The Dark Tower novels, for those who have not read them, are awkward, rambling, lumbering rants, for lack of a better term, of an experience. They vary wildly in tone, setting, and most importantly quality, going from honest-to-God masterpieces like the first three, and parts of the last one, to utter messes that I don’t like to remember. But the movie is guilty of a far, far worse crime. It’s… not that bad. And that may actually be a problem here.
Drip. Clear water from the stalactites lining the ceiling of the cave falls to the ground. As the sound of the drops echo throughout the cavern, hostile creatures that call the place their home prepare to fight the young Trainer. The nearby town is replete with tales of the Legendary Pokemon that lurks deep within. Legends tell of its ancient role of governing space, time, the very continents beneath our feet. Only an ingenious, tenacious adventurer, well-prepared and ready for the trek ahead can brave the dangers before them, retrieving secret items, and potentially even mastering the beast within…
Carnival Phantasm is a show that takes well-known Tsukihime, Fate/, and other Nasuverse characters that we know and love, and puts them into humorous situations together that we’d never see in canon. It allows completely bizarre interactions and funny takes on well-known situations, taking place in a spin-off so as not to encroach on the original stories, and overall, it’s pretty great. Sound irrelevant to Game of Thrones? Let me explain.
Sometimes, while experiencing the bliss that accompanies thoughts of my favourite things, I find myself in a conundrum. And that conundrum is the conflict between a piece of media’s quality and ease of consumption in my eyes. Some of our favourite works are so easily consumable you could just sit down and experience them whenever, however, whatever one’s mood. But others, no matter how much we know we’ll enjoy them when we actually get around to watching/playing/reading/listening to them, seem like such a slog to reach. This is the concept I’d like to explore here.
Gravity Rush has been a consistent joy to play through, a game that intrigued me not enough to buy a Vita, but a blast on PS4. The game has some flaws, but manipulating gravity never fails to please. One high point that really struck a chord, however, is a section right in the middle of the game, and I’d like to explore what made a certain boss fight such an achievement.
“Yo, like, Wikipedia has, like, ten orders, for, like, this one Haruhi show. And, like, there’s this Kara no Kyoukai… show? Movie?, and apparently they’re all messed up. And about this one anime Lucky Star? Why am I watching these girls I don’t know talk about food for, like, ten minutes, yo?”
Don’t worry, oddly inarticulate anime watcher! You have every right to be confused. It does seem overly convoluted to mess up anime out of their chronological order. But there’s definite reasons for why this is done, and although everyone defends this decision as an attempt to keep emotional climaxes at the end of a narrative, and while this is legitimate, there are other, equally reasonable justifications that I don’t often see talked about. I’ll be looking at the roles achronological order play in The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Lucky Star, Kara no Kyoukai, and the Fate franchise, using K-on as a point of contrast.
Game of Thrones had absolutely gone to… if not crap, then abject mediocrity. Gone is the masterful adaptation of the novels of the first four seasons, successfully taking the well-realised characters and strong themes and embellishing them with immersive acting, costume work, and set design. We are left instead with the trainwreck of Season 5, and the barely redeemable 6 & 7. I find that Jaime Lannister, my favourite Song of Ice and Fire character, is symbolic of the show’s faults in interesting ways.