ARC Read: It Rhymes With Takei

I was happy to get my hands on 'It Rhymes With Takei', George Takei's second graphic novel memoir after 'They Called Us Enemy', his excellent first graphic novel where he recounts his memories of the American concentration camps during World War II, which he had experienced first hand as a 4-year-old boy. This time around, the famous actor and passionate activist focuses on the more personal story of his identity as a gay man, his late coming out at the age of 68, back in October of 2005, and all the decades and experiences that formed his views of the world, fuelled his passion for social justice, and shaped him as a person.

The book is a heartfelt and vulnerable recounting of his most formative experiences as a young boy who grew up feeling different, not fitting in, but who also lived in a world that made it very clear that his difference wasn't going to be tolerated. From the several prejudices of the times, to the bullying and the prevalent homophobic slang, to later seeing people's careers being ruined after the revelation that they were gay, it is not hard to understand why a young Asian-American man would be fully convinced that the best thing to do is to live his life hiding who he truly is.

The way George Takei explains his everyday experiences paints a very clear picture of the American society of the 1950s and on. His thorough way of describing things makes you understand both the man and his way of thinking specifically, as well as the conditions and political climate that he grew up into. On a global scale, we still have a long way to go when it comes to LGBTQIA+ rights and social acceptance, but it is also undeniable that just a few decades ago homosexuality was condemned socially and politically to such a degree that it rendered people who were outed unemployable pariahs, ruining their careers, families, reputations, and everything else in their lives for daring to love who they loved.

In this book George Takei also takes us through the stages of his career, from the early days where he caught the acting bug and couldn't let go of his dream, to how he was propelled to fame, landing the role of Hikaru Sulu in 1966, despite the difficulties of the era and the setbacks they caused for an Asian-American actor in the industry.

It's a fascinating read, both for fans of the actor, but also for anyone interested about the history of LGBTQIA+ rights, and frankly anyone who has ever felt isolated, lonely, and like they didn't quite fit in. Seeing a young boy growing up to follow his dreams, finding a person to love, eventually getting married to his husband in 2008, and finding his place in the world, living his life on his own terms, is nothing short of inspiring, and also a little reminder that, despite dark times, change is always possible.

The art by the extremely talented Harmony Becker, who also worked on 'They Called Us Enemy' is gorgeous and fits the book well, and the storytelling is just beautiful and sincere, making it impossible to not get invested. From the very first pages it becomes very clear that this is a story of hope, being told by a man who is looking back at his life, and after decades of being told by society that it's best to keep one of the most important parts of himself hidden, he is sharing his truth with the world.

A huge thank you to IDW Publishing and Top Shelf Productions for offering me an advance review copy. The book is coming out on June 10, 2025.

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Recent Read: The Passion of Pedro Almodóvar: A Self-Portrait in Seven Films

I recently got my hands on 'The Passion of Pedro Almodóvar: A Self-Portrait in Seven Films' by James Miller, a book that, as the title suggests, explores the real life story of the Spanish director and the mark he has left on European and global cinema by drawing parallels with the themes he has chosen to explore in 7 of his most well-known films, or as Miller puts it, 7 of his most personal works. From 'Volver' to 'Pain And Glory' and 'Bad Education', the book is divided into sections dedicated to each film separately, both exploring Almodóvar's inspirations and arguing the autobiographical nature of these works, as discerned by the author.

Miller does a great job in structuring the book, and sharing enough information to create a big picture by exploring both Spanish and cinematic history in a way that allows the reader to have a clear understanding of Almodóvar's formative experiences, and thus his perspective as a creator. It is worth keeping in mind that although the book is undeniably a thorough and engaging exploration of the auteur's work through a deeply thoughtful and analytical lens, and does often back its points using Pedro Almodóvar's own public statements, it is in the end of the day solely based on the author's personal interpretation of Almodóvar's approach to film making.

Of course cinema, like any other art form, is experienced differently by different people, so naturally every time someone attempts to analyse a film, or in this case an entire filmography, they are unavoidably impacted by the ways it spoke to them personally. It becomes evident from the start that the author has both a vast knowledge of Almodóvar's work and a very deep appreciation of him as a film-maker. This is of course necessary, if one intends to write such a deep analysis of how a creator's life experiences are interwoven into their art, but at the same time the book at points puts Almodóvar on an impenetrable pedestal that leaves no room for critique.

And even though the book definitely addresses the several times the auteur has been challenged for certain artistic choices, specifically about the ways he used themes of trauma and sexual abuse in his works, I would have appreciated a more critical and rounded approach to the matter, especially given the sensitive subjects in question.

There is a balanced middle ground between unquestioning praise and absolute condemnation, that allows for art to be discussed both as a form of expression that is free to touch upon taboos and use uncomfortable subjects to provoke the status quo and invoke certain thoughts and feelings, and also as something deeply human, and thus imperfect, that isn't perceived and experienced the same way by everyone, and therefore cannot be exempt from scrutiny. Unfortunately, the book did not always succeed in finding that balance for me.

'The Passion of Pedro Almodóvar' is first and foremost aimed at someone who is already a fan, but can also be read by anyone curious to learn more about the film-maker and gain a deeper knowledge of his works. The author provides enough information for each film so it's not necessary for someone to have watched all 7 of them before reading, but this also means that spoilers about every important plot point cannot be avoided.

A sincere thank you to Columbia University Press for providing me with a review copy of the book.

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Full Throttle (1995) - 30 years of “Motorcycles. Mayhem. Murder.”

Today marks the 30th anniversary of Full Throttle, released on April 30, 1995. A cult classic little gem from the golden age of LucasArts point-and-click adventure games. Tim Schafer's first solo project, featuring biker gangs, storytelling and cutscenes that draw inspiration from the Mad Max films, a protagonist who gets wrongfully framed for murder, a distinct cinematic style, and a soundtrack by The Gone Jackals.

Ben, the main character, was voiced by Roy Conrad, while Mark Hamill voiced the game's villain. Despite its planned sequels never getting off the ground, and the title being relatively short, Full Throttle has more than managed to perfectly stand out on its own thanks to its humour, memorable story and characters, and its fresh new approach to the adventure game genre. Decades later, it still deserves all the love it's getting, and if you've never played it, the 2017 remaster is an excellent way to fix that.

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Daredevil: Born Again (Spoilery Thoughts)

Netflix's Daredevil is one of my all time favourite comic book live-action adaptations. I consider it to be one of the best projects to have come from Marvel, and one of the best pieces of mainstream television in general. It's a gritty story about found family, the willingness to do good, and flawed people fighting their personal demons while accepting and supporting each other, that also happens to involve masked vigilantes and undead ninjas. Ten years later, going back and rewatching all 3 seasons in a row before diving into 'Daredevil: Born Again', further solidified this opinion. Having now watched every single episode of 'Born Again' as well, I can say that although it's not perfect, it has, all in all, fulfilled most of my expectations and left me wanting to watch what comes next.

It has been a decade since the premiere of the OG Daredevil, which makes how easily both Charlie Cox and Vincent D'Onofrio stepped back into their respective characters even more impressive. The same goes for Deborah Ann Woll as Karen, Elden Henson as Foggy, and Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle, for the brief moments that we get to see them. Continuing from the finale of Daredevil's Season 3 directly into 'Born Again' really felt like going back to that universe. Not everything is the same, characters' lives have taken different turns, and there's also a difference in tone, cinematography, and pacing, so the show might not live up to everyone's nostalgia, but it's still a solid continuation from where Daredevil Season 3 Ep13 'A New Napkin' left off.

To have a plot for a new show, it's unavoidable that the somewhat hopeful and uplifting ending of 'A New Napkin' has to be undone, and the band-aid is ripped off very fast, with the assassination of Foggy Nelson and Karen and Matt being driven apart by grief. The show was off to a strong and shocking start, but to claim that it survived its rewrites and creative overhaul completely unscathed would be a lie. There are certain decisions some characters make that don't really make sense, some things happening too serendipitously or too abruptly, and there's a general unevenness that can be attributed to the changes in the creative team for each episode, but in the end it still manges to land on its feet, especially after the season finale.

The acting remains brilliant, and the rivalry between Matt Murdock and Wilson Fisk, which takes centre stage, continues and evolves in a way that feels true to the characters. At the same time though, it's impossible to ignore the fact that 'Born Again' seems to be missing a big chunk of its heart. 

There's a Foggy and Karen shaped void that remains both palpable and unfilled throughout the biggest part of the season. One of the most prevalent, ongoing themes of the Netflix show was Matt's relationship with other people. How he was taught early on that having others to care about is a risk and a liability, his inner struggle between needing human connection and fearing the consequences that would bring, and how he avoided letting people in because of the abandonment that he felt from a young age and the loss and isolation he had experienced due to his circumstances. Eventually revealing, both to the audience and the characters, the complex reasons why Matt tended to push people away, how his vulnerability intertwined with his fear of abandonment, and having him realise the importance of his bond with Foggy, Karen, and the other people in his life as part of his growth.

'Born Again' doesn't necessarily undo any of that, but 10 years later we find Matt Murdock following a different life path, estranged from Karen, in a fancier office that lacks the charm and heart of "Nelson and Murdock", having left Daredevil behind him. Although it is still abundantly clear that his primary goal is to use whatever means he has to help the underdog. What feels really disappointing though, is how almost every single connection in Matt Murdock's life seems to be just surface-level and lacking substance.

Margarita Levieva is amazing in her performance, but the way her character as his girlfriend Heather Glenn is written makes it clear that the relationship isn't meant to last. Matt and Heather seem to be in a "dating for the sake of dating" situation, as there's no initial spark on their first date, and no apparent affection or companionship shown between them later on. She doesn't appear to know about his history with Fisk, nor do they appear to be on the same page on a significant number of issues. And it shouldn't really take a therapist to know that someone who has difficulty with opening up and letting people in, who at the same time is also grieving the loss of one of the closest people in his life, needs to be supported and not antagonised.

All of this makes it really hard to be invested in their connection, or to care when it inevitably falls apart. During the latter parts of the season, the way the character of Heather is presented feels like it's almost spoon-feeding to the audience the fact that she is intended to be disliked. Speaking of deliberately unlikeable characters, Michael Gandolfini shines as Daniel Blake, Fisk's sleazy, power-hungry lackey. The writing in this instance works far better, with Gandolfini giving a standout performance as a very intentionally insufferable and unscrupulous character, who rises in the ranks not because of his capabilities but due to his obsessive loyalty and adoration of Fisk.

The relationship between Matt Murdock and Wilson Fisk continues to be one of the most stable aspects that carries on with the show's revival in the way the two men seem to know and interact with each other. Fisk as the main villain of the series remains one of its biggest highlights, with Vincent D'Onofrio's excellent performance and the way the character acts living up to the standards set by the 2015 show, making the kind of extreme cruelty that the Kingpin is capable of even more brutally clear, and proving once again that a character doesn't need superpowers to be a terrifying villain. Another plus of this season is how it showcases the way Vanessa Fisk isn't only an intelligent manipulator but also matches the viciousness of her husband and is as much of a ruthless villain as he is, not just someone who tolerates or pretends to not see his darker side. Something that was only briefly touched upon in Daredevil Season 3.

It was certainly also really good to see the return of the Punisher. Even if his appearance in this season was brief, the chemistry between Charlie Cox and Jon Bernthal was phenomenal and left me looking forward to the upcoming Punisher special. The series doesn't shy away from the violence and the gore, and it was good seeing Muse, one of the most chilling villains from the comics, also making an appearance. Sadly, the whole storyline felt a bit rushed, and didn't reach the level of creepiness and horror of the "Dark Art" comic book run. That's not to say the character was adapted badly, but the whole arc felt like it didn't reach its full potential and was too quickly wrapped up. It mostly felt that Muse was basically there as a device to finally push Matt to go back to being Daredevil again, and to further move forward Heather's plot, rather than to tell the story of that specific villain.

Overall, the show is an imperfect but certainly solid revival that brought back a lot of of the aspects that made Netflix's Daredevil great. It starts with a bang, then becomes a slow burn, but it eventually finds its pace. The way it ends leaves the door open for a ton of possibilities, both in regards to the plot and the characters that might be joining Daredevil and Karen next season. Opinions may vary, but I liked how we didn't see the Defenders, or any other familiar characters specifically show up in the end, as it would have been revealing too much, and it could potentially feel too gimmicky. That said, I really hope to see Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Colleen Wing, and the rest make a return, one way or another.

Bringing back any beloved show after a decade isn't an easy task, doing so while going through a series of rewrites and other creative shortcomings doesn't help either, but despite its imperfections 'Born Again' has done right by the original show. The action scenes deliver, the social and political commentary is on-point, the old familiar characters make a strong return, and even though the finale did not conclude the story it managed to finish on a high note and set up the scene for a very promising Season 2.

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ARC Read: Nacelleverse Vol. 1: Biker Mice from Mars & RoboForce

If you are someone who has been of cartoon-watching age (or of cartoon-watching habit, for that matter) sometime in the mid 90s, then there is a good chance that you remember the 'Biker Mice from Mars' show, you might even remember the slightly older 'Robo Force' toyline. You definitely also know that toy and comic book tie-ins for animated shows has been a decades-old tradition when it comes to cartoon entertainment. This book collects two of the latest such entries, as parts of the NacelleVerse, with the storylines setting up their respective animated series.

This volume includes the two runs of RoboForce #1–3 and Biker Mice from Mars #1–3, as well as NacelleVerse #0, all written by Melissa Flores whose excellent 'Mighty Morphin Power Rangers' and 'The Dead Lucky' runs have already established her as an ideal creator to handle similar material. It also features art by Rahmat Handoko, Rhoald Marcellius, Francis Portela, Diogenes Neves, and other well-known names in comics. Beyond the undeniably talented team behind it, and beyond its status as a cartoon tie-in, this book is actually an also pretty fun read.

With similar tie-ins, it's not uncommon for the quality to be less than stellar, and for the books to only exist as promotional, nostalgia-bait material. So it was good to see that this is certainly not the case here. There are the familiar characters and lore, but there is also a well-crafted storyline that combines both feeling true to the original and also fitting modern standards. Overall an enjoyable, action-packed, and nostalgia-fuelled read, whether you're already a fan or you're curious to discover those franchises.

A big thank you to Oni Press for providing an advance review copy. The book is expected to come out on May 20, 2025.

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ARC Read: Murder on the Books

'Murder on the Books' follows Charlotte (Charley) James, a successful thriller writer who after experiencing a burnout decides to take a break and go back to her hometown, where not everyone knows about her author status as she has been writing her books under a pseudonym. Through an interesting turn of events, Charley finds herself in charge of a bookshop, as her best friend's business partner Sheila suddenly disappears, which in turn puts her in the middle of a murder mystery when she ends up discovering Sheila's dead body in the basement.

The book certainly lives up to the cosy mystery claim, it's a fun and fast read that keeps you invested. The plot isn't too complex, and it does require some suspension of disbelief in regards to the circumstances, but that is pretty much the norm of the genre, especially when it involves a civilian main character taking it on their own to investigate a murder. Charley felt real and relatable, her connection with her best friend felt refreshing, and the approach that the book takes to experiencing a burnout, needing a break, and to mental health in general, feels also quite realistic. With a plot that involves its main protagonist moving to a small town, taking over a bookstore, adopting a cat, and using their intellect to solve a crime, there's a lot to like here.

As this is the first of the 'Cozy Bookshop mystery' books, the characters are newly introduced and their circumstances are just being established, but the book soon finds its pace and becomes both a highly enjoyable read and a promising beginning to the series.

Big thank you to Severn House for providing an advance review copy. The book is coming out on the 1st of July, 2025.

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ARC Read: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Vol. 1: Return to New York

As a kid I discovered the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon sometime in the mid-90s, and much like every other show I used to watch growing up, any new version or modern adaptation of such material immediately strikes a nostalgic nerve in me. Add to that the fact that 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Vol. 1: Return to New York' is written by Jason Aaron, whose Thor/Mighty Thor runs and work in the Star Wars comics I thoroughly enjoyed, and features art by Joëlle Jones, Rafael Albuquerque, Cliff Chiang, and Darick Robertson, and it's no surprise that I was really eager to read this book.

Having now finished the first volume, I can say that 'Return to New York' certainly didn't disappoint. Even though it's a continuation and not a reboot, it's a pretty good starting point for new readers. The story is noticeably grittier and more violent than the original series, but never gets exploitative or edgy for the sake of edginess.

The book starts with the turtles separated, each in a different place and situation, which works well in (re)introducing them, establishing their different personalities and perspectives, and setting up the story for when they eventually reunite. The plot worked well, making for a fast-paced read, the art, considering it involved such great talent, was everything I expected it to be, and the story is very much in the spirit of TMNT. I will absolutely be grabbing Vol. 2, no question.

A big thank you to IDW Publishing for offering me an Advance Readers Copy in exchange for an honest review. The book is coming out on June 24, 2025.

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Recent Watch: Flow (2024)

First time I watched 'Flow' was at the cinema, but upon second viewing I can now confirm that the internet was right about the effect that the film has on cats. Can also confirm that it remains a masterclass in visual storytelling, and a beautiful and tender tale about survival and found family that evokes thoughts and emotions without the use of any dialogue.

Such an incredible achievement by a small team, all done with open source software. People keep repeating how impressive it is that it was created in Blender for good reason, because it is legitimately one of the most stunning animated films that have been released in the recent years. 100% worth every bit of praise it has received.

 

 

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ARC Read: The Age of Video Games: A Graphic History of Gaming from Pong to VR and Beyond

I got my hands on an advance copy of 'The Age of Video Games: A Graphic History of Gaming from Pong to VR and Beyond', written by journalist Jean Zeid and illustrated by Émilie Rouge, a graphic novel that sets out to cover the long history of video games as a medium. As someone who has been fascinated by games since the age of 5, I found the concept extremely interesting, and having read the entire thing I can say that the book certainly did not disappoint.

'The Age of Video Games' has its two protagonists, Jean and Émilie themselves, travel through time, and sometimes into the worlds of each specific game they are referencing, telling the story of how video games started as a concept, how they interconnect with the history of programming and the personal computer, and how they evolved into the global industry that is now an inseparable part of modern pop culture. There are also many mentions of the people who helped shape the gaming medium, from the early days of the Atari and on. It was good seeing some lesser known names appear, and also seeing the many, many women who have been a part of gaming history since the beginning, being mentioned and credited for their contributions too.

The book wins major points for using comic book format to tell its story. Having the reader being flooded with facts could have become boring very soon, but the beautiful, colourful illustrations accompanying the banter really kept things interesting. I loved the art, and I loved all the video game references and how it changed and adapted accordingly when it depicted different worlds and characters. It kept a solid balance between remaining consistent and making each homage immediately recognisable.

Of course it was impossible to reference every single game, but the book really does an impressive job in covering a lot of ground in that regard. Apart from the big players that one cannot omit when talking about the history of gaming, it was nice seeing indie titles also referenced. On a personal level, it was also good seeing games like 'Full Throttle', 'Maniac Mansion, and 'Grim Fandango' pop up as well. If I had a nitpick, it was that the modern slang sometimes felt a bit inorganic, but admittedly the jokes between the two characters did land for me.

It's a read I'd recommend to anyone with an interest in the history of gaming, as it's a love letter to the medium written with a lot of knowledge and a lot of love for the subject matter.

A big thank you to Andrews McMeel Publishing for providing me with a copy.

The book is expected to be published on July 22, 2025.

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Artificially Generated Colourful Empty Husk

(Stock photo by Aleksandar Pasaric)

 

This is hardly an unpopular opinion, nor an attempt to make any groundbreaking statement beyond putting some personal thoughts out there, but I honestly never got the appeal of AI generated so-called "art". 

With the most recent online trend of having AI generated images sort of resembling the art style of Studio Ghibli, beyond the words of Hayao Miyazaki himself, who had previously called similar technology "disgusting" in the past, with "I can't watch this stuff and find [it] interesting. Whoever creates this stuff has no idea what pain is whatsoever. I am utterly disgusted. If you really want to make creepy stuff, you can go ahead and do it. I would never wish to incorporate this technology into my work at all" being his exact quote, and the disrespect towards him this practice implies, I was also reminded of this quote by Guillermo del Toro, said during a conversation with the British Film Institute (during which he also interestingly enough mentions the work and influence of Miyazaki as well, full video here):

“I saw a demo of AI and I thought oh that's what people think animation is, giving prompts and the computer does it. You know, but AI has demonstrated that it can do semi-compelling screensavers. That's essentially that. The value of art is not how much it costs and how little effort it requires, it’s how much would you risk to be in its presence. How much would people pay for those screensavers? Are they going to make them cry because they lost a son? A mother? Because they misspent their youth? Fuck no!”

And OK, on a very shallow level, I maybe understand the idea of it. It's pretty (to the beholder), and the text is usually coherent, and the pictures show what you asked for on demand, and heck, sometimes they even have the right amount of fingers. But on the other hand, creating art takes some real work, and this is how people pay their bills, and even if you manage to totally ignore that, or the legal and ethical issues that arise, or the mere fact that this is not some revolutionary digital parthenogenesis that magically creates things out of thin air, but relies on taking thousands of hours of hard work, skill, pain, emotion, inspiration, practice and personal experiences, in the vast majority of cases without the creator's consent, putting them in a blender, and spitting out something that somewhat resembles the original, or the fact that it has contributed so heavily to the spread of disinformation, the way it has been used as a tool for online abuse and harassment in the form of revenge pornography, and the negative impact that it has been proven to have on the environment, my sentimental little brain still cannot fully get why would anyone be fascinated by something that nobody made.

During such discussions, though not specifically about AI, I'm also reminded of this quote by Ethan Hawke on TED, highlighting the importance of human creativity:

“Do you think human creativity matters? Well, most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about poetry, right? They have a life to live and they’re really not that concerned with Allen Ginsberg’s poems or anyone’s poems—until, their father dies; they go to a funeral; you lose a child; someone breaks your heart. And all of a sudden you’re desperate for making sense out of this life. ‘Has anybody felt this bad before? How did they come out of this cloud?’ Or the inverse—something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes—you love them so much you can’t even see straight. You’re dizzy. ‘Did anybody feel like this before? What is happening to me?’ And that’s when art’s not a luxury—it’s actually sustenance. We need it.”

 I don't think it's a coincidence that both del Toro and Hawke talk about sadness, loss, and grief in connection to how important art is. I think the question "Did anybody feel like this before?" pretty much sums up my entire point. Because one of the biggest ways in which we find value in art, whether it's a song, a paragraph of text, a quote even, a photograph or a painting, it's in how it communicates that someone, somewhere, at some point in their life felt a certain way and sat down and expressed it in a manner that speaks to you, lets you process your own feelings, inspires you, and tells you that you are not alone in your joy or your sadness. That some stranger out there has felt that distinct kind of loneliness or thrill, and oddly understands that specific part of you, even if nobody else does.

Sure art comes in many forms, not all of them so serious. It's silly and funny, and sometimes flawed and nonsensical, but essentially it's a very human way to connect with another person who had something inside them to say, and to receive something out of it. And that's not something that can be replicated or mass produced. Whatever it is that AI creates, if you take the human factor out of the equation, it simply ceases to be art.

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