Month: July 2020

Wonder Woman: Bloodlines

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★★
“I wonder what they were thinking?”

Having enjoyed the previous animated Wonder Woman film, this was a significant disappointment. It doesn’t seem to fit in to any established universe and loos designed more as a quick cash-in on the success of the live-action version, than existing out of artistic desire. It begins with a broken, modern-day update of the latter’s opening, with the plane of Air Force pilot Steve Trevor (Donovan) making a crash-landing inside the bubble which has protected Themyscira  over the ages. He’s desperate to return to tell the world about the demonic entities which attacked him, and Diana (Dawson, who played Artemis in the previous animated version) rebels against her mother and the decision of the other Amazons to imprison Steve, going with him to the outside world.

Except, there’s basically no explanation as to Diana’s revolt, beyond a throwaway line about a prophecy. And in the next scene, Diana is sitting in the back of a cab on the way to house of historian Dr. Julia Kapatelis. Demonic entities? What are they? With those entirely forgotten, the film then focuses on the doctor’s daughter, Vanessa (Avgeropoulos), who turns bad, becomes Silver Swan, and eventually teams up with Doctor Poison and a slew of B-villains, of whom I’ve never heard, e.g. Giganta, Cheetah, Doctor Cyber. They plan to attack Themyscira and profit from its technology, and to that goal have revived and powered-up Medusa, who ends up becoming more of a Med-zilla.

This is all full of ridiculous and contrived circumstances. For instance, Diana “forgets” the location of Themyscira. But – what are the odds – there’s a fountain from which she can drink, which will restore her knowledge! And Julia discovered the location in her research! Or, the dispatch of Medusa will turn everyone whom she has petrified, back to being human again. Hmm, must have missed that bit in the mythology. It will certainly lead to some very confused ancient Greek warriors, who suddenly find themselves inhabiting the 21st-century… It feels as if the writers were making stuff up as they went along, and repeatedly painted themselves into corners, from which they could only fabricate escapes out of thin air.

All of which I could take, were the animation decent. When in motion, it’s okay, and some of the action scenes work moderately well. But otherwise, it’s painfully basic, with characters’ faces not moving, except for their mouths. Up until Medusa appears, there’s no indication that any of the antagonists are able to pose a genuine threat to our heroine. Their ludicrously-named group, “Villainy, Inc”, feels like something out of a superhero spoof like Mystery Men. While the initial set-up make it looks like Vanessa will become Diana’s main opponent, she just ends up just another faceless minion.  As someone familiar only with the various adaptations and not the source comic-books, this wasn’t worth my time. Heck, even the unaired TV pilot was more entertaining. 

Dir: Sam Liu, Justin Copeland
Star (voice):  Rosario Dawson, Jeffrey Donovan, Marie Avgeropoulos, Adrienne C. Moore

E.M.P. 333 Days

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★★★
“A thoroughly Canadian apocalypse”

Really, for a reported budget of about $6,500 – and those are Canadian dollars, which currently works out to less than five grand in freedom dollars – this is quite impressive. You could argue that trying to create a convincing post-apocalyptic scenario on such a tiny budget is biting off more than you can chew. And there are certainly moments which just don’t work. But in its low-key approach, it’s probably a more accurate reflection than many of the way in which the world might end. Not with a bang, but with a whimper, and a slow grinding to a halt.

In this case, it’s an electromagnetic pulse weapon, detonated high in the atmosphere (most likely by North Korea, going off early radio broadcasts) and wiping out everything that use electronics. Which, these days, is virtually everything. When it does, young heroine Niamh (Ferreri, the director’s daughter) is staying with her grandmother, because Dad is away on a business trip. Initially, they hole up, trying to wait it out, but eventually resources dwindle and Niamh has to strike out on her own. Fortunately, Dad was a bit of a prepper and so she is better prepared than most girls her age for life in the new, primitive world, as well as encountering other survivors, both good and bad.

Undeniably, you have to allow a lot of leeway for the very limited resources. Even given the rural setting, it’s never clear to where 99% of the population has gone, or why; a throwaway line saying, “A bunch of people left a few nights ago,” is about as close as we get. The collapse of civilization into anarchy and chaos is depicted by a shot of Niamh and her grandmother, peering out the window and looking concerned, while somewhat riotous sound-effects are heard. All told, as the tagline above implies, it’s a very polite end of the world. It’s also a bit unusual, and therefore refreshing, to see a positive portrayal of survivalists. Rather than the usual wild-eyed paranoiacs, they’re depicted here as down-to-earth, and simply prepared for unfortunate events.

The technical aspects are quite impressive, especially on the visual front where it certainly doesn’t look like a microbudget production. However, the film does drag in the middle. From the point at which Niamh meets another young survivor, Will (Davidson), it seems to spin its wheels for the longest time, despite the pair stumbling across a rare car still capable of driving. It takes the injection of an external threat before the plot begins to move forward again, and Ferreri deserves credit for getting its depiction of killing right, as not something which should be done lightly by anyone.

The movie did tie up its loose ends up a little too conveniently, just when it was looking set fair to be nicely ambiguous. Though on the other hand, this offers a somewhat hopeful note on which to finish things. That might not be a bad thing after a generally downbeat experience, and if it remains the complete cinematic opposite of, say, Fury Road, that’s not entirely a bad thing.

Dir: Adriano Ferreri
Star: Rosa Ferreri, Liam Davidson, Derek A. Bell, Martin Saunders

The Vampire Sword, by T. L. Cerepaka

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Literary rating: ★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆

This series opener got a favorable review from one of the ladies in a Goodreads group I belong to. Since I’m interested in the vampire mythos, and especially intrigued by fiction that approaches it from a Christian standpoint, her review got my attention, though I hadn’t previously heard of either the author or the series. So, when I discovered that I could download the e-book for free, I opted to give it a try.

This is basically urban fantasy, and is clearly influenced both by the Twilight Saga and the Harry Potter series (though Meyer and Rowling are each significantly more accomplished writers than Cerepaka is). What makes it somewhat distinctive in that 24-year-old Tara is a Baptist pastor’s daughter and a Christian believer herself (she made a Christian commitment at the age of 13), who takes her faith seriously, has taught Sunday school, and is singing for her dad’s congregation in a church service when the book opens. But this Sunday proves to be atypical, when an actual vampire crashes through a sanctuary window (on the second frame of the e-book) and bites her in the neck. As in the Twilight books, those who survive a vampire bite normally become vampires themselves. But as the previously clueless Tara learns, she and her dad are Sorcerers, genetically gifted with magic powers most humans (the Powerless –think, “Muggles”) don’t have.

Vampires generally don’t bite their Sorcerer enemies; they just try to kill them. But a rare bitten Sorcerer becomes a half-vampire, with some vampire traits (including a blood thirst –though vampires don’t have to indulge that with human blood, despite the strong temptation) combined with ability to use magic, though just as in the Potter books, that takes training. Unfortunately for Tara, that not only poses theological conundrums for a good Baptist young lady; half-vampires are considered by both the Vampire Council and the Sorcerer’s Parliament as unnatural abominations that need to be killed on sight. And then there’s the added wrinkle that, as Council agent Lucius soon reveals, Tara’s assailant was working for a rogue Vampire Lord who has his own agenda –and it’s an agenda the rest of the world won’t like.

If that sounds like an interesting premise with good possibilities, it is (provided you like that sort of thing –which I do!). The execution, though, isn’t nearly good enough to fully realize the potential of the idea. Throughout my reading of the book, I found myself thinking of ways in which the literary craftsmanship could be improved; obviously, that’s never a good sign! Cerepaka’s prose is minimalist (and often awkward), telling the story straightforwardly enough, but with little description or texture to enflesh the characters and situations. Since Tara is the first-person narrator, we get inside her head; but even so, neither she or the other major characters are very well-developed; we’re never even told, for instance, what she does for a living, though she has a job.

As that would imply, the novel is much more plot-driven than character-driven, and the characters tend to be mostly two-dimensional. No sense of place is evoked; our setting is Texas, where the author lives, but we only learn that in Chapter 20 of a 29-chapter book. (Until then, the references to Greensboro and South Side had me picturing a setting in North Carolina and south-central Virginia!) In a couple of places, facts are stated in the narration and then contradicted a couple of pages later. Although romance actually isn’t a significant element here – it probably is in subsequent books – what there is of it is an unconvincing, one-sided insta-love.

So, why three stars? There are a few pluses here. This is a very fast-paced book, beginning with a bang and moving along quickly through a short time-frame: just about two days for the main story), and though the prose is undistinguished, it flows relatively easily, even despite Tara’s tendency to repeat things in places or over-explain. That makes it a quick read, and I was engaged enough with the story throughout to be anxious to keep clicking to the next frame. Once I started reading it, I finished it in four days, and for me that’s pretty good time for reading an e-book! Cerepaka does display some originality in the treatment of his vampires, and in creating story elements like the Shadow Way and the Strangers, and of course the Vampire Sword itself. Though historically it couldn’t have been forged “ten thousand years ago” –metallurgy didn’t exist then, unless we imagine Robert E. Howard’s lost Hyborean Age! I appreciated the fact that Lucius is a “Pure”, a vampire who eschews human blood, and is disposed to help rather than hurt humans; and Tara’s sincere spiritual struggle with the question of whether, as a half-vampire, she still has a soul and a relationship with God, or is beyond His grace, gave the tale a certain degree of depth.

A word about Tara’s character is worthwhile, since it’s the most developed one here, and obviously the most central. Despite the deficiencies in the portrayal, she does come across as basically likable. Yes, she’s overly concerned with the fact that Lucius is handsome, sometimes to the point of making my eyes roll. But she’s a single woman in her 20s, not a plaster statue on a pedestal. The same can be said of the fact that her Christian faith doesn’t mean she never says a swear word, nor that she’s a paragon of devotional practice. She is who she is; but the person she is has a kind heart, a caring disposition towards others, and a core of guts and resolve when the chips are down. While she’s definitely in a distress situation here, she’s far from helpless; and though she’s not into violence, she’s game to do what has to be done –a fact we learn when she takes out the vampire who bit her with a head shot from a pistol her dad dropped (the bullets were silver). Another thing that helps credibility here (and also adds some depth) is that her greatest challenges in combat situations don’t hinge on her physical fighting ability (which is largely untrained at this point!) but rather on the strength and purity of her moral will.

All in all, I liked this well enough as an entertaining read.  I wouldn’t spend much money to buy it, or the two later books – but I might pick up a used copy of the sequel if I found one at a flea market or a yard sale. :-)

Author: T. L. Cerepaka
Publisher: Self-published; available through Amazon, both for Kindle and as a printed book.
Book 1 of 3 in the Vampire Sorceress series.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.

Sophie Blanchard: The first aeronautess

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When I reviewed The Aeronauts earlier this year, I was disappointed to discover that its heroine, Amelia, didn’t exist, being a gender-swapped version of Henry Coxwell. But when I was looking into that, I discovered the existence of Sophie Blanchard, arguably an even more remarkable female pioneer in the world of early flight, who was an undeniable inspiration for the character of Amelia. It’s a shame film-makers opted to invent a made-up person, when Blanchard’s exploits are more than deserving of cinematic treatment.

She was born as Marie Madeleine-Sophie Armant in 1778, at a time when any kind of manned flight had yet to be achieved. But in the following decade, the Montgolfier brothers pioneering efforts helped trigger a continent-wide fascination with balloons and their occupants. Exhibitions and demonstrations proved wildly popular, drawing crowds in the tens of thousands, and setting off crazes for balloon-themed clothing, products and even hairstyles. One such balloonist was Jean-Pierre Blanchard, who had been taking to the air since just a few months after the Montgolfiers launched their debut flight. Among his exploits were the first flight to cross the English Channel and the first in the Americas, in front of President George Washington.

Blanchard had already been married, but abandoned his first wife and their four children for his aerial career. In 1804, he married Ms. Armant, who was not perhaps the kind of person you’d expect to become a daredevil. Her persona was described as being “so nervous that she startled at loud noises and was afraid to ride in horse-drawn carriages.” But she apparently had no such fear of taking her life in her hands. For that was a genuine risk in the early days, with the technology very much untested, and highly explosive hydrogen gas the favoured means of achieving the necessary life. In the event something went wrong, escape options were limited, with parachutes also in their infancy.

Sophie made her first ascent alongside her husband on December 27, 1804, and went solo on only her third flight, the following August in Toulouse. Other women had gone up in balloons before her, but she was the first to pilot her own craft, and become mistress of her own destiny. For Jean-Pierre, her presence alongside him proved helpful. He was not the best of businessmen and had run up considerable debts in the course of his work – this was not a cheap endeavour. The novelty of having a woman co-pilot proved good publicity, and helped draw crowds that were willing to pay for the experience.

For by this point, the novelty of merely seeing someone slowly ascend into the air had worn a bit thin. The Blanchards needed to jazz their spectacle up a bit to keep the crowds coming back. This included letting off fireworks from the balloon – a hazardous practice, given the inflammable nature of both the balloon and its gaseous contents – and tossing dogs out of the basket. Attached to those then recently-invented parachutes, I should add.

They toured Europe for several years, but tragedy struck during an exhibition at The Hague, in the Netherlands, on February 20th, 1808. It wasn’t directly a balloon accident, however. Jean-Pierre suffered a heart attack, and toppled out of the basket, from beside his wife. The resulting fall didn’t kill him immediately, and he lingered on for more than a year, before dying from his injuries in March 1809. Financially, this left Sophie responsible for his debts, and she had to keep flying, to pay off her late husband’s creditors.

Night flights and pyrotechnics were among her specialties and helped get her the attention of none other than the Emperor Napoleon. He had an “official balloonist”, André-Jacques Garnerin, but Garnerin fell out of favour after an ascent to mark Napoleon’s coronation went wrong and turned into an embarrassment to the Emperor. [Garnerin’s niece Élisa, was another pioneering aeronautess, and something of a rival to the subject of this piece]. Blanchard took over the position, and was reportedly named his Chief Air Minister of Ballooning. In that role, she looked into the possibility of invading England by balloon. Fortunately for the British, the prevailing winds across the Channel made the idea unfeasible.

Sophie proved just as popular after Napoleon was deposed, and she was wise enough to play both sides, remaining politically neutral. On the return of King Louis XVIII to the throne in May 1814, she marked his entrance to the French capital with a balloon ascent from the Pont Neuf as part of the celebrations. The new monarch was impressed enough with the spectacle to anoint Sophie the “Official Aeronaut of the Restoration”. By this point, her fame had spread throughout Europe and she travelled the continent, successfully paying off all the debts she had inherited from her husband.

These exhibitions were not without incident. She flew over the Alps, and some of her flights lasted as long as 14½ hours, reaching a height of over 12,000 feet. At that height, the environment was so cold, icicles formed on her face, and she was in danger of passing out due to a lack of oxygen. In 1817, she almost drowned when her selected landing-spot turned out to be a marsh, and she became caught up in her craft’s rigging after touchdown. Only the fortuitous arrival of assistance saved her from a watery grave. However, it was only a stay of execution, rather than a pardon.

Blanchard’s luck finally ran out on July 6, 1819, on her 59th recorded flight – an almost identical number to that completed by Jean-Pierre – at the Tivoli Gardens in Paris. Conditions were not ideal, with a strong wind blowing when she took off on a late-evening exhibition. The balloon had attached to it containers of “Bengal fire”, an early pyrotechnic, to enhance the spectacle. Sophie had trouble taking off, and while still on the way up, the balloon and its hydrogen contents caught fire. This was most likely due to contact with a tree knocking some of the Bengal fire out of its vessel, and onto the flammable fabric.

Some spectators initially mistook the conflagration as part of the show, until the craft began to descend rapidly, though its pilot tried to slow the descent by dropping ballast. Initially, this seemed to have worked, and the balloon came down on the roof of a nearby house at a survivable speed. However, Blanchard again was not able to make a clean exit. She was entangled in netting, and when the balloon then fell off the roof, it dragged the pilot with it, crashing to the street below. That secondary descent proved to be a fatal one for Sophie.

A collection was immediately taken up for her children, but on discovering there were none alive(!), the money raised was used to build a memorial (above, right) for her grave in Père Lachaise Cemetery, depicting a burning balloon, which seems a tad callous. Not that I imagine Sophie cared much. On her tombstone is carved “victime de son art et de son intrépidité”, which translates as, “Victim of her art and bravery.”

History has since largely forgotten Blanchard. There was an animated documentary in production about her, The Fantastic Flights of Sophie Blanchard, but there has been little news since the trailer (below) was released, despite a successful Kickstarter campaign in 2013. Otherwise, as The Aeronauts showed, she and the other early woman balloonists such as Élisa Garnerin and Élisabeth Thible, are little more than a historical curiosity. That seems a shame.