THE WOMAN KING (Prince-Bythewood, 2022)

in

(Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood from a script by Dana Stevens; starring Viola Davis, Thuso Mbedu, Lashana Lynch, Sheila Atim, and John Boyega. Released 16 September 2022; watched 2023w10 via Netflix)

Action-packed and featuring one of the best film debuts in years in Thuso Mbedu's turn as Nawi, a career-best turn from Lashana Lynch, and a near-best from Viola Davis (her best being, for me, in Steve McQueen's WIDOWS – I really want to see that again), all wrapped in a propulsive and emotional narrative backed by one of Terence Blanchard's best scores, THE WOMAN KING is a hell of a movie.

As brilliant and profoundly thrilling as THE WOMAN KING is, I can't help but wonder if, had the film delved deeper into the historical reality of its milleux (as explored in Lupita Nyong'o's WARRIOR WOMEN documentary, the making of which is surmised to have led to her dropping out of a starring role in this film), beyond subtextual broadstrokes would the film have been more or less effective? As a rousing two-hour piece of mythology probably the latter – even the best don't always / easily allow for circumspection and the exploration of nuance, particularly when it comes to their heroes; as a multifaceted cinematic epic, I don't see how the film wouldn't have benefitted from the exploration of these harsher truths.

That being said, what we're left with is an awesome mythological story that needed to be told that deserves both its detractions and its accolades. Highly recommended.

links/2023w10.2

in

Dick Tracy & the divergent delivery systems

in

As in love as I am with my now-complete (28/27) collection of DICK TRACY Big/Better Little Books, I'm equally fascinated by two other tomes – both, like the Big/Better Little Books, from Whitman (the form of both is comparable to Big Little Books, newspaper strip reprints told via prose on the left, illustration on the right, repeat for x number of pages) that arrived on the same day: 1934's "The Big Big Book," THE ADVENTURES OF DICK TRACY – essentially a hardback phonebook version of a Big Little Book requring a vinyl album cover to protect– and 1938's DICK TRACY, THE DETECTIVE, a 32-page stapled mini the size of two matchbooks, a Penny Book, that fits in the palm of my rather small adult hands and is perfectly at home in a baseball card plastic sleeve (that took me forever to unearth in the boxes and boxes of collections from my formative years), delivery system bookends to a decade of experimentation:

Indeed, my Dick Tracy collection represents the widest variety of narrative delivery systems of anything on the shelves, Big Big to normal to Big Little to Penny (the form of the innards does, however, remain a constant regardless of the size of the delivery system itself), a collection born as much of love of a character (which I'll write about at some point) as it is a tribute to the fruits of endless experimentation in Depression-era delivery systems that shouldn't have survived the history they represent; that they did is nothing short of a miracle and a testament to the power of a beloved character.

insert: randomness

in

With huge thanks and many tips of the hat to Michael Donaldson for lighting the way to Mike Bridge's Tycherion – a tool for randomizing Criterion Channel films (named after the Greek goddess of fate and chance) – I'm continuing my efforts to incorporate more randomness into my days (like the button I've programmed on my Stream Deck to call up a random note in Obsidian (though it works only so long as I'm diligent about processing the handwritten into the digital brain, an area in which I've been lacking)), to facilitate the discovery of choices and options I never would have selected otherwise coupled with a Harvey Dent-esque adherence to the result of the thousands-sided coin; I do, as Tycherion's button says, accept my fate (even if I do have to delay it until later in the day).

FWIW, the first film Tycherion selected and the fate I accepted was Vojtech Jazny’s ALL MY GOOD COUNTRYMEN, a brilliant piece of Czech cinema from 1969 – I bow to thy cinematic wisdom, Tycherion.