I said the same thing about Ted Lasso, but it’s no less true of Hilda.  After all, this is a series about the heroes we need, it goes to figure that their traits would make the world better.

Hilda discovers unseen worlds around her, which somehow feels like an analogy, but I won’t go there right now

It’s on Netflix; I bet you’re glad I told you, since there are no other indications

I should give you some vitals of the show at this point, shouldn’t I?  Hilda is a Netflix exclusive and is based on the comic series of the same name; the animation style is close to the comic book and is, frankly, beyond adorable.  Hilda is cute as a button.  Twig looks eminently pettable.  Friends Frida and David are as endearing as kids come.  The elves, including Alfur, another nigh constant companion of Hilda, is as charming and lovable as a glorified stick figure can be.  I mean, honestly, the paperwork- and bureaucracy-loving elves are essentially stick figures with various hats and levels of facial hair, but they are so adorable it doesn’t even make sense.  Even the trolls are kind of cute sometimes.  Oh, and did I mention that Hilda is voiced by the actress who played Lyanna Mormont in Game of Thrones? She’s no less a badass in this roll as she was when she took on a giant wight. She and everyone else does a fantastic job lending their voices to these rich and well-developed characters.  It also should be mentioned that the show features a diverse cast of characters; it’s a female-driven show for sure, with most of the main characters being girls or women, but there are important male characters as well, and a variety of skin colors and ethnicities are represented in the show. There’s something here for everyone; there are characters on screen that just about anyone can see and say “Hey, that person is like me”. And much like Camp Cretaceous, this is presented as being normal, uncontentious, and unremarkable; the show doesn’t call attention to it or hold up diversity as a chit, it’s far more subtle.  Subtle enough that if you’re not paying attention, you just might miss it, which is great; there’s no tokenism here.  Because that just shows it as a regular, common thing; people of all races and genders should be able to get along without that being an issue and maybe the more people see that happening, the less resistance we’d have to it.

One of the unique things about Hilda is that there really isn’t a villain.  There are conflicts, but no real villains.  There’s tension and there are stakes, but there’s not a malicious force behind it.  Sure, there are opposing forces to Hilda, but her antagonists are not often painted as truly villainous—sometimes misguided, sometimes folly, sometimes unfair, but there really isn’t anyone to hate in the show.  Perhaps the mad scientist comes close.  Also, a character shows up in the second season who you could almost consider a villain, but he’s wrapped in so much unearned pompousness, ignorance, and occasional buffoonery, that it’s hard to see him as anything other than a pantomime villain.  And deep down, he’s not really much of a bad guy at all.  You’d think this would lead to ponderous storytelling, but it really doesn’t, partly thanks to the variety in kinds of stories that I mentioned before, but mainly to the smart dialogue and snappy pace the writers lend the show.  We’ve seen comics hit the small screen with grueling, bumper-to-bumper rush hour pace that crushes you; shows like Deadly Class and Preacher, for example.  But Hilda doesn’t have that problem.  It’s breathless when it wants to be, it slows down when it needs to, and it never encourages you to look at your watch.

This is a show I tell everyone to watch.  I try to do it sneakily as possible, telling my friends with small kids first, mentioning that “I came across this show somehow” and “but it looks really cool, it has some intense scenes that could be scary for kids under 5, but overall I think it’s okay for kids that young or younger”.  But here I am, telling everyone now.  This show is excellent for people of all ages.  

For all the potential pitfalls of having a message to begin with, the lessons of Hilda are simple.  When there is injustice in the world, fight it.  When something is wrong, stand against it.  When people care for you and you care for them, stick by them when they need you.  Do these things to the best of your ability, however little that may be.  Approach the world with empathy and curiosity.  Don’t let someone else dictate how you’re supposed to act, how you’re supposed to feel, or who you’re supposed to be.  And these are lessons that anyone, of any age, can stand to learn.

Empathy, curiosity, and the strength of your convictions—these are the lessons of Hilda

The Heroes We Need Pt. 1, Quarantine Edition

I don’t know which came first.  We have a chicken and egg situation when it comes to heroes.  Is it our art that elevates heroes to the point that we look for them in everyday life?  Or is it our search for heroes that led us to creating so many in art?

And I’m not talking about the frontline healthcare workers putting themselves at risk to care for us in the pandemic (and, well, all the other times as well), or the essential workers potentially exposing themselves to make sure our pantries are full, or the teachers who are trying to educate in stressful and difficult circumstances.  Of course, they’re heroes, but this is an entertainment blog.  I’m talking about a different kind of hero.  Sometimes they wear tights and capes, but sometimes they wear a blue sweater over a button-down shirt, or, even short pants and a fetching beanie/vest combination.  

Gus Roberts and the Truth Seekers

Over the past four years or so, I’ve noticed a lot of people in my social circle saying things like “Person X will contain this, Person Y will be the one to control this, Person Z will be the adult in the room,” but this isn’t a political blog (yeah right).  The gist of what I saw is that people were desperate for heroes and heroines and were looking for them in all the wrong places, trying, often with Olympic-level psychological gymnastics involved, to make heroes out of leftover bits.  Like trying to make a snowman out of the filthy snow clumped up inside the wheel wells of your car.  

When not making trouble for Raylan Givens, Walt Goggins is a pretty upstanding guy.

But I want to talk about the heroes I found on television over the past few months—characters who filled me with hope, my eyes with tears, and streaming queues with something to watch other than Futurama for the 800th time.  These shows all have one thing in common—they’re about good people who care about each other.  That’s not to say that there isn’t conflict, that they don’t fight or say the wrong things, but that they never intend to hurt and make amends when they do.  So many times in sitcoms, we’re presented with a group of “friends” who actually quite openly hate each other.  I’m not talking about friendly ribbing, I’m talking the things you say and do to an enemy, like the kid in class who reminds the teacher that they forgot to assign homework.  But not in these shows; the people in them actually like each other.  In this era of streaming services and cable networks really giving it a go, there’s no shortage of great, prestige dramas, but these shows and their characters are something else.  

Ted Lasso - Ted Lasso (Apple TV+)

I really need to get one of Ted Lasso’s AFC Richmond sweaters.

If, like me, you’re an American fan of English Premier League soccer, you may be aware of Jason Sudeikis’s Ted Lasso character, created as part of a short series of promos for NBC’s massive EPL deal from a few years ago.  The play was simple.  Lasso was an American football coach who brought bombastic ignorance and buffoonery to the EPL’s Tottenham Hotspur.  It was an exercise in the absurd—not only did Lasso know nothing about soccer, he was quite arrogant about it, and was put in charge of a very large, prestigious, top 6 club.  It was funny, sure, but not exactly the thing heroes are made of.  For years, I quietly clamored for a third Ted Lasso promo, but when I learned that Apple TV was doing a Ted Lasso show, I was immediately skeptical—after all, how can mildly arrogant asshattery carry an entire series?

The show smartly wipes out the promos from continuity.  Tottenham has been replaced by the struggling fictional London club AFC Richmond, battling relegation rather than fighting for a top 4 spot for the Champions League.  Lasso has been brought in to manage the team by new owner Rebecca Walton, a divorcée with a Major League-esque plan to destroy the club her philandering (and generally slimy) ex-husband loves so dearly (Rebecca is intriguingly played by Hannah Waddingham, whom you may have last seen walking Lena Headey naked through the streets of King’s Landing).  Lasso, with his trusty sidekick Coach Beard, is greeted by a cast of characters you’re used to seeing in sports films.  The hotshot youngster, the surly veteran, the fish out of water foreign player, and so on.  And yet, Lasso immediately befriends the equipment manager, the meek and timid Nathan, who was so shocked that anyone was even talking to him that he could barely respond.  

Gone was the arrogant buffoon.  Sure, Ted Lasso still didn’t know much about soccer, but rather than look down on what he didn’t understand, he tries to learn.  He is relentlessly hopeful, perhaps to the point of being naive, but with his hopefulness comes an impulse to believe—in himself, in his team, in his players, and in the people around him.  His unending positivity proves rather infectious as his management style begins to win people over.  

Lasso approaches every person and every problem the same way—with openness, kindness, and optimism.  What started as a gag from the SNL alum turned into one of the most inspiring figures on television today and perhaps ever.  Lasso shows depth as a character I never would have dreamed of when Ted Lasso was announced.  I was hoping for some good old fashioned whacky fun; a soccer equivalent to a show like Childrens Hospital or a live action Animaniacs.  But what I got was so much more.  Lasso himself shows unimagined personal depth, and the show’s three-dimensionality isn’t limited just to him—every character unfolds beyond the initially presented stereotype to show hidden depths lesser shows would only tell, but never show (and even lesser shows than those wouldn’t even bother).  That hotshot youngster, the surly veteran, the cold corporate owner, her spineless yes man, the popstar WAG (I hate this term, really) struggling to stay relevant in a society that puts an expiration date on women, the shy equipment manager—point to a character in Ted Lasso and you’ll be told their story. 

I can’t think of a single episode where I didn’t have tears in my eyes and usually tears of more than one kind.  I laughed so hard I cried, I was moved so profoundly I cried, I was heartbroken, I was heartwarmed.  Ted Lasso allowed me to feel the whole gamut of emotions that I’d been keeping at bay during this pandemic.  It wasn’t mere distraction, like so much of the entertainment I’ve sought out recently has been—it was catharsis.  

Lasso with Coach Beard and Nathan, the unlikely inner circle

And Sudeikis’s Ted Lasso’s big heart was firmly at the center of that catharsis.  Ted Lasso was the hero I needed to see in these times.  One who has the courage to stand—not against some mystical, otherworldly villain, but perhaps against the most monstrous nemesis we face—self-doubt.  Lasso has the courage to stand and believe in you.  

I’ll not mince words here.  Let’s be bold.  Ted Lasso alone makes Apple TV+ worth it.  If you don’t subscribe to the service, sign up for a free trial and watch it.  This show is too good to miss.  If it stays at this level for its entire run, it may well unseat Arrested Development as my top comedy series of all time.  

That’s it for part one of this series.  Part two will be continuing soon, but first will be a short detour as I face down the looming giant—what are the best Christmas movies of all time?  If you want to keep the conversation going, you can find me on Twitter almost any time (and I mean that, it’s becoming a problem) at @aslamchoudhury or @studyroompod.  Until next time, I hope you have a happy, safe, and socially distant holiday season.